The Brass Verdict Read Online Free PDF

remember you practicing law for some time after that. I remember the news stories about you coming back to the job.”
    “Well,” I said, “what happened is I came back too soon. I had been gut shot, Judge, and I should’ve taken my time. Instead, I hurried back and the next thing I knew I started having pain and the doctors said I had a hernia. So I had an operation for that and there were complications. They did it wrong. There was even more pain and another operation and, well, to make a long story short, it knocked me down for a while. I decided the second time not to come back until I was sure I was ready.”
    The judge nodded sympathetically. I guessed I had been right to leave out the part about my addiction to pain pills and the stint in rehab.
    “Money wasn’t an issue,” I said. “I had some savings and I also got a settlement from the insurance company. So I took my time coming back. But I’m ready. I was just about to take the back cover of the Yellow Pages.”
    “Then, I guess inheriting an entire practice is quite convenient, isn’t it?” she said.
    I didn’t know what to say to her question or the smarmy tone in which she said it.
    “All I can tell you, Judge, is that I would take good care of Jerry Vincent’s clients.”
    The judge nodded but she didn’t look at me as she did so. I knew the tell. She knew something. And it bothered her. Maybe she knew about the rehab.
    “According to bar records, you’ve been disciplined several times,” she said.
    Here we were again. She was back to throwing the cases to another lawyer. Probably some campaign contributor from Century City who couldn’t find his way around a criminal proceeding if his Riviera membership depended on it.
    “All of it ancient history, Judge. All of it technicalities. I’m in good standing with the bar. If you called them today, then I’m sure you were told that.”
    She stared at me for a long moment before dropping her eyes to the document in front of her on the desk.
    “Very well, then,” she said.
    She scribbled a signature on the last page of the document. I felt the flutter of excitement begin to build in my chest.
    “Here is an order transferring the practice to you,” the judge said. “You might need it when you go to his office. And let me tell you this. I am going to be monitoring you. I want an updated inventory of cases by the beginning of next week. The status of every case on the client list. I want to know which clients will work with you and which will find other representation. After that, I want biweekly status updates on all cases in which you remain counsel. Am I being clear?”
    “Perfectly clear, Judge. For how long?”
    “What?”
    “For how long do you want me to give you biweekly updates?”
    She stared at me and her face hardened.
    “Until I tell you to stop.”
    She handed me the order.
    “You can go now, Mr. Haller, and if I were you, I would get over there and protect my new clients from any unlawful search and seizure of their files by the police. If you have any problem, you can always call on me. I have put my after-hours number on the order.”
    “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you.”
    “Good luck, Mr. Haller.”
    I stood up and headed out of the room. When I got to the doorway of her chambers I glanced back at her. She had her head down and was working on the next court order.
    Out in the courthouse hallway, I read the two-page document the judge had given me, confirming that what had just happened was real.
    It was. The document I held appointed me substitute counsel, at least temporarily, on all of Jerry Vincent’s cases. It granted me immediate access to the fallen attorney’s office, files and bank accounts into which client advances had been deposited.
    I pulled out my cell phone and called Lorna Taylor. I asked her to look up the address of Jerry Vincent’s office. She gave it to me and I told her to meet me there and to pick up two sandwiches on her way.
    “Why?” she