The Furthest City Light Read Online Free PDF Page A

warned myself, the man sitting across from you is your only ally in the case. Don’t alienate him. It was a sobering thought. “I’m sorry, Donald. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning. I think I just need to eat as soon as possible.”
    Donald looked around until he spotted our waitress. “She’s coming,” he assured me, as if I were a two-year-old who’d been separated from my mother and was on the verge of losing it.
    The waitress arrived and Donald went first, ordering a hamburger and three glasses of Coke.
    “Three?” I asked, attempting at the very last moment to sound curious instead of judgmental. Your only ally, I reminded myself.
    “I’m trying to cut down on coffee.”
    “Oh,” I nodded. “Good idea.”
    “What’ll it be, sweetie?” the waitress asked me. She was a scrawny blonde with a tired face and improbably large breasts.
    “Could you possibly make me a large garden salad with a few pieces of grilled chicken in it? I didn’t see anything like it on the menu.”
    “That’s because this is a hamburger joint,” she said. “Nobody orders salad here.”
    “I see. Well, okay, I’ll have a hamburger without the bun and could I have something on the side besides french fries?”
    “Not really,” she said.
    “I’ll eat them,” Donald offered. Chivalry, I was glad to discover, wasn’t dead.
    While we waited for our food, Donald summarized his latest interviews. Of all the neighbors he’d contacted, only one had observed any act of violence between Emily and her husband. A few years ago, she’d seen Emily and Hal arguing in a parked car in front of their house. Hal got out of the car first and went around to Emily’s side as if to open the door, but Emily was already climbing out. Hal said something and then slammed the door on her foot. At that point, the neighbor said she closed her curtains and stopped watching.
    “It might have been an accident,” she told Donald. When he asked how it could have been anything but intentional, she said she didn’t know.
    “Great,” I said. “Another lackluster witness for the defense. What else do we have?”
    Donald placed his pack of cigarettes on the table. “How about I smoke just one and blow it in the other direction?”
    I hesitated. “How about half of one and you blow it in the other direction?”
    “Deal,” he said, lighting up. Wreathed in smoke, his face looked gray and unhealthy. I hoped he didn’t have a heart attack before the case was over. Me and Donald: like my childhood TV heroine, Emma Peel, and her equally dashing compatriot, we had it all—adventure, witty repartee and a strong understated physical attraction for each other. Right.
    Miraculously, Donald had found all of the local doctors who’d treated Emily in the last ten years. Each of them was willing to come to court and describe her injuries, but none could say her explanation was implausible. Only one had had any doubt (about a cracked rib), but it was certainly possible she’d fallen on it.
    “Well, it’s something,” I said. “At least they want to help.”
    Finally our food arrived. After a couple of bites, I asked about Emily’s friends.
    Donald licked some ketchup off his fingers. “She doesn’t have any, just the lady in New York, Alice Timmerman, who says she’ll do whatever she can. Problem is, she didn’t see anything. A couple of times she called to speak with Emily, Hal hung up on her, but that don’t exactly prove he’s an abuser.”
    “No, just an asshole. Did you talk to the officer who busted Hal for domestic violence?”
    Donald nodded. “It ain’t much. The cop said he mostly took him in ’cause he was drunk. At first, Emily claimed Hal slugged her, then immediately changed her story to a light slap. Later, she tried to recant the whole thing. I subpoenaed him while I was there.”
    “Brick by brick,” I said, finishing my burger. “You might as well start with Hal now, see if you can find anyone who will say