JUST AN OLD FASHIONED GIRL–Part 6 (Conclusion)

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I drove us to the diner Tuesday morning. I could tell that Rosie was antsy. She told me of her feelings as I drove into the diner’s parking lot. “I’m nervous, Steven. What if I’m not pregnant?”

“I don’t know how you couldn’t be. You haven’t had your period in almost two months, but even if you’re not we’ll just keep trying until you are. Then we’ll try some more.” I was grinning wildly as we exited the car.
We had our usual breakfasts. By now I think Mona could get them in her sleep. We were boringly predictable at breakfast. We saved most of our creativity for the bedroom.

I dropped her at the library, but only after she had kissed me for more than five minutes. I was still at the office early. Geoff walked in to my office with the forms for discovery on the Jones case. They could be mailed, but then the Suffolk DA could claim that he hadn’t received them, or that they were misplaced. I knew that Geoff would drive all the way to the Suffolk County Courthouse in Riverhead and get a signed and stamped copy for our records.

I spent the rest of the morning catching up with Jeff and Marv. Apparently they’d been busy during my absence, Jeff especially, handling New Year’s Eve DUI’s and what we referred to as D & D’s—drunk and disorderly. There were too many over the holiday season. Throw in a few public urinations and some sexual assaults and you’d understand why criminal lawyers never take vacation at this time of the year.
I closed up my office at 3:00 and began to walk out. “Good luck,” Joyce commented as I approached her desk.

“Don’t I have any secrets from you?”

“Nope. That’s what secretaries are for.”

“Okay, so long, Jerse.” She wadded up a piece of paper and threw it after me, but she had a big smile on her face. Fifteen minutes later Rosie and I were on our way to see Dr. Kirkpatrick at her office near Huntington Hospital, the same place I’d been to when that idiot Sheila had perforated my nipples. Now, almost a year later Rosie could still see through each of them.

I felt self-conscious sitting in the waiting room—the only male in a sea of mostly pregnant women. We learned at check-in that Dr. Kirkpatrick had a delivery in the early morning so appointments were almost an hour behind schedule. Luckily, we didn’t have to see the doctor. Rosie and I were led to an exam room once her vitals were taken. She weighed all of 110 pounds with excellent blood pressure at 112 over 68. I didn’t understand how she could be so calm. My heart was going a mile a minute. I figured my pressure would be sky high. The nurse sent Rosie to pee on a few more test strips and they all came back positive. Then she drew blood and told us that someone would phone us Thursday, probably in the afternoon, with the final results. “I wouldn’t be too concerned,” the nurse commented. “These home pregnancy tests are rarely wrong.” Just wait a minute and I’ll see if Dr. K has a minute for you.”

Sure enough, Dr. Kirkpatrick stepped in just a few minutes later. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order.” She explained all about diet and exercise and had her staff schedule a number of appointments. I paid the bill and we went home.

Looking across the console I could see Rosie beaming. “I think this calls for a celebration, don’t you?”

“You bet! Let’s get home and get naked.” I couldn’t hold back a hearty laugh. I was still gasping for breath when I suggested dinner first. I drove us downtown into the Village of Huntington where there must be a restaurant every twenty feet. We had plenty of choices, but Rosie told me she was too excited to eat much. I parked in front of FH Riley’s which is part pub and part restaurant. We ordered Irish onion soup au gratin then Rosie opted for English fish and chips while I had a skirt steak dinner. The food here has always been great and so has the beer, but Rosie stuck to iced tea for obvious reasons. We talked about the party we planned to hold on Saturday night. We’d distribute all of the gifts from Hawaii and Rosie would share our great news. She made me promise to let her do it her way and not spill the beans. She laughed when I “pouted” about her lack of trust.

Geoffrey and I were working on our strategy for the Jones murder case Thursday afternoon when Joyce told me I had a phone call. “Can you ask them to call back?”

“No, Steven…it’s Rosalie.”

I couldn’t get to the phone fast enough. “Hi,” I said hopefully. “What…what did she say?”

Rosie laughed. “She said you’re going to be a dad. I’m so happy.”

“Me, too. I wish you were here so I could show you how much.”

“That will have to wait until tonight then I can show you how happy I am.”

“I can’t wait.” I told her how much I loved her and returned to work.

I was surprised the following morning when I received a phone call from Robert Sullivan, the Suffolk County District Attorney. We’d met before at Bar Association functions and I had always been amazed at the man’s arrogance. So far as I was concerned it was matched only by his incompetence. Apparently, he was a far better politician than he was a lawyer. (Steven…how nice to speak with you again.)

“Same here, Bob; what can I do for you?”

(I hear you’re representing Jones. I’m thinking we should make this go away.)

“Good thinking; all you have to do is drop the charges.”

(Um…you know I can’t do that; public opinion, and all that. Perhaps you could encourage your client to accept a plea deal. We’d make sure he got a suspended sentence…no jail time.)

“Yeah, but he’d still be a convicted felon for a crime he didn’t commit. That doesn’t sound like much of a deal to me.”

(If you had seen the evidence that I’ve seen you wouldn’t feel that way.)

“I’m glad you brought that up, Bob. I’ll be in court Monday morning with a writ demanding full discovery on the evidence.”

(Fuck you, Steven; we haven’t even had that a week! God, you’re such a pompous asshole.)

“You should talk, Bobby. You know God-damned well that I haven’t seen any evidence yet and here you are trying to sucker me into a deal. Well, I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. See you in court, Bob.”

I hung up the phone just as Joyce stepped into the office. “Was that wise, Steven? Why antagonize the opposition?”

“Because much of this case is going to be fought in the media–I’ll leak Monday’s court appearance to the newspapers and to Channel 12 before I leave here today. I want them to know that we’re going to attack the DA’s office. They’re going to be very sorry that they gave into ‘public opinion’ before completing a thorough investigation. This is the kind of thing that happens when the DA is up for reelection.” Joyce returned to her desk and Geoffrey and I returned to the task of preparing a defense.

I wasn’t at all surprised the following morning when I received two large boxes containing documents and DVD’s of the dash camera showing Patrolman Jones’s entire shift. I sat in the dark with Jeff and Geoffrey for more than an hour viewing and reviewing the entire event. Just before leaving the office that afternoon I placed a phone call to Michael Halloran. I needed his help again. We agreed to meet tomorrow morning at my office. Being Saturday I anticipated we’d be alone. I was wrong; both Jeff and Geoffrey joined me and we hadn’t been in the office five minutes when Joyce came in carrying a thermos of hot coffee.

Michael viewed the DVD several times before making a copy. Then he suggested that I hire another specialist—an audio analyst. He knew one—a top man—from his lab at NYPD headquarters. I spoke to the man—Henry (call me Hank) Winkle. I made a copy of the 9-1-1 phone call as well as another DVD of the camera video and we broke for the weekend. I thought we were making a lot of progress.


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Our guests began to arrive before I was even out of the shower. I dressed hurriedly then ran down the stairs to greet my in-laws and Rosie’s brother Michael and his family. The house was filled with friends and relatives less than twenty minutes later. I made everyone’s first drink, following an old tradition established by my grandfather. After the first they were on their own. We were sitting in the basement family room when Rosie took charge of the group. “We have some gifts for everyone from Hawaii. First, the kids.” She handed Andrea’s two a bag with toys and sweatshirts and bathing suits from Maui. Then she followed up with Michael’s and Anita’s kids. “Okay, next…all of the men. She hefted the bags and delivered one to each of the men. Each bag held a silk polo shirt from the shops on Front Street in Lahaina and a golf shirt from Kapalua where the PGA plays an important tournament every January.

“Great shirts, Steven,” Harrison called. “You must have let Rosalie pick them out.”

“I did. You should have seen the one I originally picked out for you. Let’s put it this way—you’d never need to put the lights on at home again.” Everyone laughed, even Harrison. They couldn’t guess how serious I was.
Finally, came the women’s gifts—the black and gold pearl earrings. “I held these for last because once you have them I’ll be able to tell you about my gifts from my wonderful husband.” The expressions on their faces as they opened the Maui Divers boxes made the expense totally worthwhile. “Oh my,” exclaimed Nadia. “I’ve seen these online so I know what they cost. Thank you so much.” That pretty much summed up everyone’s reaction.

“Now I can tell you about the presents I received.” She walked out into the kitchen while she continued speaking. “Steven sort of tricked me when we were in the store, not that I’m complaining, but he asked me to try these on then surprised me by buying them for me.” She emerged from the doorway with the spectacular South Seas Golden pearls around her neck and the bangle earrings hanging from her lobes.

No one gasped as much as Nadia. “Damn, Rosalie, those things cost a fortune. They’re beautiful and they look perfect on you.” Of course, all of the women had to come up and touch, but that was okay. I’d read that touching pearls helped their luster.

“I’m not done yet. That was when Steven mentioned my ‘other’ present. I really must remember that I married a lawyer. I looked him straight in the eye and asked if it cost as much as these did. He told me, ‘No! Absolutely not!’ and he was right. He bought me a brand new BMW SUV that cost more than three times as much.”

“Well, I didn’t lie, did I?” Rosie laughed as she sat in my lap and kissed me.

“No, you were completely truthful and now I get to tell everyone about my best gift. It’s something I’ve always wanted.” She leaned down to kiss me again then turned to our guests and said, “I’m pregnant!”

There was understandable pandemonium as everyone jumped from their seats. Rosie’s mother was crying and so was her dad. Mine just beamed. We stood together receiving the hugs and kisses and back thumping for more than ten minutes. Everyone was still cheering when Nadia and Harrison approached. I couldn’t understand why they weren’t first until Nadia whispered, “So am I!” It was just loud enough for everyone to hear. Then the cheering began anew with Harrison and Nadia receiving the accolades this time.

Rosie and Nadia retired to the small basement kitchen where they pulled several large pans of fried chicken and baked ziti from the oven. I had a four-foot Italian hero out in the garage that I placed on the table. A hefty Greek salad finished our preparations and dinner was served. It was simple, but nobody complained. In fact, most everyone had seconds and even thirds.

The party started to break up around nine with everyone thanking us for their gifts and congratulating us on our impending family. Soon enough only Harrison and Nadia were with us. I knew why. Harrison wanted to talk about my murder trial.

“So…how’s it going?”

“Better than I thought. They must be nervous about the case. Sullivan phoned me on Thursday to offer a deal.”

“Kind of quick.”

“Yeah, too quick. He knew damned well that I hadn’t even seen any of the evidence and I don’t think I would have for a month or more if I hadn’t threatened to go to the judge about it. Now I think we’re on track to crack it wide open. Unfortunately, I’ll have to convince Judge Abraham to offer one of my witnesses immunity. He’ll never testify without it.”

Harrison and I spoke for quite a while Rosie and Nadia went on and on about their pregnancies. Harrison and I chuckled several times at their enthusiasm before they finally left around 10:30.


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At home Rosie and I began our planning for our child. There was so much to do—furniture, decorating, clothes. I’d never dreamed that such a tiny human being could need so many clothes. Some we gratefully accepted from Nick and Andrea or from Michael and Natalie, but most we bought on our own. We had the furniture selected and the room decorated with new wallpaper and carpeting by the Fourth of July.

That was a big time for me at work, too. We had begun voir dire—the preliminary process of juror selection. I had used the press and the local television stations to publicize our case for weeks, criticizing the district attorney as an overly ambitious politico interested only in feathering his nest at the expense of an innocent and dedicated police officer. Oh, how I tugged on the heartstrings of the public, but now in early August we were ready to go to trial. It would be quick. I thought their case was weak and I had several aces in the hole I could barely wait to play.

I sat calmly with my client as the ADA moved forward with his case. This time around I was going up against one Branford Clyde who was, if possible, as big a snob and an even bigger asshole than his boss. He was methodical and thorough–I had to give him that–but his case was unspectacular and had as many holes in it as a slice of Swiss cheese. It was all I could do to stifle a yawn as he described the scene of the crime in the driest tone imaginable. He had completed his technical case—analysis of the fired bullets and acknowledgement that they had come from Officer Jones’s weapon– when I asked to approach the bench. It was a good time to disrupt his case.

“I need to speak at some length about my defense, your honor and I suggest that my remarks would be best made in chambers where we will have complete privacy.” Of course, Clyde objected—repeatedly, but I won in the end in the “interest of justice.”

Once in chambers our deliberations were much more informal. “Your honor, I need to have immunity for one of my witnesses. He will not testify without it. I’ll never even get a chance to ask my first question. Additionally, I need a warrant to have him taken into custody as a material witness. The police have him under surveillance as we speak.”

“May I ask why, Mr. Sloan?”

“He is the leader of the Hispanic street gang, ms-13, in Brentwood. I have reason to believe that he was involved in this matter from the start.”

“Surely, you’re not going to paint the poor dead victim of this tragedy as some gang-banger?