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Elder has retained me, in their behalf, to represent them in court if they agree, and he seems certain that they will, as it’s likely they only have a public defender.”
    Camilla stared at Slick, hard now.
    “Let me get this straight. You’re paying your very expensive lawyer here a whole lot of money to represent a Mexican day laborer charged with capital murder?”
    “And his two friends.”
    “You don’t know them?”
    “Nope. Never saw them before yesterday.”
    “You never talked to them before yesterday?”
    “Didn’t even talk to them yesterday, he just happened to be sitting next to me at the counter of the diner. Didn’t even say hello. Don’t think he speaks much English and my Spanish is limited.”
    “But you’re picking up the tab for his defense in a capital murder case?”
    “Yep.”
    “Why?”
    “Because”—Slick leaned forward—“he’s innocent.”
    “And you know this how?”
    “Sheriff was wrong on me, odds are he’s wrong on Pedro, too. That’s my bet and I like to gamble when the odds are in my favor. Either way, Pedro gets good representation in court and who doesn’t deserve that? We all do. Melvin is very, very good at what he does.”
    Melvin handed her his card. Camilla took it, nodded and stood.
    “It’s not mine, I don’t get the big, juicy murder cases, but I’ll let my office know and send you the files. Mr. Hayes, pleasure to meet you. And Mr. Elder—”
    “Call me Jon.”
    “Mr. Elder, a word of advice. Anyone who works long enough in law and order knows it can get screwy and unfair. We do our best, but there’s no such thing as a perfect system and while there are more successes than failures, failures do happen. It happens. But don’t take that fact of life as a license to jerk me around, I won’t appreciate it.”
    “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

6
    “J oe, how are you? Been some time,” Camilla said when she came out. Brower and Rawlings were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Collins. They hid at the sight of her.
    “Good to see you, as always, Camilla,” Navajo Joe said. “What do we have?”
    “The usual weirdness. Is he a friend of yours?”
    “A friend of a friend. Thumper, ADA Camilla Leon, she’s good people. Camilla, this is Tommy ‘Thumper’ Olson.”
    “Thumper? Your name is Thumper?”
    Thumper was not disposed to jokes or comments about his nickname even on a good day, and this had been a long way from a good day thus far. He glowered.
    “What about it?”
    “Didn’t you used to box? In Texas?”
    Thumper hesitated, not sure if he was being put on or not.
    “Yeah. Texas and a bunch of other places. Who told you that, Slick?”
    “No, actually, I’m pretty sure I saw you box once. In El Paso, about twelve, thirteen years ago or so? You were on the same card as Diego Nunez?”
    “Yeah. Diego, they called him Danger, he fought after me. He was a bigger name, I was in the prelims, he was main card. Seriously? You remember that?”
    “Diego’s my second cousin, he’s from here and we all traveled as a family to El Paso for the fight. I remember you because, let’s face it, Thumper is a memorable nickname. I remember you won by a knockout in the second round.”
    Thumper smiled in spite of himself, proud. Nodded.
    “It was a good fight. How’s Diego these days, he’s out of the fight game, right?”
    “Unfortunately. He’s dead. Drive-by shooting, about six years ago.”
    Thumper shifted, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. He was a good fighter.”
    “He was. But I thought … the lawyer told me you were a police officer?”
    “Was. Got out, did other things. Now I run a gym, in Chicago.”
    Navajo Joe watched deputies pretend to do paperwork while listening in. Former cop, former boxer, it was all very interesting, and when they brought his name up on their computers they would also discover that Thumper had served four years in Joliet for manslaughter. He’d beaten a man to death with his bare hands, in a locker room after