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Cole’s wife asserted that he was homosexual?”
    â€œAfterwards, I believe.”
    â€œAnd then you noticed his so-called bias.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhen you hadn’t noticed it before.”
    Once more Parnell removed his glasses, and wiped a smudge. “I suppose, Mr. Lord, that it simply hadn’t crystallized.”
    â€œAnd what crystallized it was that Mr. Halliburton now wished to fire him.”
    Parnell nodded.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mr. Parnell. We need an audible answer.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œAnd when you approved his dismissal, Mr. Cole asked to see you?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œTo discuss the problems he’d been having, and ask to keep his job.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œBut you refused.”
    Putting on his glasses, Parnell looked away. “Yes.”
    Lord waited until Parnell glanced back at him. Quietly, he asked, “Because to meet with a homosexual would not have been ‘comfortable’ for you?”
    Parnell’s mouth opened slightly. “Objection,” Danziger interrupted. “Asked and answered—Mr. Parnell has already testified that any discomfort on his part was administrative.”
    â€œSustained.”
    But Parnell was watching Lord. With the intimacy he knew to be his gift, Lord walked slowly to the right-hand side of the witness box, so that the jury saw both his face and Parnell’s. “Examining your conscience, Mr. Parnell, and understanding that what’s at stake here is the career of a man who’s already paid a great deal for being homosexual, can you swear to the jury that Mr. Cole’s sexual preference played no role in the way you authorized his firing?”
    Lord felt the jury leaning forward. Patting his handkerchief, Parnell murmured, “Yes.”
    Lord slowly extended one hand. “The jury, Mr. Parnell, is over there.”
    Parnell stared at his pointed finger. “Asked and answered,” Danziger called out. “I object to these theatrics at my client’s expense.”
    His associates nodded. But Lord did not bother to respond. Instead, he watched Parnell with a quizzical smile, silently asking that he face the jury.
    â€œMr. Lord?”
    Lord let the silence hang a moment longer. Still facing Parnell, he responded, “I’ll withdraw it, Your Honor. I think Mr. Parnell will be asking it of himself.”
    Parnell did not look at the jury, but at Lord.
    â€œI think it’s time for a recess,” McIlvaine said hastily. “You’re excused for now, Mr. Parnell.” There was muffled sound from the press, and then Parnell left the courtroom.
    As they filed out, several jurors looked quickly at Lord. But he walked back toward his client with the nonchalance of a professional.
    Cole’s smile was one of pained gratitude; that the formerly secret half of his life had made him see the underside of things was a reason Lord liked him. “Nice job,” Cole murmured.
    Lord shrugged. “Parnell’s a decent man, in his way—at some point he realized that he didn’t want to hang you. I just helped him to remember why.”
    â€œI doubt he enjoyed the reminder.”
    Cole’s tone was dry. Despite the contrast between his slight jockey’s body and Parnell’s paunchy awkwardness, the degree to which his client’s spruceness mirrored his antagonist’s—even Cole’s mustache seemed dry-cleaned—had moved Lord to ponder the relationship between obsessive neatness and inner turmoil. He put a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I also doubt Parnell will want to put either of you through any more.”
    â€œSettlement?”
    â€œPossibly. And if we get your job and back pay then maybe you can win joint custody of your daughter.” To lighten things up, Lord added, “You might even pay me—which is why I’m buying you lunch.”
    Cole flipped on his panama hat; it was the first careless