Chapter 53

I do not like this new client.

He is one such as I have known many times before, a man who always wishes to show he is stronger, better, more than other men. But ones like this show it not against equals but against those they believe are weaker or lower than themselves. Linda tells me the word is “bully,” and this man is a bully.

Also, he believes that because he has much money it does not only make him better than others, but he can do as he pleases and not have punishment such as other men would suffer. He is not sorry that the other man with whom he fights is dead, he only thinks it is unjust that he may be punished for the death.

Linda has told me often that it’s not needed to like a client; “even scumbags have rights,” is the way she says it. Irving says this as well, as do others in law firm with whom I have worked. And I agree; that a man is a bad man in one way does not mean he does a particular bad deed, or that even if he does there were not proper reasons for the deed or other “mitigating circumstances.”

Still, I am sorry that we must return from our trip, our honeymoon, to help a man such as this.

Hawaii is a place such as I’ve never seen, not even when I dream. There are great mountains almost beside great water, lush forests beside sandy beaches, places where there is rarely rain next to places where it rains almost always, it is as though the entire world is compressed into only these small islands. And I am with Linda to see all this, which is best of all.

I am more easy in airplane for our return flight. It helps that the flight is mostly in nighttime, so that there is no sense that we are so high. I sleep very comfortably for a long time as we fly, which is good since the same afternoon that we make our return Linda and I must go to the office to meet this client.

His name is Sam McDonald, and he spends most of our meeting boasting of his money and his strength in bar fight. With him is his wife, and she seems to care for him but I do not think he has so much feeling for her. I tell this to Irving and Linda when our meeting is finished.

“He says he goes to bar only short for alcohol,” I say. “But this is not true. He goes for that, but he goes also to be in company of those he prefers to his home. And I think he may go to find woman for sex as well.”

“That figures,” Linda says. I see that she does not like this Sam McDonald either. “Ir­ving, you have to admit he’s a first-class asshole.”

“Mmm,” Irving agrees. “But that’s not really the point, is it? Let’s get down to nuts and bolts, you’ve both got to be tired. First, did he pick the fight, Hugo?”

“I can’t be sure,” I say. “He isn’t sorry about the fight, and I don’t think he tried hard to avoid fighting, but I think he is not himself sure whether he or the other one, this Jerry Trues­dale, began the fight. He does not care, and so he blames the other man.”

“Did he mean to kill Truesdale?”

“He meant to make injury, to beat the other man as badly as he could,” I answer. “He had no specific intention to kill. Again, he did not care. But he does not know if he killed other man or not.”

“But he didn’t go into the fight meaning to kill Truesdale?” Irving persists.

“No.”

“Okay, that’s a help,” says Irving. “Did you get anything else out of it?”

“I learned a great deal about this man that I had no desire to know,” I say. “But I think none of it concerns this matter. He drank too much alcohol and he had a fight and he thinks it’s unreasonable that he should go to trial for this.”

“What about his lying about his past relationship with Truesdale?”

I shrug. “It’s about as he tells it, he did so because he wanted to avoid ‘complications, ‘ as he says it. He believed no-one would know otherwise, and that it would be found he fought only in self-defense against a stranger. Irving, this is not a nice man, but he now says only what he believes to be true, except why he goes there.”

We speak only a little more, and then Irving tells us to go home and sleep. “I need you in court by ten, both of you, and well rested. Let’s see if we get anything more useful out of the testimony.”

I still do not understand how she manages it, but Linda drives us through rush-hour traffic safely to reach our home. Perhaps some day I may be confident of driving so fast and so close to many other cars, but now I’m very glad I don’t have to do so.

At home we stop only to have food and Linda goes immediately to bed. I clean in the kitchen and then follow her. It is a poor ending to our honeymoon, but we have all of our lives together.