I'll See You in My Dreams: An Arthur Beauchamp Novel Read Online Free Page B

instead?”
    I felt like telling him there was no point in holding out for Clarence Darrow, as he was no longer of this earth. “If you propose to defend yourself, Gabriel, you will have a fool for a client. Trite but true.”
    â€œI won’t be gagged by an attorney. I intend to speak with my own tongue.”
    I was about to say adieu and rise, but pride held me back. I was not going to walk out like a chump, insulted, defeated. “And what would you talk about with your own tongue?”
    â€œThe colonial structures of our supposedly free society, the rampant racism, the victimization of the poor.”
    Ophelia couldn’t hide her astonishment but I was prepared for this. “Then it will be a judge who will gag you, Gabriel. The prosecutor is Cyrus Smythe-Baldwin, the most able counsel of the West Coast bar. You will be meat for his grinder. Your political rhetoric will win you no friends on the jury, which will surely convict. You will then be free to declaim against the ills of our society until you are led to the gallows.”
    Gabriel smiled slightly at this, maybe cynically, maybe in appreciation of my bluntness. “People around here say you’re a straight shooter. But you’ve never defended a murder.”
    â€œNo, I haven’t.”
    â€œHow many jury trials have you done?”
    â€œTwo.”
    â€œDid you win either?”
    â€œThe second.” I didn’t tell him they were two-bit offences: an illegal firearm, drug possession.
    The warehouse thief, my fan, was parting ways with his mother. He called out to Gabriel, “You got the best throat on the coast, man, and he don’t charge an arm and a leg.”
    Gabriel studied me again. “You seem to have a high consumer rating in here, Mr. Beauchamp.”
    â€œCall me Arthur, as you might an equal, because right now I stand in no other relation to you. I am not your lawyer. You are free to reject my services, and I can give you a substantial reasonto do so. Dermot Mulligan was my professor. He instilled in me a love of the Greek playwrights and the Roman poets. He was a great man – a little eccentric, sure, as brilliant people often are – but he was like a god to me.”
    Gabriel lost his stubborn, sardonic expression, and his lips trembled. I looked away, uncomfortable, and saw the woman who’d been sobbing at the next table slip something under it, a white packet.
    Gabriel gingerly touched a bruise. Ophelia spoke softly. “Were you assaulted in here, Gabriel?”
    He seemed not to hear that, still absorbed in my curt speech. Then a perplexed look. “Assaulted in here?” He swung an arm about. “Can you see how many brothers are in this joint?”
    Most of the inmates there were Native. I had got so used to their disproportionate presence in the criminal system that I’d put on blinders against that uncomfortable reality.
    â€œI’m in debt to Sergeant Knepp for this.” Gabriel pointed to his bruised eye. “We have a bad history.” He pulled up his shirt: a raised yellow mass on his left side below the ribs. “Constable Jettles felt he had to chime in as an act of solidarity, but he only kicked me once.”
    â€œWhere did this happen?”
    â€œIn the cells. No witnesses.” There was a moment in which he was obviously struggling to contain himself, all his face muscles tightening. I sensed he had a short fuse and knew it, knew he had to avoid igniting it. A deep breath. “I got my licks in.” He splayed his fingers. His knuckles were bruised and scraped.
    He steadied himself, getting a fix on me based on his new information. “Arthur … Yeah, it comes back. Dermot mentioned you a few times. He was pissed off at you. You threw your life away by choosing law over literature.” A sudden smile, more proof of a mercurial temperament. “Wish you’d gone to Oxford instead,