The Price of Justice Read Online Free Page A

afforded a 180-degree view of the rivers surrounding the southern tip of Manhattan. Arrayed on a credenza along the side wall were silver trays. The flame underneath indicated that hot food awaited them, and the aroma that filled the room told her it was gourmet.
    “I should have asked you if you have any food allergies or aversions, so I apologize in advance if there’s nothing here to suit you,” Jack said.
    Fat chance, Dani thought. She knew she was in for a treat, something far different from the tuna-salad sandwich and bag of potato chips that she’d brought to her office for lunch. And she was right. Beef bourguignon filled one tray, and the other held pasta—in case she was a vegetarian, Jack explained. The garlic odor from the pasta brought out a smile, and she happily filled her plate. Next to the trays of hot food were soft drinks, juices, and Perrier water, both sparkling and flat. Last, a platter of petit fours and a tray of fruit covered the remaining space on the credenza top. The display was typical for firms of this type. It was intended to seduce their wealthy clients, to show them they’d made the correct decision in choosing their lawyers. It said, “We’re just like you. We understand you.”
    They brought their food and drinks over to the table and sat down on the deeply cushioned burgundy chairs. As they ate, Dani and Jack engaged in small talk, designed to help them get to know each other. Jack was easygoing and likable, with a seemingly limitless supply of lawyer jokes that he shared with her over lunch. These traits no doubt served him well with a jury.
    When they’d finished lunch and an assistant had removed their plates, Dani asked, “Do you think Winston is guilty?”
    Jack chuckled. “I suppose that matters for a HIPP attorney. Not with us. When an important client asks us to handle a personal criminal matter, we don’t ask that question. It would hamstring us too much. I can tell you this, though. His parents and grandmother believe he’s innocent.”
    Well, that’s a start, Dani thought.
    “I have a copy of the files boxed for you, and I’ll messenger them over to your office, but I kept them here for our meeting, in case you want to refer to any of them.”
    Thoughtful, too. But of course, the Meltons pay him well to be accommodating. Probably at the rate of $1,500 an hour. Maybe even more.
    “The evidence seemed flimsy to me. Why do you think Winston was convicted?” Dani asked.
    “I hate to say it, but I think it was his wealth. The prosecutor painted him as a spoiled rich kid who was used to getting his way. And, of course, Carly was a local girl. The jurors wanted to make sure the murder of one of their own didn’t go unpunished. And Winston was the only suspect.”
    “And then to impose the death penalty with so little evidence? It seems so extreme.”
    “We put on a number of witnesses to attest to his character, his lack of prior criminal activity, even his academic successes. Of course, our biggest obstacle was Florida law. It’s the only state in which only seven of twelve jurors need to agree to impose the death penalty.”
    Dani shook her head. “I have to admit, I was shocked when I read that. In every other state, it has to be unanimous.”
    “Well, I think you’ll find Florida is interesting in many respects.”
    “I’m learning that.”
    Dani rummaged through the files Jack had brought to the room and pulled out the transcript of the trial. “What do you think was the most damaging testimony?” she asked.
    “Palm Beach County is made up of the very wealthy, mostly seasonal residents; seniors who’ve moved from other parts of the country to live in a warm, sunny climate for their retirement; the middle class who work hard to support their families; and a smattering of the poor. Seasonal residents aren’t on the voter rolls in Palm Beach County, so they don’t get called for jury duty. Much as I tried to get Winston to tone down his clothing and