Compelling Evidence by Steve Martini

battle. an ho look Our eyes follow Sarah, whose attention has been ei,twiw"

    " LAL. a gray squirrel making for one of the trees. Her hopeless. I let her go. I will simply have to absorb Wl, tongue‐lashing later. I Sam Jennings is, by nature, an affable man. His ‐rswoinm" has all the appearances of a face well stamped from birth .vr' abiding smile. But there are those who learned too late that spect of his character that belies an acquired predatory sense. in his thirty years as chief prosecutor for this county and in early decades of his tenure, Samuel Jennings, for crimes well ‐rved, sent a half‐dozen men to their final peace in the state's chamber. See any of the old crowd?" I ask. I suppose that's one of the benefits of leaving voluntarily ead of getting your ass kicked in an election. You can stop he office every once in a while. Even so," he says, "Nelson n't exactly roll out the red carpet."

    What's the problemt' Who knows. Maybe he thinks my being there is going to ip his management style. Hell, look at me. What's he think, gonna run against him?" Aaybe he thinks you might plant the idea elsewhere," I say. ybe with one of his deputies." Who, met' he says. There's a lot of feigned innocence here. tell that this scenario is not original with me, unless I've ‐ead the twinkle in his eye. He's probably been solicited for ndorsement. I wonder who in the office it is, who will be ered to step out on the ledge with Nelson on election day, to to nudge him off.
    Nelson was appointed to fill the vacancy when Sam refired. Now he has to earn his spurs in the next tion. 4ow's it going with you? The solo practice and all?" make a face. "Enjoying it enough. Now ask me if I'm making money." doney's not everything." He smiles. Phis from a man with a fat county pension." (ou could've stayed there. Didn't have to go chasing the )ow," he says. Imm. Not a very happy place right now. Not from what ar. 11 4aybe a little more political than when I was there."
    iow who's minimizing things?" I say. e laughs. "No worse than some firms I could mention." there's an instant of uncomfortable silence as he eyes me, lookfor some sign, a hint of willingness to talk, some revelation the causes for my departure from the firm. He comes up ty. the of life's true tragedies," says Jennings. "Ben Potter. Guy a veritable Mr for success. Would've put this town on the national map, his appointment to the court."

    "I suppose."

    National life goes on. The papers had it that ow , i ing. The President had made another nomination to the court. 1, administration's playing it coy, refusing io confirm that it ML offered the position to Ben. I try to kill the subject with silence. Jennings has never Ism M.. my move to the firm. Like Plato, he defines ultimate * LIU; as each man's finding his proper niche in life. And from 7 beginning, he never believed that I would fit in with 077Skarpellos. "It's hard to figure," he says.

    4 "What's thatt' "Why anybody would want to kill him."

    I look at Sam Jennings, this paragon of sober intelligence, stony silence. I know his words are not the product of some that has missed its mark. "What are you talking about?"

    "People if I Nelson's shop tell me they're getting vibes, thing strange about the whole thing from the cops. Not the stuff following a suicide."

    "Like whatt' "Seems Potter's office and an elevator down the hall have taped off for more than a week now. Forensics has been *iw', there."

    "Probably just being careful," I say. "Me feds are
    "You think that's it,
    a little bureaucratic rivahyt' I make a face, like
    "Who knows?"

    "I don't think so," he says. Jennings has a shit‐eating grin.': kind that says he has inside information. If

    "The service elevator on
    Potter's floor." He looks at me &17;sure I'm following his drift. "It's been sealed by the cops of commission for almost a week. The janitors and Mfflvt1wyo""are raising hell, I'm told. I think the cops are reading wo)t tea leaves or the entrails of