Con Law by Mark Gimenez Page A

arrested him?’
    ‘Leaning against his car parked on Sixth Street. Cop came along and arrested him.’
    ‘He didn’t say or do anything to the police officer?’
    ‘Knowing Bobby, he probably smarted off. Never been one to keep his mouth shut. Like his mother. But how can they do that, take his blood without his consent? Is that constitutional?’
    The definition of a liberal: a conservative who had been arrested.
    ‘Good question. No answer as yet. So they arrested your son, searched his car, and found drugs?’
    ‘Cocaine.’
    ‘How much?’
    ‘The police report says a pound.’
    ‘That’s more than recreational.’
    ‘Bobby’s not a drug dealer, Professor. He’s a user. And he’s going into rehab at the Betty Ford Clinic, if he gets out of jail. And the case is dismissed. And his record expunged.’
    ‘Mr. Welch, you should hire an experienced criminal defense lawyer.’
    ‘I did. Scotty Raines. He said the search and seizure was illegal, no probable cause to search his Beemer or take a blood sample. He suggested I hire you.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because if Scotty says the search and seizure was illegal, the judge will still hold a trial. But you’re a famous constitutional law expert. If you say the search and seizure was illegal, the judge will dismiss the case.’
    ‘You want me to write a brief?’
    ‘And argue the issue in court, if necessary. I’m prepared to pay you handsomely.’
    ‘You don’t think your status is enough to’—Book wanted to say, ‘Get him off, ’but didn’t—‘remedy this situation?’
    ‘In Dallas, sure.But this is Austin, not exactly a hotbed of Republicans. The D.A. is a Democrat. I’m a big Republican donor in Texas, and I supported the D.A.’s opponent in the last election.’
    ‘Whoops.’
    ‘Whoops is right, Professor.’
    Book pondered a moment. Sitting in the Travis County Jail for six months to a year with hardened criminals wouldn’t do the young Welch any good. He needed to be in rehab.
    ‘Professor?’
    ‘I’ll do it. I’ll talk to your lawyer and write your brief.’
    ‘Thank you. What do I owe you?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘You’re going to work for free?’
    As if Book had said a recount had made Romney the winner.
    ‘No. In return, I want two promises from you. And these are non-negotiable, Mr. Welch.’
    ‘Shoot.’
    ‘First, your son goes into residential rehab, not some one-hour-a-week outpatient therapy. Six months minimum.’
    ‘Six months? He’ll fall behind in school.’
    ‘Better than falling behind in life.’
    ‘All right. Six months. I’m taking him out there myself. Professor, I love my son. I will take care of him.’ He hesitated a moment then said, ‘When I was at UT, we got drunk on Lone Star beer. Now it’s cocaine. Why do kids use drugs?’
    ‘I don’t know, Mr. Welch.’
    The line was silent for a long moment then Welch’s voice came across.
    ‘What’s thesecond promise?’

Chapter 6

    His intern didn’t answer her door when Book rang the bell—the Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor suites had doorbells—so he went downstairs. He checked the phone book at the front desk for Nathan Jones’s home address and jotted it down in the small notebook he always carried in his back pocket. He asked the desk clerk for the local paper, but it was a weekly and the last edition had come out the day before Nathan died; the new edition would come out the next day. He asked the clerk for the location of the newspaper office. He then searched for his intern.
    He found her in the
Giant
museum.
    In a small spaceoff the lobby,
Giant
memorabilia, movie posters, photographs, coffee mugs, T-shirts, caps, and shot glasses were offered for sale, and on a small television the film ran in a loop. Nadine Honeywell sat in a leather chair in front of the screen with her feet kicked up on an ottoman and her eyes focused through her black glasses on the movie. Book had watched
Giant
several times, as had every Texan of age; it was the