The Guilty by Gabriel Boutros

reached over and slid out the top drawer of his night table. From inside it he pulled out Nancy’s business card, handed to him in a very open and professional manner some three weeks into the trial. Her home number had been hastily written in sharp, bold strokes on the back. That was N ancy all over: sharp and bold.
    That was also how he had always thought of himself, at least until his recent bout with sensitivity. But the sensitive male, who knew how to cry and was in touch with his inner child, was definitely not his style. He was quite sure that that wasn’t what had caught Nancy’s attention either. That guy had snuck out from whatever closet Bratt kept him hidden in over the years and took him by surprise. Now he was going back into the deepest, darkest hole that Bratt could find to bury him in, hopefully for good.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
     
     
         At 7:15 a.m. the ringing phone woke Bratt up with a start. Peter Kouri was calling to see if his hero was ready t o embark on their latest quest.
    “Morning, Mr. Bratt. H ope I’m not calling too early.”
    Bratt thought it would always be too early when Kouri called, b ut kept his comment to himself.
    “Not at all, Pete . It’s always a pleasure,” he lied, stretching and yawning loudly. “I hear you’re going up to R.D.P. today.”
    “Yes, that’s right. Mr. Leblanc said you’d want to come up too, especially if you got your   verdict last night. And there’s the great news, right in this morning’s paper.”
    “I’ll be sure to read all about it.”
    “So, I was just going to say…um, about going up to see Small today…I’m going to need a lift.”
    A lift? It was bad enough he was expected to nursemaid the kid, but he didn’t think he had to          play chauffeur for him too.
    Perhaps sensing Bratt’s hesitation, Kouri continued, explaini ng himself. “Um, I really don’t know the way up there very well. But, you won’t have to go out of your way much. I live in Rosemont, just off the highway. Besides, I think it would be a good chance for us to talk…about the case, I mean. Sort of compare ideas.” 
    Bratt winced at the thought. He knew that Kouri meant well enough, but there was something about the young lawyer’s over-enthusiasm that had grated on his nerves from their first m eeting and continued to do so.
    There was no way to avoid the drive up with Kouri, it seemed, but he wasn’t going to be rushed into it. If Kouri meant to compare ideas about the Small case, then Bratt was going to have to take his time this morning and try to develop some of his own, or risk looking unprepared in front of his assistant. And that would never do.
    But, first, there was the more pressing matter of a long-delayed phone call that he’d been waiting all night to make.
    Nancy Morin answered the phone on the first ring and, in her bright, quick voice, said, “ Allô, Robert .”
    Bratt hoped that she had call-display on her phone, and no t that he was that predictable.
    “Good morning, Nancy. Did I wake you?” 
    “No, I just came in from my jog. It helped to clear my mind after that long trial.”
    “I hope you weren’t trying to forget everything about the past two months.”
    “Not everything , as I’m sure you gathered from my message.”
    “Oh, that. Well, it was a bit ambiguous.”
    Morin laughed, that light, knowing laugh he’d gotten so used to. “OK, so maybe I was pretty straight-forward. No crime in that, is there?”
    “Not in the least. Actually, since you don’t like wasting time on small-talk, I’d like to discuss         some plans for tonight with you.”
    “Gr eat. Discuss away.”
    “As it so happens, I have to go to a wedding reception, one of those big Italian events. And, believe it or not, I do n’t have a date for the event.”
    “No-o,” she answered, in mock di sbelief. “How