A Realization
Chapter 3
An off-beat alternative to Boston, Cambridge was a charming neighborhood mixing the old New England style with a new youthful vitality. Located just a bridge away on the other side of the Charles River, the area was book-ended between the academic powerhouses of Harvard and MIT schools.
As the limousine drove through the town, Connie eagerly looked out the window. Even in the darkness she could see it was a city filled with bookstores, coffeehouses, art-house cinemas and eclectic neighborhood bars. Despite its commercial laden streets. the area still managed to have a vintage feel about it, with its cobblestone streets and antique colonial signs.
"Have you dined at Salts before?" Doug asked Connie, as the limo made its way down Main Street.
"No, but I've heard good things about the place," responded Connie, who could not remember when was the last time she ate.
"I think their duck is divine," he recommended.
Connie turned back to admire the city lights at night. She did a double take when the limo drove passed a family- run Chinese restaurant. She suddenly had a yearning for Chinese food, imagining all the white takeout boxes that used to be spread out all on the table at the DA's office in New York.
Connie could picture sitting across from Mike as they discussed a case and every now and then he would say something humorously snide, making her smile or laugh. She thought of his fondness for teasing her and suddenly she had a feeling of…yearning. She missed his companionship.
"Connie, I'm scared," Doug admitted, as he sat next to her, "What will become of me?"
His expression showed fear and apprehension.
Connie wanted to believe Doug she knew back then wouldn't have the nerve to even argue with his older brother, much less do him harm. When it came to dealing with his family, Doug was like a doormat.
Back then, what she had like about him was his outlook on life, his easygoing ways. But then, why wouldn't he be that way if everything had been handed to him and he had no stress in his life?
Connie turned to give him a reassuring smile.
"We will take it one step at a time, Doug," Connie said.
"You think I can beat the charge?" Doug asked, "I just can't go to prison…can't!"
"There are no guarantees when it comes to a trial, juries are unpredictable," Connie stated truthfully, "but luckily for you, you do have an alibi."
"Yeah," Doug said, sitting back, slightly more relieved, "I just hope it's enough."
"If your alibi holds, it will be proof that you are innocent," Connie said and then added, "but right now, I have a concern about the assault accusation."
"The assault?" Doug scowled.
"Doug," said Connie, looking him squarely in the face, "I am going to ask you something and you must be completely truthful about it…what about this prior rape charge?"
Doug's expression turned to one of distress.
"The rape? It's nothing! Nothing!…that woman recanted…" Doug looked even more upset, if that were possible, "And why would it matter? That happened a year ago!" Doug then leaned in closer to Connie, "I swear to you, Connie, I did not rape anyone!"
"Doug, I want to believe everything that you say," Connie said, "and I need you to be honest with me at all times."
"Everything I stated is the truth!" he spoke with conviction, "This whole thing has been a nightmare…one day, my life is perfect and the next, this! I'm so confused!"
"I wish I could tell you not to worry," Connie said, "but the best one can hope for is that the truth will eventually come out on trial."
"And that truth is that I am innocent," Doug repeated again. He worriedly ran his hand through his hair, "So, Connie, what will be your strategy in defending me?"
"It's premature to say now until I go over all the facts." pointed out Connie, " But the way I see it, jurors will not be able to empathize with a person whose lifestyle they cannot relate to, so our first hurdle to overcome is to humanize you, to make you seem like everyman, a regular guy."
Doug did a half-smile, making him look boyish, "So you're saying it's a disadvantage for me to be born with a silver spoon…"
She returned his smile, "Only in this case, Doug..."
His smile dissipated as he looked solemnly at her, "Connie, why did we ever…"
Connie knew exactly where this conversation was headed.
"No, Doug," Connie shook her head sadly, "I don't think this is the time to discuss us. That is past history."
The backseat of the limousine remained quiet for a time.
Connie noted that she had been sitting so close to Doug that their shoulders were almost touching. Yet she did not understand why she felt so distant from him. Not that she expected the heavens to open up or anything, but here was someone that she thought she had been in love with, so shouldn't there be some residual feelings for him? He had been a major part of her life for three years.
But he was now a stranger to her.
Even when she thought back, Doug never captured her attention, her emotions, all her waking thoughts like…well, like Mike.
This time she allowed her mind to drift to how vibrant and hopelessly blue Mike's eyes were. She liked the way he'd would be deep in thought and then an idea would come over him suddenly he would lift his head, and give her a smile that never failed to dazzle. Or the way his forehead would furrow as he'd worriedly tossed his baseball back and forth during a case. How she already missed his little nuances.
Why was she thinking of her boss this way, anyway?
"Connie," Doug broke into her thoughts, "is everything alright? You seem…not here... so lost in thought."
"Oh! Sorry Doug, I was thinking…about New York City," Connie fudged the truth slightly, "You know how it is when you can't get something out of your head."
Or someone…
.
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Mike and Josh were just finishing up their meal at the Salts Restaurant.
"So what we need as far as jurors go," Josh explained, "is a jury of real people, men and women who didn't finish college… better yet, who never stepped foot in a university."
"In hopes of them not being able to relate to the heir of the Merrick Clam Chowder fortune?" Mike asked.
"Precisely, my friend!" Josh was smiling.
As Mike took another bite of his dinner, he felt, rather than saw someone slip beside him in his booth. Mike looked over at the dark haired man. Something about him looked so familiar.
"Josh," the familiar looking man nodded at Lethem, "We meet again."
"Well, Artie," Josh said, "Can't say I'm surprise to see you."
Mike's memory clicked. Artie. Artie Shaw. He was the producer of a reality-based show and one of Connie's old classmates.
Mike smiled at the memory of the time he witnessed Connie from the front of the courthouse as she frustratingly had to "redo" her courthouse arrival scene for Artie Shaw's camera crew. It had been his and Jack's idea for her to cooperate with the reality show producer because she hated the idea of herself being filmed on camera.
"You having fun?" Mike had called her on his cellphone while he stayed hidden in one of the courthouse's columns. From there, he could watch her actions from across the street.
"I am going to kill you," promised Connie, angrily, emphatically, "and then I'm going to kill McCoy!"
"On camera?" he couldn't help the grin.
As Connie paced back and forth on the sidewalk, Mike thought she never looked more enticing.
"I don't…I don't care!" she insisted, "I'd be better off in prison!"
"…I know what you are thinking, Mr. Cutter," Artie interrupted Mike's thoughts. He then reached in his jacket pocket, produced a mini-recorder and pushed the 'on button'.
"…you're thinking," Artie completed his thought, "'saay…isn't that the world renowned, Artie Shaw aka, the reality TV producer, sitting next to me? Why, yes it is! I would answer, I was, but I've moved on. I'm now the main reporter for Court TV!"
"And…" Mike couldn't mask his incredulity, "… this is an improvement?"
Artie had to turn off the recorder, "Please Mr. Cutter, We must conduct ourselves in the most professional of manner. Sarcasm is not welcomed."
Artie then turned the recorder back on.
"So, Mr. Cutter…ready to begin jury selection tomorrow?" Artie asked.
The last thing Mike wanted to do was to be interviewed. He looked over at Josh, who brought both shoulders up in a quizzical 'what-can-you-do' gesture.
After getting no response from Mike, Artie reached over to turn off the recorder again.
"In order for this interview to work," Artie sounded slightly impatient, "both sides have to speak up. This isn't a psychic interview where I read your mind."
Artie then turned the recorder back on.
"Mr. Cutter," Artie continued, "What will be your true involvement in the jury selection? How much input will you have?"
Mike was having none of this, "Excuse me…why are you here, Mr. Shaw?"
The recorder went off.
It was obvious Artie was working at controlling his annoyance.
"I am here. Mr. Cutter, because Court TV covers a trial from gavel to gavel," Artie stated, patiently, "My job is to do interviews with the major players. And how could I not resist when NYC's top litigator comes a- knocking on such a high profile case?"
"I don't think I can comment," Mike declared.
"Sure you can!" assured Artie, gesturing, "Just talk into this little speaker here!"
Mike wondered how Artie Shaw even knew he was here.
"Mr. Shaw," Mike began, "Did Court TV plan to cover the Merrick trial before I agreed to help Josh Lethem or after?"
Ahem. Josh's throat clearing and shaking of the head was directed at Artie.
"You don't have to answer that, Artie," Josh quickly interjected, as Mike stared at him.
If anything, Artie looked pleased at the awkward situation he created between Lethem and Cutter. Dissidence already between the ranks! He turned on the recorder and repeated the question for the recorder.
"Mr. Cutter, did you just ask me if we had plan to cover the Merrick trial before or after you climbed on board? The truth of matter is, I had planned on covering a celebrity trial in Hollywood, but with you joining the prosecution side on this trial, it added a special twist to this case, if you know what I mean."
A twist? Mike internalized, whatever could Artie Shaw mean?
"Perhaps you should have just covered the other trial, " Mike suggested.
Artie upturned his mouth into what could only be described as a smirk, "…Are you kidding? When Josh told me about the new defense lawyer and then you coming on board, I had to cover this story! Care to comment about the defense team?"
Now Mike reached over and turned off the recorder. He again looked at Josh, who was looking at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Josh, what is this?" Mike demanded to know from Josh, "I thought you didn't know who the defense lawyer was going to be. But you do know, don't you?"
Josh looked flustered, "Like I told you, Mike…it was only a rumor! I couldn't say for certain, buddy boy!"
Mike let out a big heaving sigh.
"I don't understand how," Mike started to simmer, "but... am I somehow being used for some kind of publicity stunt for TV ratings?"
Artie tried to again reach over to turn on the recorder, but Josh had reached over and roughly slapped Artie's hand to prevent the recorder button from being pushed.
"Ow!" yelped Artie, as he rubbed the back of his hand
"Do NOT turn on that recorder!" warned Josh before turning to Mike.
"Come on, Mike, this is me! Your old friend, Josh!" Josh announced, trying to look free from guilt.
"That's the problem, Josh, I do know you," Mike stated, "but to what purpose are you using me? I wouldn't have thought…".
Mike never finished his sentence, for his eyes were glued to the entrance of the restaurant. The other two men turned in the direction Mike was looking.
Mike's eyes got huge as recognition set in, and he witnessed Connie entering the restaurant. He would recognize her anywhere, even if she had a paper bag over her entire body. Mike had certainly observed her every move enough.
Her walk was confident with a feminine flair.
His surprised expression, however, turned into a slight scowl at the sight of the blonde haired man behind her, who had his hand placed possessively on the small of Connie's back.
They were both shown to a table by the matre d' across the room. When they were both comfortably seated, the unknown male leaned in to whisper something intimately to her and Mike watched as she laughed.
Mike had thought he had memorized Connie's features by now but he obviously hadn't. Otherwise, why did she look beyond beautiful to him now?
Unable to tear his eyes away from her, Mike hated the thought of Connie spending time with another man. He had always assumed she was too busy pursuing a career and felt dating was frivolous. Obviously he didn't know her at all.
Wasn't she supposed to be on vacation? Mike asked himself. He felt a pang of jealousy when he realized that possibly the unknown male and Connie were on vacation together.
So who was the man with her and why did he look so familiar?
"Why, what a coincidence!" Artie Shaw's voice sounded sing-songy, "Speaking of the Merrick case, there's the defendant over there now with our little Connie! For a guy accused of murder, he sure looks happy!"
Artie knew exactly what he was saying. He was determined to get some kind of reaction from Mike.
Mike seemed to be in a trance, but he forced himself to tear himself away from viewing Connie and the blonde-haired man to look in Artie's direction, "That's…Merrick?"
"Yes, Douglas Merrick—but I thought you already knew," Artie was saying, "I was just about to ask what you thought of your colleague, Miss Rubirosa, taking over the Merrick case."
It was as if Mike had been whacked on the face with a brick. As he worked to recover, he noted that the recorder had been turned back on.
"No…comment…" he absent-mindedly responded, thinking his throat felt like it had swallowed a dry desert.
"Look, Artie," defended Josh, at last, "Maybe this isn't the best time to talk with us. After all, my colleague just got in from New York. He hasn't even had a chance to unwind."
Mike had stop listening. He watched everything that was occurring at Connie's table. How she casually opened her menu. How she pointed and commented to Merrick about a specific item. How Merrick seemed mesmerized by her every word. How she smiled back at him and seemed to be having a wonderful time.
His whole body stiffened and even though he knew the longer he looked, the more it hurt, it was, like a car accident- he couldn't seem to look away.
Until he heard some rambling from Artie Shaw, which ended with, "…Miss Rubirosa and her ex-fiance…"
If Mike had been shocked before, he almost needed to be resuscitated now when he heard the part about ex-fiance. He turned slowly towards Artie Shaw, hoping he had heard wrong, the flashing green light of the recorder be damned.
"What?" Mike managed to say through the fog in his mind.
This time his friend Josh had the decency to reach over and turn off the recorder.
"Come on, Artie, give the guy a break!" Josh interrupted, "You're working for Court TV, not a salacious gossip magazine!"
"Sometimes they all blend in together as one, my friend." Artie admitted.
Artie gave it one more try with the recorder as he turned it on and then leaned in towards Mike, "Mr. Cutter, we just want to know how you feel about Merrick's ex-fiancé, Connie Rubirosa, defending him in court?"
Mike gave Artie a look that said this interview was definitely over.
"You better leave now, Mr. Shaw, " Mike warned in a low tone, "unless you want parts of your recorder spewed all over the floor."
…And later that night Artie Shaw was not able to find a single usable line from his tape recorder.
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