Chapter 10
Beaten on Price
Grissom felt a gentle breeze pass over his scalp. A few days earlier he'd noticed that his hair was already getting long enough to be showing odd tufts that might give away its naturally curly nature. He'd asked about a having it cut and had finally got a response this morning when his escort had made a detour on the way here to the exercise yard. Now he was sporting the shortest clipper cut available and it felt a little odd.
For the first few minutes of his ninety minute exercise period Grissom simply prowled around the caged area. His guards leaned against the wall just the other side of the gate, chatting to each other whilst keeping a vague eye on their charge.
Twice a week he was brought here to the 180 square foot area with its concrete floor and high, chain link, fence. Twice a week he wondered what to do with himself while he was there. It was one of the draw backs to his level of segregation, with no-one to talk to, walking around seemed both boring and faintly ludicrous and jogging or running on this surface would jar his aging joints. The only equipment provided was a basketball and hoop, and Gil had been laughed at more than enough for his miserable failure to shoot baskets at high school. He had no reason to think his skills would have improved in the intervening decades of not even attempting to play sport, and he wasn't about to entertain his guards for the next hour and a half while he failed spectacularly at it again.
Idly he kicked at the ball as if it was a soccer ball. Of course he hadn't been any good at that game either, so he didn't bother trying to control the ball, just kicked it at the fence so it bounced back to him. Then he kicked it again, harder. And again, harder, and again harder.
Soon his fear, frustration and growing sense of bitterness had him locked in a cycle of kicking, walking to where the ball had come to a stop and kicking it again, each time trying to make the noise it made on contact with the metal fence louder, in the hope it would block out the roaring in his ears.
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Why was it that old family law firms always seemed to have ancient offices and even older partners?
The room Jim Brass was sitting in seemed to predate Bugsy Siegel's arrival in Las Vegas and the man sitting behind the desk looked old enough to have been Grissom's grandfather's attorney.
"It seems that, as a lawyer, one sees all the highs and lows of one's client's lives."
The man even talks like he could have voted for Teddy Roosevelt, thought Jim, as the rambling speech continued.
"It doesn't seem very long ago that Doctor Grissom was preparing for marriage. He meant to sign over half his house to his intended on their wedding day, such a romantic gesture. He also had me prepare an updated Will to mark the joyous occasion."
Jim might have been amused by the lawyer's idea of romance, but the mention of Grissom's Will reminded him of Gil's preparations for going to prison, when his friend had sat calmly in his cell at the PD and given Brass detailed instructions on the dispersal of his pets and property. Calmly, or in the first stages of his current withdrawal? Jim wondered with the benefit of hindsight.
The elderly attorney was still talking, "Then, only a few weeks later, or so it seemed, he cancelled all the work and transferred medical power of attorney from his fiancée to you. We were very sorry to hear of his, err, disappointment.
"Of course you're now here because Doctor Grissom has granted you full power of attorney regarding his finances and possessions during the period of his incarceration." The man shook his head, a sorrowful look on his face, "Second degree murder. I'm not just speaking as Dr. Grissom's lawyer when I say I find it impossible to believe that he actually performed such a heinous act."
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Suddenly Grissom felt himself being grabbed by both arms and half carried backwards until he was pinned firmly with his back against the barrier surrounding the exercise yard.
"I said 'calm down,' Price." one of the prison officers told him as, for a moment, he blindly struggled, wanting only to get back to the ball.
Coming slowly to himself, Grissom's movements gradually came to a halt and he found himself staring fearfully at the man who was speaking to him.
"Back with us, Price?"
Gil nodded, unspeaking.
"Remember, exercise time is a privilege, abuse it and you lose it. Don't make us come in here again before your time's up." The man nodded at his partner and they released Grissom and left the yard again, taking the abused basketball with them.
For a minute or two Grissom remained standing with his back to the mesh, head down and breathing heavily. Then he walked to the centre of the yard and lay down on the hard floor.
He spent the remainder of the time staring up at the open sky above him and focussing only on the gentle touch of the air and sun on his face.
Eventually a shadow eclipsed Grissom's face.
"Time to go Price."
For once Grissom had been thinking while he lay staring upwards, and he'd realised that the guard had been generous in not taking him straight back to his cell earlier.
"I'm sorry about what happened," he told the man, "I didn't intend to cause trouble."
The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised at receiving the apology. Looking at his charge appraisingly he responded. "No, somehow I don't think you did. Still," he continued as he took Grissom's hand to help him to his feet, "I think we should have your hands safely behind you on the way back. Don't you?"
The question was clearly rhetorical as he was deftly spun round and the second guard locked the cuffs into place with well practiced speed.
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Jim was stirred to wakefulness by the lawyer's comment. "So, if you don't believe in his guilt, why did you let him plead 'no contest'?" he queried.
"Yes, I was a little puzzled by the decision to go with 'Nolo Contendere' too, but one has to assume that the attorney representing Dr. Grissom was doing what he felt best for his client. As that gentleman would have more access to the facts of the case than I, I would have to assume that either there was something prejudicial that I am unaware of, or that Dr. Grissom simply insisted on going down that route. However much advice one gives, one is always tied by the client's instructions."
"So you're saying it wasn't you that represented him?"
"Neither I nor anyone else in this firm, Captain Brass. We're only a small firm and limit ourselves strictly to family law, wills, divorces, child custody and the like. We do, however, have an agreement with another small firm who have made their specialisation criminal law. If any of our clients get into trouble they are often in considerable distress, they call us automatically and, while we cannot help them ourselves, we are happy to pass on their details and they in return seem grateful to have the recommendation. If one is in police custody no doubt one would prefer to go with trusted advice than search the telephone directory or enter the lottery of being assigned a public defender.
"Now, let me see." The lawyer looked through the file before him. "Ah, yes, here it is, Doctor Grissom did call us once he'd been arrested and his details were passed on. I'm sure we'll be able to deal with everything you need to know regarding Dr. Grissom's pecuniary affairs here, but if you do want to contact the other firm my secretary will let you have the information. They are relatively new, but all the partners there are very experienced, I assure you.
"Now, shall we get on with what you came for?"
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As the prisoner and his escorts made their way along the jail's grey corridors, Grissom was concentrating on his steps again. Having his hands chained behind him was making it harder to balance and a couple of times already he'd found himself nudging against the officer holding his left arm. The last thing he needed right now was for this to be seen as deliberately awkward behaviour, so he was concentrating on every step.
Must step remember step when step Hodges step next step comes step to visit step to ask step him to step order step me a step book on step, wobble, compensate, step Tai Chi step it would step be something step to do in step the yard step and it step might step help step me control step my emo...
"GRIII-SSOMMM!"
The screeching roar so distorted the sound that Gil only registered it as a word because it was his own name. Until then he'd barely noticed the other prisoner being escorted down the corridor towards him. The youngish man was clearly considered a lower risk than Grissom and was not in close custody. Only one man was escorting him and, although the inmate was handcuffed, his legs were not shackled.
For a moment it was like an old slapstick comedy, with people looking everywhere but where they should. The three prison officers were seeking the cause of the prisoner's strangled yell, while Grissom was checking to see who else might be close enough to hear and have cause to look at him twice.
While this was going on the other inmate took the opportunity to elbow his own guard in the stomach, making the man release his grip and gasp for air, unable to call out. Grissom, his head now swinging back to it's start point, was the first to realise the other inmates intent, but secured as he was and still gripped by his two escorts there was nothing he could do as the world slipped into slow motion.
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Once his business with Grissom's lawyer had been dealt with, Jim started to wonder why Gil had gone down this particular route to find an attorney when he must know the names of the best defence lawyers in Las Vegas by heart. Why didn't he choose one of them? Was 'considerable distress' the major factor? Out of interest he took the details of Grissom's representation from the secretary and glanced idly through the list of partner's names. As a homicide Captain, Jim had come across most of the defence lawyers practicing in the area over the years, but one name on the list stood out clearly.
Interesting, he thought, I must look into this further.
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Struck dumb by fear, Gil watched as his assailant swung at his head with a two handed blow, twisting his wrists at the last minute so that it was the cold steel of the handcuffs which came into contact with Gil's face first. The sudden, solid, impact would have sent Grissom flying had he not been held, but it was unexpected and the prison officers' grasp wasn't tight, his momentum was only reduced a little before he was pushed out of their hands. He staggered backwards, his feet became hampered by the chain between them and he fell.
His awareness splintered and time speeded up again into a blur of impressions. The stinging, intense, pain in his face was followed by the sudden hurt in his lower back as he hit the ground and his own handcuffs dug into his spine from the power of the impact. Next there was an explosion in the back of his head as it hit the wall, causing his vision to tunnel and blur. Then something began to hit him repeatedly in the side, but by now external sensation was beginning to fade.
Grissom tried to escape the fresh assault, pushing himself backwards with his feet, not realising in his addled state that his head was already against the wall. He tried to roll onto his side or curl into a ball, but his movements were too restricted and he failed. In a last attempt to avoid further harm he opened his mouth to plead with his assailant but found himself spitting out blood instead of words. As the sound of ringing bells, running feet and shouting began to fill his ears, Grissom finally gave up fighting and, whether it was the blow to his head, or his mind checking out once more, he ceased to be aware of his surroundings.
A/N OK, that was nasty, but I promise that, physically at least, this is the worst that Grissom will be suffering in this story. Of course you don't know how badly he's been injured yet evil laugh. The next chapter will be up in about a week. In the meantime I'd love some reviews! Thanks.