Justice by InSilva
Disclaimer: do not own Danny or Rusty. Just borrowing.
A/N: thank you to everyone who's reading. I just want it to be known that in between otherhawk's "Falling like dominoes" and NothingToulouse's "Seen and Unforeseen", I am a complete wreck and not that I think anyone should or would necessarily take a recommendation from me, but seriously, if you haven't read either (and I can't imagine that you wouldn't have), please go and read. If only so that I have fellow wreckees. :-)
Chapter Five: Reflection
"No. No problems."
Vincente was sitting in the lounge of the hotel opposite the courthouse, phone to his ear, coffee near his lips.
"It's all sweet," he reassured, taking a sip and wincing. The coffee was poor and unlike last night, there were no chocolate sticks on offer. He'd been sincere: those really had been a nice touch.
Pushing the cup away, he concentrated on the phone conversation.
"Took care of the jury. Yeah. It's sound. Marcello will be avenged."
He almost choked with laughter on the last part of the sentence but he knew it was what the listener wanted to hear and he said it anyway. A few more pleasantries and he snapped the phone shut and stared out of the window at the building where the trial was taking place.
Things were progressing to plan, he told himself. The case against Gino was being built, the lawyers were playing their parts, and the jury…he sighed. The jury. Hand-picked from a list of names and jobs provided. Teenagers, the elderly, migrants and two choices that he'd had to pick and hope. Not that the first had been an issue. Office worker; easily terrified; readily accommodating; happy to do as he was told just for an easy life. Now, the second…
Robert Charles Ryan had been unexpected. He'd thought he was going to be as easy to play as the office worker. Instead, he'd sat down opposite him last night and looked into the most startling eyes. Eyes that were fearless with a complete lack of self-consciousness; eyes that…yes, eyes that reminded him of his own reflection. Vincente had to admit that had taken him aback.
Not that he'd let it show, of course. Not that he'd let it get in the way of his usual opening gambit. Ryan had stood up to it well, too. Unflinching and not a wince. As for his friend, the one who'd stepped in…well, that had needed checking out too. Both had made his research this morning even more urgent.
"Legacy," one source had said. "Came into money, bought the place about a year ago."
"Lottery," another whisper had it. "Big win. Poured a lot of money into the hotel."
Either way, Ryan had been painted as a complete workaholic. Occasional trips out of town, sure, but basically every hour, every dollar tied up in his business, refurbishing, trying to develop people and improve process and the whole guest experience, introducing the wow factor…
"Hookers?" he'd asked. "Girlfriends? Boyfriends?"
Everyone had shaken their heads. Ryan's focus was completely on the hotel. No one and nothing else seemed to come close.
As for the friend who had intervened…Vincente ran a thumb over his lips. He'd apparently arrived from nowhere a couple of days ago. Old school friend, old college friend, old frat buddy, Vincente thought. An old but casual acquaintance.
He'd spotted the wedding band on the man's hand. And nothing in his behaviour or Ryan's had suggested there was anything sexual between them, anyway. And yet…there had been something, he could have sworn. Just a flicker of something… Shaking his head, he told himself not to chase what wasn't there. The man was a friend who had felt the need to break up his little handshake. Macho, protective instinct, Vincente decided. Needing to preen just a little to show that he himself could not possibly be intimidated.
The encounter in the bathroom had been slightly more satisfying from that point of view. The man hadn't been half as strong without an audience. Vincente actually felt comforted that he would do his best to persuade Ryan to see sense.
So, Ryan…the threat needed to be against the business, he'd been correct with that. And those eyes…Vincente wanted the look in those eyes to change; and for that, he might have to underline a few things.
Inside the courthouse, the prosecution brought the day to a close with a summary of the forensic report and the coroner's findings. Murder on the steps of a bar on a rainy night was as final as any but really, death was brutal, however it came.
Danny could not wait for the end of the day.
As Rusty stepped down from the jury and through the court, Danny stood up and took him by the elbow.
"We need to talk," he said in a low, insistent voice, his face tight.
"OK…"
"Now."
They walked outside and Danny pulled him up against the courthouse wall.
"What?" Rusty wondered aloud.
"Vincente. Lunchtime. Bathroom."
Rusty's face tensed. Did he-?
"I'm just the messenger," Danny reassured and Rusty breathed again.
A couple of people walked past and Danny ducked into the wall on Rusty's other side.
"It's all about you, Rusty," he said bluntly. "He's dismissed the rest. Thinks you can persuade them to your point of view. Somehow he's come to the conclusion that you can talk anyone into anything. Which…"
Yeah.
"Rusty, he's serious. He said you were the person to lead them to a unanimous verdict-" he broke off looking at the shift in Rusty's expression. "Tell me."
Rusty grimaced. "The others…kind of…" Damn it. "…want me to be the jury foreperson."
Oh, crap.
That's what I said.
Danny looked at him. "You read Gino and I'm reading Vincente. He means it, Rusty. He asked for a sign that you were going to co-operate."
"What sort of sign?"
The irony of it all made Danny smile in spite of himself. "He would like you to try and find a shirt in your wardrobe that isn't as insipid as the ones you've been wearing."
"Really?" Rusty gave in to the half-grin. "That's gonna be tough."
You think?
Rusty considered. "Well, I can do that."
Danny frowned at the sudden capitulation. He'd been expecting to argue longer and harder. "You can?"
Rusty shrugged. "I can wear the shirt." And as the exasperation crept into Danny's face again, he added, "I'll even try and find a suit to match."
It wasn't an argument, per se. It was perhaps, a debate; a discussion between two people with very different viewpoints. It started on the court steps, lasting through the car journey back to the hotel car park and pushing on through the doors of a nearby Italian restaurant.
Italian?
Yeah.
You feeling ironic?
Often.
Danny could not get to the bottom of Rusty's lack of pragmatism.
"You don't even know Gino," he pointed out as the plates of pasta arrived.
"I feel I do," Rusty contradicted him. "And I am not about throwing him to the wolves."
"These wolves are likely to come and find you if you don't. Big teeth and all, Red Riding-Hood."
Rusty sighed. "Look. Vincente doesn't know what I'm thinking, does he?"
"No," Danny said reluctantly.
"For all he knows, I might be ready to agree with him."
"Yes. Except you aren't."
"He doesn't know that..." It was Rusty's turn to look exasperated. "We can go round in circles all night, Danny. All that's happened so far is that Vincente thinks he needs to make a point. Well, let him think he's made it."
There was a silence as Danny digested the thought.
"Meantime…?"
"Meantime, he's not going to touch me while I'm on the jury. He wants me in place. But…" Rusty hesitated. "I think it's time for you to leave town."
"Well, that's not happening."
"Danny…"
"Not in a million years, Rus."
Rusty looked down at the tablecloth and then up, unblinking blue, at Danny. "He knows we're friends at the very least. And at the very most, he'll have worked out that we're together. He wouldn't understand it but he would know we're together. That makes you leverage. And you've got Tess, Danny, Tess to go home to."
"Aww…" Danny studied the ceiling and then closed his eyes. "I can't do it, Rus."
"Tess, Danny," Rusty repeated.
"Enough about Tess!" Danny brought his fist down on the table, making the cutlery jump and the nearby diners turn round. "Enough about Tess," he said again in a voice approaching normality. "This is about you. And if you think for one second I'm walking away from this, you are sadly mistaken."
Rusty said nothing for a moment and just held his gaze. "I need you to do this," he said and there was the slightest note of panic in his voice. "I won't risk you-"
"Then why risk you?"
The resolution was back in Rusty's face. "It's something I have to do."
"And so is staying with you."
Danny looked at Rusty's expression of turmoil and almost, almost considered playing him. Telling him that Vincente had exuded a hint of threat against him, Danny. That Vincente had lightly suggested that Danny could get caught up in the crossfire. It would be enough to make Rusty reconsider, he was sure, enough to make Rusty toe the line: he just couldn't lie to him.
"You're wrong," he said heavily. "Vincente doesn't think of us like that. He isn't seeing us."
"The other night...?" Rusty said disbelievingly.
"He's dismissed it. Put it down to the reactions of a concerned friend and that is it. There was nothing pointed in my direction, Rusty. It's all aimed at you."
"How do you know?" And Rusty's voice was low.
He sighed. "Like I said, I read him, Rus, just like you read Gino."
And that was unassailable.