The pain would come later.
At breakfast, Adam said, “Whatever happens, I want you to know this—you’re the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”
The pain came then.
15
The anodyne was work, and Jennifer immersed herself in it totally so that she had no time to think.
She had become the darling of the press, and her courtroom successes were highly publicized. More clients came to her than she could handle, and while Jennifer’s chief interest was in criminal law, at Ken’s urging she began to accept a variety of other cases.
Ken Bailey had become more important than ever to Jennifer. He handled the investigations on her cases, and he was brilliant. She was able to discuss other problems with him and she valued his advice.
Jennifer and Ken moved again, this time into a large suite of offices on Park Avenue. Jennifer hired two bright young attorneys, Dan Martin and Ted Harris, both from Robert Di Silva’s staff, and two more secretaries.
Dan Martin was a former football player from Northwestern University and he had the appearance of an athlete and the mind of a scholar.
Ted Harris was a slight, diffident young man who wore thick milk-bottle spectacles and was a genius.
Martin and Harris took care of the legwork and Jennifer handled the appearances at trials.
The sign on the door read: JENNIFER PARKER & ASSOCIATES.
The cases that came into the office ranged from defending a large industrial corporation on a pollution charge to representing a drunk who had suffered whiplash when he was bounced from a tavern. The drunk, of course, was a gift from Father Ryan.
“He has a bit of a problem,” Father Ryan told Jennifer. “He’s really a decent family man, but the poor fellow has such pressures that he sometimes takes a drop too much.”
Jennifer could not help but smile. As far as Father Ryan was concerned, none of his parishioners was guilty and his only desire was to help them get out of the difficulty they had carelessly gotten themselves into. One reason Jennifer understood the priest so well was that basically she felt the same as he did. They were dealing with people in trouble who had no one to help them, with neither the money nor the power to fight the Establishment, and in the end they were crushed by it.
The word justice was honored mostly in the breach. In the courtroom, neither the prosecuting attorney nor the defense attorney sought justice: The name of the game was to win.
From time to time, Jennifer and Father Ryan talked about Connie Garrett, but the subject always left Jennifer depressed. There was an injustice there and it rankled her.
In his office in the back room of Tony’s Place, Michael Moretti watched as Nick Vito carefully swept the office with an electronic device, looking for gypsy taps. Through his police connections, Michael knew that no electronic surveillance had been authorized by the authorities, but once in a while an overzealous tin hotdog, a young detective, would set up a gypsy—or illegal—tap, hoping to pick up information. Michael was a careful man. His office and home were swept every morning and every evening. He was aware that he was the number one target for half a dozen different law agencies, but he was not concerned. He knew what they were doing, but they did not know what he was doing; and if they did, they could not prove it.
Sometimes late at night Michael would look through the peephole of the restaurant’s back door and watch the FBI agents pick up his garbage for analysis, and substitute other garbage for it.
One night Nick Vito said, “Jesus, boss, what if the jokers dig up something?”
Michael laughed. “I hope they do. Before they get here we switch our garbage with the restaurant next door.”
No, the federal agents were not going to touch him. The Family’s activities were expanding, and Michael had plans that he had not even revealed yet. The only stumbling block was Thomas Colfax. Michael knew he had to get rid of the old lawyer. He needed a fresh young mind. And again and again, his thoughts turned to Jennifer Parker.