Jeffrey signed without reading what he was signing. Carol read it carefully, then signed. Carol got Jeffrey’s checkbook out of his jacket pocket and held it while Jeffrey made out a check for $45,000. Mosconi took the check and put it in his briefcase. Then he got up and sauntered to the door. “I’ll be back,” he said with a sly smile.
“Charming fellow,” Jeffrey said. “Does he have to dress that way?”
“He is doing you a favor,” Randolph said. “But it’s true, you’re hardly one of the lowlifes he’s accustomed to dealing with. Before he gets back, I think we should talk about the presentencing investigation and what it entails.”
“When do we file the appeal?” Jeffrey asked.
“Immediately,” Randolph said.
“And I’m on bail until the appeal is heard?”
“Most likely,” Randolph said evasively.
“Thank God for small favors,” Jeffrey said.
Randolph then explained the presentencing investigation and what Jeffrey might expect from the penalty proceedings. He didn’t want to see Jeffrey any more demoralized than he already was, so he was careful to emphasize the more promising aspects of the appeal. But Jeffrey’s spirits remained low.-
“I have to admit I don’t have a lot of faith left in this legal system,”
Jeffrey said.
“You’ve got to think positively,” Carol said.
Jeffrey looked at his wife and began to appreciate how angry he was. Carol telling him he should think positively under the circumstances was eminently annoying. Suddenly Jeffrey realized he was angry at the system, angry at fate, angry at Carol, even angry at his attorney. At least anger was probably healthier than being depressed.
“All is in order,” Mosconi said as he slipped in the door. He was waving an official-looking document. “If you would?” he said, motioning for the court officer to unhandcuff Jeffrey.
Jeffrey rubbed his wrists with relief when they were free from the shackles. What he wanted most was to get out of the courthouse. He stood up.
“I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about the $45,000,” Mosconi said.
“Just remember, I’m putting my ass on the line for you.”
“I appreciate it,” Jeffrey said, trying to sound thankful.
They left the holding room together although Michael Mosconi hurried off in the opposite direction when they got to the hall.
Jeffrey had never been so consciously appreciative of the fresh, ocean-scented air as when he stepped from the courthouse onto the brick-paved plaza. It was a bright, midspring afternoon with puffy little white clouds scudding across a faraway blue sky. The sun was warm but the air crisp. It was amazing how the threat of prison had sharpened Jeffrey’s perceptions.
Randolph took his leave on the wide plaza in front of the garishly modem
Boston City Hall. “I’m sorry it turned out like this. I tried my best.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said. “I also know I was a lousy client and made it extra hard for you.”
“We’ll get right on the appeal. I’ll be talking with you in the morning.
Good-bye, Carol.”
Carol waved, then she and Jeffrey watched Randolph stride off toward State
Street, where he and his partners occupied an entire floor of one of the newer Boston office towers. “I don’t know whether to love him or hate him,”
Jeffrey said. “I don’t even know if he did a good job or not, especially since I got convicted.”
“I personally don’t think he was forceful enough,” Carol said. She started toward the parking garage.
“Aren’t you going back to work?” Jeffrey called after her. Carol worked for an investment banking firm located in the financial area. That was in the opposite direction.
“I took the day off,” she said over her shoulder. She stopped when she saw that Jeffrey wasn’t walking after her. “I didn’t know how long rendering the verdict would take. Come on, you can give me a ride to my car.”
Jeffrey caught up to her and they walked together, skirting City Hall. “How are you going to raise $45,000 in twenty-four hours?” Carol’asked, tossing her head in her characteristic way. She had fine, straight, dirty-blond hair that she wore in a fashion that caused it to constantly blow in her face.