The Only Good Lawyer - Jeremiah Healy (41 page)

Shattering, actually. I'd driven him through one of
the vertical panes of the greenhouse right at the knee wall. Neely
bellowed as he went out into the air, his arms making whirlygig
motions, futilely trying to regain his balance. Seconds later, a
whumping sound rose from the street.

I dropped the table to the tiled floor and forced
myself toward the jagged opening in the glass. As I looked down at
the body sprawled across the righthand lane, pedestrians from the
sidewalk rushed over to it, then turned away abruptly, probably
appalled that a five-story drop in real life wasn't quite as stylized
and sanitized as television dramas had led them to believe.

Clamping my left palm over the wound on my right
shoulder, I watched the scene below until the wail of a siren began
growing closer. That's when I realized my view likely was pretty
similar to the one a German soldier would have had fifty-plus years
ago, looking down on the casualties from that Ranger battalion
heroically scaling the cliff of Pointe-du-Hoc.

Shock started setting in on me, making my legs
rubbery.

Before the shakes got too bad, I moved back toward
the center of Frank Neely's greenhouse to say a little prayer over
Imogene Burbage.