The Last Innocent Man

If his professional life was empty, his personal life was even more so. He had heard more than once that he was envied by other men for the steady parade of beautiful women he escorted. Few people knew that the routine had grown old a long time ago.

His one attempt at marriage had been a disaster that lasted officially for two years, but which ended emotionally after eight months. Monica resented the long hours he worked, and in truth, he was rarely home. There had been so many big cases. He was just starting to reach the top then. Everyone wanted David Nash, and there didn’t seem to be enough time for his own wife.

There had been violent arguments and too many stony silences. Monica had accused him of infidelity. He denied her accusations, but they were true. He was trying cases in other states now, and if some Texas filly wanted to warm his bed…well, he was a star, wasn’t he? In the end the constant bickering exhausted them both, and whatever had motivated them to marry was not strong enough to keep their marriage together.

Monica had gone to law school after the divorce. David thought she had done it to compete with him. It was certainly not coincidence that led her into criminal prosecution. The tension was there whenever they tried a case against each other. David sensed that their legal battles were, for Monica, only an excuse for carrying on a personal battle of which he had never been a part. That, of course, was the problem with their marriage. If David had cared about Monica, it would never have broken up. But he had ignored her, and he felt guilty that she still felt a need to prove something to him.

David had seen little of Monica between the divorce and her graduation from law school. After she joined the district attorney’s office, their friendship had renewed. They were much better friends than spouses. Sometimes David wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake with Monica, but he knew that if he had, it was too late to rectify it. Their problem was that they had met at the wrong time.

David took a sip from his glass. The gin tasted too sweet. He carried the drink to a corner of the terrace that was not illuminated by the lights from the house and sat down on a lawn chair. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the chair’s metal rim press into the back of his neck.

Monica was an attractive woman, and she was a different, stronger person than she had been when they’d met. David was different, too. He had toyed once with the idea of trying to reestablish their relationship, but had given up on the idea. He wondered what she would say if he tried.

The terrace door opened and a splash of sound interrupted David’s thoughts. He opened his eyes. A woman was standing with her back to him, staring across the river as he had moments before. She was tall and slender, and her long, silken hair looked like pale gold.

She turned and walked along the terrace with a dancer’s grace. The woman did not see him until she was almost at his chair. He was hidden by the shadows. She stopped, startled. In that frozen moment David saw her set in time, like a statue. Blue eyes wide with surprise. A high, smooth forehead and high cheekbones. It was the woman he had seen earlier on the fringes of the group that had been discussing the Ashmore case.

The moment ended and the woman’s hand flew to her mouth. She gasped. David stood up, placing his drink on the terrace.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said.

“It’s not your fault,” the woman answered, waving her hand nervously. “I was thinking and I…” She let the sentence trail off.

“Okay,” David said, “you’ve convinced me. We’re both at fault. How about calling it a draw?”

The woman looked confused; then she laughed, grateful that the awkward moment was over.

“My name is David Nash.”

“I know,” the woman said after a moment’s hesitation.

“You do?”

“I…I was listening when you were talking to that woman about the murder case.”

“You mean that Ashmore business?”

“She upset you, didn’t she?”

Now it was David’s turn to hesitate.

“It wasn’t pleasant for me to try that case, and it won’t be pleasant to retry it. I don’t like to think about it if I don’t have to.”

“I’m sorry,” the woman said self-consciously. David immediately regretted his tone of voice.

“You don’t have to be. I didn’t mean to be so solemn.”

They stood without talking for a moment. The woman looked uneasy, and David had the feeling that she might fly off like a frightened bird.

“Are you a friend of Gregory’s?” he asked to keep the conversation going.

“Gregory?”

“Gregory Banks. This is his house. I thought you were with that group that was talking about the case. Most of them are Gregory’s friends.”

“No. I really don’t know anyone here. I don’t even know why I came.”

She looked down, and David sensed that she was trapped and vulnerable, fighting something inside her.

“You haven’t told me your name yet,” David said. The woman looked up, startled. He held her gaze for a moment and saw fear and uncertainty in her eyes.