"TUROW, SCOTT - THE BURDEN OF PROOF" - читать интересную книгу автора (Turrow Scott)

"Occasionally it is necessary."

"where'd you stay?" the woman asked. Stern tried not to react to the
drift of the questions. The officers, of course, knew by now who he was
and reacted accordingly-they despised most criminal defense lawyers, who
hindered the police at every turn and were often richly rewarded for
their efforts. To the police, this was a natural opportunity chance to
pester an adversary and to indulge their customary nasty fancies about
foul play and motives.

Maybe the spick was humping his girlfriend in Chi while somebody for
hire set this up. You never know unless you ask.

"On this occasion, I was at the Ritz." Stern stood.

"May

I go? My son and I have yet to speak with his sisters."

Nogalski was watching him.

"This doesn't make much sense," said the detective. It made no sense,
the man said. This was his professional opinion.

Stern looked intently at Nogalski. It was one of the hazards of Stern's
calling that he seldom felt grateful to the police.

Coming back down the hall, Stern could hear Peter's voice.

He was carrying on about something. The same ruddy-faced cop who had
shown Stern into the garage was listening impassively. Stern took his
son by the elbow to draw him away. This was intolerable. Intolerable!
Some tough element of resistance within him was wearing away.

"My God, they're going to do an autopsy--did you know that?" asked Peter
as soon as they were alone in the corridor. Peter was an M.D. and
today apparently he was haunted by his past, the pathological exams he
had practiced on the bums turned up in gutters, the gruesome med school
humor as six or seven students studied the innards of the deceased.
Peter suffered with the thought of his mother as another mound of
lifeless anatomy awaiting the coroner's saw. "You're not going to allow
that, are you?"

A good deal shorter than his son, Stern observed Peter. Was it only
with his father that this craven hysteria occurred?

Stern wondered. The climate of their relations did not seem to have
changed for years. Always there was this lamenting hortatory quality,
too insistent to be passed off as mere whining. Stern had wondered for