Blind Justice

Начало книги

They say Justice is bloind: That she is.

And deef and doom and has a wooden leg, as well.

Finley Peter Dunne’s “Mister Dooley”

In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, But, being seasoned with a gracious voice Obscure the show of evil?

William Shakespeare

The Merchant of Venice, Act III, scene ii

Prologue

HE RETURNED THE GUN to the end table drawer. That would be his last resort, he thought, as he closed the drawer, hands trembling. The absolute last.

There were all kinds of tricks he could try before it came to that. Options abounded. He strode into the kitchen, trying to buoy his spirits with false optimism. It didn’t work.

He opened the refrigerator and removed the chilled carafe. He knew which one she would choose; it didn’t take a genius. He removed a small bottle from his pocket, unscrewed the dropper, and carefully let eight drops fall into the carafe. That was the recommended dosage—more than enough, in all likelihood. Then again, he thought, better safe than sorry. He released six more drops into the carafe.

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