Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

And there it was in glorious Technicolor: guerrilla freelancer Sunglasses being hauled out between the two men-toes dragging along the floor, eyes at half-mast, mouth hanging open.

“Hey, what’s that on his face?” Bailey asked, pointing to the photo.

“That’s drool!” Declan said.

“Sure is!” Bailey said, chuckling. “Nice job, honey.”

“He who lives by the camera, dies by the camera,” Drew said.

We all drank to that.

After two sips, Declan called it a night. But he pointed to the book I’d borrowed from Janice, which I’d taken with me. “You have a chance to look at that?” he asked.

“No.”

“Mind if I borrow it for tonight? I’m coming in early, so I can give it back to you in the morning before court.”

“Sure, but guard it with your life. It’s got heavy sentimental value.” And other value as well, I had a feeling. But I could look it over tomorrow. It was a slim volume.

Declan tucked it into his jacket. “Get ripped, you guys. You deserve it.”

I turned to Bailey. “I hadn’t thought of that. But since he insists…”

Bailey and I stayed and caught Drew up on the past few days. By the time we called it a night, we were both fried. Drew had a few more hours until closing, so Bailey crashed with me. The following morning, we treated ourselves to a real breakfast. I indulged with pancakes and bacon, a splurge for me, and Bailey ordered French toast-just another day for her.

I let Bailey give me a lift to the courthouse, and I was in pretty good spirits for most of the morning. But by lunchtime I started to worry. Declan stopped by and dropped off the book I’d borrowed from Janice. We talked briefly and then he asked if I wanted to go out-now that we had time to live like real people-but I had no appetite. When I still hadn’t heard a peep from the jury by two o’clock, my stomach began to knot.

I foolishly called Bailey to share my angst.

“Shouldn’t they be back by now?” I asked.

“Juries should do a lot of shit they don’t do,” she snapped.

“They haven’t even asked a question, though.”

“Probably still voting on what to have for lunch.”

By four o’clock, I was pacing in front of my desk. The three square feet forced me into tight circles. I was getting dizzy, which kind of felt good-until dizzy turned to queasy. At a quarter to five, the court called. The jury had a verdict. We had a half-hour lead to give the defense time to get back to the courthouse. I called Bailey and Declan. “They’re in,” I said, in a voice so strained I barely recognized it.

“Breathe,” Bailey said. “Whatever happens, you did a hell of a job. Vanderputz can’t blame you.”

“He can. And will.”

“Then I’ll shoot him.”

On that cheery note, I grabbed a legal pad and stepped out into the hallway. And bumped right into Toni.

“Hey! Good thing I bounce,” she said. She peered at me. “Well, don’t you look all hot and sassy.”

“Really?”

“No. You look like a bird that stuck its beak in a socket. Where’re you heading?”

“To court. We’ve got a verdict.”

“You are not going down there looking like that. Come on.” She took me by the hand and dragged me down to her office.

When I got a look at myself in the mirror, I realized she was right. My hair was all over the place and my makeup was a smudgy mess. But five minutes later, I looked presentable enough to be set loose on the world.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said.

“You’d go around looking like a Cabbage Patch doll.”

“Want to come?” I asked.

“Want me to come?”

I nodded. If I was about to crash and burn, I wanted Toni and Bailey to be there. Toni and I picked up Declan and we rode down together. Just as we got off the elevator, Bailey emerged from the stairwell, lightly sweaty, out of breath, and in a foul mood.

“Goddamn press is a mile deep all the way around the courthouse.”

Declan nodded. “I caught a look at the television in the lounge. They’ve got helicopters flying around, traffic is blocked off on Temple-it’s a zoo out there.”

Declan looked pale and I noticed a tremor in his hand as he reached for the courtroom door. I was glad I didn’t have to show my hands. The courtroom was packed and thrumming with loud chatter and tension. I kept my eyes down and made my way to counsel table.

I dropped my legal pad on the table in front of my chair, then turned to make sure there was a seat for Toni in front of the railing next to Bailey. I scanned the gallery. No sign of Russell-no surprise there. I expected he’d be at an undisclosed location for some time to come. Dani was a no-show as well. But Janice was in the front row, and she and Raynie had apparently met and hit it off, because the three of them-Janice, Raynie, and Elden-were sitting together. I returned the book of fairy tales to Janice and we spoke for a few seconds before Jimmy called the court to order. Everyone quickly squeezed into a space on the benches in the gallery and Judge Osterman came out. From that moment, I registered every single sight and movement as though it were a film playing in slow motion. Judge Osterman mounting the steps to the bench, his face solemn. Tricia standing at attention, nervously twisting her wedding ring. The bailiff moving toward the door the jury would pass through to take their seats in the box. I wasn’t conscious of breathing, only of my heart pounding in slow, heavy thumps and a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Let’s have the jury,” Judge Osterman said.

The bailiff went through the door, and seconds later, the jurors filed out. I studied each of their faces for some sign, some clue of what was to come. But they were more stone-faced than ever before. Then one juror-the librarian-looked across the room at the defense side of the table. And smiled. Spots danced before my eyes, nearly blinding me as I registered what that smile meant. It couldn’t be. They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t let this murderer go. I heard the judge’s next words as though I were under water.

“I understand you have a verdict, ladies and gentlemen.”

The Hollywood agent, who’d been elected the jury foreman, answered. “We do, Your Honor.”

The bailiff took the folder containing the verdict forms from him and brought them over to Tricia, who handed them up to the judge. I watched the judge’s face as he pursed his lips and read the forms, but his expression gave away nothing. Slowly, he went through them, organizing the pages. I put a hand on the table to steady myself as I realized that this might be the last time I tried a case in the Special Trials Unit. Or downtown. Or forever, for that matter.

“Will the defendant please rise?”

Terry and Wagmeister flanked Ian Powers, six law clerks behind them, as they all rose together. Terry put a comforting hand on Ian’s arm and Wagmeister gave him a brief pat on the back. Ian looked like a cadaver-hollowed, sunken cheeks and dark rings under his eyes. The Armani suit hung on his gaunt frame like a shroud. If nothing else, it comforted me to know that I’d cost him some peace of mind. I snapped back with the judge’s next words.

“The clerk will now read the verdict.”

And in that moment, all of the air was suddenly sucked out of the courtroom. My heart was pounding so loudly I had to struggle to hear the clerk’s voice as she read the verdicts.

“As to count one, the murder of Brian Maher, we the jury-”

I found myself following each syllable in slow motion, a beat behind every word.

“-find the defendant, Ian Powers…guilty. We further find that the murder was willful, deliberate, and premeditated.”

Someone in the audience gave a yelp that was quickly silenced by a glare from Jimmy. I felt the blood rush to my head. All I could think was, We got him. We got him.