Jeff Sherratt - Guilty or Else

“Before we begin, I want to warn both of you, if you speak out of turn or to one another without directing your remarks to me, you’ll spend the night in jail. Is that clear?”

I nodded. Bobbi raised her hand, the school kid routine. Hey, maybe she brought an apple.

“Yes, Miss Allen?”

“Your Honor, I’d like to apologize for my behavior in your courtroom this morning.”

“Accepted, but you’re still in contempt. Before I establish the fine, we’ll see how it goes here and now. Do you have anything to say, Mr. O’Brien?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, now let’s get started. The remainder of the hearing will be held in here and the record will reflect only the outcome. Do you both agree to that?”

After Bobbi’s apology, it would’ve been hard for her to disagree with Judge Koito. As for me, if I were going to be excoriated, no way would I object to it happening in his chambers, instead of open court. Would’ve been okay with me to hold the thing in the toilet. We both agreed, and nodded.

“Fine. Now, I’ll ask the questions and the appropriate party will respond.”

Bobbi raised her hand again.

“Yes?” Koito said.

“May I bring my assistant in here? He has my files.”

“No,” he answered and turned to the bailiff. “Ed, go tell Miss Allen’s assistant that he’s dismissed. We won’t need him.”

Ed left the room.

I noticed that Bobbi sat a little straighter and tried, without success, to hide her anger. She folded her arms tightly across her chest and rocked almost imperceptibly back and forth.

Judge Koito pulled his chair closer to his desk. “Miss Allen, I have a few questions for you. Mr. O’Brien, you will keep your mouth shut until I’m through and then I’ll ask you to respond.”

“Agreed,” I said.

“Regarding the motion to remove Mr. O’Brien, have criminal charges been filed by your office pursuant to this matter, Miss Allen? Just answer yes or no.”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Has the State Bar reviewed the case and recommended any disciplinary action?”

“Not yet, but they will.”

Judge Koito pounded his hand on his desk. “Yes or no.”

“No.”

“The motion is denied.”

Bobbi started to raise her hand, pulled it down, and jumped up instead. “Your Honor, I have grounds.”

“Sit down,” the judge said. “Mr. O’Brien is an attorney, licensed by the state to practice law, and until that fact changes, he shall remain on the case. Miss Allen, when we go back into the courtroom, I strongly recommend that you withdraw your motion.”

Bobbie sat down and kept quiet.

“Mr. O’Brien, I don’t know what you may or may not have done, but that’s not why we’re here today. Do you have anything else to add pertaining to the case at hand?”

“Yes.” I pointed at Bobbi. “Miss Allen, I’m told, has an alleged jailhouse witness. She cut a deal with him to falsely testify that my client has confessed to the crime.”

Bobbi shot out of her chair again. “Judge, I won’t sit here and be accused of suborning perjury. Mr. O’Brien knows full well that I-unlike him-would not pull that kind of stunt.”

“I know nothing of the kind. I want the witness’s name, and I want to know what you offered him in return for his outrageous and mendacious statement,” I said.

“That’s enough, both of you. Mr. O’Brien, if you want any information from the prosecution, I suggest that you serve the proper discovery requests. Miss Allen, you will turn over to the defense any and all evidence required by law, including all witness statements. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” we both said in unison.

The judge glanced at Bobbi and then at me. “Anything else?”

“Bail,” I said.

“Denied,” he said.

We paraded back into the courtroom. Bobbi withdrew her motion on the record and Koito officially denied the bail request. The trial date was set for Monday, October 2. Judge Koito fined us both fifty dollars for the contempt citation, and admonished Bobbi, telling her the fine was personal. It was not to be paid by the district attorney’s office. He didn’t need to give me the same lecture. He knew I had to pay my own bills. Nothing more was said about Bobbi’s restraining order.

I loitered in the courtroom, scribbling on a yellow pad. I wanted to avoid getting into the elevator with Bobbi when she left the building. I didn’t think I could’ve handled that; might have said something I would regret. After she left, I went to the bank of payphones on the first floor.

“Rita, I’m just checking in.”

“How’d the hearing go?” she asked. “Like we expected?”

It was noisy in the hallway. I put the phone between my jaw and shoulder and tried to close the booth door, but the handle snapped. A bailiff, hands on his hips, glared at me. I shrugged.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“I’m sorry, Boss, but hang in there, you’ll win at the trial.” I heard her sigh.

“Thanks, Rita. Any calls?”

“Yeah, a cop from Long Beach. Said his name’s Detective Farrell. What’s this all about, Jimmy?”

I knew what it was all about, but I wanted to talk to the guy before I discussed it with Rita. “I’ll call him later and find out,” I said.

My next call was to Sol. I told him about the hearing, about the meeting with Hodges, and the call from Detective Farrell.

“Don’t worry. It’s a scam. You can beat these charges.”

“It’s basically my word against Vogel’s, but I did give him some money.”

“You gonna tell them that?”

“If I’m under oath I’ll have to, but Ron Fischer is the most important thing to worry about. We have to find the pilot fast. I desperately need his testimony.”

“I’m working on that right now. We have a lead and I’m waiting for a call back. It’s lunchtime. Let’s meet at Rocco’s. If the call comes in, I’ll have them transfer it to my table. We’ll go over everything there.”

“I’ll head over right now.”

“One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“I had your apartment swept for bugs, too. Your phone was tapped.”

I racked my brain trying to remember what calls I’d made from my home phone. It depressed me to realize I hadn’t talked to anyone in the last couple of weeks.

Shortly after one o’clock, I entered Rocco’s. Lively music came from the bar. The piano player, a short cocoa-skinned man wearing an Afro, had a voice like steel wheels rolling on a gravel road, but he was spunky and the crowd loved him.

An unruly queue had formed in front of Andre, customers vying for tables. As I approached the dining room, he noticed me and gestured with his hand to follow him to Sol’s booth.

“Mr. Silverman hasn’t arrived yet,” Andre said. “His secretary called and said he would be here soon.”

I slid into Sol’s booth. Janine appeared, whisked away the reserved placard, and asked if she could bring me anything.

“Yes, thanks. A Coke, and a telephone,” I said.

Janine returned in a few moments with the phone. She plugged it in and a busboy rushed over with my Coke. I dialed the Long Beach Police Department. “This is O’Brien. I’m returning Detective Farrell’s call.”

“I’ll have to patch you through. It may take a few minutes.”

While waiting, I listened to the piano music that drifted into the dining room from the bar. The guy was righteous on the piano, but I wasn’t sure about the rest of his shtick. He had a way of taking popular songs, jazzing up the music, and altering the lyrics. He massacred “Alone Again, Naturally.” He sang with style, but he changed the words to “Alone Again, Ralph.” I didn’t know why everyone laughed.