James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

Henry knew all about the hazards of arriving unexpectedly. He stole another, sharper glance at Valentine.

Valentine just shrugged his shoulders. “People don’t like being surprised,” he muttered.

They thanked Harvey and left.

“What do you think?” Henry asked as they were walking back to the car. “If we went now and found him, would Milton Jeffries be as ornery as you?”

“My guess is yes,” Valentine replied. “He’s a man who was spooked by something, and he’s probably still spooked. If you came up to my house in the dark you might be dead now. It’s been a long day, it’s freezing out, and in case you haven’t noticed, we’re not properly dressed for this weather. I think we should get a hotel room and get a good night’s sleep and start out fresh in the morning.”

“I guess you’re right,” Henry replied. “We’d probably get lost anyway.”

Henry called Jack at six-thirty as planned and gave him a brief, almost cryptic summary of the day’s events, remembering Jack’s concern about revealing too much over the phone. He didn’t mention any names or where they were or where they were going the next day-just that getting to New York by Friday was not going to happen.

“Sorry about that, Jack, but we’ve just had a little trouble with, um, directions.”

“I understand, Henry. Just let me know when you have a better idea.”

“Will do. How are things at your end?”

“Not bad. I was hoping to have you back here tomorrow, but I think I’ll be okay for now,” he said, thinking to himself that he’d definitely have to put at least one of the prosecution’s witnesses on the stand.

Jack worked for another hour before calling Molly. It was a routine now. She didn’t even bother to say hello.

“Are you ready?” she asked when she picked up the phone.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Jack replied.

Molly looked radiant once again. Her cheeks were red from the cold, which made her even more desirable to Jack.

“How’d it go today?” she asked as usual.

“Pretty good,” Jack replied. “We made some good points, and we haven’t even started our defense yet.”

Molly changed the subject. This was relaxation time. “So, where do you want to go on vacation?” she asked.

“Didn’t you just come back from vacation?”

“Yeah, but I can always take a Friday and a Monday to fly to London or something like that. I’m management, after all.”

“London would be nice. But how about Aruba or Jamaica or somewhere like that? I need to warm up these bones.”

Molly laughed. “I’m flexible. Aruba would be fine. How about next weekend?”

“Sounds great. The trial will definitely be over by then. I’ll need the break.”

“So will I,” Molly replied. “I’ve got to go out of town tomorrow until next Tuesday. We’re having one of those business conventions.”

“That’s a vacation too, isn’t it?” Jack chided.

“I wish. I’ll be giving talks all weekend.”

“I won’t see you after tonight until next Tuesday?”

“I’m afraid so,” she said, looking at him with doe eyes.

“I’ll miss you.” Jack really meant it. He was starting to count on their little rendezvous every night. Molly knew how to get him to relax.

“I’ll miss you too, Jack.”

Friday morning was another frigid day, with the thermometer hovering in the teens. Very few spectators were braving the elements outside, although the courtroom was as packed as it had been the two previous days.

Luis was in his usual spot. “How are you feeling, Jack?”

“Good. How about you?”

“Pretty good. The coroner didn’t hurt us too bad, did he?”

“No, Luis. He may have helped us. It all remains to be seen.”

Jack didn’t want to give Luis false hope, but he was feeling pretty confident. Just then the guards brought Benny into the courtroom. He had the charcoal gray suit on with a blue striped tie and a white shirt.

“Benny, you look better every day,” Jack told him.

Benny smiled. “It’s all my dad’s doing,” he said, turning to look at his father. Luis beamed.

Across the aisle, Spencer was pacing as he waited for the judge’s appearance. Jack noticed that he was excited and smiling. Something was up.

Promptly at nine, Langford Middleton walked into the courtroom. After giving his daily sermon to the spectators, he turned to the lawyers.

“Is there anything we need to take up before we bring the jury in?”

Spencer stood up. “Yes, your honor. May we approach?”

Langford looked puzzled. A sidebar when there was no jury in the room was a little unusual, but Jack was pretty sure he knew what was going on: the dandy had something he didn’t want the spectators to hear yet.

“Come on,” the judge said impatiently. “What is it?” he asked when they were standing in front of his dais.

“Your honor, the police department got an anonymous tip last night. We believe we’ve found the gun that killed Carl Robertson.”

Jack had been expecting trouble, but even so, he was shocked. He was relieved that Spencer hadn’t announced it in open court because Luis probably would have had a heart attack right on the spot. He couldn’t think about Luis now; he had to concentrate on the problem at hand. How he responded could be crucial to the case.

After a slight pause to savor the bombshell he had dropped, Spencer continued. “The police have the gun in custody, your honor. They picked it up this morning. I’ve spoken to one of the department’s ballistics experts-his name is Pete Ingram-and he says he can do all the necessary tests today to determine if this is in fact the murder weapon. He also says he could meet with Mr. Tobin late this afternoon to answer questions. I’ll need a one-day delay to handle these matters, but I can be finished on Monday.”

This was the fly in the ointment Langford Middleton had dreaded. So far he had handled everything. Now Spencer Taylor had to drop this in his lap. He looked at Jack.

“Well, Mr. Tobin?”

Jack cut right to the chase. “Judge, I’d like to make a motion for a mistrial. My client’s due-process rights would be violated if these proceedings continue. This trial has been pending for a year. Now, all of a sudden, after four days of trial, a gun appears. In addition, your honor, I don’t have the opportunity to get my own expert. We are at a total disadvantage.”

Jack knew this was the moment to make a record for appeal. If Langford didn’t grant his motion and give him time to get his own expert, Jack would have a better-than-average shot at overturning a conviction on appeal. At the moment, that was looking like Benny’s best hope.

Langford Middleton didn’t reply right away; he was trying to think of a way to keep the whole thing from falling apart. His stomach was grumbling.

After a long few moments he looked at Jack. “We don’t have to make a decision today on your motion, Mr. Tobin. We’ll let Officer Ingram do his tests, and you can meet with him and talk to him. Who knows? He may not be able to say this gun is the murder weapon. I’ll tell you this, Mr. Tobin: the people of the state of New York have rights too. They have a right to see that justice is served, not delayed. If Mr. Ingram determines that this is the gun that killed Mr. Robertson, I’ll want to hear this opinion outside of the presence of the jury before making my final decision on your motion. Now, is there anything else?”

“Yes, Judge,” Spencer Taylor replied. “I am requesting that you enter an order releasing prosecution’s exhibit number 6-that’s the bullet, your honor-to Detective Severino so that he can deliver it to the state’s ballistics expert.”

“So ordered. Anything else?”