M Sellars - All acts of pleasure

Of course, the fact that I was less than a step shy of being officially overwrought certainly wasn’t helping. I guess my tone conveyed that sense of confusion in spades because Mandalay took it as a cue to provide a simplistic explanation.

“Something must have happened,” she stated without embellishment.

I’ll admit I was confused, but I also hadn’t gone totally dense. Without thinking I fired back a retort, and this time the unfiltered response was even more heavily rimmed with the emotional overload. Unfortunately, the bite in my voice was not only obvious, but also exceptionally unpleasant. “Well, hell Constance, I think maybe I kind of figured that part out on my own! The question is what?”

She glanced over at me as she eased the speeding sedan across the full breadth of Highway Forty and settled into the left lane. Reflected splashes of radiance from a self-contained deck strobe, which was resting on the dash, cast her face in a chaotic flicker of red and blue. It allowed me to see that she was frowning, but it also made her expression seem terribly harsh. I couldn’t truly be sure if the look she was wearing was one of anger or merely pity.

I doubt anyone else, least of all the police, would feel our mission warranted the use of the pulsating emergency lights, but they had been Constance’s idea, and not mine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had just managed to pre-empt me before I made the suggestion myself. In fact, the idea was about to tumble out of my mouth when I noticed her suction cupping the device into place.

“Calm down,” she said, shaking her head as she aimed her eyes back toward the road. Her voice was stern, but there was no real anger to speak of within the words, just annoyance. I’m sure she was experiencing her own attack of frustration, both with the situation and with me. “I’m saying something has to have happened that seriously undermined their case against her.”

“Sorry,” I apologized quickly then tried to offer an explanation for my comments. “Look, I’m not complaining, believe me. They never should have arrested her in the first place. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”

“I know, Rowan, but…” she stopped her sentence short, again focusing her attention completely on the road.

Lightly tapping the brakes, she canted the steering wheel slightly and veered onto the Eleventh Street-Stadium exit ramp then headed into the sharp curve. I was pressed against the door from the outward force as she eschewed further use of the brake and immediately gunned the engine, accelerating through the turn, shooting down the ramp, and off onto Eleventh Street. It was a good thing nothing was scheduled at the nearby indoor sports complex because that meant traffic was light, and there was no one to get in her way. As she merged onto the northbound street, she continued speaking where she had so abruptly left off, “What I’m trying to tell you is that you can bet whatever it is that happened, it cleared Felicity hands down.”

“Why? I mean, that’s great and all, but why?”

“Because, it’s Saturday night. The prosecutor had to suck it up and interrupt a judge’s evening. Who knows, maybe he even had to get a judge out of bed in order to get her released right now.”

“Okay, I admit I was wondering about that,” I replied with a nod. “Our attorney said it’s almost impossible to get a bail hearing on a weekend. She had to pull some serious strings just to get me in to see her today.”

“Your attorney is correct, but that’s just it. This isn’t bail; this is release. As of this morning she was being charged with murder, but now she’s walking. That means the charges got dropped almost as soon as they got filed. For the prosecutor to go to a judge, hat in hand, on a Saturday evening to get charges dropped means they’re painfully aware that they screwed up royally.

“What it basically says is that either there was gross incompetence that they knew was going to bite them in the ass, or something happened that screwed up their case. Either way, it’s not something that looks good on a resume at all. Given the track record of the prosecutor, I’m betting it wasn’t incompetence on his part. Maybe someone else, but not him. Either way, something happened. Something big.”

“Big how?”

“I can think of several things,” she replied. “New evidence, mishandling of existing evidence, or even another murder while she was in custody.

“No matter what it is, though, there’s one thing you can be sure of-a lot of embarrassment is being dished up right now, and someone’s ass is going to be in a sling. Count on it. The fact that they are letting her out in such a hurry is evidence enough of that.”

“Why?”

“Easy. They want her free before the press can get hold of it.”

“Won’t they still?”

“Sure, they always do, but it won’t make anywhere near as big a splash as it would if they had video of her walking out the doors after all the hoopla that got made over her arrest. I’m actually surprised they didn’t wait until later tonight to spring her. More like midnight or one in the morning.”

“One in the morning?” I repeated in disbelief.

“Yes, one in the morning,” she replied. “I know it sounds insane, but it’s not as off the wall as you might think. It’s been done before, more than once, actually. All in order to sneak it by the press. What’s unfortunate is that this sort of thing happens more than you’d care to know.”

We had already blown through a stoplight at Spruce and were now approaching Clark Avenue. Constance began slowing the vehicle as cross traffic loomed in the headlights.

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked, reaching for the dash as the brakes took hold, then instantly released, causing me to pitch forward against my shoulder harness.

Constance pulled around the car ahead of us and continued forward, cautiously nosing her way into the intersection. Once everyone stopped to allow her through, she whipped immediately into a left turn from the center lane and punched the accelerator.

“I wish I were, Row,” she finally responded in an absent tone. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like it’s a daily occurrence. But, the truth is, Felicity definitely isn’t the first person this sort of thing has happened to.”

“No offense, but for me that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in our legal system.”

“I know, Rowan,” she sighed. “Trust me, I know. Sometimes I wonder about the system myself and I’m part of it.”

As the buildings along the block slipped past the windows, and the distance closed on the next intersection, she again tapped the brakes to slow the sedan. If ever we were going to attract attention to ourselves, now would probably be the time because city police headquarters was almost directly ahead of us on the left, just across Tucker Boulevard. Given our speed and the flashing lights, it was almost a given that we would gain ourselves an entourage.

Constance shot a quick glance in both directions and finding it clear, she barreled on through the traffic signal. Cranking the wheel hard and mashing on the accelerator, she instantly made a sharp right onto the main thoroughfare and punched forward. Just over ten seconds later, she was bringing the car to a skidding halt next to the curb.

I was out of my seatbelt before she had even begun braking, and I’m almost certain we were still in motion when I popped the door and started to jump out. At least, that’s the only way I can think of to explain why my feet scraped horizontally along the sidewalk.

It took everything I had not to break into a dead run the minute I was fully out of the vehicle. In fact, I didn’t even bother to close the door as I started toward the stairs at something between a fast walk and a jog. As I had suspected, a pair of patrol cars with light bars fully ignited were sliding to a halt behind the sedan before I’d made it five steps. I didn’t bother to stop. Constance could take care of them. Continuing forward and looking up at the entrance, I immediately spotted a slight figure moving quickly in my direction.