William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“What happened?” the Sire bellowed, staring at the inanimate limp body dangling from the ceiling. “What’s going on?”

“I told you to stop!” Usher shoved him aside and pressed his ear to the man’s chest. “Damn.”

“What is it? What are you saying?”

“Listen for yourself.” He pushed the Sire’s head to the man’s chest. “Hear anything? No. Want to guess why?”

“I-what are you saying?”

“I’m saying you can cut Loving loose now.” He threw his scalpel down in disgust. “He had a cardiac seizure. He’s dead.”

B en had almost stepped into the elevator before he noticed the other occupant. Judge Herndon, wearing an overcoat instead of the usual black robe, smiled and said, “Going my way?” in an eerily reminiscent voice. Perhaps he was a Twilight Zone buff, too.

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to do anything, you know, improper.”

The corners of Herndon’s lips turned upward. “I suspect we can ride to the top floor without invoking Mr. Padolino’s ire. Even if these are the slowest elevators in all humanity.”

Ben stepped inside.

“Turning out to be an entertaining little case, isn’t it?”

Ben’s lips parted wordlessly. Was the judge actually wanting to chitchat about the trial?

“I mean, I knew it was going to be sensational. But I haven’t had many that have been as lively. So many twists and turns. Got to hand it to you, Mr. Kincaid. After twenty-two years on the bench, you’ve made it fun to be a judge again.”

Ben watched as the elevator doors slowly closed.

“Did have one concern, though.”

“Look, if it’s about the vampire thing-”

Herndon made a noise that sounded like pshaw. Ben had seen that in books, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever actually heard anyone say it before. “I’ve lived in this town since the day I was born. I’ve seen a lot weirder shit than that.”

Ben’s eyes ballooned.

“No, I was thinking more about your whole approach to the case. The jury. I know I made some remarks at the outset of the case that might conceivably be construed as disparaging to you and the land you hail from, and I apologize for that. Like to spin the new kids around a little. But you’ve proven you can handle yourself in the courtroom. One of the best I’ve seen, to tell the truth. I mean, I’ve had any number of fancy orators-which you’re not, by the way. But when you speak, people get the feeling you really believe what you’re saying. I can’t tell you how rare that is. Can’t be taught-you’ve either got it or you don’t. I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to have a successful law practice and still hang on to that.”

A look at our accounting books might answer that question for you, Ben thought.

“Here’s the thing, though,” the judge continued. “When you’re doing your cross, when you talk to the jury, you’re pretty matter-of-fact. No high drama, no flamboyance. You’re just organized and prepared and make a lot of sense. You don’t appeal to people’s emotions; you appeal to their intelligence.”

Ben watched as the floor buttons lit, one after the other. This really was the slowest elevator in all creation. “Is that bad?”

Herndon shrugged. “I’ve been out to your part of the world a time or two. Just visiting. Liked what I saw. No matter what the scientists say, people are different, and people in different places learn to behave differently, and I like the folks down your way. They’re friendlier. They say hello to people they pass on the street. Cashiers say ‘have a nice day’ like they really mean it. They remember what courtesy is. And people haven’t gotten so wound up with all the newfangled flaky ideas floating around that they’ve forgotten what common sense is.”

“I sense a but coming.”

He chuckled. “But remember, Toto-you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“Oklahoma.”

“Close enough. My point is, a DC jury is a very different animal. You’re in Homicide Heaven now. This is the land of people wiring themselves with walkies-talkies and pretending they’re going to blow up the Washington Monument.”

“So you’re advising me… to avoid common sense?”

“I’m not advising you of anything. That would be grossly improper. I’m just giving you a geography lesson.” The bell dinged, and the doors finally opened. “See you in court, Mr. Kincaid.”

Sure, Ben thought, nodding. And have a nice day.

It was decided, then. Christina was doing the most important direct examination of them all-the defendant, Senator Todd Glancy.

Predictably, since she and Ben had finalized the decision last night, she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. It was not possible to overestimate the importance of this testimony; they had no choice now but to put him on, and they had no chance of winning if it didn’t go well. But it made sense for Christina to handle it. First of all, they knew the judge and jury had been appalled by all the talk of sex, weird sex, and violence against women. If Christina acted as if she was Glancy’s friend and supporter, if she showed that she, a woman, trusted him and believed him and even liked him, that could help assuage some of the jurors’ ill feelings toward him. Moreover, it was certain that Padolino would want to ask Glancy about each and every sexual allegation in detail, now that he was being accused of being some sort of twisted hybrid of JFK and the Terminator. He’d probably cross more about the sex than the murder; it was his strongest punch going into the final round. But if it was a woman asking the questions and objecting, it was just possible he might tone down some of the most lurid, most inflammatory language and accusations.

Worth a try, anyway.

As Christina entered the courtroom, she was shocked to see Shandy Craig, the turncoat intern, sitting behind the prosecution table. She was seated beside Lieutenant Albertson, the detective who had first investigated the murder. They seemed to be getting along famously.

Christina planned to pass by her without comment, but when their eyes met, and Shandy gave her a sort of sneering turn of the lips, Christina couldn’t restrain herself. “I’m surprised you have the wherewithal to show your face in this courtroom.”

Shandy took it in stride. “All I did was tell the truth. Only a lawyer would think there was something wrong with that.”

“Don’t try to cast yourself as some crusader,” Christina snapped. “You lied. You spied. You pretended to be something you weren’t. A friend.”

“And a good thing I did,” Shandy said defiantly. “If I hadn’t, your client might’ve gotten away with murder.”

“My client is not a murderer. And you have no basis for being proud about sneaking around a man’s office, sniffing for evidence to use against him, while pretending to be a confidante.”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Albertson said, cutting in. He was just as rude to her as he’d been the day the body was discovered. “The DA knew all about this plan-and approved it. For that matter, so did I.”

Christina hesitated for a moment. Albertson was in on this little sting? Now that she noticed, he and Shandy did appear to be sitting rather close together. Unusually close together.

Well, she had no time for that. She pulled out her files and outlines, the courtroom began to fill, and she took note of all the familiar faces. Almost everyone who had testified, anyone who had been a part of this case, was present. All the senator’s staff. His wife. Several other congressmen, including the not-for-long junior senator from Oklahoma and Arkansas’s MacReady. Even Darrin Cooper, the victim’s father, was present, sitting in the back row, although she noticed one of the several security officers on guard was standing very close beside him. She only hoped they’d stripped him down to his shorts the way they did Ben.