David Baldacci - True Blue

“ Very good friends,” amended Hamilton.

“I see. Did Joe Cushman know they were having an affair?”

“While neither confirming nor denying the accuracy of your words, from a purely hypothetical basis, I would assume not.”

“But they didn’t end up together,” said Mace.

“Jamie’s wife developed breast cancer,” said Petrocelli. “Let’s just say he did the right thing by her.”

“We were surprised when he moved to D.C. and became a U.S. attorney,” added Hamilton. “But in a way we understood. He wanted to make a clean break of it.”

“We were stunned to hear about his death,” said Sprissler.

“So were a lot of people,” said Mace.

She asked a few more questions, got nothing else helpful, and headed back to the train station. It was good to finally know of the connection between Tolliver and Meldon, but it didn’t really advance the investigation as far as Mace could see. As she sat down to wait for her train, it seemed like they were right back at square one and running out of time.

ROY STEPPED INTO C-10 for the first time in two years. C-10 was the courtroom where presentments were held in D.C. Superior Court, which was where the Captain was being tried for murder. The place was crammed because C-10 heard all presentments, from relatively minor crimes all the way to the most serious felonies. The defendants who were not in custody sat with their attorneys in the courtroom waiting for their case to be called. Those defendants who were already in jail were held in another room until it was their turn before the judge.

Roy took a seat on one of the crowded benches. As he looked around he could see various defendants gabbing while they were waiting. C-10 was a good place for the criminal classes to catch up with each other, he’d found. When he’d been a CJA he’d more than once had to pull his guy away from another street punk because they were plotting out some future crime right in front of the judge.

Roy suspected that his presentment would be called first, for one reason only. And that reason walked in at one minute to ten, sixty seconds ahead of the opening bell for this C-10 cattle call. Mona Danforth was dressed for battle in navy blue Chanel with a white pocket kerchief, three-inch heels, and lips set in a perfectly horizontal line. Her golden tresses oozed the scent of hairspray like blood from a finger cut.

One minute later the judge entered, everyone rose, and the bailiff called the case. The Captain appeared from behind a door with a police officer on either side of him. He joined Roy at the defense counsel table while Mona stood ready at the prosecutor’s table. The judge smiled down at Mona and rested his glasses near the end of his nose as he read over the papers. At this juncture, no evidence was presented by the two lawyers. It was strictly done on the record thus far. And that record completely favored Mona.

The judge said, “Ms. Danforth, I haven’t seen you in C- 10 in a while.”

“Good to be back, Your Honor.”

The judge riffled through some notes and then glanced over at Roy. “Plea?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor,” said Roy while the Captain stood beside him idly gazing around the room.

“Duly noted. Ms. Danforth?”

“The people request a 1325-A hold. The defendant has no job, no home, and no family locally. We consider him to be a flight risk, and that, coupled with the serious nature of the charges, warrants continued confinement.”

“Defense objections?” the judge asked, peering at Roy. “No, Your Honor.”

“I understand that we might have a conflict with defense counsel?”

“It’s been resolved, Your Honor,” said Mona quickly.

The judge looked from her to Roy. “Is that correct?”

Roy glanced once at Mona and then said, “That’s correct.”

“Mr. Kingman, the record says your client is homeless and presumably not in a position to hire an attorney. And yet you’re not a public defender.”

“I’m doing the case pro bono.”

“How generous of you.”

“I used to be CJA.”

“Used to be?”

“I left to go into corporate private practice.”

“How long did you practice criminal law in this court?”

“Two years.”

The judge laid his glasses down on the bench. “This is a rape and murder-one charge. It doesn’t get more serious than that.”

“I understand that, Your Honor. I’ve handled murder cases before.”

“How many?”

“At least ten.”

“How many of those went to trial?”

Roy licked his lips. “Three.”

“And your record in those trials?”

“Unfortunately, I lost all of them.”

“I see.” He turned his attention to the Captain. “Mr. Dockery, do you want to have Mr. Kingman as your counsel? If not, there are many experienced public defenders that will represent you at no cost.”

Roy held his breath, praying that the Captain didn’t start asking for Twinkies.

The Captain merely said, “Yes sir. Roy’s my lawyer.”

“Ms. Danforth?”

She smiled and said coolly, “The people feel that Mr. Kingman is up to the task of adequately defending Mr. Dockery’s interests in this case. We have no objection to his continued representation.”

The judge looked skeptical of this but said, “Okay. The court finds the people have met its burden and the defendant will be detained until further notice.” The judge rapped his gavel and the next case was called.

Roy turned to the Captain. “You doing all right?”

“You think I can keep staying there? Three squares and a bed.”

“I think I can pretty much guarantee that for the foreseeable future. But look, Captain, we’re going to get you out of this, okay? You’re not going to prison over this.”

“If you say so, Roy. I just want to get back in time for lunch.”

He was led off by the police officers and Roy headed out of the courtroom.

“I’m impressed, Kingman. I would’ve bet your pants would be wet by now.”

He turned to see Mona behind him.

“I hope your legal work is as bad as your quips.”

“I guess you’ll find out sooner rather than later.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mona pushed open the courtroom door and motioned Roy out. She followed. Halfway down the hall Roy flinched as a column of media folks charged toward them. They started shoving mikes, recorders, and notepads in Roy’s face while firing off questions at him. “What the hell-” He darted a glance at Mona, who didn’t seem surprised by all this attention.

She said, “If you want to play in the big leagues this comes with the territory.”

Roy shoved through the crowd as Mona started making prepared remarks. Even as he pushed through the wall he was at risk of being hurled right back into the pit by the sheer weight of the media. That is, until a long arm came out of nowhere and snagged him, pulling him through a side door that slammed shut in the faces of the trailing reporters.

Beth let go of his arm and stepped back.

“Thanks, Chief.”

“I figured Mona would pull her usual crap. How’d it go in there?”

“No surprises.”

“You can leave through that hallway,” she said, pointing to her left.

“I know this is awkward for you, Chief.”

“What is?”

“I mean, technically you’re on Mona’s side. If we prove our case, she loses. In fact, she might look like an idiot in the process.”

Beth punched him lightly on the side of the arm. “Keep talking like that, Kingman, I might just grow to tolerate you.”

Roy thought he caught a glimpse of a smile as she strode off down the hall. Outside he was heading for his car when a lanky young man in a tweed blazer approached.