John Grisham - The Fugitive

Theo assumed he would be taken to a safe place and watched closely throughout the night.

As the crowd slowly filed out of the courtroom, Mr. Boone said, “Hey, Ike, we’re having Chinese take-out tonight. Why don’t you stop by the house for dinner, and we’ll talk about the trial.”

Ike was already shaking his head. “Thanks, but I—”

“Come on, Ike,” Theo pleaded. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

Ike seldom said no to his favorite nephew.

The kitchen table was covered with paper plates, napkins, and cartons of chicken chow mein, sweet-and-sour shrimp, fried rice, wonton soup, and egg rolls, all from Theo’s favorite restaurant, the Dragon Lady. Ike used a fork and Theo wanted to, but his mother insisted he eat the food properly, with chopsticks. Judge, however, ate like a dog as he devoured two egg rolls.

Ike was saying, “Based on what I’ve heard, the medical examiner found nothing on the body of Myra Duffy that came from the leather golf gloves. No fragment, no thread, nothing. The theory is that Pete carefully wiped everything off with a towel or something before he left the scene. The left glove, the one he normally wore when playing, was older and well used, and they were able to isolate DNA from some sweat inside the glove. There was nothing from the right glove, probably because it was brand new. He put it on just to strangle her, then took it off.”

Mrs. Boone asked, “Does the DNA match Pete Duffy’s?”

“Of course it does, but why bother? With Bobby’s testimony, you have an eyewitness who explained it all to the jury.”

“So the medical examiner will not testify again?” Mr. Boone asked.

“Don’t know. He was in the courtroom today, and Hogan might put him on the stand tomorrow. I certainly would, just to be safe. His testimony would add some weight to Bobby’s.”

“How did Bobby do on the stand?” Mrs. Boone asked.

“Pretty amazing,” Ike said.

“Very believable,” Mr. Boone said.

“Theo?” she asked.

It wasn’t every day that Theo was asked to express his legal opinions to a group of adults, all of whom knew a ton about the law, so he swallowed hard and collected his words. “It seemed to take a few minutes for the jury to get used to the translation, and for me, too. Spanish comes across awfully fast, but then I guess every other language does when you don’t speak it.”

“I thought your Spanish was pretty good,” Ike interrupted.

“Not that good. I didn’t understand very much. But after a few questions, I got the hang of it. Maria, the translator, was very good. It was obvious that Mr. Hogan had practiced with her and Bobby. His questions were brief and to the point, and Bobby’s answers were also short, but truthful. I kept asking myself, ‘What does he gain by lying? Why wouldn’t the jury believe every word?’ And I think they did.”

“Oh, they did,” Mr. Boone said. “I watched their faces. They missed nothing and they believed it all. Pete Duffy is about to be convicted.”

“What happens tomorrow?” Theo asked.

“It’ll be ugly,” Ike said. “Clifford Nance will attack Bobby, just like he did in his opening statement. He’ll squawk about the illegal immigrant issue, and he’ll accuse Bobby of cutting a deal with the State: his testimony against Duffy in return for a promise not to deport. I’m afraid Bobby’s in for a rough day.”

Theo swallowed hard again and said, “I think I should be there.”

Both parents almost choked as each tried to speak first. “I’m afraid that won’t happen, Theo,” his mother said sharply. She was usually one step quicker.

“You missed school all day Monday and most of today,” his father said. “That’s enough.”

Theo knew there were times when it was okay to push a little, and there were other times when pushing only made matters worse. This was a good time to back off. He knew he couldn’t win. It was better to take defeat with some dignity.

As he got up from the table, he said, “Better hit the old homework.”

Both parents were watching him suspiciously, both ready to pounce if he dared to mention the trial again. As he and Judge left the kitchen, he said, barely audible, “I think I’m getting sick.”

At seven forty-five the following morning, Theo was eating breakfast and reading the local newspaper online. His father had already left. His mother was in the den reading the old-fashioned print version of the same newspaper.

The phone rang. Once, then twice. It never rang in the morning. Theo wasn’t about to answer but his mother said, “Theo, would you get that, please?”

Theo stepped to the phone, grabbed it, and said, “Boone residence.”

A familiar voice said, “Good morning, Theo. This is Judge Gantry. Can I speak to one of your parents?”

“Sure, Judge.” He almost added, “What in the world is going on?” but managed to bite his tongue. He said, “Mom, it’s for you.”

“Who is it?” she asked, and picked up in the den before he could answer. Theo bolted to the doorway to eavesdrop. He heard her say, “Well, good morning, Henry.” A pause. “Yes, yes.” A longer pause. “Well, Henry, I just don’t know. He’s missed so much school already this week, but...” A pause as she listened. Theo could feel his heart quicken. She said, “Well, yes, Henry, Theo makes very good grades and I’m sure he could catch up. But...” Another pause. “Well, if you put it like that, Henry, I guess it’s not a bad idea.” Theo was about to jump out of his skin. Then, “A coat and tie. Well, sure. Fine, Henry, thanks. I’ll tell him right now.” As she hung up, Theo scurried back to his chair, grabbed his spoon, and crammed in a mouthful of Cheerios.

Mrs. Boone walked into the kitchen, still wearing her bathrobe, but Theo ignored her. He was too busy staring at his laptop. She said, “That was Judge Gantry.”

No kidding, Mom. I just spoke to him.

“And he says he needs a law clerk today in court, says you were very important yesterday, and says you might be helpful today in dealing with Bobby.”

Theo managed to look up and say, “Gee, Mom, I don’t know. I have a pretty busy day at school.”

“He wants you there at eight fifteen, wearing a coat and tie, just like a real lawyer.”

Theo bolted for the stairs.

At eight fifteen, Theo followed Mrs. Hardy into Judge Gantry’s chambers. She said, “Here he is,” and turned around and left. He took a seat across the wide desk and waited for Judge Gantry to finish reading a document. He looked tired and grumpy. Finally, he said, “Good morning, Theo.”

“Good morning.”

“I thought you would want to be here today. It promises to be rather eventful, and since you’re the real reason we’re even having this trial, I thought you might enjoy watching it come to an end.”

“An end?”

“Yes, an end. Do you know what a law clerk does, Theo?”

“Sort of. I think they do research for judges and stuff like that.”

“That’s part of it. I use clerks from time to time, usually law students home for the summer. Often they’re more trouble than they’re worth, but occasionally I’ll get a good one. I like the ones who don’t say much but are good listeners and watch things closely in the courtroom.” He stood and stretched his back. Theo was afraid to speak.

Judge Gantry said, “I was here until almost midnight last night, Theo, meeting with the lawyers. A lot of stuff is happening, and I want your opinion.” He began pacing behind his desk, still stretching as if he had pulled a muscle somewhere. “You see, Theo, Myra Duffy has two sons, Will and Clark, two fine young men who are in college. I’m sure you’ve seen them in the courtroom. They’ve been here every day.”