William Bernhardt - Blind Justice

“I was dispatched to an apartment on Southwest Boulevard to assist a follow-up investigation of a reported B and E.” He looked up at the magistrate. “That’s a breaking and entering, sir.”

“Ah,” Gould said. “Thank you for removing the scales from my eyes.”

“And who is the tenant of the apartment in question?”

“That would be the defendant.” He nodded in Christina’s direction.

Ben leaped to his feet. “Objection. Magistrate, I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning.”

Gould squinted at Moltke. “I’m afraid I share defense counsel’s mystification, Mr. Prosecutor. Care to elucidate?”

“I’ll cut straight to the point, sir.” Moltke addressed his witness. “Did you discover anything during your investigation of the breaking and entering that pertains to this case?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well…” He leaned forward, as if preparing to tell a ripsnorting story. “The defendant has a number of stuffed animals.”

The magistrate blinked. “Stuffed animals?”

“Yes, sir. Well, animals, dolls, teddy bears—that sort of thing. Most of them had been torn apart and had their stuffings ripped out.”

“The court is undoubtedly grieved to learn of their disembowelment,” Moltke said. “Did you search the dolls?”

“Well, I picked up this one, a Betty Boop doll—”

The magistrate peered down at the witness. “Excuse me? A what?”

“A Betty Boop doll. You know, the cartoon character.”

Gould took up his pen. “Is that B-e-t-t-y B-o-o-p?”

Oh, give me a break, Ben thought. You can be dignified without acting as if you came from another planet.

“Yes, sir,” Tompkins said. “I believe that’s correct.”

Gould made a few more squiggles on his notepad. “I see. You may proceed.”

“And inside the Betty Boop doll, I found several clear glassy packets containing a white powdery substance. A tongue test confirmed my initial suspicion. It was about six hundred grams of cocaine.”

The buzz from the gallery was instantaneous. The reporters’ pencils flew into action.

“And were there any identifying markings on these glassy packages?”

“Yes.” Tompkins allowed a pregnant pause, then said, “Stapled to the first package was a small scrap of paper bearing the word Monster. That is what drug dealers refer to as a brand name, a mark identifying a particular dealer’s product and distinguishing it from those of competitors. And beneath the brand name, someone had written the word Lombardi. We believe this is part of the drug shipment that was delivered to Tony Lombardi the night he was killed. She must have taken it after she killed him.”

Ben screamed out an objection, but it was no use. The dull buzz in the courtroom became a full-fledged roar. Reporters began running toward the back door. They didn’t heed to hear any more. They could confidently predict the outcome now.

The magistrate pounded his gavel to little effect. The world seemed to be swirling around Ben, everything happening at once, everything happening much too quickly. He was conscious of mumbling that he had no questions, and then of a continuous, indistinct chatter, till he picked up the phrase held to answer in the district court before a jury of her peers.

“Held to answer,” Ben echoed.

Gould pounded his gavel again. “Trial is set for May fifteenth.”

“May fifteenth! That’s too soon!”

“Too soon?” Gould tossed down his gavel in disgust. “Given what we’ve heard today, I wonder if it’s soon enough.”

“Your honor, I move for a continuance.”

“Premature. Make your motion to the district court judge.”

“We’ll waive the Speedy Trial Act.”

“I won’t.”

“Sir, I have potential witnesses to interview.”

“Then you had better get started, counsel.” Gould rose to his feet. “This hearing is adjourned.”

Gould slipped away into chambers; those few still remaining in the gallery raced toward the door. Moltke waltzed past Ben, a smug expression plastered on his face.

Ben felt as if his veins were filled with poison. His vision blurred until he could see nothing at all, nothing but Christina, sitting at defendant’s table by herself.

Christina, all alone. And soon to be on trial for her life.

PART TWO

Bloind and Deef and Doom

20

THE FULL MOON SHONE down on the forest, casting shadows between the trees, glistening against the moist grass. Despite the moonlight, the forest was dark, and almost unbearably quiet. The occasional fluttering of birds or chirping of insects was all that relieved the damnable tranquility.

Ben and Christina crept from one tree to the next, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The fragrance of pine needles and damp leaves was sweet and strong, but it gave Ben no comfort. The forest was immaculate, seemingly untouched by human hand. Under other circumstances, Ben might’ve enjoyed this. Under any other circumstances.

Their flashlights offered precious little illumination; it was too dark and the forest was too large. With each step, each crackle of twigs and brush, a cold shudder crept up Ben’s spine. He hated risky activities and yet he always seemed to be doing them. And he always seemed to be doing them with Christina.

“Can’t you be any quieter?” Ben asked.

“I don’t see how,” Christina said. “Unless you want me to swing from tree to tree like Tarzan.”

“Just be more careful where you step. We don’t want to attract any attention.”

“Ben, we’ve been out here for over three hours, and we haven’t seen any evidence that human beings have ever come here, much less that they’re here now.”

“Nonetheless, Burris told me this is where Lombardi sent his hired hoods on Monday nights. Combined with the information from Langdell, I get the definite impression they were here to receive contraband.”

“Fine. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for vicious parrot smugglers, mon capitaine .”

Despite her attempt at levity, Ben knew Christina had a severe case of the willies herself. They were both creeping along in dark shirts, blue jeans, and sneakers. Comfortable, lightweight, inconspicuous, but not ostentatiously incriminating. Actually, Ben thought Christina looked stunning; of course, any deviation from her usual wardrobe was an improvement.

“Did you hear something?” Ben asked.

Christina stopped and listened. “No. Why?”

“I thought I heard something.”

“Ben, you’re becoming paranoid. You think you’re being followed every place you go.”

“Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean we’re not being followed.”

“The possibility of someone else being out here gives me the creeps.”

“Me, too.”

They both fell silent. The natural, intolerable stillness flooded their ears.

“Look at all these oak leaves on the ground,” Christina whispered. “They’re just like the piece you found in the mud in my apartment. I think that proves the guy who ransacked my apartment had been but here. Recently.”

“Let’s hope I don’t have to go before the jury with evidence like that,” Ben said. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this escapade.”

“If you’re such a fraidy cat, why didn’t you just give your information to the police? Let Mike investigate.”

A shadow passed across Ben’s face. “After what happened at the preliminary hearing? I never thought I’d say it…but we can’t trust Mike. Not this time.”

“Then why didn’t you hire an investigator?”

“With what? I can’t afford to hire an investigator, and you didn’t exactly give me a munificent retainer when I took this case.”