The Code of the Hills (5 page)

Chapter Six

O
N
T
UESDAY, IN
Associate Division 3, Elsie spent the morning trying traffic cases and negotiating plea bargains with defense attorneys. She had to exercise control to keep from snapping at the lawyers. She was morose, still smarting from Noah's failure to appear the day before.

The afternoon docket was devoted to preliminary hearings in felony cases. Sitting at the courtroom counsel table, she studied a witness statement intently, and scribbled direct examination questions on her yellow legal pad. She had a three o'clock preliminary hearing in a first degree robbery case, for which she was thoroughly prepared; she had conducted phone interviews of the convenience store witnesses on Monday night, after her dinner date didn't show up. Checking her watch, she gauged the amount of time she had before her witnesses appeared.

Moses Carter, judge of Associate Division 3, was still in chambers, which suited Elsie just fine. Judge Carter was not fond of her, though not because of her courtroom performance or demeanor. She'd had the misfortune of walking in on the judge enjoying the charms of a municipal clerk at the county Christmas party a year ago, and since that time he'd refused to look her in the eye.

The party had begun as a quiet affair, centered around a bowl of Hawaiian punch mixed with ginger ale and a platter of stale sugar cookies. Courthouse personnel, looking ragged from the demands of the holidays, chatted listlessly. Elsie was gearing up to make her getaway.

But after a rascal in the county commissioners' office added a bottle of Everclear to the punch bowl, the party took off. Crusty clerics melted into belles, and courthouse stalwarts who hadn't cracked a smile in years roared with hilarity. Elsie, partaking of the spiked punch bowl, decided it would be good fun to take off her bra and wave it like a flag. But when she stepped into a utility closet to disrobe, she stumbled onto Judge Carter, reaching a climax in the arms of a woman who was not his wife.

Since then her relationship with the judge had been severely strained.

Worse, he tended to rule against her, given the opportunity. As a result, she always prepared her cases with particular care when appearing in Associate Division 3.

Elsie toyed with the idea of going downstairs for a Diet Coke, but she'd had one with lunch and she was trying to cut down on aspartame. She couldn't remember just what the sweetener's bad properties were, but the evils were formidable, she knew. She'd sworn off diet drinks entirely on New Year's Day. When her abstinence plan didn't last twenty-­four hours, she revised her resolution to a single serving per day, and tried to stick to that. Sometimes she succeeded, sometimes she didn't. Work days were tough. Gotta have some kind of reward system, she thought. Since her love life was stalled, she would substitute chemicals for romance. She dug four quarters from her briefcase and ran down three flights of stairs for a can of solace.

When she returned to the Division 3 courtroom, the chairs were only sparsely occupied, mostly by the remainder of the afternoon traffic docket. A man facing revocation of his probation due to a new DWI charge brought his wife and baby in a bid for sympathy. The child cried, a lusty wail that made it difficult to hear anything being said in court.

Judge Carter sat at the bench, a slight man in his forties with a head of prematurely gray hair. He gave his bailiff, Eldon, a meaningful look over his glasses. The portly bailiff rose from his chair with an effort, walked over to the young mother and told her she'd have to take the baby outside.

The witnesses from the Jiffy Go store waited on the front row. Elsie patted her first witness on the shoulder as she walked to the counsel table.

The judge asked, “Ms. Arnold, are you representing the prosecution in
State
v.
Bradley
?” He looked at a spot somewhere above her head.

“Yes, your honor,” she replied.

“Are you ready to proceed?”

“I am, your honor,” she said.

The judge inquired, “Is the defendant here with his attorney?” The public defender stood and prepared to come forward.

The wail of the baby echoed in the rotunda outside the courtroom door. Judge Carter paused, frowning, and said, “I'm sorry to inconvenience the parties, but I'd like to take up a probation violation first.”

“That's fine, your honor,” Elsie said smoothly, though inwardly she was disgruntled. The delay would make her day that much longer: another complaint to add to her growing list. She gathered her papers together and moved to the empty jury box, where she took a seat.

Breeon represented the Prosecutor's Office in the probation hearing. Addressing the court, she announced she would present evidence that the party had been driving drunk, in violation of his probation. She asked the bailiff if he would call her witness out in the hallway.

“Sure,” the bailiff said. “Who do you need?”

“Officer Strong.”

Elsie's head jerked up as the bailiff opened the door and shouted for Noah. He entered the courtroom and strode up to the bench. Noah had the distinctive tread of a uniformed officer when he walked: the squeak of the leather boots, the heft of the belt, supporting holster and sidearm, ammunition and flashlight, radio and baton. He raised his hand as he swore an oath to tell the truth, and sat ramrod straight in the witness chair.

He did look fine in that uniform. Elsie stared at him as she might eyeball a sideshow freak. When he returned her look and flashed a smile in her direction, she looked away with a twist of her head, seething. She had no intention of engaging him. Ain't giving you a come hither look from the jury box, Officer No-­Show, she thought.

She fiddled with her papers and tapped her pen, composing her face into lines of total disregard for the officer testifying in court. If he could forget he made a commitment to see her on Monday, she would forget he was in the room. She would make him pay for his offense. She looked at her files, the judge, the light fixtures overhead, her nails: anywhere but the witness stand.

Bree's direct exam of Strong was brief, as was the cross. When the accused took the stand in his own defense, Bree moved in to grill him over his misdeeds.

Out of the corner of her eye Elsie watched Noah approach the jury box. Leaning over the rail, he whispered, “How's it going, Elsie?”

She shrugged, still not looking at him. “Fine. I guess.”

He rested his arms on the railing. “Nice to see you.” He smiled, relaxed, as if he had nothing to apologize for.

“Oh, yeah,” she said with scorn. “Nice surprise.”

“What do you mean? I told you I had a case today.”

She shook her head and hissed, “It's Tuesday. You said you'd see me Monday.”

“No,” he whispered, “I wouldn't have said that. I have two cases set for today: Tuesday.”

Frowning, she didn't respond. She was trying to remember.
Could he have said Tuesday?

“Aw, come on. Don't tell me you're mad at me for testifying on Tuesday instead of Monday. I don't put the date on the subpoena, I just show up,” he added in a teasing tone.

“Hell yes I'm mad,” she whispered. “I don't know why I'm even speaking to you.”

He bent his head to her ear and whispered, “Elsie, honey, you're making a big mistake. You mixed it up. Do you really think I'd blow off a chance to finally be with you?”

Judge Carter interrupted the exchange; she nearly jumped when he snapped, “We're ready for you, Miss Arnold. Call your first witness.”

Flustered, she picked up her file and walked to the counsel table. Pulling out her handwritten examination questions, she said: “If it please the court, the state calls Maria Rodriguez to the witness stand.” The store clerk came forward, and after being sworn, sat in the witness box. Elsie smiled at her, gave her a second to get settled, and said, “Please state your name.”

Elsie got her head into the game, regained her composure, and proceeded through direct examination without a hitch. Convenience store employees didn't always make good witnesses, but this woman was a dream. Mrs. Rodriguez identified the defendant in court without hesitation, spoke clearly, and described the gun he'd pointed at her in minute detail. Moreover, the Jiffy Go had a video recording of the robbery, and the corporate office sent the correct witness (for once) to establish the chain of custody for the tape. All in all, the hearing went very well indeed, but she wasn't totally focused on the outcome; she was still distracted by the encounter with Noah Strong. She kept going back to the phone conversation on Saturday night: exactly what had he said?

After the defendant's attorney finished his cross-­examination, the judge found probable cause to believe that the defendant committed the offense charged, and decreed that the defendant would be bound over for trial in the Circuit Court.

Elsie breathed a sigh of relief. She spoke with her witnesses briefly and thanked them for coming, then sat back at the counsel table. She wanted to wrap this up quickly so she could get back to her office. She needed to think: could he have actually said Tuesday instead of Monday? She'd been totally wiped out when he called.

Or maybe he just said the wrong day, accidentally. Said Monday instead of Tuesday, without realizing it. Anyone could make a mistake, she reflected, and she felt herself softening, her resolve to be done with Noah melting like butter in a skillet.

I'm a schmuck, she thought, shaking her head at her own foolishness, but knowing she'd give him a chance to make it up to her. A schmuck and a fool, she added while scrawling a quick note in the file about the chain of custody witness from Jiffy Go. As she wrote, someone put a hand on her shoulder, and she spun around with a forgiving heart.

“Hi!” she said. Then she saw that it was Detective Ashlock.

Elsie felt the heat rise in her face. “Oh, Ashlock,” she sighed, “I owe you one.”

He shook his head with a dismissive gesture. “Don't mention it.”

“Really, I do,” she insisted. “And Ash, I am so, so, so embarrassed.”

He leaned against the railing that separated the gallery from the counsel table. “I mean it, Elsie; don't give it another thought.” With a smile he added, “I got your back.”

The remark flustered her. She looked down at her file and shuffled her papers. “What brings you over here today?”

“I'm presenting a search warrant across the hall, but the judge is tied up for another twenty minutes, so I'm waiting around. Thought you might want to go for coffee.”

“Oh, Ash, thanks,” she said, shaking her head, “but it's way too late for coffee.”

“I'd buy you a cold pop, then.”

“Sounds good, but I don't have time. I need to check in with Madeleine to see what she wants me to do for tomorrow's preliminary hearing in the Taney case.” She stood, picking up her file. “I gotta get downstairs. But really,” dropping her voice to a whisper, “thanks. For last Friday. Really.”

She cruised through the halls, looking in vain for Noah. When she finally arrived at Madeleine's office, she found the door closed, as always. Elsie knocked; no response. Sticking her head in the cubicle of Madeleine's private secretary, Nedra, she asked whether Madeleine was around.

Nedra thought a minute. “She left around two.”

“When will she be back?”

“Don't know. She said she might be back today, and she might not be.”

It wouldn't help to get mad, but her blood pressure spiked. She decided to find the file and see whether additional subpoenas had been issued for the next day's hearing. The electronic file was essentially empty, so she looked in the main file cabinet for the paper file. It was checked out.

Back at the secretary's desk, she asked, “Nedra, have you seen the Taney file?”

Nedra didn't have to think. “Nope.”

“Does Madeleine have it?”

“Probably.”

With growing frustration, she tried Madeleine's office again, pounding on the door with her fist, twisting the knob. No luck. She thought that Madeleine had to have the file with her; she must be getting the case ready for tomorrow's hearing. Elsie wished Madeleine would include her in the process. Frowning, she headed back to sit at her desk and stew, then saw Noah standing in the doorway of her office at the end of the hallway.

“There you are,” he said.

Her frown disappeared. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you. We're getting some supper, aren't we?”

Elsie lit up like a lightning bug, in spite of herself. “Come on in and sit down while I get my paperwork in order. It's almost five; when the clock strikes, we can hit the floor running.”

He took her by the hand, urging, “Grab your coat and let's go. If we don't leave now, there'll be a big line at Little Hong Kong, and I won't make it back to work on time. I want some of that cashew chicken like they make over in Springfield.”

She hesitated, checking the clock. “Oh, Noah, I don't know; we're not supposed to leave before five.”

“Come
on
,” he said. “You know you love cashew chicken. How come you have to be the last one to clock out every night? Let's go; we'll act like we're talking about a case.” He grasped her upper arm and gave it a little squeeze as he bent down and spoke softly in her ear. “Very important business.”

Elsie relented. “Oh, all right.” She'd worked late Monday night, worked Saturday, worked every night the week before, when she was in trial. If Madeleine could ditch the office early, why couldn't she? “But we need to be subtle about it,” she warned.

“Definitely,” he agreed.

As they exited the Prosecutor's Office, he pinched her backside, and she shrieked with surprise. She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard, and saw Stacie shaking her head.