‘Hool-ee-ah!’ The voice called across the lobby of the Graham Building. ‘Hool-ee-ah!’
Because it sounded nothing like her actual name, Julia kept walking with the crowd from the elevator across the lobby, dragging three humongous file boxes on a metal dolly behind her. As usual, she was running late, and today was her plea day, which the judge began right after morning calendar. She’d gotten three new cases this week alone, and five others in the two weeks before that, so just to keep her already unmanageable docket status quo since her last plea day, Julia knew she’d have to either try, plea, or in some other way get rid of, at least eight cases. With the state guidelines as strict as they were, and half her defendants qualifying either as habitual offenders or for minimum-mandatory sentences, she knew it wasn’t likely she’d be able to plea much out, unless the PD was in a good mood and willing to work with her on a bunch of crap drug cases. If not, she’d probably be in trial all next week, and because she’d surprised Farley yesterday by announcing she was counsel on Marquette – thereby making him look unprepared in front of the cameras – there was a strong chance the judge would look to even the score by sending her to back-up court the week after that.
‘Hool-ee-ah!’
The voice was almost at the level of an insistent scream now, and as people turned to look, so, finally, did Julia. That was when she spotted an obviously annoyed Marisol Alfonso across the crowded lobby. Dressed in a light-pinkcorduroy mini-skirt and matching jacket, she practically blended in with the dull Pepto-Bismol-colored lobby walls behind her.
‘Hool-ee-ah! Over here, honey!’ With one hand on her pinkhip, the other impatiently waved Julia over. Marisol her self did not move an inch.
There was really only one reason why Julia, already stressed and already late, actually turned around and began to walk quickly back across the lobby with a smile on her face – and even she knew it was pathetic. ‘Hi there, Marisol,’ she said sweetly as she rushed up. ‘I’m running really late,’ she began, trying hard not to sound impatient.
‘What? You no hear me calling you?’ Marisol said with a frown, her fleshy face growing dark.
‘No, I guess not. I’m in a real rush and I was thinking,’ Julia replied. Perhaps if you’d actually said my name right I might have heard you, was what she wanted to say, but, of course, didn’t.
‘Tha’s alright,’ Marisol said, dismissing the excuse with a wave of her hand. As quickly as it had come, the frown was gone, replaced by a big, toothy grin.
Julia could picture Marisol nailing a boyfriend in the head with a frying pan one minute, and then having hot sex with him on the kitchen floor the next. Her on/off switch flicked fast. Way too fast. ‘What’s up?’ she asked.
‘Look,’ Marisol said, dangling a yellow mailing envelope in front of her, ‘I have something for you. It just came in and I was going to bring it upstairs to Rick, but I thought maybe you want to see it first. Ees, ah, on your case with him. The one from yesterday. The doc-door.’ She leaned in a little closer and grabbed Julia by the wrist, with her long pinkclaws and jingling bracelets. The dark look was back. ‘My friend in the mailroom says it come in this morning by messenger. He says ees really important,’ she said with a wink of her ultra-long lashes, dragging out the syllables in the word ‘really’ for as long as possible. ‘I thought you should take it upstairs yourself.’
Julia didn’t know if Marisol was just trying to spare her self a trip backup to the second floor, or if she was really trying to help her out. Either way, she figured this must be progress. ‘Sure. Thanks,’ she said with a nod of her head and a smile. ‘I’ll give it to Rick. I’m heading over to court—’
Marisol shook her head and the dark look disappeared again, replaced by another pinksmile. ‘Don’t wait, honey. My friend says you need to look at this now,’ she said with a toss of her blackmane before walking off. She held her hand up to silence any further discussion. ‘You can thank me later,’ she called back over her shoulder and then teetered off into the lobby crowd on a pair of three-inch pink platforms.
Julia looked down at the envelope and saw that it was already sliced open. She slipped her hand in and brought out a five-page notice, neatly paper-clipped together in the corner and styled The State of Florida vs. David Alain Marquette. It was already stamped by the SAO mailroom with today’s date, and the time of 9:43 a.m.
Less than thirty seconds later, she was running like hell for the elevator.