The following morning, Elsie dodged into the courthouse coffee shop. Unbuttoning her coat, she called to the proprietor, who stood beside the grill with a metal spatula in hand.
“Tom, I need an egg sandwich. Need one real bad.”
The man nodded, wiping his hands on his apron before cracking an egg onto the grill. The sizzle sent a thrill of anticipation up her spine.
“Hey, Elsie.”
She glanced over to the round table where Public Defender Josh Nixon sat, his feet propped up on an empty chair. He nodded in her direction. “Join me?”
Casting a longing glance at her frying egg, Elsie walked over to the table occupied by Nixon. Staring down at him, she said, “What do you want?”
“Damn, you’re grouchy in the morning. I was going to talk about pleading out some cases.”
She sighed, dropping her briefcase onto the tiled floor. Nixon slid his feet off the neighboring chair, and she sat in it with a weary huff of breath.
He studied her with a curious eye. “Are you hungover? Big night last night?
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Injured, she scooted the chair backward, intending to march away; but Tom arrived with the egg sandwich. And a hot cup of coffee.
“You want me to put it on your tab, Elsie?”
She sighed out in genuine gratitude. “Tom, you’re the best. A lifesaver, honest to God.”
“No need to take the Lord’s name in vain,” he said as he walked back to the grill.
She grabbed the saltshaker. “What cases are you trying to get rid of, Nixon?”
Nixon pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen with his thumb. “How about Samuel Mason?”
She took a bite of the sandwich. As she chewed, she tried to recall the case name. The only name currently burned into her brain was Desiree Wickham. She swallowed before she spoke.
“Which one is that?”
“Assault.”
“Which assault?”
A shade of impatience crossed his face. “We just had the preliminary hearing. Your witness, the homeless guy. You couldn’t get him to ID the defendant in your direct.”
“Oh yeah. That one.”
“You want to make me an offer?”
She wanted very much to plead it out; but she couldn’t offer without Madeleine’s stamp of approval. So she hedged.
“What would you be able to get him to agree to?”
He stared at her, like a card shark at a poker table. “How about time served? He’s been in lockup for two weeks.”
Elsie was poised to snatch another bite of the breakfast sandwich; but at Nixon’s statement, she dropped it back onto the plate in disgust.
“You’re messing with me. Totally. Time served? For a felony assault?”
He tucked his long hair behind his ear. “I think that’s reasonable.”
“I think you’re crazy. Batshit crazy.” She took a gulp of coffee. It was growing tepid. “What else have you got?”
“Our recent mistrial in Judge Calvin’s court. State v. Sweeny Greene. Misdemeanor assault.”
“Oh god.”
“Yeah, that was exciting. Have the police found the missing girl?”
Elsie’s stomach twisted. The egg sandwich was losing its appeal. She’d awakened in the wee hours of the morning, obsessing over the plight of Desiree Wickham. “Not yet.”
As if on cue, a deafening screech sounded from Josh Nixon’s cell phone. He glanced at it. “Amber Alert,” he said.
“Desiree?”
He studied the screen. “Yeah.
“Oh thank God; he got it done. It just took him a while. Jesus. Well, that’s a step in the right direction.” She plucked a piece of the muffin and lifted it to her mouth before she changed her mind. Dropping the bread back onto the plate, she said, “Have you ever defended a trafficking case?”
His brow rose. “Not me. The federal P.D.’s do that.”
“I know there’s federal jurisdiction. But we have state statutes now, outlawing trafficking at the state level in Missouri. It’s part of the criminal code, Chapter 566.200.”
“Just because it’s on the books doesn’t change things. At the state level, we’re still dealing with the twentieth century perspective. State prosecutors haven’t altered their mindset. Not yet, anyway.”
She cocked her head. “Meaning what?”
He leaned forward and rested his elbow on the table. “Trafficking prosecutions view the prostitute as a victim. State law enforcement still regards sex workers as criminals.”
She studied on the statement as she toyed with the sandwich, tearing it into pieces on the plate.
“That’s not true,” she said.
Behind her, she heard Madeleine Thompson speak.
“Tom, I need a cup of hot water with lemon.”
Elsie turned in her seat, in time to see Tom bang the steaming cup onto the countertop.
“No charge,” he said, frowning.
As Madeleine picked up the cup, she looked over at the table where Elsie sat with the public defender.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in your office? It’s past eight thirty.”
Elsie scrambled out of the chair. “We were talking business. Assault cases.”
As she followed Madeleine out the door, Josh called: “State v. Sweeny Greene. Time served!”
“Jesus,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Lord’s name!” said Tom.
Madeleine walked down the hall at a fast clip; Elsie had to break into a trot to keep up.
“Did you hear the Amber Alert?”
Madeleine shuddered.
“Why do they insist on accompanying the announcement with that ear-shattering, blaring noise? It makes me shudder.”
“I think that’s the point.”
Madeleine didn’t respond. She made an abrupt turn onto the marble stairway.
“Madeleine, have you seen the reports on the girl who was assaulted at the Rancho Motel?”
“They’re on my desk. Why?”
“I’m just thinking it’s not a coincidence.”
“What do you mean? I don’t see it.” As she reached the second floor, Madeleine shot Elsie a guarded glance. “Did the girl from the Rancho provide new information?”
“Yeah, she did. I got some background on the victim, some information on her relationship with the suspect. Her pimp beat her up. I made handwritten notes afterward. I can work up a memo and email it to you.”
“Did she identify him? Provide his full name, a location where he can be found?”
“Well, no.” Elsie paused, trying to form an explanation on Mandy’s behalf, but Madeleine spoke before she had the chance.
“It’s just as well. I’d hate to put the young woman on the stand as a state’s witness.”
The revelation riled Elsie. “Why do you say that?” she asked, though she anticipated that she knew what the answer might be.
“No jury will sympathize with a hooker. Or give credence to her testimony. Because she’s a lawbreaker.”
When Madeleine headed into the office, Elsie lagged behind, eager to place physical distance between them.
She couldn’t bear to stand close behind Madeleine at that moment. Because she was tempted to plant her foot in Madeleine’s skinny ass.