‘On for arraignment, page two: State v. Talbot Lunders,’ announced the clerk.
It was half past nine on a Monday morning and Judge Virginia ‘Ginny’ Becker’s small, sixth-floor courtroom was standing-room only. Thanks to a heat wave outside and temperamental courthouse air conditioning that wasn’t quite broken but definitely wasn’t working, the air was thick and stale and stunk and tasted of BO. People charged with felonies were already tense and sweaty, as were their lawyers, who ran from courtroom to courtroom handling multiple clients. The broken AC made the room feel like a rush-hour NYC subway train in July.
‘Ms DeBianchi, is this one yours?’ asked the judge impatiently, over the loud hum of the standing fan next to her bench.
‘Yes, Your Honor,’ Daria answered, as she made her way up to the podium.
‘Joe Varlack for Talbot Lunders.’ Justice Joe was back at the podium, refreshed and determined. A little too determined. As if he’d spent the weekend reading West’s Florida Criminal Procedure. Daria hadn’t spoken to either attorney since last week’s Arthur, but based on the cool looks he kept throwing her way, and the inability of his colleague to glance up from her file, she didn’t think a cordial relationship was gonna develop between the three of them. Some defense attorneys were like that — they took the adversarial process too literally and too personally. That was okay with Daria. She didn’t need any more friends. She checked out Anne-Claire Simmons’s tootsies and bit a knuckle. The distinctive red soles were gone, but the nude, platform, suede peep-toes were to die for.
‘I see Judge Steyn denied bond last week,’ the judge remarked as she read through the indictment.
‘We’ll be revisiting that, Your Honor,’ replied Varlack authoritatively.
‘No we won’t,’ replied the judge without glancing up. ‘Unless you have some new evidence that was not known to you last Tuesday and as such was not presented to Judge Steyn — and I do mean new — there is no need for another hearing. This is not the Swap Shop. Your client will remain remanded.’
Ginny Becker was a relative newcomer to the courthouse, having been appointed by the governor last year to fill a vacancy in circuit court. In her early forties, she was a spring chicken compared to some judges who haunted the bench until they died off. On paper, the woman was certainly qualified to be a criminal court judge — having worked as both a prosecutor up in her native New Jersey and a public defender in Tampa — but the jury was still out on whether she was actually a good judge. That was because no one liked her. Known as ‘the Manicured Monster’, in her nine months on the bench, Judge Becker had managed to alienate everyone, even her own support staff, and had earned a reputation on both sides of the courtroom for ruling with an iron fist and a sharp tongue.
‘Mr Lunders,’ the judge began in a nasally Jersey twang. She peered down at the defense table over red-rimmed specs that sat precariously on the end of her nose. ‘You’ve been indicted by the grand jury on the charge of first-degree murder. How do you plead?’
‘Not guilty,’ bellowed Varlack. ‘We’ll be demanding discovery.’
‘Naturally,’ replied the judge, studying Lunders’s defense attorney for a long moment. ‘State, fifteen days.’ She looked around her courtroom. ‘You seem to be quite the popular one, Mr Lunders. Are these cameras here for your pretty face?’
Daria turned around so fast she almost got whiplash. Sure enough, two cameramen stood behind the gallery gate, each sporting shoulder-mount professional television cameras. One was for WSVN7 and the other was WTVJ, NBC6. An impressed murmur ran through the gallery. They hadn’t been there when she’d first walked in.
‘That seems to be the case, Judge,’ Varlack replied a little too casually, which told Daria he was the one who had invited the vampires in for a pint.
‘How far out are we talking on a trial date, State?’ the judge asked.
‘I’d say at least six months, Your Honor,’ Daria replied.
‘I hope the prosecutor’s not serious, Judge,’ scoffed Varlack. He sounded completely flabbergasted, as if he was expecting a trial, say, next week. ‘My client has been denied bond, which you’re telling me won’t be reviewed. Now State’s saying it will take them at least six months to get around to trying him?’
‘Well, the ball is in your court to some extent, Mr …’ the judge hesitated for a moment, ‘Varlack,’ she finished, finally finding his name again on the court file. Obviously she had no idea who he was and, even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared anyway. She must’ve been fighting traffic in Trenton when he was in every South Floridian’s living room at six. ‘You can file a speedy demand and Ms DeBianchi can give you the Jiffy Lube of trials this upcoming fall, if you want. You may find, however, that you need a little more time to prepare for a capital murder, sir. State, will you be seeking the death penalty?’
‘It’s under consideration, Your Honor,’ replied Daria.
‘Well, consider faster. Because I think that decision might just change opposing counsel’s request to try this case before I dust off my Christmas decorations. Mr Lunders,’ she began, looking straight at the defendant and speaking in a loud, slow voice, as if he were either deaf or mentally retarded. ‘You have a right to a speedy trial. That means the state has to bring you to trial within one hundred and seventy-five days after your arrest. That is assuming you don’t cause a delay yourself. Because once you ask for a continuance or announce that you’re not ready to proceed or otherwise engage in activity that delays the state in presenting their case against you, the hundred and seventy-five days disappears like Cinderella’s magic coach. Poof. Do you understand that, Mr Lunders?’
‘Yes,’ answered the defendant. Even his voice was handsome. Deep and throaty, like a sexy sports announcer. It was the first time Daria had heard him utter a word. He was dressed in that same bright orange jumpsuit, but he definitely looked better. His hair was brushed and pulled into a low pony that matched his attorney’s and he was clean-shaven. He glanced in her direction and smiled. She felt the blood rush to her face.
‘I have already explained his rights to him, Judge,’ Varlack replied testily.
The judge sat back in her chair. ‘Good. I’m really glad you have. And just so that you understand, Counsel, it is my business to make sure that the defendant knows his rights and understands them in my courtroom. Being a successful former defense attorney myself, I have found that sometimes either your clients don’t hear you or they don’t want to hear you on some very important matters. Since you raised a concern about trying this case quickly, it’s good to get this all on the record now so that it does not become an issue later, say in a post-conviction motion for relief. Not that I am predicting a conviction, mind you, I’m simply making sure your client is informed. So, with all that in mind, Althea, get me a report date within the next two months so we can see how fast the case is progressing. If Mr Lunders is still on track for a holiday trial and wants to file a speedy demand, then we will give him an early Christmas present and everyone will be happy. Everyone except perhaps Ms DeBianchi, who will be far too busy to be happy.’
‘Mmm …’ the clerk murmured while fanning herself with a manila folder. ‘We don’t get many happy customers around here, Judge. August seventeenth for report.’
‘Thank you for the unsolicited commentary, Althea. I’ll see you all back here then, unless we need to handle matters sooner than that. Ms DeBianchi, if you do decide to seek the death penalty, file your notice post-haste. I am sensing timing issues and I don’t want to sit here listening to either side boo-hoo to me later on a capital murder, because I won’t have any pity for your plight and I won’t be distracted by your tears. If Mr Lunders truly wants a speedy trial, we can and will accommodate him, and not with ten minutes left to spare on the clock.’
‘Yes, Your Honor,’ Daria replied quietly, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. The average murder took anywhere from thirteen to eighteen months to make it to trial. If she did decide to seek the death penalty, the judge was right, pushing this to go within the next few months meant that would be all she would be doing for the next few months. Ugh. No cruise to Mexico. There went the first summer vacation she’d booked in four years …
As Althea called up the next case, Daria gathered her file and stepped back to the state’s table, watching as Justice Joe was followed out of the courtroom like the Pied Piper by the reporters and their cameramen. Double damn. It was obviously Varlack’s firm who’d called in the press. So much for thinking the Palm Beach Lunders would want to keep Junior off the front page and out of the gossip columns. And while it was only local media showing an interest, you never knew how big a story could become. What might catch the public’s fancy. With online news outlets, blogging, tweeting, YouTube, Facebook — everyone was on the hunt for the next big crime story, wanting to comment on it, be involved somehow. And since you never knew what might ignite that passion or curiosity, Daria knew it could very well be this case. The case she’d promised Vance Collier she would keep out of the press.
She dabbed her upper lip with a crumpled tissue she’d found in her suit pocket. She was sweating now, but it wasn’t the heat that was getting to her.