Holt and Jim Montgomery met at the coffeepot in the back corner of the DA’s office. Jim, the other assistant DA, was a career prosecutor who liked to wear wrinkled khakis and occasionally neglected to shave before coming to work. He kept an electric razor in the bottom drawer of his desk and a dark suit on a hook in the corner of his office in case he had to unexpectedly be in court.
“What happened in the Callaway case?” Jim asked.
“The defendant accepted a plea bargain while the jury was deliberating,” Holt replied as he stirred a single packet of sugar into his coffee. “The judge finished accepting the plea a few minutes before the jury came back with a not-guilty verdict.”
“You’re kidding.” Jim raised his eyebrows. “Did you have any idea you were in trouble?”
“No, and I would have plowed ahead oblivious to the cliff at my feet. Trying to guess what a jury is going to do is like playing the lottery.”
“I stay away from the lotto. I don’t want to exchange one addiction for another. It sounds to me like your higher power kept you out of the fire.”
Jim went to three or four AA meetings a week, and his conversation was frequently sprinkled with the group’s lingo. He had successfully sponsored several recovering alcoholics and carried a seven-year chip in his pocket.
“I don’t know about that,” Holt replied. “But it would be nice if someone could teach me how to read people better.”
“The trick is spotting the mavericks who sneak onto the jury panel and persuade others to buy into the half-baked theories defense lawyers throw up against the wall.”
“That’s what happened yesterday. The foreman believed both Amanda and Malcolm should have been on trial.”
Ralph Granger, district attorney of the Coosawattee Judicial Circuit for the past twenty-two years, joined them at the coffeepot in time to hear Holt’s last comment.
“Which is another variation on the ‘Try anyone in the courtroom but my client’ defense,” Ralph said in a gravelly voice. “Vernon Mitchell did that better than anyone else. He’d make the arresting officer look guiltier than the defendant. If he’d had the Callaway girl in the crosshairs, it would have been hard for him to miss.”
“Why didn’t you say something to me when I briefed you on the case last week?” Holt asked.
“Because you were going up against that mousy Clare Dixon and superconfident about your chances. If you recall, I still strongly urged you to pursue a plea deal.”
“Yeah,” Holt admitted. “I remembered that when I brought it up to Clare while the jury was deliberating.”
Ralph poured himself a cup of black coffee. “What do you fellows have on your docket this morning?” he asked.
“I’m meeting with Detective Kimborough in Sanford County about the Casper case,” Jim replied. “And I’d better get on the road.”
Jim snapped a lid onto his coffee cup and left. Sanford County lay across the Coosawattee River from Ashley County.
“I’m handling Judge Lomax’s calendar call,” Holt said. “Nothing major. Mostly arraignments, contempt citations, bond forfeitures, traffic tickets, and a few guilty pleas.”
“What about the Lambert DUI case that was on the trial calendar?”
“It was continued to the next term because a defense witness wasn’t available.”
“That’s one of Dirk Rangel’s standard tricks,” Ralph growled.
“But it was the first time he’d used it in this case. And Rangel had a statement from the man’s doctor stating the witness wasn’t fit to be in attendance at the trial.”
“What was it? A stent in the guy’s heart?”
“Yes. How did you know? Has Rangel used that before?”
“Belinda told me when I called her yesterday from Triplett County.”
One of the irritating things Ralph Granger did was frequently test the credibility of the people who worked in his office. He would ask a question he already knew the answer to in order to find out what the person would say. It was a good habit for a prosecutor in the courtroom, but it didn’t help office morale. An innocent slipup could result in an unpleasant visit to Ralph’s office for further cross-examination. Once again, the tactic had caught Holt off guard.
“I was ready to go to trial in the Lambert case, Ralph,” Holt said defensively. “I’m not going to lie to you about it.”
“Who said you lied?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
Ralph narrowed his eyes. Holt saw a storm coming that he didn’t want to weather.
“Okay, okay,” he quickly added. “But it would be nice to know you trust me to do my job.”
“And it’s my job to make sure you do.”
Arguing with Ralph was like punching a tar baby. It would only get stickier and more annoying. Holt turned away.
“I’m not finished,” Ralph said. “Did you review the files I put on your credenza?”
Holt tried to take the emotional edge off his voice as he answered. “Yes, I looked over the new burglary case and read the confession from the eighteen-year-old. It looks solid against all three defendants.”
“It is. There’s also a work-in-progress folder about a cruelty to children matter that’s still at the investigative stage. I want you to get involved early so it doesn’t get messed up. The man and woman under suspicion are bad news.”
“Sure, and I saw the old file about Rexford Meredith’s death. What do you want me to do with it? It was ruled a suicide.”
“That’s not for you to see,” Ralph answered quickly. “Bring it to my office ASAP.”
“Okay.”
As steamy as his coffee, Holt went into his office and, in an act of minor rebellion, left the Meredith information lying on his credenza. A few moments later, Belinda Nichols came in with a big stack of files in her hands. The chief administrative assistant had been working in the DA’s office longer than Ralph and knew more about the flow of cases through the office than the lawyers. She was also a good source of information about prospective witnesses and jurors. She plopped the files onto the corner of Holt’s desk.
“This is what you need for this morning,” she said, straightening the stack with a pudgy hand adorned with multiple rings. “Nothing major. They’re in the same order as the calendar on the bench in front of the judge.”
“Thanks.” Holt glanced over his shoulder at the door. “Ralph told me he called you yesterday about the Lambert DUI case.”
Belinda rolled her eyes that were too made-up for a woman who would be sixty on her next birthday. Her hair was dyed an auburn color. “Did he give you a hard time?”
“A little. I hate it when he goes behind my back.”
“He’s paid to be suspicious. Oh, there’s a memo on my desk from Trish Carmichael about the child-support contempt files. Her summaries are good enough to read to the judge without changing a word.”
“She’s sharp.”
“And athletic,” Belinda said brightly. “Did you know she played basketball in high school? Her senior year the team made it to the state quarterfinals.”
Holt, who was glancing through the first case on the docket, didn’t look up. “No, but I’m not surprised,” he said. “She’s tall.”
“And on the homecoming court three years straight.”
“Good for her, but the case summaries are more relevant for me.”
Belinda left. Making sure he kept the files in proper order, Holt carefully loaded two catalog cases. Electronic records had come to the federal courts, but Ashley County still lived in a world filled with paper. Holt checked his watch. He needed to leave immediately if he wanted to be early enough to unpack everything in the courtroom. He met Belinda in the doorway on his way out of his office.
“Here are Trish’s summaries,” Belinda said as she handed him three sheets of paper.
“Thanks. If Dirk Rangel calls about any of his cases, I won’t be able to get back to him until this afternoon. He’s anxious because the plea deal in the McDonald case expires today.”
“What are you going to do if Dirk calls your bluff and turns down the offer?”
Holt smiled wryly. “Get humble and offer him a better deal. As long as Dirk doesn’t know we can’t take the case to trial, I’m going to keep working him. His client is guilty. I just can’t prove it.”
Holt walked briskly across the parking lot to the courthouse where he joined a throng of people flowing into the building. In a few minutes the courtroom would be filled with friends and family members of the men and women brought over from the jail or required to appear in court to answer pending charges. Judge Lomax was in charge, but it would be up to Holt to smoothly orchestrate the proceedings. He’d been nervous the first few times he handled calendar calls on his own, but he was beginning to feel more comfortable on the courtroom stage.
Trish had come in an hour before her scheduled shift to spend extra time preparing the memo for Holt. She’d been in court enough to develop an ear for what lawyers wanted to say and what the judge needed to hear. After proofreading the memo for the third time, she’d sent it as an e-mail attachment to Belinda, who was the only person besides Sue Ann who knew about her interest in Holt. Belinda didn’t have to be asked twice to take on the challenge of matchmaker.
Trish drove the three blocks from the sheriff’s department to the courthouse. She shared use of an unmarked law enforcement vehicle with four other people in the office. As a female deputy, Trish always drew stares and sideways looks from the people streaming into the courthouse.
“Trish!” a male voice called out from behind her as she neared the entrance to the courtroom.
Turning around, it took Trish a few seconds to connect the chiseled face and dark hair with a name. It was Donnie Crowder, a star football player who’d earned a scholarship to a small school in Tennessee. He’d been on the same team with Keith.
“Hey, Donnie,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”
“Hopefully only for a few minutes.” Donnie flashed the smile that had given Trish and her friends chill bumps. “You look great in that uniform.”
“Yeah, right,” Trish said, blushing. “What are you doing here this morning?”
Donnie held up a yellow piece of paper. “Speeding ticket when I was driving in to visit my mom a couple of months ago. I live in Nashville and thought about paying the fine through the mail, but the points were going to send my car insurance premium through the roof, so I turned the court date into another excuse to see my family. Do you think I can get the charge knocked down?”
“Uh, I don’t know. Holt Douglas is the assistant DA running the docket this morning. You’ll have to talk to him.”
“Could you do it for me? I’m not even sure what to ask.”
Trish knew she would say yes even if she didn’t really want to. Turning down Donnie Crowder wasn’t an option girls usually chose. He’d never asked Trish out, but she would have accepted, if only for bragging rights of one date.
“I’ll mention it to him if I get a chance. How fast were you going?”
Donnie handed her his copy of the ticket. “It’s somewhere on here, but it’s hard to read.”
Trish tried to decipher the officer’s handwriting, but it was a deputy whose penmanship was deplorable.
“Is that a nine or a seven?” she asked, holding out the ticket.
“I’m sure it’s a seven,” Donnie replied. “There’s no way I was going ninety-five in a fifty-five-mile zone. If it’s dropped to less than fifteen over the speed limit, I can avoid the slam on my insurance.”
Trish looked up. “I thought you didn’t know what you needed to do.”
“I know that much but not how to make it happen.”
Donnie was wearing an expensive-looking suit. Trish didn’t know what the former high school heartthrob did for a living, but he looked like he could afford a lawyer. Then she remembered something else about Donnie. He was notoriously cheap. His idea of spending a lot on a date meant ordering two toppings instead of one on a medium pizza.
“Let me hang on to the ticket,” she said. “I’ll check with Mr. Douglas.”
“Thanks,” Donnie replied. “And see if it can be taken care of first thing. I really don’t want to hang around all morning.”
“Okay, but no promises.”
“You can do it,” Donnie replied, trotting out his smile again. “You were always a winner.”
As she entered the courtroom, Trish knew she would no longer have any trouble turning down Donnie Crowder, even if he asked her out for pizza with as many toppings as she wanted.
The court reporter was setting up her equipment next to the witness stand. The judge hadn’t appeared. Holt was sitting at the table used by the prosecutors with his back to her and entering information into his laptop. A bevy of defense lawyers were huddled on the opposite side of the courtroom. Seven or eight prisoners had been brought over from the jail and were sitting in chairs that lined a wall near the defense lawyers. Trish recognized three men who were in court trying to get out of jail on previous contempt orders for nonpayment of child support. Her job was to keep them locked up until they presented a bona fide plan for payment. She tapped Holt on the shoulder.
“Yes,” he said curtly as he turned around. “Oh, good morning. Thanks for the summary you sent over. It was well done. Anything else I need to know?”
“Not on my cases.” Trish cleared her throat. “But I ran into an old high school friend who’s here on a traffic citation. He lives in Nashville and wondered if you could take his case out of order and knock down the charge. His name is Donald Crowder.”
Holt picked up his calendar. “It will be a couple of hours before we reach the traffic matters. What’s his name again?”
“Crowder.”
Holt pulled a file from the lower third of one of the two stacks on the table and opened it. “Ninety-five miles per hour in a fifty-five-mile zone. What does he want to do?”
Trish swallowed. “Reduce it to less than fifteen over. I didn’t know it was that much—”
“How good a friend is he?” Holt asked, glancing at the door where Judge Lomax would enter the courtroom.
“Just an acquaintance. We never dated.”
Trish inwardly kicked herself for mentioning the totally irrelevant tidbit of social trivia. Holt didn’t seem to notice as he continued to study the file.
“Tell him I’ll talk to him at ten thirty when the judge takes a break,” Holt said as he continued to flip through the file. “Your friend has two speeding tickets in Tennessee within the past year and needs to slow down before he kills himself or someone else.” Holt paused. “At least there’s no indication of alcohol involved.”
“Thanks,” Trish said as she retreated. “And I’m ready to testify in my cases if you need me.”
Judge Lomax entered the courtroom and everyone rose to their feet. As the crowd sat down, Trish looked over her shoulder and saw Donnie, who smiled again.
She didn’t.