Chapter 24

“I pay a good deal of attention to matters of detail, as you may have observed.”

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Adventure of the Norwood Builder

Karl left. They led me back to the cell. Some hours later, they came and took four of us out of lockup and marched us into a paddy wagon.

“Where are we going?” I asked. I’d watched too many thirties movies where cops shuttled prisoners from precinct to precinct to keep them from their lawyers.

“Court,” one of the guards said curtly.

“I can’t go like this. Where are my clothes?”

The driver laughed and pushed my shoulder. “Get in.”

There were three people with me in the paddy wagon. Two looked like they were having reactions coming off some drugs. The other one, across from me, looked like she’d cut my throat in a minute. I was glad when we reached the courthouse.

They marched us in and sat us down on a bench along one side of the courtroom. Across the room, Officers Patterson and Cook were engaged in an animated discussion with Karl Patrick and two guys in suits at a big table. Annette, Karl’s legal assistant, was sitting in the front row, making notes and shuffling papers. Thirty or so people were in the audience area. A guy in a jail jumpsuit exactly like mine was standing with his attorney in front of the judge. It looked chaotic, but I guess the regulars knew what was going on. It was only we, the criminals, who were out of the loop. I realized how completely dependent I was on Karl, and said a silent prayer, feeling lucky to have him on my side. Karl broke off wrangling with the others and came over sporting a thin smile.

“Here’s a little good news. I’ve persuaded the State’s Attorney to drop the homicide charge and settle for Criminal Trespass. That’s only a misdemeanor.”

“Thanks Karl.”

“They’ve also agreed to let you have bail, so in all likelihood you’ll be out later today.”

It wasn’t an acquittal, it was only bail; but right now it felt like a ten-ton weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I bowed my head and thanked him again.

Karl looked at me and declared, “You can’t go before the judge in that outfit.” He motioned for his assistant, Annette. At her approach, Karl explained that my clothing was in the crime lab for forensics, and he was going to ask the prosecutors for a change of clothes for the hearing. He asked if Annette would let me wear her outfit while I stood before the judge. Annette clenched her jaw but finally nodded consent.

We waited while Karl conferred with the prosecutor to get permission for us to change in the ladies room. Karl eventually nodded and waved, and soon a woman bailiff escorted me to the ladies room and unlocked the cuffs.

Annette was already there. We quickly exchanged outer garments.

“It’s good of you to do this for me, Annette.”

Annette made a face. “Good has nothing to do with it. Karl will have to pay me a big fat bonus for doing this.” She pulled up the jumpsuit. “At least we’re approximately the same size so you won’t look too bad. I can’t say the same for myself.” She frowned at her image in the mirror. “Ugh. This thing stinks.”

“I was trying not to notice that,” I said as I hurriedly tucked her blouse into her skirt and slipped on her shoes. For the first time since the cops came in the window this morning, I felt somewhat better. I waited at the open door, motioning her to leave first.

“I’m not going out there. Shut the damn door,” she exclaimed. “I don’t want to be seen in this get up. I’ll wait here until you get back with my clothes.”

I knew how she felt and couldn’t disagree. “Okay. I’ll be back as soon as the hearing is over.”

“You better, or I’ll get a warrant out for you and there will be fireworks. Oh, and remind Karl to take his own notes on this one,” she added with a satisfied smile.

I slipped out quickly. The waiting bailiff escorted me to Karl’s side. The judge was now ready to hear my case.

After some back and forth, during which I held my breath and crossed my fingers, my alibi proved satisfactory. As Karl predicted, they charged me only with Criminal Trespass to Property, taking into consideration as mitigation that I had no criminal record and that I was a good citizen.

“You’re lucky I got you off with a misdemeanor instead of a felony,” Karl told me. “They’ve set your bail at $10,000. Your case was sent to the Chief Judge of the Misdemeanor Court, and your trial date will be set for 15 to 45 days.”

As Karl repeated again how lucky I was, Officer Patterson took me aside. Despite what transpired in the hearing, he said that he was certain I was withholding information about Mrs. Toller’s murder. He assured me that the Chicago cops were going to watch me closely from now on. When I asked him to return my Borghese bag, Karl coughed, grabbed my arm, and led me away.

“Not now, DD,” he said in my ear. “You may never get that stuff back. It’s no longer your personal property; it’s evidence.”

Karl led me to a desk where I was instructed to fill out the bond papers. I wondered why the judge had slapped on a bail bond of $10,000 instead of the I-Bond which I was expecting for a first offense. Even though I only had to pay 10% of the bond, which was $1,000, I didn’t have it. Who could I get to post a thousand dollars for me? Reluctantly I informed Karl.

He grabbed my shoulders. “You mean I have to plunk down the thousand for you?”

“If you don’t, they won’t release me. And I have to get out.”

“If I do this, DD, you better not think of leaving the state, or I’ll personally hunt you down and bring you back. Oh dammit, why do I agree to do these things for you? No good will come of it, I know,” he groused as we signed the papers.

Afterwards in the ladies room, Annette and I again switched clothes. I thanked her, but she was in no mood for powder room chitchat. After a quick look in the mirror and a swipe of hand to smooth her dark hair, she left. Then I saw myself in the mirror in the horrid jail jumpsuit looking beat up, wasted and just plain awful. At least I was getting out on bail. I shrugged and left the ladies room.

The corridor was crowded as I searched for Karl. He was nowhere to be seen. I panicked. Without identification, car keys or money, I was completely helpless and reliant on him to get me back home.

One of the court clerks talking to a uniformed bailiff was pointing at me. I sensed trouble brewing. Court bailiffs all wear guns and are sticklers for protocol. How was I going to prove I’d been released on bail? Karl had the paperwork, but I was still dressed like a prisoner. I needed a “Get Out of Jail Free” card.

The bailiff approached. He wasn’t smiling. “What are you doing here, Miss? Let’s see some identification.”

I explained that I was released on bail. He demanded to see the bail card. I told him I didn’t have it on me. The guard took hold of my arm. “We’ll have to sort this out. Come with me,” he ordered.

At the far end of the corridor, I saw Karl. I waved at him wildly. “Wait. There’s my attorney.” I pointed at Karl. “He’s got the paperwork.”

“Oh, Mr. Patrick’s your attorney? That’s okay then. He’s one of the good guys.”

Karl arrived. They shook hands. “Awkward situation, Barrett,” Karl said.

“Why’s she still wearing that if she’s out on bail?” asked Barrett.

“Forensics has her street clothes, and I didn’t bring a change,” Karl explained as he handed over my driver’s license, keys and the bail bond. The cops, he said, were still processing the Borghese tool kit, and there was some question as to whether I’d ever get that back. “Hell might freeze over first,” Karl warned.

“Well good luck, Mr. Patrick,” the Bailiff said. “It’s definitely gonna be trouble trying to walk her out of here in that outfit. Want I should accompany you to the exit so she gets out in one piece?”

“That would indeed be a big favor, Barrett,” Karl said. “I’ll owe you one.”

Flanked by Karl and the bailiff, I headed for the elevator. Barrett buffered our path through the crowds. As we left, he smiled broadly. “This sure is one for the books, Mr. Patrick.”