Chapter 42

Tuesday, 9:00 a. m.

The courtroom was packed, again. My head throbbed like someone was inside trying to beat their way out with a ball peen hammer. Four pain relievers an hour ago hadn’t relieved shit. McVay, Francisco, Carrubba, and I drank way too much last night. They were all probably still asleep. Well, Francisco might not be. Our relationship, or whatever it was, certainly seemed compromised by my selfishness, stupidity, or any number of derogatory terms. I’ll admit, I can be complicated.

My stomach was angry and wanted me to suffer again at the toilet. Hopefully the Sprite and crackers I had eaten minutes before entering court would keep the peace, but only time would tell. One thing was for sure, if I never touched another drop of alcohol again, it would be too soon.

Veronica sat next to me in a navy-blue pinstriped suit, her hair pulled into a bun. She was doodling on a yellow legal pad. Mostly, it was squiggly lines, but I noticed a hangman’s noose around the neck of a stick figure. She stopped and turned to me. Her makeup was perfect. She wore some perfume I didn’t recognize, but it had a faint honeysuckle smell, which normally is a welcomed scent, but not today. Nausea crept up my insides. I bit into a cracker I smuggled in with me.

“It’s a good thing court isn’t going to commence today, because you smell like a brewery,” she said in almost a whisper. A corner piece of the cracker crumbled and fell onto the table, bounced several times, then tumbled to the floor.

“Don’t get sick,” she chastised in a low voice. “Then I’ll get sick.”

I winced as the man inside banged the hammer against my skull. I pointed at the figure on the page. “That Lucius?”

Veronica smiled. “A woman can dream.” She went back to doodling.

Hopefully she was right. If the judge had me take the stand and testify again…well I didn’t want to think about it. My stomach rumbled. My face felt flushed. Focus on something other than your misery.

I scanned the prosecution table. Lucius laid his head down, using his arms as a pillow. His new lawyer, a skinny, blond-haired, pimpled-face guy, who looked all of thirteen, wore a brown suit he probably bought at a second-hand store. His eyes were shifty, but it seemed to be from nervousness instead of a twitch, but what did I know?

There was an empty seat where my mother had been watching the trial. I wondered if she’d be a no-show. Maybe the reality her new sugar daddy wouldn’t get the big payday made Lucius less appealing.

My cell vibrated. A text from Roger Bell.

Tag her and bag her.

I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh, but a giggle escaped my lips. My head paid the price.

Veronica leaned over and whispered, “What’s so funny?”

The door opened and the judge walked in.

“I’ll tell you later,” I whispered back.

Please, let my mother show up today.

Judge Meeks’s face looked haggard, with a puffy face and bloodshot eyes. Maybe he never went to bed last night. He ambled to his chair. This was only the second time the courtroom was so silent. I could hear my breathing.

Meeks scanned the courtroom, beginning with the defense, then the prosecution table. His gaze met mine and we stared at each other. He had a look of contempt. Could he tell I had a hangover? I blinked several times as if that would sever the invisible line of connectivity between us. He gave a slight nod, not of approval or judgment, but that of sympathy. Before I could read more into it, he turned to the jury.

The judge sighed. “In case you’re wondering why you see a new counselor sitting at the defense table, it’s with a heavy heart that I inform you Mr. Crane died last night in the city jail.” His focus turned to Lucius. Meeksʼ jaw tightened as he spoke. “An investigation is underway to find the cause of his death.” The judge turned his attention back to the jury. “Because this trial started with Crane, and he didn’t have anyone sitting second chair, I can’t in good conscience allow it to continue. The defendant has a right to a fair trial and with the recent turn of events, I’m afraid it’s no longer feasible. Therefore, I feel there’s no other alternative than to order a mistrial. I want to thank you, the jury, for doing your civic duty. You’re dismissed.”

Once the jury exited the courtroom, Meeks glared at the defendant. If the judge had laser beams I think he would have fried the man for wasting his time. Then he turned his attention to the defense attorney.

“Looks like Lucius is going to need another lawyer. My advice to you, Counselor, is to strike a deal with the DA. Otherwise, you may find yourself in the same predicament as the late Mr. Crane.”

Meeks banged the gavel, stood, and stalked out the door behind the bench before the bailiff could give the order, “All Rise.”

Lucius smirked, as if he'd gotten away with being convicted of killing his girlfriend. Of course, I don’t know why he would be smiling since it meant going back to prison. In some part of his twisted mind, he probably thought the next trial would work out better. I doubted it since he’d surely be convicted of two murders instead of one.

A police officer came over to put him in handcuffs and shackles. Lucius punched and kicked at the officer. “I’m not going back to prison.”

Lucius’s new lawyer looked on in horror as did some of the people seated in the first row behind them. A cameraman weaved through the crowd of spectators. I was about to run over and assist when the cop pulled the Taser from his web belt and shot Lucius in the chest. A hundred thousand volts of electricity hijacked the reins of the central nervous system and Lucius dropped to the floor. A yellowish liquid began to spread outwardly from the unconscious figure. It was nice to see the killer lose bodily function on television. Hopefully, we were live.

A moment later, the officer placed the Taser in its holster and secured Lucius with the handcuffs and shackles.

Now that the excitement was over, I turned my focus back to the first row behind the defense table. The chair remained empty.

My mother never showed.