by John Grisham
“Yes, sir. Well, like I said, the llama walked up to me. We stared at each other for a few seconds, then the llama raised her nose straight up, which means she’s not happy, then she sort of cocked back her head and spit in my face. A lot of spit, too, not just a couple of drops. It was gross, sticky and smelly.”
“The llama spits at people?” Judge Yeck asked, amused.
“Oh, yes, Judge, and she did it real quick like. I had no idea what was coming.”
April’s mother, May Finnemore, was a loud woman with rough manners who could be counted on to do the wrong thing. She laughed, and made no effort to conceal it.
“That’s enough,” Judge Yeck said sternly, though he himself seemed ready to chuckle. “Please continue, Mr. Boland.”
“Got it.”
“There were some kids watching, and I think they knew this llama was a spitter, and as soon as she spit in my face the kids cracked up laughing. It was very embarrassing and it made me mad, so, after I wiped my face off, I walked over to Miss Petunia and told her what happened. She said, ‘Well, Lucy doesn’t like you.’ And I said, ‘I don’t care if she likes me or not, she can’t be spitting at people, especially security personnel.’ She didn’t apologize or anything, in fact, I think she thought it was funny.”
“Is this llama on a leash or confined in some way?” Judge Yeck asked.
“No, sir, it is not. It just sort of hangs around Miss Petunia’s booth. There are always some kids petting it and making a fuss. So we discussed the matter for a few minutes and I realized the owner was not going to do anything about it, so I decided to walk away, to cool off and to wash my face. But I kept an eye on the llama, and I think she kept an eye on me. Part of my job is to watch the front entrance. Sometimes people will try and leave with stuff they haven’t paid for, so I gotta keep ’em honest, you know what I mean, Judge?”
“Of course.”
“And so anyway, about a half an hour later, I’m doing my job and I walk past her booth again. Didn’t say a word to her or to the llama. I stopped and I was talking to Mr. Dudley Bishop and I felt something behind me. He stopped talking. I turned around and there was the llama again, staring at me. Before I could back away, she spit in my face for the second time. It was just as gross as the first time. Dudley is here as my witness.”
From a folding chair in the audience, Mr. Dudley Bishop raised his hand.
“Is all this true, Mr. Bishop?” the judge asked.
“Every word of it,” the witness replied.
“Continue.”
“Well, I was pretty upset. People were laughing at me and everything, so I wiped my face off and went over to Miss Petunia. She had seen it happen and she was not at all concerned. She told me to stay away from the llama and things would be fine. I explained that I had a right to do my job and the problem was hers, not mine. Do something with her lousy llama. But she refused. I cooled off again and tried to keep my distance. If I got close to the entrance, the llama would stop whatever it was doing and give me a dirty look. I talked to Frankie about it and suggested we swap places for the rest of the morning, but he wanted no part of the llama. He said I should call Animal Control, which I did. The officer came out and had a chat with Miss Petunia. She said there is no city ordinance requiring llamas to be on a leash or confined in some way, and the Animal Control officer agreed with her. I guess it’s okay for llamas to roam the city at will, spitting at people.”
“I didn’t realize this was a problem in Strattenburg,” Judge Yeck observed.
“Well it is now. And there’s more to the story, Judge.”
“Continue.”
“Well, last Saturday it happened again, only worse. I was keeping my distance from the animal, doing my job as best I could, trying to avoid it and not even making eye contact. I didn’t say a word to Miss Petunia or anybody else around there. The other lady there, Mrs. Finnemore, has the booth next to the flower stall where she sells goat cheese, and she has this spider monkey who hangs around, attracting customers and increasing sales, I think.”
“What does the monkey have to do with the llama?”
“I’ll tell you. Sometimes the monkey will sit on the llama’s back, sort of ride it around, and this always gets a lot of attention. Kids hang around and take pictures. Some of the parents even take photos of their kids posing with the llama and the monkey. Well, this one little girl got scared and started screaming. I walked over, and as soon as the llama saw me she bolted and ran at me. I didn’t get within thirty feet of her, but she attacked anyway. I didn’t want to get spit on again, so I moved back. She kept coming, with the monkey hanging on like some cowboy. When I realized the llama meant business, I turned around and started running. The faster I ran, the faster the llama ran. I could hear the monkey squealing, having fun, I guess. This was about eight o’clock, so the market was packed and everyone was laughing. I didn’t know if the thing would bite or whatever. I thought about grabbing my gun and defending myself, but there were too many people around, plus I didn’t want to kill the llama. We ran up and down the aisles, all over the market, people were laughing, the monkey was squealing, it was awful.”
Judge Yeck raised a file to partially cover his face and hide the fact that he was about to burst out laughing. Theo glanced around the room and everyone was amused.
“It’s not funny, Judge,” Buck said.
“Continue.”
“Well, it all came to an end when I fell down. I stumbled in front of Butch Tucker’s watermelon stand, and before I could get up the llama bent down and spit at me. It missed my face but got my shirt wet. Butch is here if you want to verify this.”
Butch raised his hand. “It’s all true, Judge. I was there,” he said with a grinning face.
“Thank you. Continue, please.”
Buck was breathing hard and his face had turned red. He said, “Well, I finally got to my feet and I was ready to slug the llama, and maybe the monkey, too, when Frankie came running up with a stick and shooed the llama away. I guess it went back to its spot. I don’t know. I was too upset. You gotta do something, Judge. I have the right to do my job without being attacked.”
“Anything more?”
“I guess not. That’s all for now.”
“Any cross-examination, Mr. Boone?”
Theo decided it would be best for his client to tell her side of the story. He knew from experience that Judge Yeck did not like the usual courtroom procedures. “Let’s hear from Miss Petunia,” he said.
“A good idea. Miss Petunia, please give us your version.”
Miss Petunia jumped to her feet, ready to defend Lucy.
“You can keep your seat,” the judge said.
“I prefer to stand,” she said.
“Then please stand.”
“Thank you, Judge. All of what he said is true, but he left out a few things. Llamas spit when they feel threatened or harassed, and they do so as a means of defense, to protect themselves. They don’t bite and they don’t kick. They are very peaceful animals who’ve been around for thousands of years. They’re from the same family as the camel, did you know that, Judge?”
“I did not.”
“Well, they are, and they’re hard working, loyal, and easy to care for. I’ve had Lucy for twelve years, and she pulls my wagon to the market every Saturday morning at sunrise. My car is tiny, and I can’t use it to haul my flowers and herbs, so Lucy does it for me.”
Judge Yeck held up a hand, looked at Theo, and asked, “Is it legal for a llama to pull a wagon on city streets?”
Theo replied, “Yes, sir. There is no ordinance against it.”
“Where does this llama live?”
“In my backyard,” Miss Petunia said. “I have a big backyard.”
“Does the city allow llamas to be kept at private homes?”
Theo replied, “No, Your Honor. However, Miss Petunia does not live in the city. Her home is just outside the city limits, in the county, and the county does not prohibit a llama from
living in her backyard.”
“Thank you, Counselor. Please continue, Miss Petunia.”
“A few months ago, Lucy and I were going home after the market was over, and we were stopped by a patrol car. Two policemen got out and started asking questions. They accused us of blocking traffic and other nonsense, but I think they were just curious. It really upset Lucy. She felt threatened.”
“Did she spit on them?” Judge Yeck asked.
“No, sir.”
“How often does she spit on people?”
“It rarely happens, Judge. About a year ago, the guy who reads the electric meters came around the house and wouldn’t leave her alone. She got him. He was wearing a uniform of sorts. You see, Judge, I don’t think Lucy likes large men in uniforms. She feels threatened by them. She’s never spat on a woman or a child, or a man who was not in a uniform.”
“A gold star for her.”
“And Mr. Boland here has not been that kind to her. He’s stopped by several times, throwing his weight around, trying to tell me that Lucy needed to be on a leash, or kept in a certain place, stuff like that. He thinks he’s in charge of the entire market. He gets part of the blame for this.”
“That’s not true, Your Honor,” Buck said. However, anyone who watched Buck in uniform knew immediately that he was proud of his authority.
“We’re not going to bicker. Are you finished, Miss Petunia?”
“I guess.”
“All right. Mr. Boland, what, exactly, do you want me to do?”
“Well, Judge, I think she should keep her llama at home, in the backyard, where it can’t spit on people or attack them in public.”
Theo said, “But, Judge, she has to get her flowers and herbs to market, and there’s no law against using her llama to pull her wagon. It would be unfair to require my client to keep Lucy at home.”
“Maybe, but something must be done, Mr. Boone,” Judge Yeck said. “We can’t allow an animal like this to spit on people. Mr. Boland has the right to do his job without the fear of being assaulted by a llama. Do you agree, Mr. Boone?”
“Yes, I do, and on behalf of my client, I offer an apology to Mr. Boland for Lucy’s actions.” Apologies meant a lot to Judge Yeck, and Theo had insisted that they offer one. Miss Petunia was against the idea, but Theo prevailed.
Buck nodded his acceptance but was not satisfied.
“You got a plan, Mr. Boone?” Judge Yeck asked.
Theo stood and addressed the judge. “Let’s try this. Next Saturday morning, Mr. Boland here swaps places with the other guard, Frankie, and Frankie is instructed to stay as far away from Lucy as possible, and still do his job. If Lucy goes after Frankie, then we will agree to take more drastic measures.”
“Such as?”
“Your Honor, Lucy has never been on a leash, but my client will give it a try. Miss Petunia feels confident that she can talk to Lucy about this and convince her not to be so aggressive with large men in uniforms.”
“How big is Frankie?” Judge Yeck asked Buck.
“A shrimp.”
“Miss Petunia talks to Lucy?” Judge Yeck asked Theo.
Miss Petunia stood too and said, “Oh, yes, Judge. We chat all the time. Lucy is very intelligent. I think I can convince her to stop the spitting.”
“Mr. Boland, what do you think of this idea?”
Buck realized he was not getting what he wanted, not on this day anyway, so he shrugged and said, “I’ll give it a try. I’m not looking for trouble, Judge. But it’s pretty embarrassing.”
“I’m sure it is. We’ll proceed with the plan, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll be back here next week. Agreed?”
Everyone agreed and nodded along.
“Animal Court is adjourned,” Judge Yeck said.
Chapter 15
As soon as Theo left the courthouse, reality returned. For a short while, he had been able to forget his problems and lose himself in the wacky world of a spitting llama. Miss Petunia was thrilled. May Finnemore gave him an awkward hug. Most importantly, April was impressed by his courtroom skills.
But the fun was suddenly over, and Theo faced nothing but humiliation. He was being falsely accused, and stalked, and harassed, and now his entire family was being dragged into it. The very thought of a bunch of police officers picking through every room of the Boone home was terrifying. What would the neighbors think?
Then Theo had a thought that was so awful he had to stop his bike and catch his breath. He sat down on an empty bus bench and stared at the asphalt pavement. If someone were mean enough and reckless enough to stash stolen goods in his locker, why wouldn’t they do the same thing at his house? The garage doors were usually left open. There was a storage shed in the rear, and they never locked its door. It would not be too difficult for some creep to sneak around the exterior of their home and find an unnoticed spot to hide a few more tablets, or cell phones, or even laptops.
What if the police found such items? Caught again, red-handed! At some point, Theo wondered if his own parents might become suspicious of him.
He eventually got on his bike and continued to the office, where he eased through the rear door and found Judge asleep under his desk. He tiptoed down the hall and managed to avoid seeing anyone. Elsa was tidying up her desk and preparing to leave. She was subdued and worried about Theo, and he felt worse after chatting with her.
The clock inched closer to 5:00 p.m.
The police were waiting, at the curb in front of 886 Mallard Lane, home of Woods and Marcella Boone and their only child, Theo, who had never lived anywhere else. They were waiting in two unmarked cars, and for this the Boones were thankful. Two police cruisers adorned with all the bells and whistles would have attracted neighbors like a magnet.
Theo wheeled in first on his bike, with his parents right behind him. Detectives Vorman and Hamilton approached from the street and introduced officers Mabe and Jesco, both in plainclothes. They were invited inside where Mrs. Boone made a pot of coffee and everybody else sat around the kitchen table. While the coffee was brewing, Mr. Boone slowly read the search warrant again, then handed it to Mrs. Boone who did the same.
“I fail to see why it’s necessary to search every room in the house,” Mr. Boone said.
“It’s not necessary,” Mrs. Boone added sharply. Their anger was clear, but under control, for the moment anyway.
Hamilton said, “I agree. We don’t plan to be here all night. We would like to take a look at Theo’s room and maybe a couple others, then the garage, the basement, maybe the attic.”
“There’s nothing in my room,” Theo said. He was standing in the doorway, watching and listening.
“That’s enough, Theo,” his father said.
“You plan to go through our attic?” Mrs. Boone asked in disbelief as she poured coffee.
“Yes,” Hamilton replied.
“Good luck. You may not make it out alive.”
“Do you have any outbuildings?” Vorman asked.
“There’s a storage shed out back,” Mr. Boone said.
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t keep a list. The usual stuff. A lawn mower, garden hoses, Weed Eater, old furniture.”
“Do you keep it locked?”
“Never.”
Theo blurted again, “There’s nothing in the attic and nothing in the storage shed. You’re wasting your time because you have the wrong suspect.”
The six adults stared at him, then his father said, “Okay, Theo. That’s enough.”
“Well, I agree with Theo,” his mother said. “This is a waste of time and effort. The longer you suspect Theo the longer it will take to find the real criminal.”
“We’re just doing our investigation,” Hamilton said. “It’s our job.”
Theo’s room was in surprisingly good shape. His parents gave demerits for an unmade bed, or clothes on the floor, or books off the shelves. Demerits translated into a reduction in his weekly allowance, so, to Theo, some serious cash was on the line i
f he didn’t tidy things up. It was agreed that Mrs. Boone would stay with the officers in the room and monitor the search. A ten-minute inspection revealed nothing, and the search party moved to the guest bedroom and its closets, then to the den. With Mrs. Boone watching every move, the officers carefully looked into cabinets and shelves. They gently touched every item in a coat closet. They almost tiptoed through the house, as if they were afraid they might break something.
After they left the den, Theo and his father turned on the television and watched the local news. Theo tried to appear relaxed, but he could think of nothing but the storage shed and how easy it would be to hide the loot out there. His stomach ached and he wanted to lie down, but he tried gamely to look nonchalant. What if he heard them yell, “We found it!” or “Here it is!”? His life would be over.
Mrs. Boone led them to the basement where they searched the laundry room, a game room, and a utility room. Nothing. She led them to the attic, cramped and stuffed with boxes of the typical useless junk that would eventually be thrown away.
“Does Theo come up here often?” Hamilton asked Mrs. Boone.
“Only when he hides stolen goods,” she replied. Hamilton vowed to ask no more questions.
It took almost an hour to open all the cardboard boxes and storage bins. Finding nothing, they moved to the garage and searched another utility room and a large closet housing the heating and air-conditioning units. While they were out of the house, Theo asked his father, “Can I go to my room, Dad?”
“Sure.”
As Theo was leaving the den, his father said, “Theo, your mother and I believe you one hundred percent. Do you understand this?”
“I do. Thanks, Dad.”
Upstairs, Theo stretched out on his bed and patted a spot next to him. Judge was waiting for the signal and hopped up on the bed—a no-no in the eyes of Mrs. Boone. But the door was locked and Theo was safe from the world, for the moment anyway. He heard a noise from the backyard and knew the search party was poking around the storage shed. He waited, tried to relax, and tried to shake the feeling that his room had just been invaded by the police.
Minutes passed and there were no excited noises from outside. Nothing unusual was found in the storage shed, and after two hours the search ended. The police thanked Mr. and Mrs. Boone for their cooperation—as if they had a choice—and left Mallard Lane.
Mrs. Boone knocked on Theo’s door and he opened it. “They’re gone,” she said as she hugged him. “Are you okay?”
“No, not really.”
“Neither am I. Look, Theo, I’m a pretty good lawyer. So is your father. We’re determined to protect you and make sure nothing bad happens, okay? The detectives are good men who are just doing their jobs. They will eventually find the truth, and this nightmare will be over. I promise you there will be a happy ending.”
“If you say so, Mom.”
“Your father has a great idea. Since you don’t have school tomorrow, let’s go to Santo’s and get a pizza.”
Theo managed to smile.
As they were driving away, Theo, from the backseat, asked, “Say, have you guys ever heard of a spitting llama?”
“No,” his parents replied in unison.
“Have I got a story for you.”
Chapter 16
Late Friday morning, when he should have been in third-period Government, Theo finally got bored with his suspension and admitted to himself that he missed school. His mother was in court. His father was buried in paperwork at his desk. No one in the law firm had time for him, so he informed Elsa that he was going to visit Ike. She gave him a hug and once again looked as though she might cry. Theo was so sick of all this pity.
Judge ran along behind him as he pedaled through Strattenburg, being careful to avoid the busy streets because the last thing he wanted was to get stopped by a cop or a truant officer. Kids were caught all the time skipping school, and serious truants were hauled into Youth Court. Theo had a hunch that he was about to see more of Youth Court than he had ever dreamed. And the way his luck was running this week, he was almost certain another cop would stop him.
