At this point Thaddeus paused the message and took a long drink of coffee. His mind was spinning. These people had wasted no time, no time at all, in coming after Ermeline. How much worse was this going to get before the end of today? he wondered. He punched PLAY and the message continued from Ms. Barre.
“As a result of these preliminary—and I emphasize preliminary—reports, I have prepared and today will be filing a criminal complaint against Ermeline Ransom, charging First Degree Murder in the shooting death of Victor Harrow. Initial Appearance will be this morning, according to rule, and I can only assume that you will be representing your client at the appearance. I will be available to discuss the case with you after the Initial Appearance, but only briefly, as we are moving a temporary office into the law library of the Hickam County Courthouse to serve as our official presence in your county as this prosecution proceeds. Oh, yes, one last thing. I will oppose all bail motions. Here the evidence is strong and compelling against your client and I believe Judge Prelate would be hard-pressed to find legal ground on which he could impose a condition of release that would allow your client her freedom while the prosecution goes onward. So bring a checkbook that’s got a whole bunch of zeroes in it, she’s gonna need them.”
The last was clearly intended as a joke but Thaddeus was in no joking mood. He would send Christine across the street for a copy of the criminal complaint as soon as she arrived. Then he would take the complaint across Madison Street to the jail and meet with Ermeline. In the meantime he would need to make arrangements with her mother for some clothes suitable for courtroom dress. He didn’t want her looking like some frazzled truck stop babe in an orange jumpsuit. She would be dolled up, but demure, and would look every bit the mother of a healthy five-year old who needed her at home.
Thaddeus then skipped to the second message on voice mail. Bombshell Number Two was a call from District Attorney Killen Erwin, Jr. himself. In small counties such as Hickam it is customary for the District Attorney in Illinois to represent not only the State in criminal matters, but also to represent various departments in their administrative matters in the county. One of his common clients was the Department of Children and Family Services, DCF, which held 100% final say-so on any juvenile dependency matter in Hickam County. Thaddeus hit PLAY.
“Thad, Killen. This isn’t the best news you’re going to get today. It appears that now that Ermeline has been arrested the DCF folks are going to be filing a dependency petition for her little boy. I believe his name is Jaime Ransom. Naomi Killen is representing DCF in the matter. As you know, child dependency cases have priority in Illinois courts. This morning at 10 a.m. sharp I will be appearing before Judge Prelate and attempting to have Jaime made a ward of the state. I know that Ermeline felt right about leaving the boy with his mother yesterday, but it turns out the mother has a criminal record, as we all know. Because of that she’s not a person qualified to have custody of this five-year-old while the mother is out of the home. I know this sounds like bullcrap to you, and it probably is, but I wanted to give you a heads up. Please spend some time on the horn this morning talking to Ermeline’s family and try to find another candidate to take custody. I hate this as much as anyone, but it’s my job and sometimes my job sucks. Tell Ermeline I’m sorry and that I promise a placement will be made that’s suitable for Jaime while she’s going through her own criminal case. I guess you know by now that I did follow up Charlie’s call to the AG and claimed a conflict of interest there, so I don’t have to prosecute Ermeline myself. It’s bad enough I have to take her kid away from here. Later.”
Thaddeus hung up on voice mail. There was a third call waiting, but right now he just couldn’t take anymore. He stood up and took a deep breath. He could feel his pulse racing, feel his heart beating a fast rhythm in his chest. This was all just happening too fast. He was going to have to go talk to Ermeline about Jaime without waiting for Christine. Jaime would be the most important thing on her mind and he didn’t want to let her down. He wanted her to know he had come to her aide as soon as he heard.
* * *
The F-150 with Louisiana plates pulled into the rest stop just south of Normal, Illinois. Hector rolled into a parking slot outside the men’s restrooms. He shut it down, removed the key, and climbed out. Then he had a second notion and reached back inside the truck, to the driver’s side, beneath his crumpled parka. He removed a pink wallet, about as long as a checkbook, snapped along the side. It was well worn and smelled of a perfume Hector knew from his years with Ermeline. He undid the snap. There was her Illinois Driver’s License, color picture, Social Security card, several folds of Jaime pictures at different ages, and a First National Bank check cashing card and two credit cards. He removed the two credit cards, an Amex and a MasterCard. Both cards were slipped into his shirt pocket. Why not? he thought. Might be good for laughs, one last jab at the old lady. Run up a few grand on her cards and then watch her squirm. He remembered Johnny Bladanni’s admonition to him to take nothing else from her purse but the cash, but he could only shrug. Son of a bitch thought he ran Hector’s life too? Guess not, damn greaseball! On the way back to the men’s room Hector passed an orange garbage can hanging from a pole. He tossed the wallet into the trash and walked on. He really needed to take a leak. Man, he needed to piss. Chicago was another three hours, he calculated. But it was going to be fun. He had almost seven grand in cash, two stolen credit cards, and that old deep-down ache for some lady fun. He would find the nearest Pussycat club, get a lap dance, drink a pitcher, and get laid. Prospects were looking good. Very good, indeed.
15
News of the criminal complaint charging First Degree Murder against Ermeline Ransom spread like wildfire through the courthouse that morning. Immediately upon hearing the news, Hickam County Clerk Herman McKenna wasn’t buying it. Something just didn’t add up about the arrest of Ermeline Ransom for the shooting death of Victor Harrow.
As County Clerk it was McKenna’s job to care for the official county records of Hickam County. This included real estate records and property records. Real estate records in Illinois were known as grantor-grantee indices, meaning that you could search by the last name of the person who made a deed of real estate (grantor) to someone else (grantee), or you could search by the last name of the person (grantee) who received a deed of real estate from someone else (grantor). The records also included what are known as UCC-1 financing statements. Whenever tangible personal property such as furniture, machines, cars, trucks, construction equipment—anything that wasn’t attached to real estate—was purchased with a lien, then the seller filed a UCC-1 financing statement. The purpose of the UCC-1 was to give a subsequent purchaser of the property official notice that there was already a lien on the property, and that if he or she purchased it, they would be taking title subject to the lien of the original seller. At least until the original lien was paid in full by the first purchaser. When that happened the lien was marked as paid and a subsequent purchaser then took 100% title to the asset upon payment of the second selling price. It was a complicated office that Clerk McKenna oversaw, but he thought it the most important office in the Hickam County Courthouse, because of the assets involved. After all, the assets registered in his office proved that people owned things. The records proved their wealth. And wealth, in Hickam County, as in most counties in America, meant everything. So when Clerk McKenna’s assistant clerk Clarice Jones came to him and told him that Attorney Fletcher T. Franey was spending the second of two full days in the Clerk’s office looking through the records for assets owned by Victor Harrow, McKenna’s antennae had gone on alert. First, it was rare that the attorneys themselves pored over the records McKenna kept. Most often the records were viewed by clerical people from the banks and S&L’s. When the attorneys needed a record they 99% of the time sent a secretary over to make a copy. But it wasn’t until Vic Harrow had been murdered did the recollection of Franey’s visits to the County Clerk’s office really come into focus for McKenna. Now it
had him wondering.
Clerk McKenna’s own daughter, Angel McKenna, had grown up best friends with Ermeline Ransom (nee Armentrout). They had played paper dolls and dress-up together, had raised hamsters and turtles together, had performed in ballet and piano recitals together, had served on the high school spirit squad together, and had married, to everyone’s wonder, two second cousins upon graduation from high school. That Ermeline was now charged with first degree murder just didn’t click for McKenna. That Franey had personally spent two days in McKenna’s office with Vic Harrow’s records did raise a red flag for McKenna, as those visits were only a day or two before Vic Harrow’s death. Something was skewed and McKenna planned to get to the bottom of it.
So, he made a call to the feds in Chicago. “It’s probably nothing,” he told Special Agent Pauline Pepper of the Chicago Office of the FBI. “It’s probably just coincidence. But it’s something I think the feds need to look into.”
Special Agent Pauline Pepper wasn’t so sure. “It could just as well have been coincidence,” she told McKenna. “Lawyers visit Clerk’s offices every day and review records. That doesn’t mean there’s been a crime committed.”
“You would be doing me a favor just to nose around down here some afternoon,” McKenna said. “Let’s say I’m requesting that as an official act.”
Special Agent Pepper paused. A hunch or a “feeling” was one thing; an official request from a county official was something entirely different. She would now have to make a record of the call and at least do some cursory footwork. “How about this,” she said, “how about my partner and I come and check it out with Mister Franey. No big deal, just some standard questions, that sort of thing.”
McKenna smiled. “That would be a great idea. Like you say, it’s probably nothing. On the other hand it could be something. I know Ermeline Ransom, and I don’t believe for a second she murdered Vic Harrow. It’s just not in her to do that, I don’t care what he did to her.”
“He carved her up pretty bad, then?”
“Horrible. I hear he cut up her entire chest area.”
“Damnation,” said Agent Pepper. “Okay. We’ll do our due diligence and I’ll file a report. I’ll copy you on the report, even though I’m not supposed to. But seeing as how you’re a county official and all, I see no harm.”
“Stop by when you’re down. I’m buying the coffee.”
“Will do.”
* * *
After the second voice mail message, the one from DA Erwin, Thaddeus slipped his suit jacket back on, pulled on his London Fog, and crossed Madison Street in a snowstorm to the Hickam County Jail. Sheriff Altiman was up front, reviewing the booking record when Thaddeus came clomping inside, kicking the snow onto the rubber mat. The doorbell chimed beside him, as there wasn’t always a receptionist up front, especially at night when the staffing was cut down due to budgetary constraints.
The Sheriff looked up from the booking clipboard. He was dressed in his standard outfit: gray slacks, blue button down, brown tie, and badge and gun on his belt. When he would go out, in this weather, he would add the standard nylon cop’s jacket with the fur collar. “Thaddeus,” he said, “it couldn’t get much worse for her.”
“I know. I better break the news, Charlie.”
“Let’s go back. She’s already had breakfast, Cece brought it over.”
“Chris is coming with an outfit for court. She’s going by Ermeline’s house. As of right now, she still doesn’t know anything, right?”
“None of us have said a word. That’s your job.”
“Thanks.”
Charlie led Thaddeus back to the door at the end of the first bank of cells. He slipped a key in the door and they entered the women’s holding area. When Ermeline saw Thaddeus she closed the Gideon’s she was reading and turned away. “This isn’t gonna be good, is it?” she said. “Oh, damn.”
Charlie left them alone. Thaddeus entered the cell and took a seat on the second bunk, across from Ermeline’s. “No, it’s not good.”
He went over the two phone calls in detail, describing the criminal complaint that would be filed. He then explained the dependency petition that would be filed concerning Jaime’s temporary custody. Ermeline’s eyes filled and tears streamed down her face. She jumped up and down on the cement floor and hit the cement wall with her fist. Then she threw herself down on her mattress. She was pale and he could tell there had been little if any sleep. Her eyes were bloodshot and her fingers tightly clutched the Gideon’s as if it was all she had to support her. He started in again. When he was done she became very quiet and non-communicative. It suddenly occurred to him that he would have to request a suicide watch on Ermeline. She was too quiet. “Well?” he asked her. “Are you ready to get to work with me?”
“I suppose,” she said dreamily. “I’m going to lose, aren’t I?”
“As long as there are no fingerprints on the gun or the knife we’re home free. I can walk you out in front of jury on those facts. You’re sure you didn’t handle either one?”
“Positive. My mom won’t allow a gun within a football field of the house. Not after what happened to my dad.”
They launched into a long discussion about Jaime’s temporary placement. It turned out that Ermeline had an aunt in Louisiana, Missouri, who would almost certainly take on the responsibility. Thaddeus called the aunt on his cell. There was no answer, so he left a message. The clock was creeping around to 9:30. Which was when Nancy Kelly, Killen Erwin, Jr.’s secretary, knocked once and entered the women’s area. She shoved a handful of papers through the bars. “This is from Killen,” she said, avoiding Ermeline’s eyes. “He says he’s sorry, but he has to do it.” She immediately turned and left. Thaddeus slowly studied the paperwork. “This is your standard dependency petition, signed by Naomi Killen of DCFS, and set for hearing one-half hour from now before the Honorable Nathan R. Prelate, Circuit Court Judge. They’re going to try to make Jaime a ward of the state while you’re locked up. It says here your mom doesn’t qualify for temporary custody. Let me call Christine.”
Ermeline sobbed once and cried, “Help me, Thaddeus!”
Thaddeus called Christine Susmann. He asked her to meet him in court just before ten o’clock. He had an idea that just might work.
He stood up and drew a deep breath, tossing his shoulders back. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that he was all that was standing between Ermeline Ransom and the ruination of her life. His law practice had suddenly become very real and loomed very large before him. He was certain most new lawyers in just their second year never found themselves facing anything quite this serious. “It just ain’t gonna happen,” he said. “We’ll figure out something, but you’re not losing Jaime, not if I can stop it.”
Thaddeus was waiting in the courthouse hallway when Christine came up the stairs two at a time. “We’ve got a problem, he told her. Naomi Killen is trying to make Jaime a ward of the court and place him in a foster home while Ermeline’s locked up.”
Christine winced. “What can we do?”
They discussed the possibilities and finally Thaddeus had to go inside the courtroom. He told Christine to stay put. He would send the bailiff when he was ready for her.
* * *
Judge Nathan R. Prelate was in a good mood. It was the day after Christmas, every gift he had bought for the wife and two girls fit, so returns wouldn’t be necessary. All three had seemed pleased with his selections. The girls had made it home by 1:00 a.m. almost every night since Christmas break and there had been few strange sleepovers going on inside their bedrooms. Finally, he was beginning to hope, Leona may have outgrown that open and notorious sexual stage she had been going through since her sophomore year in high school. This past week there had been no bed sharing with members of the opposite sex—or even with members of the same sex. Wynell was a different story and probably always would be. So when he took his seat in the courtroom on the morning of December 26 he was in a good mood and ready to see jus
tice done. He told those in attendance to be seated, which included Ermeline Ransom, who had been brought from jail to the court by Deputy Dale Harshman. Ermeline was wearing dark slacks and a herringbone sport coat, white shirt buttoned to the throat. Deputy Harman had removed the handcuffs and had placed Ermeline so she was sitting at counsel table on the left side of the courtroom, Deputy Harshman sitting just behind her in the first spectator row.
Judge Prelate looked out over his domain. First up was the petition entitled “In Re Jaime Ransom, a Juvenile.” He had the clerk call the case and watched as Killen Erwin, Jr. and Thaddeus Murfee took their seats at counsel table. Killen had the burden of proof so he sat at the table closest to the jury box, although, of course, there was never a jury in juvenile dependency cases. At Killen’s right, Naomi Killen took a seat. She was there representing the Illinois Department of Children and Family Services and it was her signature that appeared on the dependency petition itself. At the table on the judge’s right sat Thaddeus Murfee, who took a chair beside Ermeline. She had been sitting alone and looked nervous and very frightened, Judge Prelate noted. He couldn’t blame her.
The Defendants: Crime Fiction & Legal Thriller (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 1) Page 13
