“Hi sweetheart. I won’t be home until late tonight, so don’t hold dinner for me.” Blaine’s voice was flat. “I’ll just get a sandwich. It’s a long story, but Judge Dickerson removed Ryan from the Lawrence case and told me I am now the attorney of record and I have to try it. To say I’m woefully unprepared would be a gross overstatement. That should give you an idea of just how bad it is. Ryan’s bringing me up to speed as best he can, but I think I’ll pretty much be flying by the seat of my pants. Believe me, this is not the way I like to try a case. I just hope the papers don’t get wind of it and send out a reporter who will write a scathing article about my office being totally unprepared for trying a major case. Don’t wait up for me. I love you.”
Kat sat for several minutes thinking about what Blaine had said. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Blaine sound despondent over anything, but judging from the message she’d just listened to, he not only sounded despondent, he seemed to be in the middle of a situation over which he had no control. She knew no lawyer liked to feel that way when they were about ready to do battle in a courtroom.
Her mood was subdued as she fixed dinner for herself and put the leftovers in the refrigerator, thinking that if Blaine was too busy to get a sandwich, at least he could have something when he got home, whenever that might be. She’d just gotten ready for bed when she heard the garage door start to open. Jazz and Rudy sensed that Blaine was home and went hurrying down the stairs to greet him, followed by Kat in her robe and slippers.
“Blaine, I’m so glad you didn’t stay at the office. This is late enough as it is,” she said from halfway down the staircase, as he came through the door. The top button of his shirt was undone and his tie was unknotted, as he walked into the house with his head hanging clutching his briefcase which was threatening to overflow. She walked down the remaining steps and put her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. “You need to get some sleep before tomorrow. How bad is it?”
His eyes were downcast. “About as bad as it gets, Kat. Let’s leave it at that. I know I told you I’d get a sandwich for dinner, but we got involved, and it didn’t happen. Got anything for me to eat?”
“Sure do. My leftovers from dinner are in the frig. Sit down, and I’ll fix you something. I made a meatloaf and thought you might like a meatloaf sandwich along with some potato salad if you didn’t have time to eat.” She tried to sound upbeat. “Want a glass of milk with that?”
“What I’d really like is a double martini, but in the interest of trying to keep my job as district attorney and not be any more frazzled than I probably will be tomorrow, I better stick with a glass of milk.” Blaine followed her into the kitchen. “So, how was your day?” He set his briefcase on the floor and pulled out a chair.
Kat put A glass of milk next to him, sat across the table, and told him about her writing, Mitzi, and seeing Carly that afternoon. “Blaine, by comparison to your day, mine was a walk in the park. Is there anything I can do to help?”
He shook his head. “I wish there was, but no, Kat, unfortunately this problem is all mine.”
“How’s Ryan doing? That must have been quite a blow to his ego.”
“It’s probably one of the worst things that can happen to an attorney, even if the judge who did it should be institutionalized.” Blaine frowned and took a gulp of milk. “Word travels fast in legal circles, and by tomorrow night everyone in the county will know that the deputy district attorney in the Lawrence case was removed for what the judge called incompetence. That’s going to come back to haunt Ryan. I know he has political aspirations, and now, no matter what he ever runs for, his opponent will bring it up and make the public aware that he was removed from an important case because of incompetence. And the public, being largely apathetic, will never dig deep enough to know the truth.”
“Poor guy. Is there something you can do to help him when this case is finished?”
“I don’t know. Of course, I’ll support him, but it’s a hard charge to refute. Quite frankly, right now I’m more focused on Blaine Evans not making a blunder and having the judge’s wrath come down on my head.” Blaine was gazing at Kat, but his mind was clearly somewhere else. He reached down and picked up his briefcase. “Kat, I have to win this case or my days as district attorney are numbered. If I blow this, you can bet there will be a whole slew of attorneys lining up and getting ready to run for district attorney, and I can’t say that I’d blame them. I’d do the same if I were in their shoes.”
Kat cocked her ear. “Blaine, I think that’s your phone I hear. I’ll get it for you.” A moment later she said, “You’ve reached Blaine Evans. May I help you?”
A gruff voice came on the line. “Is that you, Kat? It’s Frank, the chief of police.”
“Yes, it’s me, but I assume you want to talk to Blaine. I’ll put him on.” She handed the phone to Blaine, who had walked over and was standing beside her.
“Hey, Frank, it’s after hours. What’s up?” Blaine asked.
Kat watched Blaine’s expression turn from one of interest to one of disbelief. “I’m on my way,” he said, ending the call.
CHAPTER 7
Hannah walked into her house and noticed how quiet it was. She hung up her coat and turned the light on in the hallway. Ellie must be feeding Justin dinner, which was always difficult, because like so many autistic children, he had a taste preference for his food. In Justin’s case, he’d only eat foods that were salty. Hannah had read that autistic children often would eat just one type of food such as sweet, sour, bitter, or salty. No one knew why, but Justin had chosen salty.
Ellie’s daily challenge, in addition to the many other challenges Justin presented, was to try and make sure the salty foods he consumed were nutritionally valuable. She once told Hannah she’d been known to add salt to a nutritional food she was serving him just to get him to eat it. There were times when the easy way out was preferable to an engaged battle, and getting Justin to eat was one of those times.
“How’s my boy?” Hannah asked, entering the kitchen where Ellie and Justin were seated at the table. Justin was so involved in his meal he didn’t acknowledge her. Hannah helped Ellie finish the feeding ritual which took a while. When they finally got him tucked in bed for the night, Ellie and Hannah turned on the television and prepared to relax for a couple of hours. Hannah decided she’d read the newly released book on autistic children she’d picked up at the library on her lunch hour. Ever since Justin had been diagnosed, she’d made it a priority to be as well-educated about his condition as she could be. She stood up and walked over to her large tote bag which was roomy enough for whatever she needed to carry back and forth between work and home. She removed the plastic containers she’d had her lunch stored in and washed them, setting them on the draining rack to dry.
When she was finished she reached into the tote to get the book, but it wasn’t there. She turned the tote inside out. Nothing. She walked out to the garage and opened her car door, thinking maybe she’d left it on the passenger seat. Nothing. The more she looked, the more important the book became to her, and she finally decided she must have left it on her desk at work, a by-product of the frustrating afternoon of trying to deal with everything that had happened at the office.
A few moments later she walked back into the den where Ellie was curled up on the sofa watching television. “Ellie, I’m pretty sure I left the book I wanted to read tonight on my desk at work. For some reason, I feel it’s important that I go back and get it. I won’t be gone long.”
Ellie briefly turned away from the television show she was engrossed in. “No problem. Justin’s sound asleep, and I’ll be zoning out from the rigors of the day with some television therapy,” she said laughing. “Take your time.”
A short time later Hannah turned her car into the courthouse parking lot. She noticed while almost all of the windows in the courthouse were dark, there was light shining from the windows in Judge Dickerson’s chambers.
Hmm, that’s odd. I know he
often works late, but this is unusual, even for him, particularly given the events of the day.
She unlocked the door to the eerily quiet courtroom and found the missing book on her desk, exactly where she’d last seen it. She picked it up and walked over to door that led to the judge’s chambers and lightly knocked on it. There was no answer. “Judge Dickerson, it’s Hannah, are you all right?” she asked. Again, there was no response. She knocked one more time, waited a moment, and then cautiously opened the door.
Those who knew Hannah would say she was never at a loss for words. In fact, there had been times when people would gently tell her they had to end the conversation, because they had something else to do. This was not one of those times.
Hannah stood in shock, taking in the scene before her. The body of her boss, Judge Leo Dickerson, was slumped forward in his chair with his head lying on the flat surface of his computer desk. Blood was oozing from a small bullet hole in the back of his head. Incongruously the thought came to her mind that a coward had shot him from the back. She knew she needed to call 911 and alert the authorities, but as she assessed the situation, she decided that the judge’s computer needed to be turned off. If her box had been indulging in one of his regular online pastimes, she was afraid the images on the screen might be distracting and interfere with the investigation that she knew was about to take place.
Hannah’s favorite genre for both television and books was murder mysteries and instinctively she reached into her purse and took out a tissue. With the tissue covering her hand she switched off the computer and said a silent prayer for the judge’s transition to heaven, although with his lifestyle she wasn’t sure that was exactly where he’d be going. Hannah had been raised in a strict Christian household, and she attended church every Sunday. Although she didn’t like Judge Dickerson, her higher self felt that everyone should be prayed for at the time of their death, particularly in circumstances such as these. If anyone needed a prayer, it was him.
She backed out of the room, quickly went to her desk and dialed 911. She gave the person who answered her call a brief description of what she’d found and sat back to wait for the first responders. She heard the approaching sirens and within minutes police, paramedics, and firemen were in the courtroom. She stood next to the door to the judge’s chambers and pointed the way, saying, “He’s inside. I’m sorry, but I can’t go in there again.”
A few moments later one of the policemen, who seemed to be in charge, walked out of the judge’s chambers and approached her. “You must be Hannah Joseph. I’m Frank Moore, the chief of police. I’m sorry. I know this is a bad time for you, but would you tell me how you happened to find the judge?”
Hannah dabbed at her eyes which had filled up with tears. Even though the judge was far, far down her list of favorite people, being the one who discovers that someone has been murdered is a deeply disturbing emotional experience. “Forgive me, but I’m probably in a bit of shock.”
Chief Moore nodded, concerned. His tanned face contrasted against his snow-white hair and bushy white eyebrows, and his thick white mustache twitched as he spoke. “I understand. Why don’t you sit down on the bench over there, so we can talk,” he said, indicating a bench on one side of the courtroom. It was where attorneys who were waiting to have their case called by the judge usually sat.
When she was settled on the bench, Hannah took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm her nerves. She began by telling the chief about not being able to find her book and coming to the courthouse to find it, since she was pretty sure she’d left it on her desk. She ended by telling him what she’d found when she opened the door to the judge’s chambers. She omitted the part about turning off his computer, not wanting to describe what he had been watching.
The chief listened in solemn silence. “Ms. Joseph, I need to ask if you touched anything, because my people will be dusting for fingerprints and if you did, we need to get yours, so we can exclude them.”
Hannah look up at him. “No, I was very careful not to, because I knew you’d be looking for fingerprints.”
The chief smiled grimly at her. “Do you know if anyone was angry with the judge? Did he have any enemies? Was there anything that happened in court recently or in the past that could have led someone to do this? Please, anything you can tell me might be of help.” He went on. “Ms. Joseph, we’ll be talking to anyone and everyone in the courthouse, so you could save us a lot of time by telling me anything you think may be of interest. I know the judge was not a favorite among the attorneys who appeared before him. Was he hearing a particular case today or was there a recent one that was troublesome?”
Hannah was conflicted. Blaine Evans was one of her favorite people, and she didn’t want to say anything that could cause trouble for him. On the other hand, she didn’t feel she could withhold information that would come out sooner or later. As Justin’s sole support, she couldn’t risk lying to a police officer, particularly the chief of police. She’d seen too many instances where that type of behavior eventually led to problems, if not jail time, and that was something she couldn’t risk.
She took a deep breath before continuing. “Chief, this is probably nothing, but I know you’ll hear about it from others. You see, the judge was quite upset today…” She poured out the complete story about the Lawrence trial, how the judge had removed Ryan Walsh, the deputy district attorney, as the attorney of record, and substituted the district attorney, Blaine Evans.
The chief let out a low whistle. “I’ll bet Ryan and Blaine weren’t very happy about that. Would I be right?”
“Yes. Obviously, it’s a black mark on Mr. Walsh’s legal career, and Blaine wasn’t prepared to try the case tomorrow.” She thought for a moment. “No, neither one of them was happy, but they didn’t have a choice. Judge Dickerson ran his courtroom with an iron fist.”
The coroner and several other people had come into the courtroom, one of whom Hannah recognized as being a reporter. The woman was often in the judge’s court following a case or looking for a story. After a few more questions, the chief told Hannah to go home and try and relax. He said he’d call her if he had any more questions. When she was walking out of the courtroom, she heard him say, “Hi, Kat,” and figured that he was calling Blaine.
It was a sleepless night for Hannah, and she never got around to reading her book.
CHAPTER 8
Blaine called Ryan from his car as he drove to the courthouse, the moon shimmering overhead in the dark sky. Fortunately, it was a short drive. “Ryan, I have some bad news. Judge Dickerson’s been murdered. I just got a call from Chief Moore. Evidently someone shot him in his chambers. That’s all I know. I’m on my way there.”
Blaine listened for a few minutes and then said, “Yes, it’s a tragedy, and in answer to your question as to what will happen in the Lawrence case, here’s what I think. When an unexpected vacancy occurs because of the death of a judge, the Chief Justice of the State Supreme Court is empowered to appoint a temporary judge. He’ll probably assign some retired judge to hear the cases that were on Judge Dickerson’s docket on a temporary basis until a new judge is either elected at a special election or appointed by the governor. We’re a year away from election time, and I don’t think the governor will want to spend the money it would take to call a special election, not when he’ll be running in the next election. An opponent would really make a case against wasteful tax money being spent if he called a special election.”
He turned the car into the courthouse road. “I don’t think you’ll be trying the case because Judge Dickerson removed your name as the attorney of record and put my name in. Most judges are part of the good old boys’ club, and I’m sure whoever replaces Judge Dickerson will honor his decisions. That means I’ll be trying the case, but I should have the benefit of at least an extra day or so to prepare the case. Bottom line is I’d like you to meet me at 8:00 tomorrow morning in my office. It’s too soon to get a temporary judge here by tomorrow, but there very well may
be one here day after tomorrow, and I’d better be as ready as I can for the trial.”
He listened while Ryan spoke, and if he’d had a passenger in the car, they would have noticed him visibly pale as he absorbed what Ryan was saying.
“Ryan, I know I haven’t had much time to digest what you just said, but you could be right. As loud as Judge Dickerson was in chambers this afternoon when we were with him, I’m sure people heard him, and sooner or later our names are going to come up as possible suspects in the murder of Judge Dickerson. As a matter of fact, along with Hannah, we could have been the last people to see him alive. I consider the chief of police to be a friend of mine. I’ll ask him if we’re suspects. I can’t even believe I’m saying that word. I’m at the courthouse now. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know.”
The courthouse was illuminated by red and blue flashing lights, and a crowd had already gathered across the street, drawn by not only the lights but by the police vehicles, an ambulance, a fire truck, and the coroner’s van. The police had cordoned off the section of the courthouse where the murder had occurred and were putting up yellow crime scene tape. As Blaine got out of his car and made his way through the crowd closer to the scene of the crime, a woman stepped boldly in front of him with a microphone, accompanied by a man who was holding a television camera.
“Mr. Evans,” the woman blared, as the camera zoomed in on his, “as district attorney, what do you have to say about the murder of Judge Dickerson? I understand you were one of the last people to see him alive.”
Murdered at the Courthouse Page 3
