John Stone Law

by Dave Derin

  “Please be seated,” she said. “Court is now back in session, and let’s get on the ball, here folks.”

  “Excuse me, Your Honor,” I stood up and addressed the court. “Please forgive my interruption, but may Mr. Price and I approach the bench for just one moment?”

  Benji Price’s head whipped around to stare at me with steely eyes as I stood and strode toward the judge’s bench. He slowly stood to his feet and joined me with a queasy look on his face.

  “Alright, Mr. Stone,” the judge removed her glasses and looked at me. “You have my attention.”

  “Your Honor,” I cleared my throat then stated firmly. “I have new evidence to submit that was uncovered approximately two hours ago.”

  “Do you, now?” she raised her dark eyebrows and then looked at Mr. Price. “How do you feel about Mr. Stone presenting this new evidence now?”

  “The prosecution is amenable to hearing new evidence now,” Benji sighed, then slumped his shoulders and returned to his chair. His colleagues leaned over and whispered to him as he stared straight ahead in silence.

  “It came to my attention during the recess,” I spoke clearly as I placed a copy of my client’s medical record on the judge’s bench, then moved to the prosecutors’ table and handed one to Benji. “That the thumbprint on the laptop the prosecution alleges belongs to Miss Jenkins does indeed, without a doubt, belong to my client.”

  The room exploded with questions and outbursts from the crowd, and the iron-willed judge banged her gavel until the interruptions ceased. The bailiff stood up straight, placed his hands on the cuffs on his waist, and glanced over at the judge who shook her head slightly then locked eyes with me.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stone,” Judge Williamson interrupted and held up her palm to the room. “Did I miss something?”

  “No, Your Honor, you did not,” I answered, then my mouth grew dry, so I bit the inside of my cheek to encourage salivation before I continued. “It certainly was my client, Susanna Jenkins’, thumbprint. I say was, because about one year ago, on the seventeenth of June 2017, to be exact, Ms. Jenkins suffered a severe burn on her left hand caused by a cooking fire.”

  The courtroom erupted again with murmurs and titters from spectators and witnesses alike, and the judge pounded her gavel three times to quiet the crowd. “Everyone, please be respectful of my courtroom, or I’ll start sending you out of here,” she reprimanded the preliminary hearing attendees. “Mr. Stone, please continue.”

  “As I stated, Miss Jenkins sustained a burn so severe that it permanently altered her fingerprint,” I explained as the butterflies in my stomach threatened to escape through my mouth, but I somehow kept a steady voice. “The only documentation of Susanna Jenkins’ fingerprints were for her employment with Central United States Air, taken on her first day on the job, January fifth, 2014, and on the hospital record you have there before you.”

  Benji’s mouth dropped open, then I saw a strange curl form at the ends of his lips, almost like a smile, before he dropped his head and stared at his lap. I turned around and saw Skip’s icy blue eyes locked expectantly on me, then Judge Williamson nodded and motioned for me to continue.

  “In light of this new information, and after reading the affidavit of my witness, Myrtle Jones, who is prepared to testify to it,” I strode closer to the defense table then turned to face the judge, “the defense submits a motion to dismiss all charges against Susanna Louise Jenkins, given that the prosecution has no evidence on which to base their accusations.”

  I sat down and took a deep breath, then looked at Susanna and raised my eyebrows. My body prickled from the adrenaline that coursed through my veins as I stared breathlessly at Judge Williamson.

  “Well, Mr. Price,” the judge lowered her glasses and peered at him. “I’m honestly a bit surprised you decided to pursue this one, but so be it. All charges in case number 18-101, the United States versus Susanna Louise Jenkins, are hereby dismissed, and the defendant is discharged. Miss Jenkins, you are free to have the monitor removed immediately.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” I replied with a smile, then turned to face my newly exonerated client, who jumped up and down then wrapped me in a tight hug.

  “Court is dismissed,” Judge Augusta Williamson announced to the room as she exited to her chamber, and my first solo federal preliminary hearing was over. We all rose at the bailiff’s command, and I looked over to see the prosecution’s table was already clearing, and the lead prosecutor was nowhere in sight.

  I’d wanted to speak with Benji after the hearing, but I was on such a victory high that I felt like I floated on a fluffy cloud as Skip shook my hand and clapped his hand roughly on my back, that I soon forgot about it. Susanna gave me another lingering hug, then the three of us headed to the court’s administrative area and had my lovely client’s ankle monitor removed.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me,” the green-eyed lady hugged me again as tears streamed down her pink cheeks. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

  “Well, you’d probably be in federal prison,” Skip leaned in and joked.

  Susanna tilted her head back and released a melodic laugh. “You’re probably right about that, Skip,” she giggled. “I don’t think I’d hold up too well in the clink.”

  “Well, kids,” Skip said then tipped his black cowboy hat at us. “I’ve done my duty, so I’m gonna head out and take the lovely Ms. Myrtle Jones back to her humble abode, hopefully I’m back before bedtime. John, keep in touch, ya’ hear?”

  “You’ll be hearing from me soon, I’m sure,” I smiled and shook his weathered hand firmly. “Thanks for everything, Skip.”

  We watched him saunter away in silence, then turned and saw the black-suited figure of a female FBI agent as she moved away from us down the hall.

  “Special Agent Dodson,” I called after her, then turned back to Susanna. “I’ll just be a minute, I need to speak with her before we go.”

  She nodded, so I turned and jogged across the lobby toward the quickly disappearing form of the agent.

  “Excuse me, Agent Dodson,” I called out again, and knew that leaving the special off her title was sure to get her attention.

  She froze in her tracks, then slowly turned to face me with a scowl. “Special Agent,” she said when I’d caught up to her, and I just grinned.

  “I know,” I winked as I caught my breath. “Just needed to get your attention.”

  “Well, you’ve got it,” she retorted and raised an eyebrow. “What do you need, Mr. Stone?”

  “Listen, Special Agent Dodson,” I began after I cleared my throat. “I know we got off to a rough start, but we both know the real terrorists in the case are still out there, and it’s possible they’ll hurt more people.”

  “You have made it perfectly clear that your client is innocent, Mr. Stone,” the short-haired agent replied. “There’s no reason to rub salt in the wound.”

  “No, ma’am,” I shook my head, then spoke sincerely. “That’s not what I’m getting at. I have evidence and witnesses that indicate Tranquility Air’s president is the one orchestrating these bombings as a means of insurance fraud, on top of domestic terrorism and conspiracy charges, and if you’d be willing to work with me, I’d love to share everything I have to help further your investigation.”

  She eyed me silently for a moment, then extended her right hand and firmly shook mine before she stated, “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Stone.”

  “I look forward to it,” I replied, then turned and made my way back to my patiently waiting client in the lobby.

  “Sorry about that,” I said as I reached her, then gave her a big smile. “I have a good feeling we have a chance at a large settlement if you want to file a civil suit against Tranquility. I just mentioned it to Dodson, and she seemed very interested.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful, John,” Susanna’s emerald eyes crinkled as she smiled at me, then we pushed through the glass doors and exited the feder
al building.

  “So, what’s next for Miss Susanna Jenkins?” I asked as we walked toward the parking lot and the summer sun warmed our faces.

  “Actually,” she stretched the word out and stopped on the curb, then turned to face me. “I’ve decided to move back home to Austin. I just, with all of this drama going on, I just really think I need to be closer to my folks. You know, with them gettin’ older and all--”

  “That is completely understandable,” I interrupted, then smiled at her and put my hand gently on her shoulder. “If you’re ever back in Dallas, you have my number.”

  “I sure do,” she smiled and bit her bottom lip. “And next time, I won’t be your client, either.”

  “Is that right?” I raised my eyebrows at her and gave her a half-smile, then stepped closer until Susanna’s soft, red hair got caught in the wind and flowed around me. I gently brushed her curls away from her face, then lifted her chin, and bent down to caress her quivering lips softly. I let my lips linger on hers until she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in closer for a deep, passionate kiss. She pulled away after a brief moment of pleasure, then adjusted her clothes and gathered her unruly curls to one side before she cleared her throat and smiled.

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye for now, Mr. Stone.” She winked at me, then turned and sashayed toward her car as her golden-red curls shimmered in the bright sunlight.

  I watched her splendid figure disappear between the parked cars as I enjoyed the light breeze and mild Texas day and thought about what had just transpired.

  Then I licked my bottom lip and tasted Susanna’s sweet strawberry lip gloss, made my way to my car, and headed toward the office.

  Destinee was sure to be curious about how the preliminary hearing had resolved. I’d go check in with her briefly, then give myself the rest of the afternoon off. I had really started to enjoy being my own boss.

  When I walked through the back door of John Stone Law, I was greeted by pink and green streamers that hung from the ceiling and our three desks. Destinee danced around the office with Athena, and when she saw me walk in, she turned and gave me a glowing smile.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Stone,” she exclaimed with a little bounce. “I knew you could do it.”

  “Thanks, Destinee,” I grinned at her, then looked around at the festive decorations. “But, how did you even know?

  “Skip texted me right after the judge dismissed court,” she explained. “I had different themes ready for whatever happened.”

  “Wow,” I laughed as I thought about the implication of different court-outcome-related party themes. “So, you did all this for me?”

  “Yep,” she radiated joy and was suitably dressed in a cheerful pink jumpsuit with black flats. “I thought it would be fun.”

  “It’s definitely fun,” I chuckled. “I just wanted to come check in with you, and I’m glad I got to see all of your decorating work. Let’s leave it up for a while. I think it adds some flare to the place.”

  She smiled at me, and her dimple popped out adorably, then she placed Athena back on her perch and came to lean against her desk. “So, what’s next for John Stone Law?”

  “That’s an excellent question,” I responded and sat down in my rolling chair. “Now that the hearing is over, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

  “I know what you mean,” Destinee agreed. “Should we start doing more advertising online?”

  “Probably,” I chuckled and looked over at her. “But I’m done for today. I’m going to call it an early one and head home, and you’re welcome to do the same.”

  “Oh, that’s cool,” my paralegal nodded, then sat down at her desk. “But I’ll probably just stay here and work on your online presence and all that stuff.”

  “Okay, well head on home whenever you feel like it,” I offered as I stood up and headed to the back door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Have a great night and thank you for all of your help.”

  “You’re welcome, see ya’,” she called after me as I strode down the hallway and hopped in my BMW. My blood pressure had finally come back down to its normal range, and I felt like I could breathe deeply again without that elephant on my chest. My high endorphin level made the trees seem brighter green and the cars on the road shinier as they flew past me on the drive home. I pulled into the parking garage and made my way upstairs, then changed into a comfortable t-shirt and jeans.

  I flopped down on the couch and pulled up Sully’s phone number. We chatted for a few minutes after I’d updated him about my victory, and he assured me that he knew I’d win all along. We made plans to have dinner the following weekend, then hung up the phone.

  I dialed Claire’s number next, and she answered after just one ring.

  “Hey, babe,” the blonde beauty answered. “How did it go?”

  “Knocked it out of the park,” I replied and grinned to myself as I laid down length-wise on the couch and stretched my long legs.

  “Yes,” she squealed then giggled. “I’m so proud of you. Thank you again for not making me testify, John. I really appreciate you understanding that tricky situation.”

  “It’s fine, Claire. You had a very good reason not to want to speak out against your boss, and as it turns out, we didn’t need any of our witness statements to win,” I explained and couldn’t wipe the smile from my face.

  “Wait, what? You didn’t? Why not?” She inquired, and her voice rose in pitch.

  “It’s kind of a long story,” I teased her. “How about I tell you over drinks?”

  “Drinks?” She repeated, then sighed loudly. “John, I’d love to have drinks tonight, but there’s something I’ve been putting off telling you.”

  “What’s up, buttercup?” I asked and sat up on the couch.

  “I’ve taken a job in New York,” she blurted out so quickly it took a second for me to register what she’d said. “It’s a huge promotion, John. It’s literally my dream job.”

  “Oh, wow, sweetheart, that’s fantastic,” I exclaimed and leaned back on the couch. “You know, it’s probably perfect timing for you to leave Tranquility now. I was going to give you the heads up that I mentioned George’s little secret to the FBI, so I’d expect an investigation to begin any day now.”

  “Oh, dang,” she whispered, then let out a nervous laugh. “Good thing I’m getting out then, huh?”

  “Sure is,” I agreed, and pulled a red pillow under my head on the leather couch. “So, when do you start?”

  “Well, I have to be up there in two weeks, and I start in three,” she relayed and suddenly sounded much happier. “But I’ve already found an apartment, so the hardest part is done.”

  “Two weeks, hmm?” I stood up and mused for a moment, then made one of the best rash decisions of my life. “How quickly can you be packed for a week-long romantic vacation?”

  “What are you talking about, silly?” My on-again, off-again lover giggled.

  “Pack your bags, sugar britches,” I announced as I headed toward my bedroom closet to pack my suitcase. “We’re going to Paris.”

  End of book 1

  Author Notes

  Thank you for reading my novel! If you enjoyed it, and you’d like to read another story John Stone, please leave me a review here.

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Dave Derin