by John Grisham
“You don’t believe my son?” Mrs. Boone asked. To Theo, it was obvious that they did not.
“Let’s just say that we’re still investigating,” Vorman replied.
“Did you check the cap for fingerprints?” Mr. Boone asked.
“We did. It’s difficult to get good prints from cloth, so we were unsuccessful. Our lab guys are pretty sure that there are no prints. Looks like the thief wore gloves and was very careful. No prints on the tablets, none on the cap, none at the crime scene.”
“Do you plan to charge Theo?” Mrs. Boone asked.
“We haven’t made a decision yet,” Hamilton said. “But it’s safe to say we’re headed that way.”
The Boones absorbed this, and said nothing. Mr. Boone exhaled and looked at the ceiling. Mrs. Boone scribbled something on a legal pad. Theo was still fighting back tears. He knew he was innocent and telling the truth, but the police did not believe him. He wondered if his parents did.
Vorman broke the silence with still more bad news. “We’d like to search your house,” he said.
Mr. and Mrs. Boone reacted in disbelief. “For what?” Mr. Boone demanded.
“For evidence,” Vorman replied. “For the rest of the stolen goods.”
“You can’t treat us like common criminals,” Mrs. Boone said angrily. “This is outrageous.”
“We will not consent to a search,” Mr. Boone said.
“We don’t need your consent,” Vorman said with a nasty smile. “We have a search warrant.” He grabbed some folded papers from his coat pocket and slid them across the table. Mrs. Boone adjusted her reading glasses and read the two-page document. When she finished, she handed it to her husband. Theo wiped a tear with the back of his hand.
Chapter 14
For the next half hour, they haggled over the details. The air was thick with tension, and the exchanges between the detectives and Theo’s parents were testy. It was finally agreed that the Boones would not enter their home until 5:00 p.m. that afternoon, at which time they would meet the detectives and other officers who would conduct the search.
The only words Theo could muster were, “It’s a waste of time. There’s nothing there.” Both parents told him to be quiet.
After Hamilton and Vorman left, and Theo could finally speak, he reassured his parents that he was not involved in the crime in any way, and that a search was a waste of time. All three were stunned by the turn of events. Theo had never seen his parents so confused, and even frightened. They agreed they would seek the advice of a criminal defense lawyer, a friend, and Mrs. Boone left the conference room to make a call.
At 2:00 p.m., Mr. Boone drove Theo back to the school where they met with Mrs. Gladwell. Theo apologized for fighting. Mr. Boone said he and Mrs. Boone understood the decision to suspend Theo, and had no problems with it. They were disappointed, of course, but supported Mrs. Gladwell. Afterward, Theo got his bike, found his tires unslashed, and rode back to the office.
His parents were busy with clients and urgent legal matters. They closed their doors and seemed to forget about Theo. Elsa, Vince, and Dorothy were also preoccupied with piles of paperwork that were far more fascinating than chatting with a thirteen-year-old. Or, perhaps Theo was being too sensitive. He and Judge finally retreated to his office where he attempted to plow through some homework. Nothing happened. He couldn’t take his mind off Spike Hock, a kid who lived one block away who was caught selling drugs in the ninth grade and spent eighteen very unpleasant months in a juvenile detention center two hundred miles away. Though Theo did not know Spike and had never spoken to him, he had heard many stories of his life behind chain-link fencing and razor wire. Gangs, beatings, cruel guards, a long ugly list. Spike never got his act together and fell back into the street life. Theo had been in court when Spike, at the age of seventeen, was sentenced as an adult to twenty years in prison for a multitude of crimes. Spike testified, begged for mercy, and blamed his troubles on the bad conditions he endured in the juvenile detention center.
Spike was a tough kid from the streets. Theo was not. Theo was a nice kid from a good family, a Boy Scout, an A student with plenty of friends. How was he supposed to survive locked away with gang members and tough guys? Separated from his parents, his friends, Judge. He was overwhelmed with fear and could think of nothing else. He stretched out on Judge’s little bed, and, fortunately, fell asleep beside his dog.
A beeping cell phone awakened him. It was April Finnemore. “Theo, where are you?” she asked nervously.
“At the office,” he said, jumping to his feet. “What’s up?”
“I’m in Animal Court with my mom and Miss Petunia. We need your help.”
“I think I’m sort of confined right now.”
“Come on, Theo. We’re really scared and need you. It won’t take long.”
“I didn’t say I would help this woman.”
“I know, Theo, I know. But she’s really upset and needs a friend. Please, Theo. She can’t afford a real lawyer and, well, she’s been crying for the past hour. Please.”
Theo thought for a second. No one had specifically ordered him to remain at the office. Everyone else was super busy and probably wouldn’t miss him. “Okay,” he said, and slapped his phone shut.
“Stay here, Judge,” he said, then eased out of the back door, ran around to the front of the building, and quietly got his bike off the front porch. Ten minutes later he was parking it at the bike rack in front of the courthouse.
Miss Petunia grew flowers and herbs in a yard behind her small cottage just outside the city limits of Strattenburg. Every Saturday morning from March through October, she hauled her plants to the city Farmer’s Market in Levi Park near the river. There, she joined dozens of farmers, gardeners, florists, fishermen, dairymen, producers, and other vendors who displayed their goods in booths that were arranged in neat rows on small patches of land that were carefully divided and regulated. Because Miss Petunia had been selling her flowers and herbs for many years, she had perhaps the best booth, one next to the entrance to the market. Next door to her was the booth run by May Finnemore, April’s eccentric mother, who made and sold goat cheese. Miss Petunia was pretty weird, too, and naturally the women had become close friends over the years.
The market was wildly popular in Strattenburg, and on a bright Saturday morning half of the town would be there. Virtually anything edible could be found. Crispino’s Tortilla Hut was the all-time favorite, with a long line forming by 10:00 a.m. Martha Lou sold her “World Famous” ginger cookies by the pound and always attracted a mob. Many of the vendors relied on the market to show a profit for the year, and there was a waiting list of those wanting booths.
Because Mrs. Boone spent little time in the kitchen, the family was not attracted to the market. Theo and his father played eighteen holes of golf on Saturday mornings, teeing off at 9:00 and having lunch at 1:00. To Theo, this was far more important than buying tomatoes and veggie burgers.
Miss Petunia was having trouble with the law because of her beloved pet llama, Lucy. April had mentioned the matter to Theo the day before during lunch, but he had been too preoccupied with his own troubles to worry about Miss Petunia’s. At April’s request, though, he had done some research into the city’s laws and ordinances. He had passed this along to April and considered the matter closed, as far as he was concerned.
Certain that he was already a marked man and the subject of gossip all over town, and especially around the courthouse, Theo entered through a side door and hustled down a back stairway. Animal Court was in the basement, a fitting place for the lowest court in town. Real lawyers tried to avoid it. People with complaints could act as their own lawyers, and that is what attracted Theo to it. On most days anyway. Today, though, Theo was not excited about making an appearance in court.
For the first time in his life, the word “court” meant a place to be avoided.
He entered the door for Animal Court and walked inside. There was a dusty aisle down the middle
of the room with folding chairs on both sides. To his right, Theo saw April, her mother, May, and a third person he assumed to be Miss Petunia. She had purple hair and round granny glasses with bright-orange frames. April had described her as “weirder than my mother.”
Theo sat down and began whispering with the women.
Judge Yeck was not on the bench. Across the aisle, several people were waiting. One was Buck Boland, or Buck Baloney as he was better known, and he was wearing his standard tight-fitting dark brown uniform, one issued by All-Pro Security. Buck wore the uniform everywhere, on duty or off, and he’d been wearing it last Monday morning when he stopped Theo as he cut across his backyard. He had grabbed Theo’s bike and threatened him. Earlier, he had thrown a rock at Theo, and now Buck glared across the aisle as if he would like to strangle him.
Judge Yeck’s ancient clerk sat at a table in one corner, doing her crossword and trying to stay awake. After a few minutes, Judge Yeck walked through the door behind his bench and said, “Remain seated.” No one had attempted to stand. Formalities were dispensed with in Animal Court, also known as Kitty Court. The judge was wearing his usual outfit—jeans, combat boots, no tie, an old sports coat, and he conducted himself with his usual disdain for his job. He had once been in a law firm but couldn’t keep a job. He ran Animal Court because no one else would do it.
“Well, well,” he began with a smile, “it’s Mr. Boone again.”
Theo stood and said, “Hello, Judge. Always nice to see you.”
“And you. Who’s your client?”
“Miss Petunia Plankmore, the owner of the animal.”
Judge Yeck looked at some papers, then looked at Buck Baloney. “And who’s Mr. Boland?”
“That’s me,” Buck said.
“Very well. The parties can come forward and we’ll try and work things out.” Theo knew the routine, and he and Miss Petunia stepped through the small gate in the bar and took a seat at a table closer to the judge. Buck followed them and sat as far away as possible. When they were in place, Judge Yeck said, “Mr. Boland, you have filed this complaint against Miss Petunia. You go first. Keep your seat and tell us what happened.”
Buck looked around nervously, then plunged in. “Well, Judge, I work for All-Pro Security and we have the contract for the Farmer’s Market.”
“Why are you wearing a gun?” the judge asked.
“I’m a security guard.”
“I don’t care.”
“And I have a permit.”
“I don’t care. I don’t allow guns in my courtroom. Please remove it.”
Buck grabbed his holster and snapped it off his belt. He placed it and the gun on the table.
“Up here,” Judge Yeck said, pointing to a spot on his bench. Buck awkwardly stepped forward and placed the gun right where he was told. It was a very large pistol.
“Now go on,” Yeck said when Buck returned to his seat.
“And so anyway, it’s my job to provide security at the Farmer’s Market. There are two of us, me and Frankie. He works the west end, and I watch the front. Been doing it for a few months. And Miss Petunia here has a booth near the front entrance where she sells flowers and herbs, and right next to her booth is a small open area where she keeps her llama.”
“That would be Lucy?” Judge Yeck asked.
“Yes, sir. Two Saturdays ago I was walking by her booth, same as always, just doing my job, you know, when this llama walks up and stares at me. We’re about on the same eye level, me and the llama, and at first I thought she might try and kiss me.”
“The llama kisses people?” Judge Yeck interrupted.
“She’s a very sweet llama, loves people, or most people,” Miss Petunia blurted.
Judge Yeck looked at her and politely, but firmly, said, “You’ll get your chance in a moment. Please do not interrupt.”
“Sorry, Judge.”
“Continue.”
Buck sucked in his ample gut and went on: “Yes, sir, the llama kisses people, especially little kids. Kinda gross if you ask me, but there’s usually some folks hanging around to get a better look at the llama, and occasionally she’ll sort of lean down and kiss one of them.”
“Okay, okay. We’ve established that Lucy the llama likes to kiss people. Now move on.”
“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 anima
l, 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.
