Thaddeus eased into the front row spectators’ pew and got himself oriented.
The dull overhead fluorescents fluttered and blinked atop Judge Gerhardt’s shiny blond hair, and reflected sharply from his bifocals as if he had X-ray vision to peer into the hearts of those who stood before him.
“Mr. Aberdeen,” he said in a warm tone, “I’ve read your application for bail and I’m going to take judicial notice of the defendant Angelina Steinmar’s contacts with the community. For the record, first out of the gate, I know this defendant, Mr. Aberdeen, and I want to be sure you understand that and that the record reflects my acquaintance with her. I have been to her house the past ten or twelve Christmas Eves. She and my wife once worked together at the Department of Children and Family Services. She has appeared before me as a caseworker in hundreds of child dependency cases, most of them from the reservation where she is assigned. She and John have barbecued with me in my own backyard. In other words, I know things about her, sir. And while all that may be true, I would also like to state for the record that none of what I know about Mrs. Steinmar will affect my participation in this case to even the slightest degree. Flagstaff is a small town and I know many of the people brought before me, but so far no one’s complained about how I have comported myself. Now, knowing these things, and having listened to me, do you, Mr. Aberdeen, or your client, Mrs. Steinmar, have any requests for a change of judge based on what I’ve just revealed to you?”
Shep was instantly on his feet. “Your Honor, I’ve discussed this very thing with my client, albeit briefly. We would both respectfully request that you remain on the case. We make this request even knowing that you might know such and such or mister or missus someone or other. And we waive any such possible bias with a greater eye toward your known ability to be fair and impartial to all who stand before you. Whether you know someone or not, you have always been fair to my clients. There will be no motion for a new judge, Your Honor.”
The judge swung his gaze to the other table. “And what about you, Mr. Moroney? Does the Attorney General have any position?”
The AG didn’t bother to stand. “No, we know of no reason why you shouldn’t hear the case, Judge Gerhardt. Of course we would reserve our right to object if something later comes up, being as how we’re brand new on the case and new in town.”
“Fair enough,” said the judge, nodding pleasantly at both lawyers. “We’ll give it a whirl, then.”
Several more small conversations took place. It turned out that the AG was a man named Jimmy Moroney, and he was a first-line prosecutor from among the Attorney General’s handpicked lawyers for the high-profile cases around the state. It came out that the AG’s office was in process of renting office space in the BOA building even while the court session was underway, and that it would be fully staffed by Friday. Assistant AGs, paralegals, and two secretaries were already packing suitcases in Phoenix. They would move en masse up to Flagstaff for the duration. Wiring was already in place, networked computers were being hooked up, and police officers were being assigned as full-time investigators from the City of Flagstaff PD and the Coconino County Sheriff’s Department. In all, a major assault was underway. The state was pulling no punches.
Just then a clamoring and pounding arose at the courtroom door.
“Bailiff,” said Judge Gerhardt, “this is an open proceeding. We might as well take a break while you let them in and get them settled with a good view. One TV camera welcome, no phones—you know the drill. Court stands in recess fifteen minutes.”
Shep stood and put a hand on Angelina’s shoulder, bent low, and whispered, then hurried back to Thaddeus and motioned him to join him outside in the hallway. They found a private spot midway between the stairwell and the courtroom, where Shep put his back up against the wall and shook Thaddeus’ hand. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “This is going to be wonderfully, magically insane.”
“It is. I stopped counting at fifteen reporters when we walked out. You’d better press your best outfits and shine your boots.”
The boots reference was to the fact that Shep wore cowboy boots, walking heels, with his courtroom attire. They were a deferential nod to his upbringing and family’s history in the Wild West.
“Done. Got the call from Angelina around seven this morning. Cops were at her house. She called in the shooting herself.”
“She pulled the trigger?”
Shep two-fingered a Winston from the hard pack in his pocket. He inserted it in his mouth but of course didn’t light up—public building. He drew mightily on the unlit cigarette and exhaled through pursed lips as a smoker would. He shook his head and looked down at the courtroom entrance. “Yeah. Yeah, she did.”
“Self-defense or something?”
“No, not self-defense.”
“So she just shot him for no reason.”
“Let me show you. These are shots on my cell phone. I had a real photographer take them at Dr. Sloane’s office too, where I had the doc meet us before hours. Look here.”
He flicked on the cell phone. He held it up for Thaddeus to view, all the while keeping his eyes focused on the courtroom doors. Thaddeus felt a sharp chill roll up his spine. He didn’t know why—yet—but Shep was bringing him in on something. He was complicit. He reached and held the cell phone, viewing the picture this way and that.
“Is this what I think it is?”
“Pussy?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is.”
“Is it whose I think it is?”
“Uh-huh. Mrs. Steinmar’s.”
“This is Angelina’s puss—labia.”
“Yep. Notice anything strange?”
“She’s sitting back or lying back semi-reclined. She’s wearing no underwear. She shaves her cootch like a landing strip. And there is a bright red scallop inside her uppermost thigh. Am I getting close?”
“Almost. Check out the next one.”
Thaddeus flicked his finger across the screen.
“No way! This is her—her labia major. With deep impressions. Okay, Shep, what am I looking at here?”
“Bite marks.”
“Bite marks. Serious?”
“Serious as a rattlesnake in your bedroll, serious. Son of a bitch chomped up her pussy.”
“John Steinmar did this?”
“Yeppers. Mean son of a bitch, eh? Who would have thought?”
“So—what’s this mean, legally? Where you at with this?”
Shep focused his gaze back on Thaddeus. He retrieved and pocketed the cell phone. He shrugged.
“That’s what I want you to find out. Where am I with this?”
“You’re asking me to help with the research?”
Shep grinned broadly. “Nah, I got paralegals can do that. I’m asking you to second chair. There’s fifty grand in it for you.”
Thaddeus exhaled in a whoosh. “I’d do it for nothing. Get to work with a star like you? Anybody’d do it for free, Shep.”
“Don’t go all soft on me, Thad, my boy. Fifty grand—you have to take it so’s there’s an attorney-client relationship formed. Something of value for something of value. Your services for fifty thousand dollars.”
“Which begs the question. Why me?”
“Angelina likes you. So do I.”
Thaddeus was taken by total surprise. “Likes me? Likes me? I’ve never even spoken to her before.”
“Oh, but you have.”
“I have? Where?”
“You spoke to the Sunday Morning Mourners AA group two Sundays ago at the halfway house.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Angelina was there. She took a girl to Al-A-Teen. One of her client girls was there at the teen meeting. But she heard you speak when they dropped in on the AA meeting after.”
“You are joking.”
“Yeppers. She likes your program. She says she can’t lose with you.”
“AA sharing is no way to judge a lawyer. That’s totally bogus,” said Thaddeus.
“About up. You should get back in there.”
“We should get back in there. You on board or not?”
There was no hesitation. “Hell yes. I was on board when I got the paper this morning.”
“That’s the stuff. Now let’s go kick some ass. This is going to be good.”
At counsel table, Shep told Thaddeus to introduce himself to Jimmy Moroney, the Assistant Attorney General. Thaddeus stuck out his hand. “Looks like I’ll be joining the defense team, Mr. Moroney. I’m Thaddeus Murfee.”
Without looking up from his tablet, Moroney waved him off. “I’m Jimmy, thanks.”
Thaddeus looked over at Shep, who shrugged.
“We’ve got your boy,” Shep announced to Angelina Steinmar. “Officially meet Thaddeus Murfee.”
She stood and he realized she must have been five-eleven, and that an exquisite female body was barely concealed under the tight gray silk slacks and white silk blouse beneath which her breasts woggled as she swiveled to come face-to-face with her newest lawyer. Her hair was brown and cut quite short in a pageboy. She looked Thaddeus directly in the eye. Four silver bracelets slid up her wrist as she lifted her hand to shake. The flesh felt cool and her pale blue eyes met his gaze head-on. “At last,” she said with an affectionate smile. “I’ve heard nothing but good about you, Mr. Murfee.”
Thaddeus was immediately struck by how calm and self-assured she came across for someone who had just shot her husband to death. Was he missing something here? And what was with the get-up? She looked like a Vogue model coiffed and donning the latest in casual office wear. Had she actually had time to get cleaned up and styled after the shooting before the cops arrived? Or had she been dressed this way when she fired the gun? A thousand questions raced through his mind, for which he had no plausible guesses. The case just turned the dial one more click toward ODD.
“I hope to bring a lot of help to the team,” was all he could think to say. But he returned the smile and turned away as Judge Gerhardt returned to the bench. Everyone took a seat as the judge tugged his shirtsleeves under his robe and then looked out over the crowded courtroom, ready to proceed to bail.
“Mr. Aberdeen, earlier today you filed a motion that bail be allowed in this case.”
Shep took to his feet. “Correct, Your Honor. Defendant is requesting bail in a fair amount. She owns no property except her half interest in the house on Mountain Drive. Two web searches peg the equity at around eighty thousand. So she could post a property bond in that amount.”
Judge Gerhardt looked troubled. “Assuming bail were ordered—and no one’s done that yet, I’m just saying ‘assuming.’ Assuming bail is ordered, are there other assets that could be placed in the pot?”
“You know, Your Honor,” said Shep in his resonant baritone, “the only other asset is the decedent’s retirement through the state employees’ retirement fund. And that’s not available until the age of fifty-five. Fact is, now that John’s passed on, I’m not sure there’s anything there she can tap at all.”
“Object,” said Jimmy Moroney, leaning back in his chair and still refusing to stand even though addressing the court. “Object to the use of the term ‘passed on.’ John Steinmar was shot down in cold blood, he didn’t just pass on. And for this woman to even whisper the word ‘bail’ is an insult to this court. She murdered him in cold blood. She’s even admitted to it, in case anyone in here is guessing.”
A clamor arose among the press corps as laptops were flipped open and iPads uncased. Notes were made; blood had just been let: she had admitted committing the crime! Three reporters charged up the aisle toward the double doors.
“Ladies and gentlemen in the gallery,” said Judge Gerhardt evenly and politely, “please try to remain in your seats until this session is completed. I realize this is a small town and I realize this might be considered a case of no small notoriety, but this is still an official court session and I would appreciate an effort at decorum in my courtroom. Thank you. Now, Mr. Aberdeen, you were about to tell the court why you believe this is a bailable offense.”
Shep was bent down, whispering to Angelina. He rose back up. “One other asset I didn’t know about. There’s also a Harley Davidson Sportster that’s titled in my client’s name. A birthday gift from her father on her fortieth birthday. The bike is just a few years old and has forty-seven hundred miles on the odometer. She guesses its value at around seven, maybe eight thousand, tops.”
“Well, we don’t want to touch her birthday present,” said the judge, “but thanks for the additional information. Now please address my question. Why is this a bailable offense, Mr. Aberdeen?”
Shep, who hadn’t sat following his first comments, nodded and spread his hands. “As the court knows, the Arizona legislature in Section 13-3961 has made it a rule that a person in custody shall not be admitted to bail if the proof is evident or the presumption great that the person is guilty of the offense charged in a capital murder case. Of course we don’t know yet whether this is a capital offense or not, as the state hasn’t made that election.”
Moroney climbed to his feet and assumed the posture of a bouncer, arms crossed, chest thrust forward, scowling face. “That election can be considered made. The state will be seeking the death penalty in this case.” The veins bulged in his neck as he spoke, a well of anger barely suppressed. Thaddeus could only guess the man had known John Steinmar and was maybe even close to him, which would explain the personal anger. Or else he was an accomplished actor. Probably both.
Again, much muttering and sighing arose from the gallery at the mention of death penalty. One reporter stood but thought better of it, heeding the judge’s earlier admonition, and quickly sat.
But Shep had smoked them out. Now he knew for sure what his client was facing and he could begin whittling away at the charges. He didn’t hesitate.
“Judge, the proof is anything but evident in this case and there can certainly be said to be no presumption, given the facts I have outlined in my motion. With the color photographs.”
“And those would be which facts?” the judge asked, as he paged through the motion bound within the manila file folder.
“The fact that at the moment she fired the gun she was being attacked by the decedent. I’m talking specifically about him biting her genitals.”
The judge had to bang his gavel for order this time, and a threesome of reporters did head for the doors despite the judge’s admonition. Judge Gerhardt finally quieted things down with his pounding gavel. He turned to the bailiff. “Deputy Baker, please walk up and lock that door. No more disturbances will be abided without someone going to jail for contempt.” The bailiff did as he was told.
Moroney was yet on his feet and shook his head violently at the “genitals” comment. “Your Honor, that allegation by counsel is outrageous! For all we know the photographs could have come from many different sources!”
“I’ll submit my client to a forensic examination so that the bite marks on her genitals can be matched to the decedent’s bite, Your Honor. Happy to oblige.”
“Judge, can we agree not to refer to Mr. Steinmar as the decedent. He had a name and that name was John Steinmar, not ‘the decedent,’ much as Mr. Aberdeen would like to depersonalize our murdered district attorney.”
“Point is well taken but unnecessary, Mr. Moroney,” said the judge. “We all have fond memories of Mr. Steinmar and he won’t ever be depersonalized. However, for want of a better term, ‘decedent’ is accurate and cognizable by the court. If you were objecting, your objection would be both noted and overruled.”
“The state would further move that the defendant’s photographs be sealed by the clerk of the court.”
A groan arose from the spectators.
“So ordered,” said Judge Gerhardt. “The clerk will seal the photographs attached to Defendant’s Motion for Bail.”
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br /> “Your Honor,” Shep said, “the purpose of bail is to ensure the appearance of the defendant to answer the charges against her. In our case, Mrs. Steinmar was the one who called the police and waited for them to arrive. There was no attempt to clean up the scene or hide the body, there was no attempt to run, no attempt to blame intruders. She voluntarily called the police herself and has voluntarily given them a full statement and cooperated much more than I would have liked, but it was done before I was called.”
“But there’s no guarantee she won’t leave,” said Moroney, “especially now that she knows the state is seeking her death.”
“Consider her connections with the community,” said Shep. “She was born and raised here, educated at NAU where she earned her Master’s in Educational Psychology, twenty-year veteran of the Department of Children and Family Services—but even more than all that, Judge, she has no money to run on. There’s no hidden money to make a getaway.”
“Which means she has nothing keeping her here,” said Moroney, “she has nothing to lose by leaving.”
Shep ignored him. “Most of all, I need her free so she can take up a collection among relatives to pay my fee.”
“I was going to ask about that,” Judge Gerhardt said with a smile. “I’m sure you don’t come cheap, Mr. Aberdeen. And now I see another attorney with you at counsel table, Mr. Murfee. I’m sure he isn’t free, either. Will you be entering your appearance, Mr. Murfee?”
Thaddeus decided to lighten the moment. “I was, but now that there’s no money to go around, I’m having second thoughts,” Thaddeus said in all seriousness.
Judge Gerhardt couldn’t help but laugh—before catching himself. But the moment had been won: what had been a very grave proceeding had been lightened, which was the first rule in criminal cases, to get the judge and jury smiling. So far the judge had smiled, at least to some small extent. The jury would come later.
Defending Turquoise (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 5) Page 4
