by Lauren Carr
“She’s a kid. She’s infatuated.”
“So was Amy Fisher.” Joshua pulled out his big gun. “Listen, Wally, I’m not going to get into a pissing contest with you. The stakes are too high. I don’t have the time or the patience for it. I called the attorney general in Charleston this morning. Guess what? He’s an academy grad, too. We kind of stick together. I told him about the shoot-out at the First Christian Church in Chester yesterday. I faxed him copies of every one of these police reports in which nothing was ever done. In each case, the ball drops once it hits your court. The attorney general found that interesting. Then, I told him that the perp was your daughter.”
“Did you tell the attorney general about your assault on a teenage girl? You almost broke her jaw.”
“That was self-defense. I have the bite wound to prove it. I also have dozens of witnesses ready to testify about that if you choose to make an issue of it.”
“And once we get her cleaned up and dressed in a white dress with a strand of pearls around her neck, a jury will think that you’re some sort of pervert attacking an innocent virgin.”
Joshua reminded Wallace of the less-than-pure tone set by his daughter’s body art. “Pearls don’t go with snake skin.”
“Give it up, Thornton.”
“This is going to stop, here, and now,” Joshua ordered him.
The prosecutor was so shaken by the force of his glare that he retreated back in his chair.
“The attorney general is sending a special prosecutor up to handle this case.” Joshua checked his watch. “She’ll be here by the time Vicki is released from the hospital. There will be two state troopers there to take her into custody for stalking, assault with a deadly weapon, and attempted murder. She’s seventeen years old. That means she’ll be tried as an adult.” He stood up. “Good day, Wally. Nice seeing you again.”
With that, Joshua Thornton left.
For the first time in twenty years, since the two rivals went up against each other at their last high school debate, Wallace Rawlings was speechless.
When he found his voice, he dialed the phone. It rang three times before Reverend Orville Rawlings answered his private line. “Father, we have a big problem.”
The lead story on the local evening news covered Victoria Rawlings being physically carried, kicking and screaming, by two state troopers to the patrol car. Tess Bauer and her news crew had only been able to garnish a series of “bleeps” as her comment about the arrest. Tess’s coverage of the story had been aired both on the evening and morning news.
Marjorie Greene, the no-nonsense prosecuting attorney sent by the attorney general, told the media that she intended to go for the maximum sentence. A known drug dealer who goes around shooting up churches during Sunday morning service, Victoria Rawlings was a public menace.
For their statement, the Rawlings family apologized to those their lost lamb had hurt. Jail wasn’t the answer for poor Victoria, they insisted. She didn’t intend to hurt anyone. She was trying to commit suicide to end the inner battle between God and Satan for her soul. They requested prayers and understanding.
The morning after the arrest, dressed in his soiled work clothes, Joshua reported his progress on his cousin’s behalf during a coffee break in his halfway cleaned up reception area. Feeling like his toes were being smothered, he had removed his shoes and socks.
Besides updated plumbing, Dr. Wilson’s office also lacked air conditioning. It was only eight o’clock in the morning and the humidity was already stifling.
Tad wasn’t listening to him.
Joshua had boxed the late doctor’s papers and stacked them in a corner in the reception area. Piled three boxes high, the folders took over a quarter of the floor space. Over seventy years of medical records for the population of a whole town makes for a lot of paper.
Crouched on his knees, Tad would search through one folder before returning it to the box and checking the next one’s contents.
“What are you looking for?” Joshua used his socks for a fan to air his feet.
“My patients’ records.”
“No, you’re looking for something in particular. Tell me what it is, and I might be able to help.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Then maybe you can help me. Want some turn-of-the-century medical journals?”
Tad yanked the next folder from the box and scanned its contents. “Which century?” He shoved the folder back.
Joshua led him up the back staircase to the room that was to be his legal office, Dr. Wilson’s former private office. All four walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling built in bookcases filled with books, plus more in crates on the floor.
“Looks like Mrs. Wilson wasn’t the only pack rat,” Joshua said. “He never threw away any medical journals. We also have old books, and some of them are first editions of novels that are now classics.”
Tad removed two books from a shelf to examine. They were in mint condition. “Don’t you collect books?”
“I’d have to add on another room to the house for all of these. Some of them are valuable. Others are junk.”
The bell over the front door jingled to signal the arrival of a potential client.
“Are you open for business?” Tad dropped the books he was examining back into a crate.
“I might as well be. Someone has to pay for two bath-rooms, new plumbing, and central air conditioning for this place.” Joshua held open the door for Tad to lead the way down the stairs.
Beth Davis was in the same clothes she had been wearing at Tad’s apartment two days before. Her make-up had worn off to reveal a pale, splotchy complexion and dark bags under her eyes.
Afraid that she might collapse in her disoriented condition, Joshua guided her to the sturdiest chair available.
Beth clutched his hands with clammy, trembling, fingers. “Are you open for business yet?” She seemed unaware of his less-than-professional attire.
Tad picked up one of the boxes. “Thanks a lot for saving these papers for me, Josh. I’ll be by with a truck later to get the rest.” He shot a smile, which wasn’t returned, to Beth on his way out the door.
“I’ll pick you up at ten o’clock to go to New Cumberland,” Joshua called out to him.
After acknowledging the reminder of Vicki Rawlings’ arraignment with a nod of his head, Tad closed the door behind him on his way out.
“I’ve been worried about you.” Joshua poured a cup of coffee for her.
“Have you really?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He handed her the coffee, which she gulped down. Deciding that the nurse’s desk was safer than the chair with wobbly legs, Joshua leaned against the corner of it. “You didn’t show up for work yesterday.”
“What was the use? Why get dressed and go to work to get fired? Jan did fire me, didn’t she?”
“You could have called. She was worried. She went by your house and you weren’t there.”
“If Jan was really my friend, which she isn’t, she would have stuck by me. So would Tad.”
“Beth,” Joshua asked as gently as possible, “how bad is your problem?”
“You’re the lawyer.”
“I’m talking about you stealing pills.”
“Is that what Tad told you? Did he also tell you that alcoholics are the world’s best liars?”
“I guess that means I can’t believe anything either of you say.”
“I’m not an addict.”
Joshua crossed his arms and looked down at the woman who tried to appear in control. Her wringing hands gave her away. It was a nervous habit he recognized from their days together in high school.
“The only one who could have put amoxicillin in that bottle was you,” he said. “If you didn’t screw up because you were under the influence of something, I
guess that means you screwed up because you’re a screw up, period.”
“Oh? And I guess you’ve never screwed up.”
“What happened to you, Beth? You didn’t used to be like this.”
“You happened to me,” she answered in a low voice. “I loved you. You promised to come back and marry me, or did you forget all about that promise when you met Valerie?” She spat his late wife’s name.
Joshua refused to react to her accusation. “I’m not taking the blame for your sickness. The next thing you’ll be telling me is that it’s my fault Mrs. Frost is in the hospital thanking God that she’s still alive.”
“I was a virgin when I met you!”
“That was twenty years ago. Get over it or get therapy.” Joshua gritted his teeth. “Okay, I’m the lawyer. Here’s where you stand. You’re in deep shit, lady. You’ll never work as a pharmacist again. Mr. and Mrs. Frost are suing you for all they can get.”
“Well, that’s not much.”
“The sheriff is looking for you for questioning, and they have a very good case for criminal negligence. Plus, Jan went through the pharmacy inventory yesterday and a hell of a lot of pills are missing. She is legally obligated to report it. She called me last night to ask me what to do. If she doesn’t report it, then she’ll look like she’s involved. Are we looking at drug dealing here, as well as negligence? Think carefully before you answer that question.”
Beth drained her cup of coffee. Her question out of left field knocked him off balance. “Did you hear about Vicki Rawlings?”
“Yes. What does that have to do with this?”
“Can you defend her?”
Joshua laughed. “Who do you think called the attorney general?”
“Why did you call the attorney general?” Her green eyes were filled with fear.
“Because she took a shot at Tad in a church filled with people, including my children.”
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Yes, I got a menace off the streets.”
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! You have no idea what you’ve done!” Beth dug through her purse. When Joshua stepped towards her, she pulled away and rushed to the door while blubbering. “How could you do this? How could you have done this to me? You’ve ruined everything!”
Beth Davis was gone.
During a weak moment, Joshua had agreed to let his children tag along to Vicki Rawlings’ arraignment. He rationalized that the trip afforded him a chance to show them their new home town.
While he drove the Thornton van through the rolling countryside along the Ohio River to the courthouse in New Cumberland, both he and Tad pointed out the various sights.
In Newell, the first town down the river, they passed Homer Laughlin China, where many of the area residents worked. Some of the finest restaurants in the country used the plant’s wares.
Then, there was the Waterford Race Track renamed Mountaineer Park. In the years since Joshua had left the area for Annapolis, the race track had more than doubled in size with the addition of a health spa, gambling casino, and entertainment facility. The parking lot was packed with cars even though it was only mid-morning.
The courthouse’s parking lot was also full. The lot consisted of a few spaces squeezed in along the edge and behind the school building where Wallace’s office was housed. Every space was occupied by vehicles belonging to spectators anxious to see Reverend Orville Rawlings’ granddaughter arraigned for attempted murder and other crimes. Joshua ended up parking the van down the street.
Tad and the Thornton family took up the back row in the courtroom’s gallery.
Orville and Wallace Rawlings were in a conference at the defense table with an older, robust man with thin gray hair, and a bushy salt-and pepper-colored mustache that looked like it belonged on a walrus.
A giant of a man, Reverend Orville Rawlings used as much money as needed to conceal his age. His wrinkles had been removed with creams and lasers. A personal trainer had assisted him in banishing fat from his body while building up muscle. With no strand out of place, he wore his dark hair slicked back. His black suit with a stark white shirt and red tie was as expensively tailored as their lawyer’s attire.
Joshua could tell by the way Reverend Rawlings slapped his leather driving gloves into his palm that he was annoyed.
Tad identified the man with the walrus mustache as Clarence Mannings.
“I know Mannings.” Joshua glared at the attorney. “He’s from Philadelphia. Very expensive. He defended an admiral I prosecuted about three years ago.”
“Did you win?”
“How do you think I got my promotion to commander?” Joshua said, “His technique is to muddy the waters. The court martial panel was too bright to fall for it, but a civilian jury can be more easily confused about the issues. Greene will have her work cut out for her.”
“Do you remember Hal Poole?” Tad asked.
In the gallery’s first row of seats behind the defense table, Hal Poole was at Bridgette’s side. A wisp of a man, he sat up so straight in his chair that he looked like he had a steel rod down his back. With his hands folded in his lap, he stared at the empty judge’s bench in front of the courtroom. The few hairs left on his head were combed into place. Even the purple handkerchief in his breast pocket was pressed and folded.
Joshua said, “I’m surprised that Hal handles the church’s public relations. You’d think a spinmiester would have to have his own mind to be able to cover up for the Rawlings.”
Tad disagreed. “He’s perfect. He never questions anything. He simply parrots what the reverend and Bridgette tell him to say. Bridgette is the church’s business manager.” With awe, he noted the large attendance in the courtroom. “It’s usually not this crowded.”
“Do you make it a habit of sitting in on courtroom trials?” Joshua hinted at his cousin’s past.
“No, I’m usually here for professional reasons,” Tad responded, “not for raising hell—” Conscious of the children, he corrected himself, “heck. I’ve been the county medical examiner ever since Wilson died.”
He indicated a man with a white cap over a bald head in a wheelchair in the aisle in front of them. “That’s Leo Walker. He’s suing Wallace Rawlings for ten million dollars.” He had a round face and coal-black beady eyes.
When Tad acknowledged his presence with a cocky grin and slight wave of his hand, the man in the wheelchair scowled and turned back towards the front.
Tad whispered, “Last year, Vicki ran into his Toyota and totaled it. She was drunk at the time, but didn’t spend one night in jail. The sheriff drove her home. She has never been charged with DUI.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Donny asked.
“From what I hear, not a thing,” Tad said. “I know his first doctor. Doug Longstreet. Walker kept saying he was in pain and couldn’t walk. Longstreet said there was nothing wrong with him. Walker is now suing him for malpractice. Then, Walker found a doctor who would say he had some nerve damage in his back.”
“But if Vicki Rawlings hit him, then why is he suing her father?” Donny wanted to know.
“Because,” Joshua answered, “her father has all the money and the van was registered to him.” He wondered how long Wallace Rawlings had been the prosecuting attorney.
Tad told him Wallace had been in office three years. “Before that, he was struggling. He’s not that good in a courtroom. He comes across as slimy, and juries hate him.”
Joshua said, “Daddy’s money doesn’t guarantee you free admission on all the rides.”
“Not when you’re a defense attorney and your acquittal record is only thirty percent. However, Daddy’s money and influence was a big help in his election campaign.”
In a turquoise suit, Tess Bauer’s appearance was so polished that she looked out of place amongst the l
ocal media gathered on the other side of the courtroom.
“Tess graduated from Oak Glen about…” Tad paused to recall, “I think about eight years ago. She comes from a family of six kids out by Birch Hollow. Her younger sister was friends with Vicki.” He added sadly, “Talk about gorgeous. After Diana died, Tess tried to get Vicki arrested. Everyone knew she was Diana’s supplier, but Tess couldn’t prove it. She declared war on the Rawlings. They haven’t been able to make a move without her covering it ever since.”
Jan slipped into the seat across the aisle from Joshua. She had taken special effort that morning to apply new cosmetics. She had also spent some time with the hair dryer and curlers, something she hadn’t used since her cousin’s wedding months earlier.
Joshua noted, “You look different,” before he realized that she was wearing make-up.
Jan was as flustered as she had been when she wore her first bra to Sunday school. Noticing the strap peeking out from under her sleeveless baby blue sundress, Joshua announced her new undergarment to the class. Maturity prevented her from reacting the same way she had back then. Instead of giving him a bloody nose, she demurred, “Do you like it?”
“It takes some getting used to.”
Before Jan could retort, Beth Davis staggered down the aisle between them. More frazzled than when Joshua had seen earlier, she squinted against the lights in the courtroom and tried unsuccessfully to cover up her lack of balance while making her way to the front of the gallery.
Tad jumped up to take her by the arm. “Come on, Beth. Let’s go get some air.”
The guard brought Vicki Rawlings, her hands cuffed behind her back, into the courtroom.
“All rise!”
Everyone in the courtroom rose for the judge’s entrance.
Vicki regarded those around her with disdain.
Tad shoved Beth down into a vacant chair and draped his arm across her shoulders to keep her still.
For Joshua, it was not unlike the average bureaucratic procedure he had witnessed and participated in for the last decade.
