Текст книги "The Fugitive"

Автор книги: John Grisham

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 11 страниц)

Chapter 21

Theo awoke, well rested and ready for the day. In the shower, he thought about Bobby, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

As he was getting dressed, he thought about Jack Hogan, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

As he fixed two bowls of Cheerios, he thought about Pete Duffy, but managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

As he was riding his bike to school, he crossed Main Street and saw the courthouse in the distance, but he managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

As he was listening to Madame Monique talk about Spanish adjectives, he thought about his last text message to Bobby. Of course, there had been no response. But he managed to dismiss all thoughts of the trial.

As he was sitting in Geometry, and daydreaming about an upcoming camping trip, someone knocked on the door and it swung open. A grim-faced Mrs. Gladwell stepped into the room, ignored Miss Garman, looked straight at him, and said, “Theo, please come with me.” His heart and lungs froze and his knees were weak as he headed for the door. Outside, waiting in the hallway, were Officers Bard and Sneed. Neither smiled, and Theo’s hands and wrists froze, too, just waiting for the handcuffs.

Mrs. Gladwell said, “I just spoke with Judge Henry Gantry, and he would like to see you in his office, immediately. He’s sent these two officers to drive you over to the courthouse.”

Theo couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but stand there like a frightened little boy who really wanted his parents. “Sure,” he finally managed to say. “What’s going on?”

Oh, he knew. Somehow his two text messages to Bobby had been discovered, and he was about to be charged with witness tampering. Judge Gantry was furious. Clifford Nance was demanding an arrest. His life was over. He was headed for Juvenile Detention.

“Let’s go,” Bard said. They marched him down the hall like a man being led to the electric chair, or the gas chamber, or the firing squad. Theo was often amazed at how quickly gossip spread through Strattenburg Middle School, so he was not that surprised when several nosy teachers were standing in their open doorways, watching. In the front lobby, some seventh-grade students were arranging art on a bulletin board. They stopped and gawked at the prisoner as he was led away. A black-and-white police car, complete with logos and lights and antennas, was waiting at the curb.

Sneed said, “Just hop in the backseat.”

Theo climbed in and sank low. He could barely see out the window as the car began to move, but he managed to glance back at the school. Dozens of students were standing at the windows, watching young Theodore Boone get hauled away to face the fury of the criminal justice system.

After a few minutes of total silence, Theo asked, “So what’s up, guys?”

Bard, the driver, said, “Judge Gantry will explain everything.”

“Can I call my parents?”

“Sure,” Sneed said.

Theo instead called Ike, who answered. Theo said, “Hey, Dad, it’s me, Theo. Look, I’m on my way to the courthouse to see Judge Gantry.”

Ike said, “Okay, I’m outside the courtroom. There’s a recess; the jury is still out. Nothing has happened in the courtroom but I suspect Jack Hogan finally had to admit that Bobby Escobar has disappeared. Things are pretty tense.”

Tell me about it. “Well, I’ll be there in a minute. Guess you’d better tell Mom.”

“Will do.”

They parked behind the courthouse and entered through a rear door. To avoid everyone, they took an old elevator to the second floor and hurried into the outer room of Judge Gantry’s chambers. It was packed with lawyers – Jack Hogan and his gang and the entire defense team. Hogan and Clifford Nance were in one corner, whispering about something that was terribly important. Everyone stopped and stared at Theo as he followed the two policemen to the big door.

Inside, Judge Gantry was waiting, alone. He dismissed Bard and Sneed and said hello to Theo. He didn’t seem particularly aggravated, just tense. He said, “Sorry to bother you like this, Theo, but something important has come up. It seems as though Bobby Escobar has disappeared. Do you know anything about it?”

At that point, Theo wasn’t sure what was right and what was wrong, but he couldn’t change what had been done. And, he trusted Judge Gantry. He said, “Yes, sir. His cousin Julio Pena called me around midnight Monday and said he’d just talked to Bobby, said he had left the motel and was hiding.”

“So you’ve known about this since Monday night?”

“Yes, sir. I wasn’t sure what to do. I’m just a kid, you know?”

“Did you tell your parents?”

“I told Ike yesterday morning and my parents yesterday afternoon. We were hoping they would find Bobby and everything would work out.”

“Well, they haven’t found him. Any idea where he is?”

“Last night he called Julio and told him he was hiding in an apple orchard somewhere around Weeksburg, said he was planning to go back to Texas and cross the border. Julio called me and told me this.”

Judge Gantry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was sitting behind his massive desk in shirt sleeves and a tie. Theo was sitting in a chair across from him, his feet barely touching the floor. He felt very small. “There’s something else,” he said, removing his cell phone. He found the two text messages to Bobby and handed the phone across the desk.

Judge Gantry read the texts and shrugged. “These are in Spanish. Did you write them?”

“I had help translating the first, but I wrote the second one.”

“What does it say?”

“I just told Bobby that today is an important day, that he’s needed here in court, that he’ll do fine and he’ll be safe. That’s all. I wasn’t trying to tamper with a witness. I promise.”

Judge Gantry shrugged again and slid the phone back across the desk. “I’m impressed with your Spanish.”

Theo grabbed the phone and felt his entire body relax. What, no handcuffs? No jail? No yelling at me for sending text messages to a crucial witness? He took a deep breath and managed to fully exhale. The knot in his stomach loosened a bit.

“Did he respond in any way?”

“No, sir.”

“Have you talked to Julio this morning?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, it looks like I’m staring at another mistrial. Jack Hogan described Bobby’s testimony to the jury in his opening statement, and now the kid is gone. I can’t believe the police allowed him to get away.”

“Hard to believe,” Theo said, but only because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“You’d better hang around for a while, just in case he decides to call. Unless, of course, you want to go back to class.”

“I’ll stay.”

Judge Gantry pointed to a chair wedged in a corner between two heavy bookcases. “Take a seat over there and don’t make a sound.”

Theo scampered to the chair and became invisible. Judge Gantry pushed a button on his phone and said, “Mrs. Hardy, send in the lawyers.”

Within seconds, the door flew open and all the lawyers who’d been waiting poured into the room. Judge Gantry directed them to a long conference table and took a seat at the end. The court reporter set up her stenographic machine next to him. When everyone was settled, Judge Gantry said, “Let’s go on the record.” The court reporter began pressing her keys.

He cleared his throat and said, “It’s about ten thirty on Wednesday morning, and the State has called all of its witnesses, with the exception of one Bobby Escobar, who is not here and evidently cannot be found. You agree, Mr. Hogan?”

Jack Hogan kept his seat. He was obviously angry and frustrated, but also resigned to defeat. “Yes, Your Honor, that appears to be the case.”

“Mr. Nance?”

“Your Honor, on behalf of Pete Duffy, the defendant, I move for a mistrial, on the grounds that the prosecutor, Mr. Hogan, promised the jury in his opening statement that they would hear from an eyewitness, a witness who would be damaging to our case, a witness who could well determine the outcome. The jury had every right to believe this; indeed, we all believed it. Since Monday morning, the jury has been expecting the State to put this witness on the stand. Now, however, it appears as though this will not happen. This is grossly unfair to the defendant, and it’s obvious grounds for a mistrial.”

“Mr. Hogan?”

“Not so fast, Your Honor. I think this situation can be explained to the jury, and the jury can be told to disregard my opening comments. I’m happy to apologize to the jury and explain my actions. Everything was in good faith. We have presented enough proof to convict the defendant even without the testimony of Bobby Escobar. A second mistrial means that the murder charges will be dropped, and that would be an injustice.”

Judge Gantry said, “I’m not inclined to agree, Mr. Hogan. The damage has been done, and the defendant has no way to cross-examine the witness. It seems quite unfair to him to promise the testimony of such a crucial witness and then not deliver.”

Hogan’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. Clifford Nance barely suppressed a smile. Theo couldn’t believe his good luck – a ringside seat at the most important moment in the biggest murder trial anyone could remember. He absorbed every word without moving a muscle. No one seemed to realize he was there.

Judge Gantry said, “We’ll stand in recess until this afternoon. The search is not over and I may have some new information. We’ll meet here at two. Until then, not a word of this to anyone. I don’t want my jurors to know what’s going on. Meeting’s over.”

The lawyers slowly got to their feet and headed for the door. Judge Gantry motioned for Jack Hogan to stay behind. When the door closed and they were alone, he said to the prosecutor, “There’s an apple orchard outside of Weeksburg. Get the police to search it immediately.”

Hogan left quickly, and Judge Gantry sat in his chair behind his desk. He looked at Theo and said, “What a mess. What would you do in this situation?”

Theo thought for a second. He was struck by the loneliness of the job, the importance of making decisions that had such a heavy impact on the lives of so many people. When he wasn’t dreaming of being a great courtroom lawyer, he was dreaming of being a wise and respected judge. Now, though, he was having second thoughts. He wouldn’t want to be in Judge Gantry’s shoes at the moment.

He said, “I like what Jack Hogan said. Why can’t you just explain things to the jurors and let them decide the case based on the testimony they’ve heard? There’s a lot of evidence that points directly at Pete Duffy.”

“I agree, but if he’s convicted he will appeal, and the Supreme Court of this state will surely reverse the conviction. No trial judge likes to be reversed, Theo. That would mean we would have to try Pete Duffy for a third time, and that doesn’t seem fair.”

“But wouldn’t that give us time to find Bobby Escobar?”

“Do you really think they’ll find him?”

Theo considered this for a second and said, “No, sir, not really. He’s probably halfway back to Texas right now. Can’t say that I blame him.”

There was a loud knock on the door, and before Judge Gantry could respond, Mrs. Marcella Boone barged into the office and said, “Henry, where’s Theo?”

Theo jumped to his feet and said, “Hi, Mom.”

Judge Gantry stood and said, “Hello, Marcella. Theo and I are just discussing the trial.”

“I heard he was arrested,” she said.

“Arrested for what? No, he’s helping me consider the motion for a mistrial. Have a seat.”

She took a deep breath, shook her head in either frustration or disbelief, probably both, and managed to relax.

Chapter 22

The police combed through the three apple orchards near Weeksburg and found nothing. Every undocumented worker within five miles had vanished into the woods; there was no sign of them and certainly no sign of Bobby. By noon, they had reported the bad news to the Strattenburg police. They checked on Julio and his mother, Carola; neither had heard from Bobby. They talked to his boss and he knew nothing. The search was over. The witness was gone.

Theo had a pleasant lunch with his parents and Ike at Pappy’s Deli. His father suggested that he go back to school, but Theo thought otherwise. Judge Gantry needed him, he explained. He was under strict orders from the court to stay close to the courtroom, just in case Bobby decided to check in. “No chance of that,” Ike said, chewing on a world-famous pastrami sandwich.

Mrs. Boone was due in court at one, and of course Mr. Boone had urgent business back at the office. Theo and Ike strolled up and down Main Street, killing time, waiting for two p.m. when the lawyers would meet again and Judge Gantry would do the unthinkable: declare another mistrial.

At one point Theo said, “Say, Ike, do you ever think about the reward money?”

“Sure,” Ike admitted.

“What will happen to it?”

“Don’t know. On the one hand, Pete Duffy has been caught and he’ll serve a few years for escape. I suppose we can make a claim for the money on the grounds that he was found, brought back, convicted, and sent to prison. But on the other hand, the reward offer states that the money will be given to any person who provides information that leads to the arrest and conviction of Pete Duffy for the murder of Myra Duffy. Murder, not escape and evasion. So, it might be hard to collect the money if there’s another mistrial.”

“Then we’re out of luck.”

“Looks that way. Have you been thinking about the money?”

“Every now and then.”

“Well, forget about it.”

In front of Guff’s Frozen Yogurt, they passed two of the jurors, faces they recognized from the courtroom. Both wore large, round buttons with the word JUROR across the center, so everyone would know they were important and were not to be quizzed about the Pete Duffy matter.

Ike wanted coffee so they stopped at Gertrude’s, an old diner on Main, world famous for their pecan waffles. Theo often wondered if every small town boasted of some dish that was world famous. The place was packed with other familiar faces, folks Theo didn’t know but had seen in the courtroom. Everyone seemed to be waiting for two p.m.

If they only knew.

Theo said, “This is where my dad comes every morning for breakfast. He sits over there at that round table with a bunch of old guys and they eat toast and drink coffee and catch up on the gossip. Sounds pretty boring, doesn’t it?”

“I once did that, Theo, many years ago, at that same table,” Ike said sadly, as if he remembered a time that was far more pleasant. “But I don’t miss it. Now it’s more fun hanging out in bars late at night and playing poker with shady characters. The gossip is much better.”

Theo ordered an orange juice and they killed more time. At one thirty, his phone vibrated. It was a text from Judge Gantry: Theo, heard anything?

No, sorry.

Be here in 15 minutes.

Yes, sir.

“That was Judge Gantry,” Theo said. “He wants me back in his chambers in fifteen minutes. You see, Ike, he needs my help to decide this very important matter. He realizes how brilliant I am and how much of the law I know, and he has decided to lean on me during this crucial moment.”

“Thought he was smarter than that.”

“He’s a genius, Ike. It takes one to know one.”

“So how would you rule in this matter?”

“I would explain everything to the jury, proceed with the trial, and hope the prosecution has enough evidence to convict Duffy.”

“The prosecution doesn’t have enough evidence. We saw that during the first trial. And if you don’t declare a mistrial now, and if there’s a conviction, it’ll just be thrown out on appeal. You wouldn’t make a very good judge.”

“Thanks, Ike. What would you do?”

“He has no choice but to declare a mistrial. That’s what I’d do. Then, I’d tell the police to give us the reward money.”

“You told me to forget about the money.”

“Right.”

At one forty-five, Theo followed Mrs. Hardy into Judge Gantry’s chambers. She closed the door and left. Theo took a seat and waited while the judge finished a phone conversation. He looked tired and frustrated. A half-eaten sandwich was on a napkin in the center of his desk, next to an empty bottle of water. Theo realized that Judge Gantry didn’t have the luxury of stepping out for lunch. Some clown would surely ask about the trial.

He hung up and said, “That was the sheriff over in Weeksburg, a guy I know pretty well. No sign of our friend.”

“He’s gone, Judge. Bobby lives in the shadows, like a lot of undocumented workers. He knows how to disappear.”

“I thought your parents were trying to sponsor him and speed along his citizenship requirements. What happened?”

“Not sure, but I think the paperwork got backed up in Washington. They’re still trying, but things are moving real slow. Now, I guess it doesn’t matter. His mother is sick in El Salvador and he’s going home.”

“Well, he sure screwed up this case.”

“Judge, I have a question. During the first trial, when Bobby finally came forward, you declared a mistrial. The following week, Bobby went to Jack Hogan’s office and gave a formal statement. They used some ace translator, someone who does the Spanish in trials, and everything was recorded by a court reporter, right?”

“That’s correct.”

“So why can’t that statement be read to the jury? That way, they’ll hear everything Bobby has to say and we can finish the trial.”

Judge Gantry smiled and said, “It’s not that easy, Theo. Keep in mind that when you’re accused of a crime you have the right to face your accusers, to cross-examine those who testify against you. Pete Duffy didn’t have that chance because his lawyers were not in the room when Bobby gave his statement. If I allowed his statement into evidence now, that too would be grounds for a reversal on appeal.”

“I guess it takes guts to be fair, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, you could say that.” Judge Gantry looked at his watch, frowned, tapped his fingers on his desk as if he were in no hurry, and said, “Well, Theo, I guess it’s time. You want to stay here or go back to class?”

“I’ll stay.”

“Figures.” He pointed to the same chair in the same corner and Theo reassumed his position. Judge Gantry punched a button on his phone and said, “Mrs. Hardy, send in the lawyers.” The door flew open and the room was soon crowded as they all gathered around the table. When the court reporter was ready, Judge Gantry said, “It is now two p.m. and the search for Bobby Escobar has been called off. The court has before it a defense motion for a mistrial. Anything further, Mr. Hogan?”

Jack Hogan reluctantly said, “No, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Nance?”

“No, sir.”

“All right.” Judge Gantry took a deep breath and said, “I’m afraid I have no choice in this matter. It would be unfair to the defendant to proceed without the testimony of one Bobby Escobar.”

From his pocket, Theo’s phone vibrated. He grabbed it, looked at it, and almost fainted. It was Bobby. He blurted, “Hang on, Judge!”

Chapter 23

Pursuant to Bobby’s request, Judge Gantry, Theo, and the translator drove five minutes to Truman Park and waited by the carousel. When they were in place, he stepped from behind a row of giant boxwoods and walked to meet them. His boots had mud caked on them. His jeans were dirty. His eyes were red and he looked tired. In Spanish he said, “I’m sorry about this, but I’m frightened and not sure what to do.”

The translator, a young lady named Maria, passed it along in English.

Judge Gantry said, “Bobby, nothing has changed since the last time we talked several months ago. You are an important witness and we need you to tell the court what you saw.”

Maria raised a hand – “Not so fast. Short sentences please.” She handled the Spanish, and Judge Gantry continued: “You will not be arrested or harmed in any way, I promise. Just the opposite. I’ll make sure you are protected.”

English to Spanish, and Bobby managed a quick smile.

News that the witness had been found roared through the courthouse and the downtown law offices. At three p.m., an even larger crowd gathered. Theo and Ike had prime seats two rows behind the prosecution, where they were joined by Woods Boone, who had somehow managed to pull himself away from the urgent business on his desk. As Theo looked around, he noticed a lot of the town’s lawyers jockeying for seats.

Pete Duffy was brought in and sat at his table. He looked pale and confused. He chatted with Clifford Nance, who was obviously upset and animated. Gone was the smug confidence Theo had seen only an hour before.

The bailiff called the court to order and it took a few seconds for the mob to settle in. All seats were taken and people lined the walls around the courtroom. Judge Gantry assumed the bench and instructed a bailiff to bring in the jurors. When they were seated, he looked at them and began an explanation: “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I apologize for the delay. I know it’s frustrating to sit around for hours waiting for the lawyers and me to resolve matters, but that’s what usually happens in a trial. At any rate, we are now ready to proceed. The State will call one more witness, a Mr. Bobby Escobar, who does not speak English. Therefore, we will be using a court certified translator. Her name is Maria Oliva – I’ve used her before and she is very good – and she will be sworn to tell the truth, just like the witness. It’s sort of an awkward way to receive testimony, but we have no choice. I read an article one time about a federal court in New York where they have certified translators for over thirty languages. I guess we’re lucky here; we just deal with two. At any rate, the testimony will be a bit slower, and we’re not going to rush. I ask you to pay close attention and be patient. Are the lawyers ready to proceed?”

Both Jack Hogan and Clifford Nance nodded.

Maria Oliva stood and walked to the witness stand. A bailiff produced a Bible and she placed her left hand on it. The bailiff said, “Do you solemnly swear that you will translate the testimony truthfully and accurately and to the best of your ability?”

She said, “I do.”

Judge Gantry said, “Mr. Hogan, you may call your next witness.”

Hogan rose and said, “The State calls Bobby Escobar.”

A side door opened, and Bobby emerged, following a bailiff. He ignored the crowd, the lawyers, and the defendant, and walked with some measure of confidence to the witness stand. He had been there before. A week earlier, before the trial started, Jack Hogan had brought Bobby to the empty courtroom and put him through a lengthy, grueling dress rehearsal. Hogan had fired questions at Bobby. Maria had interpreted. An assistant prosecutor had played the role of Clifford Nance, and even managed to yell at Bobby. He called him a liar! At first, Bobby had been rattled and uncertain. But as the day wore on, he began to understand the nature of testifying, and especially that of a brutal cross-examination.

When that session was over, Jack Hogan had confidence in his witness. Bobby, though, wasn’t so sure.

He swore to tell the truth and took his seat. Maria was in a folding chair next to him, also with a microphone in her face. The courtroom was silent and still. The jurors were gawking, waiting.

Theo had never seen nor felt such tension. It was awesome!

Hogan began with slow, easy questions. Bobby was nineteen years old and he lived with his aunt and her family. He was from El Salvador and had been in the United States for less than a year. He had crossed the border illegally to find work. Back home he had family – parents and three younger brothers – and they were poor and hungry. Bobby did not want to leave home, but felt he had no choice. Once in Strattenburg, he found a job at the Waverly Creek golf course, mowing grass and doing general maintenance. He was earning seven dollars an hour. He was trying to learn English but it seemed overwhelming. He had dropped out of school when he was fourteen years old.

Moving on to the day in question: It was a Thursday, a cloudy, windy day and the golf course wasn’t that busy. At eleven thirty, Bobby and his coworkers began their thirty-minute lunch break at the maintenance shed hidden on the Creek Course. As he often did, Bobby eased away from the others and went to his favorite spot beneath some trees. He preferred to eat alone because it gave him time to think about his family and say his prayers.

Jack Hogan nodded to an assistant, and a large aerial photo of the Creek Course’s sixth fairway appeared on the screen. Bobby took a red laser pointer and showed the jury exactly where he had been eating lunch.

His testimony continued: About halfway through his lunch break, he saw a golf cart speed along the asphalt path that hugs the fairway, then cut across it to a home that had already been identified as the Duffy residence. A man wearing a black sweater, tan slacks, and a maroon golf cap parked the cart next to the patio, got out, and reached into a golf bag. He removed a white glove and quickly put it on his right hand. There was already one on his left. He walked across the patio, stopped at the door, and took off his shoes. In Bobby’s opinion, the man was in a hurry. Sitting under the trees, between sixty and one hundred yards away, Bobby had a clear view of the man and the back of the Duffy home. At the time, Bobby thought nothing of it, though he was curious as to why the man put on the additional glove and why he left his shoes on the patio. Many of the people who lived at Waverly Creek played golf and stopped by their homes for whatever reason. A few minutes passed as Bobby continued with his lunch. He owned neither a watch nor a cell phone and did not know the exact time. No other golfer was on the sixth fairway of the Creek Course at that time. The man emerged from the house, quickly put on his shoes, took off both gloves and put them in his golf bag. He glanced around, evidently saw no one, then sped away in the direction from which he came. A few minutes later, Bobby returned to the maintenance shed. Lunch break was over. The foreman, Bobby’s boss, ran a tight ship and made them resume their work at precisely noon. An hour or so later, Bobby and a coworker were working on a sprinkler head near the thirteenth green, and he saw the same man as he arrived at the fourteenth tee box on the South Nine. The man looked around, saw no one, reached into his golf bag, removed something white, and placed it in the trash can. At the time, the man was wearing a white golf glove on his left hand, same as all right-handed golfers. Bobby couldn’t tell what the man put in the trash, but a few minutes later he rummaged through it and found two gloves – one for the right hand, one for the left. He explained that the boys who work on the course empty the trash twice a day, and that they routinely go through it, retrieving old golf balls, tees, used gloves, all types of junk. Bobby kept the gloves for a few days. When he realized the man was a suspect in his wife’s murder, Bobby gave the gloves to a friend who gave them to the police.

Jack Hogan walked to a small table next to the court reporter and picked up a plastic bag. He handed it to Bobby and invited him to open it and touch the gloves. Bobby did so, taking his time. When he was convinced, he looked up and nodded. “Yes, these are the gloves I found, the gloves left behind by the man in the black sweater, tan slacks, and maroon golf cap.” He set the gloves aside.

His testimony continued: Not long after he found the gloves, word spread through Waverly Creek that the police were swarming around a house on the sixth fairway of the Creek Course. A lady had been found dead! Curious, Bobby returned to the maintenance shed, then eased through the woods. When the rear of the Duffy house came into view, he saw the same man sitting in his golf cart, surrounded by policemen. The man was obviously upset. The police were trying to calm him.

Jack Hogan asked the witness if he’d ever met Pete Duffy. No. He and the workers were told to be polite to the golfers but never speak to them. Another image was flashed onto the large screen, one of Pete Duffy sitting in the golf cart, surrounded by policemen. He was wearing a black sweater, tan slacks, and a maroon golf cap.

Bobby had no trouble identifying him as the man who entered the house at approximately eleven forty-five, or halfway through lunch, and later tossed away the two golf gloves.

With great drama, Jack Hogan, said, “Your Honor, please let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant, Mr. Pete Duffy.”

“It so reflects,” Judge Gantry said as he glanced at his watch. Everyone had forgotten about the time; it was five ten. “Let’s take a fifteen-minute recess,” he said. Bobby had been on the stand for two hours and needed a break. His testimony was captivating, mainly because it was so believable, but the back and forth between the languages was exhausting for everyone.

“Looks like Henry plans to work late today,” Ike said.

“I thought he always adjourned at five,” Woods said, but then Woods never spent time in the courtroom.

“Depends,” Theo said, like a veteran lawyer.

Pete Duffy stood to stretch his legs. He looked frail and thin and his shoulders sagged. All of his lawyers were frowning. Clifford Nance huddled with Omar Cheepe and Paco, who were seated in the first row behind the defense. Few people left the courtroom; no one wanted to lose their seat.

At five thirty, Judge Gantry returned to the bench, but only for a moment. He explained that one of the jurors was not feeling well, and, since it was late in the day anyway, court was adjourned until nine the following morning. He tapped his gavel and disappeared. Bobby was escorted from the courtroom by two deputies.

Theo assumed he would be taken to a safe place and watched closely throughout the night.

As the crowd slowly filed out of the courtroom, Mr. Boone said, “Hey, Ike, we’re having Chinese take-out tonight. Why don’t you stop by the house for dinner, and we’ll talk about the trial.”

Ike was already shaking his head. “Thanks, but I—”

“Come on, Ike,” Theo pleaded. “I have a lot of questions for you.”

Ike seldom said no to his favorite nephew.