My phone started ringing as I crossed First Street and didn’t stop the entire trip. This time I knew better than to answer. But I noticed no one left a message. Thank you, Graden. I ducked into the courthouse just as the first few drops of rain began to fall, and was early enough to avoid running into the press.
I don’t usually like to wait in court, and whenever possible, I get the DDA who regularly works the calendar in that courtroom to give me a call when my case is almost up. But it’s not a foolproof strategy, and I have found myself in the hot seat for being late more than once. So today I decided to take no chances. I was front and center when the bailiff opened the courtroom doors. Surprisingly, I was the only one. There wasn’t a reporter in sight. Weird. The clerk, Manny Washburn, looked at me with surprise when I walked in.
“Rachel Knight, the first one in court?” He put his hand to his forehead. “I think I feel faint.”
I walked over to his desk. “Must be all that Wite-Out you use on your minute orders. I’m here on the Averly case. Can I get first call?”
“No one’s used Wite-Out since 1980, Rachel. And since you’re the first one in, who else would I give first call to? My mother?” Clerks are often smartasses like this. It’s the natural evolutionary adaptation to being around so many lawyers. “And I know what case you’re here on. I’ve had about fifty calls from the press in the past hour.”
“But I didn’t see-”
“Because the judge banned ’em all. Said he wasn’t going to have a circus in his courtroom. So no cameras.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, Rachel, but it’s not like you’re having that good a hair day.”
I ignored the gibe and sat down at counsel table. I’d wanted the public to see the evidence so they’d know that, contrary to what they’d heard from the televised ass-kissers, this case was no sham. Just this once, press coverage would’ve been a good thing. We’d probably still get some print coverage-the judge couldn’t keep the reporters out. But nothing gets the public’s attention like television.
Terry strode in a few minutes later and, with a curt nod to me, started to unpack her briefcase. Lawyers, witnesses, and the friends and family of defendants and victims began to arrive after that, and within half an hour, the courtroom was full.
Judge Daglian took the bench and began to call his calendar. When he got to our case, Terry stood. “Your Honor, my client bailed out last night. As you requested, I gave his passport to your clerk this morning. But Mr. Averly had some matters to take care of before court and told me that he’d be just a few minutes late. If the court could please put us on second call.”
“I will. But he’d better be here by second call or he’s going right back into lockup.”
Bailey came in, murder book in hand, and sat down next to me in the attorney section. “How much longer?” she asked.
I told her what Terry’d said. “Did your guys tell you he’d bailed out?”
“No. Be right back.” She hurried out of court.
Twenty minutes later, the judge called our case again.
Terry stood, her expression stony. “Your Honor, I haven’t heard from my client, but I can assure you he’ll be here shortly.”
“Have you tried to reach him, Counsel?”
“Yes, I’ve left several messages. I believe he must be on his way.”
Bailey rushed back in and came over to me. “Ask for a sidebar,” she whispered. “I’ll go with you.”
When we gathered at sidebar, I told the judge that Bailey had information for him. He motioned for her to speak and she leaned in.
“Your Honor, I had Mr. Averly under surveillance. I just found out that there was a triple homicide in the area last night, so the detail was pulled off to help secure the scene. Patrol officers went to his apartment just now and knocked on the door. They got no answer. So they contacted the manager and got him to check inside-”
“I object to any search-” Terry barked.
“Doesn’t matter, Counsel,” Bailey said. “There was nothing to see. The apartment’s empty. He’s gone.”
55
The judge turned to Terry. “Who posted his bail, Counsel?”
“I-don’t know, Your Honor. All I know is that Mr. Averly called to tell me he’d bailed out. I didn’t ask how.”
Probably because she didn’t want to know.
“Well, it should be easy enough to find out,” the judge said. He motioned for his bailiff to come over.
“Your Honor, I think we should be putting all of this on the record in open court,” I said. “I see no reason why this information should be kept under wraps.”
I was plenty mad, but I wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to give the defense a little bad press. If Averly was on the run, he looked guilty as hell, and that made our case look that much better-against both him and Ian Powers. Terry objected, but the judge agreed there was no reason why the public couldn’t know that Averly had absconded. When he announced that Averly was at large, the entire spectator gallery erupted in gasps, and one reporter even yelled out loud, “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
“Come to order!” the judge declared, fixing that reporter with an infuriated glare that would’ve melted a normal person. “You don’t speak. You observe, with your mouth closed. Got it?” He turned to the bailiff. “I want to know who posted his bail. In the meantime, I’m issuing a bench warrant for the arrest of Jack Averly. Detective Keller, please give the information on him to the clerk. I guess for now, that’s all on the matter of People v. Jack Averly. Next case.”
As we packed up to make room for the next hearing, I studied Terry’s face for any sign that she’d known this was coming. She might be one hell of an actress, but it didn’t look like it to me. In fact, she looked pretty angry.
Bailey and I walked out to the elevators, trailed by reporters, all of whom were shouting questions: “What does this do to your case?” “Were you planning to make him an offer to testify against Powers?” “Who do you think bailed him out?” I brushed by them all with a “No comment” and left them to stampede Terry as she walked out of the courtroom. Over the ding of our elevator, I heard her say, “I have no doubt my client will return. Jack Averly wants his day in court and he knows the People have no case.”
“I can’t friggin’ believe they dropped the ball like this,” Bailey said when we got off on the eighteenth floor. Her face was white with anger.
I waited until we got to my office and closed the door. “Ian had to have been the one to bail him out-”
“Probably his money, but I doubt it was under his name-”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I said. Ian had a lot of friends-probably in both high and low places-who’d be glad to do him a favor. “But I don’t see why Ian would help him run. He had to know that Averly turned down a deal to testify against him. Ian had nothing to worry about.”
My office phone was ringing almost continuously. The press was in full feeding frenzy mode. I watched with a sense of vengeful satisfaction as Melia put each line on hold. She’d route them to Sandi in her own good time. Let those reporters get a taste of Melia’s efficiency for a change.
“But Averly did. He knew you’d prove the accessory charges. So maybe he was freaked out about doing a few years in prison after all.”
And maybe Ian knew better than to trust Averly’s resolve once he found himself locked up with Bubba in a four-foot cell. I was frustrated, but there was nothing I could do now except hope that Averly stumbled and got caught. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed it was still raining-though it was more of a heavy mist with fine, thin drops. I watched them fall for a moment. “There is at least one bright side: it makes Averly look guilty as hell, and that spills over onto Ian as well.”