Rhonda Kates. He decided to go back to the motel and give her a call.
On the way out of the Stallion, Peter looked in the trophy case. There was Mancini's helmet and cleats, a program from the championship game and a photo of Mancini's famous run. Fame and fortune, Peter thought wistfully. Steve Mancini certainly seemed to have it all.
Chapter FIVE.
At six-thirty on Friday morning of his second week in town, Peter awoke in the house he was renting from Steve Mancini, then ran four miles through the quiet streets of Whitaker. The houses Peter passed were not split levels or indistinguishable tract homes. They were old, wood frame houses with gables and front porches that stood in yards rimmed by white picket fences where swings hung from the thick, gnarled limbs of ancient oaks. In the half light of early morning it was easy to imagine the glow behind the curtained windows was cast by an oil lamp and that the rickety garage doors would open wide, barn style, to reveal a horse and buggy.
After his run, Peter showered, dressed for court and brewed a cafe latte in the espresso machine he had brought with him from Portland. He drank the latte with his breakfast at a rickety wooden table in his postage-stampsize kitchen. Amos Geary had been dragging Peter around Blaine, Whitaker and Cayuse counties so he could meet the D.A."s, judges and court personnel.
Geary had not let Peter handle anything by himself but Peter was starting to realize that criminal law was not that difficult. After breakfast, Peter walked to the court ... ... ... ... ... . aided house to watch Geary handle the preliminary hearing in Christopher Mammon's case.
Criminal complaints in felony cases were lodged in the district court, but only a circuit court had jurisdiction to try a felony. There were two ways to change the jurisdiction of a felony case to the circuit court: A grand jury could meet in secret and hand down an indictment or a district court judge could hold a preliminary hearing in open court and order the case bound over to circuit court. District attorneys loathed preliminary hearings because they gave defense attorneys the opportunity to hear the state's case and cross-examine the state's witnesses. It was very rare to hold a prehin in cases as serious as Mammon's. Amos Geary had been shaking his head about the development all week, but he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
The four-story courthouse was the tallest building i in Whitaker. It was a square, no-nonsense edifice of gray stone and it stood at the end of High Street across from Wishing Well Park. The office of the district attorney was on the to floor above the two circuit courts. The p administrative offices and the traffic court were on street level. Misdemeanor cases and certain preliminary matters in felony cases were handled in the district court, where the preliminary hearing for Christopher Main mon and Kevin Booth was to be held.
Peter walked up the central staircase to the secondfloor courtroom and found Steve Mancini standing in the hall talking to the cutest thing Peter had seen since mavin g to Whitaker. Peter figured her for five two at the most. She had curly red hair, freckles that made her look like a high schooler and a body that was definitely not adolescent. just looking at her made Peter feel all mushy and downright lascivious at the same time.
Mancini waved Peter over. "You're here to help Amos wit the prelim, aren't you?"
"Yeah. He wanted me to sit in," Peter said, fighting to keep from staring at the redhead.
"Then, you should meet Becky O'Shay, Whitaker's so most vicious prosecutor. Becky, this is Peter Hale. Watch out for him. He's a big-city lawyer who's moved to the sticks to prey on innocent young things like you."
O'Shay looked up at Peter and he swore she was gazing into his eyes with something more than polite curiosity.
"Pleased to meet you, Peter," she said. Her voice sounded like the trill of clear water rushing over smooth stones in a mountain stream. O'Shay extended a tiny, delicate hand. Peter took it and felt a jolt of electricity.
"Time to go, boys and girls," M ancini said.
"Are you involved in this case?" Peter asked him.
"I'm representing Kevin Booth, the co-defendant."
O'Shay entered the courtroom and Peter watched her walk to the prosecution's counsel table. When he tore his eyes from her, he saw Christopher Mammon sitting with Amos Geary at the defense table. The two were chatting as if they were old friends and Geary did not seem the least bit intimidated.
To Mammon's right was Kevin Booth. Mancini's client was a mess. His jumpsuit sagged on him, his dirty black hair was uncombed and pimples dotted his pale skin. The contrast between Booth and Christopher Mammon was amazing. Although they were facing sentences that would keep them in prison for eons, Mammon looked as if he was going to fall asleep, while Booth's prominent Adam's apple bobbed up and down from fright and he could not keep his hands still. When Mancini sat beside him, he jumped.
Peter edged behind Mammon and Geary and sat at the end of the table. His boss looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Geary," Peter said.
Before Geary could reply, the bailiff rapped his gavel and District Court judge Brett Staley, a short, balding man with thick glasses, ascended to the bench. Becky O'Shay told judge Staley that Earl Ridgely, the district attorney, was on vacation and she was handling the preliminary hearing. Then, she called her first witness, Jeffrey Loudhawk.
A dark-complexioned man with high cheekbones and straight black hair was sworn in. He was wearing the uniform of a Whitaker State campus security pard.
After some preliminary questions, O'Shay askd Toudhawk if he had seen either of the defendants on the evening of May 22.
"I saw both of them."
"Tell judge Staley how you came in contact with them."
"Yes, ma'am. I was patrolling around ten o'clock when I noticed the defendants seated in a car at the far end of the parking lot."
"Was the lot crowded?"
"Yes, it was. Classes were 'just I ti j et ng out and there were a lot of students milling around and a large number of cars."
"What was it that attracted you to these two gendemen?"
"The dome light came on suddenly and I was able to see into the car. Something about Mr. Booth looked odd. When I came closer I saw a rolled, ten-dollar bill in his right nostril."
"Why did that attract your attention, Officer Loudhawk?"
"I've attended seminars on narcotics cases run by the Oregon State Police and I know, from my training, that addicts use rolled bills as straws to assist them in snorting cocaine."
"What did you do after you saw Mr. Booth with the bill in his nose?"
"I radioed for assistance using my walkie-talkie. Ron Turnbull, a fellow security guard, arrived and we approached the car. I went to Mr. Booth's side and Officer Turnbull went to the driver's side."
"Then, Mr. Mammon was driving?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What did you observe when you reached the car?" -Mr. Mammon was sitting behind the wheel of the car with his head against the headrest. Mr. Booth was in the same position in the passenger's seat with his eyes closed." -Where was the ten-dollar bill?" -I found it on the floor of the car on Mr. Booth's side." -What happened next?"
,Officer Turnbull told Mr. Mammon to freeze and I did the same with Mr. Booth. They both complied. I looked across Mr. Booth and saw, in plain view, a transparent, plastic Ziploc bag filled with a white powder."
,Where was this bag?"
"Halfway under Mr. Mammon's seat on the driver's side."
"Did you see anything else that your training led you to believe was associated with narcotics use?"
"Yes, ma'am. I saw a mirror in a map holder on the driver's side." -Why did the mirror interest you?"
"I know from my training that users of cocaine will prepare the drug on a mirror before snorting it."