“So the identity of Bobby Escobar will be known to Duffy and his lawyers. They will find out that the prosecution has a witness who’ll say he saw Duffy dash into his home at the same time his wife was strangled. Right?”
“Normally, yes.”
“Normally? Is there an exception to the rule?”
“I think so. As I recall from my days in the trenches, the prosecution can ask the judge to allow it to withhold the name of a witness if that witness needs to be protected. It’s the result of some of the old Mob cases where the star witness against a Mafia leader was a snitch from within the organization. If his identity had been revealed, they would have found the guy at the bottom of a lake wearing concrete boots.”
“That makes sense.”
“I’m glad you approve. In this case, I’ll bet Jack Hogan and the police will try their best to keep Bobby’s identity a secret until the last possible moment.”
“I sure hope so. I saw that creep Omar Cheepe in the courtroom. I’m sure Paco is lurking somewhere in the shadows. If they find out about Bobby, it could be dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much, Theo. Hogan knows he doesn’t have much of a case without Bobby. You remember the first trial. It was going badly for the prosecution and Duffy was about to walk free. Hogan and the police will protect the boy.”
“You think I should warn him?”
“No, I think you’ve done enough. It’s a dangerous situation and you need to keep your nose out of it. Okay?”
“I guess.”
Ike reached over and grabbed a wrist. With a hard frown, he said, “Listen to me, Theo. Butt out, okay? It’s none of your business.”
“Well, it sort of is. Bobby Escobar wouldn’t be involved if I hadn’t convinced his cousin Julio that he should come forward. And, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if I hadn’t spotted Duffy on the subway.”
“True. Nice work. Now leave it alone. You can write your research paper. We’ll watch the trial and hope justice prevails. Just stay on the sidelines, okay?” Ike released his wrist.
“Okay,” Theo said reluctantly.
“Now, you need to get back to school.”
“I don’t think so, Ike. It’s Friday afternoon and I’ve had a tough week.”
“A tough week. You sound like a workingman who puts in forty hard hours in a factory.”
“Look, Ike, even kid lawyers have tough weeks.”
Chapter 13
Across Main Street and four blocks east of Guff’s Frozen Yogurt, another meeting was underway and the topic was also the Duffy trial. Clifford Nance had a splendid office on the second floor of what had once been the finest hotel in town; in fact, Mr. Nance owned the entire building and used most of it to house his busy law firm. From his high, arching windows he had great view of the streets below, the courthouse, even the river in the distance. Not that he had much time to enjoy the view; he did not. He was an important lawyer and one of the most prosperous in town.
He was at his desk sipping coffee and chatting with a young lawyer named Breeland, one of the many associates who took orders from him. Nance was saying, “When Judge Gantry stopped the first trial and sent everybody home, he explained to me and Jack Hogan the following morning that a surprise witness had come forward and had information that was crucial to finding the truth. He would not tell us the name of this witness, nor would he tell us what the witness might say. He left us completely in the dark. We were preparing for the retrial, and at some point Jack Hogan would have been required to disclose the names of all of his witnesses. Before this happened, of course, our dear client skipped town.”
“So we still have no clue about this witness?” Breeland asked.
“None whatsoever. Now, though, I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”
“And what do we do?”
“Depends on who he is and what he’ll say.”
“Sounds like a job for Omar.”
“Not yet. But remind me to remind him that threatening a witness for the prosecution is a serious crime.”
“Omar knows that.”
Breeland’s cell phone vibrated. He glanced at it and said, “Well, speaking of the devil. Omar is downstairs and wants to talk.”
“Send him up.”
Omar entered the office and took a seat next to Breeland. Nance said rudely, “I have a meeting in ten minutes, so talk fast.”
“Okay,” Omar said. “I was just at the jail talking to Duffy. That little Boone kid was in the courtroom this afternoon — don’t know how he manages to skip so much school — but he was there with his crazy uncle. I saw them. Pete saw them, and Pete swears he saw them last Saturday at the airport in DC when the Feds snatched him. He can’t figure that one out. But if you’ll remember, the night before Judge Gantry declared a mistrial, we saw him walk to the Boone & Boone law firm and meet with the family, including the kid and the crazy uncle. Next day — Bam! A mistrial. Something strange is going on here.”
“But the Boones are not criminal lawyers,” Mr. Nance said. “I know them pretty well.”
“Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s just the kid,” Omar said. “The kid has his nose stuck in the middle of Pete’s case, and his parents are just trying to protect him.”
“You can’t follow a kid around town, Omar,” Breeland said.
“The kid knows who the mysterious witness is,” Omar said. “I’ll bet good money on it.”
Nance and Breeland studied each other for a moment.
Omar continued, “And, I’ll bet the kid had something to do with the Feds finding Pete. They were in DC the week before he got nailed.”
“Who?” Nance asked.
“The entire eighth grade at Strattenburg Middle School. Their annual field trip. A mob of kids roaming around DC. Maybe somebody saw something.”
“Which brings up the obvious question,” Breeland said. “Why was Pete Duffy in DC?”
“Too late to worry about that,” Mr. Nance said. “Don’t follow this kid and don’t approach him. But keep an eye on him.”
Chapter 14
Theo was leaving school on a Wednesday afternoon when his pal Woody stopped him at the bike rack. Woody was obviously worried about something. He said, “Say, Theo, you know the judge in Animal Court, don’t you?”
It was a loaded question, and Theo immediately wondered what mischief Woody had been up to. He was a good kid and Theo liked and trusted him, but his family was a bit on the rough side and Woody was always either in trouble or close to it. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Well,” Woody said, glancing around as if the police might be listening, “I have to be in court tomorrow afternoon. My brother Evan and I are being accused of something.”
Theo slowly got off his bike, hit the kickstand, and said, “Okay, what are you accused of?”
“My mom and stepdad don’t know about this, Theo, and I’d like to keep it quiet.” Woody’s home life was unsettled. His mother had been married at least twice and her current husband traveled a lot. Woody’s father was a stonemason who lived in town with another wife and some small children. An older brother had been in trouble with the law. He asked, “If you go to Animal Court, do you have to tell your parents?”
“Not always,” Theo said. He almost added that it’s always best to tell your parents, but then he often kept secrets from his. “What’s happened?”
“Have you ever heard of fainting goats?”
“Fainting goats?”
“Yes. Fainting goats.”
“No. I’ve never heard of fainting goats.”
“Well, it’s a long story.”
The following afternoon, Theo was sitting next to Woody and Evan in a small, cramped room in the basement of the Strattenburg County Courthouse, waiting for Judge Sergio Yeck to assume the bench and call things to order. They were in folding chairs behind a folding table, and behind them were several other people, including Chase, Aaron, and Brandon, all there out of curiosity. Across the aisle sat an angry man named Marvin Tweel. He was a farmer dressed in his work clothes — faded denim overalls, plaid shirt, and steel-toed boots with mud caked permanently on the soles and heels. Behind him were several people, part of the usual Animal Court crowd of folks trying to rescue unleashed dogs that had been picked up by the town’s rather aggressive dogcatcher.