The lawyer was caught flat-footed. Judge Sears let the silence hang a moment, then said, “You may open your brief if need be.”
The young man almost dove for the pages. “Celeste, your honor. Celeste Steadman, no middle name. Sorry, it just slipped my mind there.”
Judge Sears shot Marcus a silent heads-up, then asked the young attorney, “I assume you have included the child’s birth certificate?”
“Ah …” The attorney’s search of the pages became more frantic. Hamper looked ready to explode from his seat.
“That’s all right.” Sears at her mildest. “No doubt you have a copy in your files.”
When the attorney’s search through his briefcase came up with nothing more than sweat and bumbling fingers, Hamper Caisse sifted through his own papers, then reached forward and rammed it into the HHS lawyer’s outstretched hand. The HHS attorney spun about and announced, “Here it is, your honor.”
Marcus was already rising to his feet. “Your honor, I feel it is in the court’s interest to know what else Mr. Caisse has in his briefcase.”
Hamper gave his best imitation of a man severely electrocuted. “What?”
Sears gave him a tiny nod of approval as Marcus continued, “If Mr. Caisse has an attorney-client relationship here, he has to assert it. Otherwise, he’s just a witness. If he’s a witness, I want to call him to the stand.”
Hamper bolted to his feet. “Judge, I protest! There’s nothing more sinister here than a lawyer who’s been hooked up with this case for weeks now, worried about this child.”
Sears aimed the gavel at his face. “What I see is an individual on the wrong side of the bar addressing this court.”
“But-”
“Either sit yourself down and be quiet, or come up before me here and declare yourself!”
When Hamper reluctantly forced himself back down, Marcus announced, “Your honor, I ask that you issue a bench subpoena. Mr. Caisse must not be permitted to leave the courtroom until the subpoena is served.”
A bench subpoena would act as a search warrant on Hamper’s person and his briefcase, granting the court power to seize any documents deemed pertinent to the case. Another brief nod told Marcus he had handed Judge Sears the ammo she required. “Step forward, Mr. Caisse.”
Hamper was loath to move. “Do I need to have the bailiff assist you?”
When Hamper stood before the judge’s podium, Judge Sears used both hands to pull her hair back in a gesture of tight animosity. “All right, give. What’s your role in this petition?”
“Interested third party, your honor.”
She turned to Marcus, inviting his response. “I’m here about the child, your honor. Everything else is secondary. Including whatever tricks opposing counsel is up to now.”
“Your honor, I object in the strongest possible terms!”
Marcus continued to address the judge. “This child is a United States citizen. She has the right to grow up here among her people. Right now she’s lost to us. First her mother abducted her. Then she hid her away somewhere. She obviously was planning something. I want to know what. I want to know why.”
“Wait a second now,” Caisse sneered. “You’re not suggesting Erin Brandt had a hand in her own demise.”
“How are we to know what happened so long as the facts remain hidden?” Marcus stabbed the air between them. “Whatever Hamper has secreted away, I feel the court has a right to know!”
“Spare us the histrionics,” Hamper shot back.
“Mr. Caisse, do you know where the child is?”
“No, your honor, I do not.”
“Do I need to put you under oath?”
“It would not change my response one whit, your honor. I’m telling you the dead solid truth here.”
“In that case, I hereby am issuing forthwith a subpoena to search your briefcase. I wish to see if you are withholding any documents of vital concern.” She waved to where the deputy sat in the empty jury box. “Bailiff.”
Hamper used both arms to hug the case to his chest. “You can’t do that!”
“You’re about to witness,” she declared grimly, “just how wrong you are.”
Hamper danced a step away from the approaching deputy. “Your honor, this is proprietary information!”
Marcus protested, “But your client is dead.”
“We’re still seeing to her interests!” He slackened his hold on the case long enough to a jab a finger at Marcus. “That man is representing an abuser and a murderer! Dale Steadman can’t be granted the chance to hurt this poor little child!”
“Fine.” Judge Sears started to rise from her chair. “In that case, the bailiff will escort you to my chambers, I will issue a protective order on everything I find, and then you will show me whatever you have in camera.”
This meant only the judge would review whatever he was holding. But Hamper merely looked more trapped. “Your honor, I declare attorney-client privilege.”
“You’re now representing a different client?”
“That is correct.”
“Is your client before this court?”
“Not at this time.”
“Does your client have a valid interest in this case?”
Hamper was growing increasingly agitated. “He feels a desperate concern for this child.”
“That is not a satisfactory answer in my book.” Her desire to get right in his face was so strong she perched herself on tiptoe and gavel. “I want to know who your client is.”
Clearly this was the question Hamper feared. “My client has instructed me not to reveal his identity. I did not come down here intending to make an appearance in this court.”
“But you did.”
“Under duress, your honor. Under duress. Given the circumstances, this court must agree I should have a chance to confer with my client before answering your question.”
Hamper had her, and they both knew it. Judge Sears reddened until her freckles all but disappeared. “You were playing that poor HHS lawyer like a puppet. You had everything but your hand up the back of his jacket. Now tell me what your client’s interest is in this case!”
“Judge, I can’t do that.”
“Then someone in this court is going to jail!”
Hamper deposited his briefcase at his feet, so as to use both hands to swipe at his face. “Your honor, my client’s instructions were very precise. He told me to assist this young attorney with the brief related to Celeste Steadman. He told me to appear in court. And he told me not to reveal his identity. That is all I can say.”
“Then I am ordering you to speak with your client and gain authorization. Otherwise, come tomorrow I’ll be sentencing you to ninety days in jail. If he wants to be heard by this court, he will be heard on the record. If you act in this court, you will do so with full disclosure of your client’s and your motives.” She smiled at his stricken expression. “Cheer up, Mr. Caisse. You should find ample acquaintances among the prison community.”
“Your honor-”
She banged her gavel. “Next case.”
CHAPTER 42
“Why did you want to meet with my husband, Ms. Stansted?” Kirsten was seated opposite Evelyn Lloyd in the city apartment equivalent of a palace. The parlor was oval-shaped and flanked by bas-relief onyx pillars. Along one side resided museum-quality art. Along the other, seven French doors opened onto a terrace larger than Kirsten’s entire townhouse. Down below, the cars streaking along rain-washed Central Park West sounded like shredders working on tissue paper. The open patio doors formed billowing parachutes from silk drapes. The light was muted to pastel patterns. The floor was a mosaic of blue marble and old wood. The ceiling was twenty feet high and sculpted around a pair of crystal chandeliers.
Kirsten replied, “I’m not sure I can answer that.”
“Try.”
“Erin Brandt was last seen alive at Lincoln Center. I’d like an insider’s glimpse of the place, just to see if there’s something we might find.”
Evelyn Lloyd cocked her head. “You think you might discover something missed by the local police?”