feet, ready to go.
Juliette had said that the hearing would be in one of the courtrooms on the second floor of the main courthouse on the square. That was only a few blocks away, so the three of them were able to get there, park, and walk inside with a few minutes to spare. As they went along the hall toward the open double doors that led into the courtroom, Phyllis spotted Juliette standing near the doors, talking on her phone.
Juliette was dressed for court today in a sober gray suit. She was wearing her glasses instead of the contacts she’d had in the day before. She broke the connection on the phone and then turned it off before she slipped it into a jacket pocket.
“I was just talking to a bail bondsman,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll have any problem arranging things once bail has been set.”
“Have you had any indication what the judge will do?” Phyllis asked.
“None whatsoever. We won’t know until we’re in there.” Juliette hesitated. “Are you prepared to testify if I call you, Mrs. Newsom?”
“Testify? Me? Why would I need to testify?”
“Mrs. Porter will be staying at your house. The judge may want to hear from you. I could ask you how you feel about that.”
“And I could say that I don’t have any objection to Eve staying with us because I know she’s not capable of committing murder.” Phyllis smiled. “Like you said, a character witness.”
“It can’t hurt,” Juliette said. She lowered her voice. “Here comes the district attorney.”
Phyllis glanced around and saw a slender man of medium height, with carefully styled brown hair, walking along the hall toward the courtroom. He was talking to a couple of other men in suits who weren’t as photogenic as he was. As they passed Phyllis and the others, District Attorney Timothy Sullivan nodded to Juliette and said, “Good morning, Counselor.”
Sullivan didn’t speak to Phyllis, but she saw his eyes flick toward her for a second and knew that he knew who she was. She hadn’t set out to make an enemy of this man . . . but there wasn’t an iota of friendliness in his gaze.
Sullivan and his associates went on into the courtroom. Juliette nodded toward the doors and said, “Let’s go.”
Phyllis, Sam, and Carolyn slipped onto one of the half dozen benches set up for spectators while Juliette went through a gate in a wooden railing and set her briefcase on the defense table at the front of the room. She sat down, opened the case, and began taking papers out of it.
“I don’t care much for bein’ in court,” Sam said quietly. “I never would’ve made a good lawyer.”
“Neither would I,” Carolyn said. “I’m too outspoken. I tell the truth as I see it, not the way some judge wants to hear it.”
Sam smiled and said, “I was thinkin’ more of the fact that I don’t like wearin’ a tie.”
By now it was five minutes after nine o’clock, but the judge hadn’t come into the courtroom yet. That wasn’t unusual, Phyllis thought. Like any other bureaucracy, the legal system worked on its own schedule, and everyone else had to accommodate that. She would have liked to see all the judges and attorneys in the world try to function in a school environment, where you had to be in your seat and ready to get down to work as soon as the bell rang. She was willing to bet that things would be a lot more efficient that way.
A few more maddeningly slow minutes went by, and then a uniformed bailiff came into the courtroom through a side door, followed by the court clerk. The bailiff called, “All rise.”
Phyllis didn’t know the judge who came in and went behind the bench. He was a stocky, mostly bald man in his fifties or sixties, with thick glasses and a fringe of gray hair. When he sat down, he told the others in the room, “You may be seated,” in a rather high-pitched voice.
The bailiff announced that court was in session, the Honorable Phillip J. Hemmerson presiding. The court clerk read a docket
Juliette had said that the hearing would be in one of the courtrooms on the second floor of the main courthouse on the square. That was only a few blocks away, so the three of them were able to get there, park, and walk inside with a few minutes to spare. As they went along the hall toward the open double doors that led into the courtroom, Phyllis spotted Juliette standing near the doors, talking on her phone.
Juliette was dressed for court today in a sober gray suit. She was wearing her glasses instead of the contacts she’d had in the day before. She broke the connection on the phone and then turned it off before she slipped it into a jacket pocket.
“I was just talking to a bail bondsman,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll have any problem arranging things once bail has been set.”
“Have you had any indication what the judge will do?” Phyllis asked.
“None whatsoever. We won’t know until we’re in there.” Juliette hesitated. “Are you prepared to testify if I call you, Mrs. Newsom?”
“Testify? Me? Why would I need to testify?”
“Mrs. Porter will be staying at your house. The judge may want to hear from you. I could ask you how you feel about that.”
“And I could say that I don’t have any objection to Eve staying with us because I know she’s not capable of committing murder.” Phyllis smiled. “Like you said, a character witness.”
“It can’t hurt,” Juliette said. She lowered her voice. “Here comes the district attorney.”
Phyllis glanced around and saw a slender man of medium height, with carefully styled brown hair, walking along the hall toward the courtroom. He was talking to a couple of other men in suits who weren’t as photogenic as he was. As they passed Phyllis and the others, District Attorney Timothy Sullivan nodded to Juliette and said, “Good morning, Counselor.”
Sullivan didn’t speak to Phyllis, but she saw his eyes flick toward her for a second and knew that he knew who she was. She hadn’t set out to make an enemy of this man . . . but there wasn’t an iota of friendliness in his gaze.
Sullivan and his associates went on into the courtroom. Juliette nodded toward the doors and said, “Let’s go.”
Phyllis, Sam, and Carolyn slipped onto one of the half dozen benches set up for spectators while Juliette went through a gate in a wooden railing and set her briefcase on the defense table at the front of the room. She sat down, opened the case, and began taking papers out of it.
“I don’t care much for bein’ in court,” Sam said quietly. “I never would’ve made a good lawyer.”
“Neither would I,” Carolyn said. “I’m too outspoken. I tell the truth as I see it, not the way some judge wants to hear it.”
Sam smiled and said, “I was thinkin’ more of the fact that I don’t like wearin’ a tie.”
By now it was five minutes after nine o’clock, but the judge hadn’t come into the courtroom yet. That wasn’t unusual, Phyllis thought. Like any other bureaucracy, the legal system worked on its own schedule, and everyone else had to accommodate that. She would have liked to see all the judges and attorneys in the world try to function in a school environment, where you had to be in your seat and ready to get down to work as soon as the bell rang. She was willing to bet that things would be a lot more efficient that way.
A few more maddeningly slow minutes went by, and then a uniformed bailiff came into the courtroom through a side door, followed by the court clerk. The bailiff called, “All rise.”
Phyllis didn’t know the judge who came in and went behind the bench. He was a stocky, mostly bald man in his fifties or sixties, with thick glasses and a fringe of gray hair. When he sat down, he told the others in the room, “You may be seated,” in a rather high-pitched voice.
The bailiff announced that court was in session, the Honorable Phillip J. Hemmerson presiding. The court clerk read a docket
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