number and said that this was a hearing to determine bail, and then a uniformed female deputy brought Eve into the courtroom through a different door. Phyllis was glad to see that Eve was wearing her own clothes, even though those clothes were getting wrinkled by now. She was sure Eve wouldn’t have liked wearing one of those orange jumpsuits prisoners usually had to wear.
Eve saw the three of them sitting there and managed to smile, but she was pale and haggard, as if she hadn’t slept a bit the night before. Phyllis wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. Eve sat down at the defense table next to Juliette, who leaned over and spoke quietly to her.
The judge was looking through some papers on the bench in front of him. Phyllis had no doubt that he already knew the particulars of the case, but judges always did that anyway. Then he looked up and asked, “Do you have a recommendation for bail in this case, Mr. Sullivan?”
The district attorney stood up and said, “Yes, Your Honor, we do. The state recommends that bail be set in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars.”
Phyllis drew in a deep breath. Half a million dollars sounded like a tremendous amount, but she remembered that a bail bondsman usually only asked that the client put up ten percent of the bail amount. Her house was worth more than three times what that ten percent would be even in the current market, and she was more than willing to let Eve use it as surety for the bond.
Juliette wasn’t going to let Sullivan’s demand go unchallenged, though. When Judge Hemmerson turned to her and said, “Ms. Yorke?” she stood up and said, “Your Honor, half a million dollars is the sort of bail you set on a professional criminal who represents a flight risk. My client is a retired schoolteacher who has led a quiet, decent life and never been in trouble with the law. We ask that you release her on her own recognizance.”
Well, this was normal so far, Phyllis thought. Both sides had established their starting positions, and now they could negotiate toward something in the middle.
“Your Honor,” Sullivan responded instantly, “Ms. Yorke clearly doesn’t know everything there is to know about her client; otherwise, she wouldn’t describe Eve Porter as simply a retired schoolteacher.”
Phyllis stiffened. She didn’t like the smug tone of Sullivan’s voice or the self-satisfied smile on his face. Neither did Juliette, who turned sharply toward the district attorney and demanded, “What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering her directly, Sullivan addressed the judge again as he said, “Your Honor, Mrs. Porter has been questioned by the police regarding more than one suspicious death in the past.”
It would have been hard to say who looked more shocked: Phyllis, Sam, and Carolyn in the spectators’ section, Juliette at the defense table, or Judge Hemmerson on the bench, who peered at Sullivan over the glasses that had slipped down on his nose and said in a tone of disbelief, “Her?”
The only one who didn’t seem surprised was Eve, who sat there looking straight ahead with her shoulders slumped in an air of resignation. Phyllis would have expected her friend to display indignation at such an outrageous accusation.
Unless, of course, what Sullivan had just said was true . . .
Still looking smug, the district attorney said, “Yes, Your Honor, Mrs. Porter was questioned by the police in Wichita Falls and Abilene about the deaths of two previous
husbands
.”
The emphasis Sullivan put on the word made the implication clear. He had practically accused Eve of murdering not only Roy, but also two of the men to whom she had been married previously.
Phyllis’s head was spinning. She knew that Eve had been married several times, of course. Eve had made no secret of that fact. But Phyllis had always assumed that those marriages had ended in divorce. Eve had never done anything to correct that assumption.
Juliette was quick on her
Eve saw the three of them sitting there and managed to smile, but she was pale and haggard, as if she hadn’t slept a bit the night before. Phyllis wouldn’t be surprised if that was true. Eve sat down at the defense table next to Juliette, who leaned over and spoke quietly to her.
The judge was looking through some papers on the bench in front of him. Phyllis had no doubt that he already knew the particulars of the case, but judges always did that anyway. Then he looked up and asked, “Do you have a recommendation for bail in this case, Mr. Sullivan?”
The district attorney stood up and said, “Yes, Your Honor, we do. The state recommends that bail be set in the amount of five hundred thousand dollars.”
Phyllis drew in a deep breath. Half a million dollars sounded like a tremendous amount, but she remembered that a bail bondsman usually only asked that the client put up ten percent of the bail amount. Her house was worth more than three times what that ten percent would be even in the current market, and she was more than willing to let Eve use it as surety for the bond.
Juliette wasn’t going to let Sullivan’s demand go unchallenged, though. When Judge Hemmerson turned to her and said, “Ms. Yorke?” she stood up and said, “Your Honor, half a million dollars is the sort of bail you set on a professional criminal who represents a flight risk. My client is a retired schoolteacher who has led a quiet, decent life and never been in trouble with the law. We ask that you release her on her own recognizance.”
Well, this was normal so far, Phyllis thought. Both sides had established their starting positions, and now they could negotiate toward something in the middle.
“Your Honor,” Sullivan responded instantly, “Ms. Yorke clearly doesn’t know everything there is to know about her client; otherwise, she wouldn’t describe Eve Porter as simply a retired schoolteacher.”
Phyllis stiffened. She didn’t like the smug tone of Sullivan’s voice or the self-satisfied smile on his face. Neither did Juliette, who turned sharply toward the district attorney and demanded, “What are you talking about?”
Instead of answering her directly, Sullivan addressed the judge again as he said, “Your Honor, Mrs. Porter has been questioned by the police regarding more than one suspicious death in the past.”
It would have been hard to say who looked more shocked: Phyllis, Sam, and Carolyn in the spectators’ section, Juliette at the defense table, or Judge Hemmerson on the bench, who peered at Sullivan over the glasses that had slipped down on his nose and said in a tone of disbelief, “Her?”
The only one who didn’t seem surprised was Eve, who sat there looking straight ahead with her shoulders slumped in an air of resignation. Phyllis would have expected her friend to display indignation at such an outrageous accusation.
Unless, of course, what Sullivan had just said was true . . .
Still looking smug, the district attorney said, “Yes, Your Honor, Mrs. Porter was questioned by the police in Wichita Falls and Abilene about the deaths of two previous
husbands
.”
The emphasis Sullivan put on the word made the implication clear. He had practically accused Eve of murdering not only Roy, but also two of the men to whom she had been married previously.
Phyllis’s head was spinning. She knew that Eve had been married several times, of course. Eve had made no secret of that fact. But Phyllis had always assumed that those marriages had ended in divorce. Eve had never done anything to correct that assumption.
Juliette was quick on her
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