Seventh Grave and No Body Page 14

I blinked in surprise. Uncle Bob blinked in surprise. The captain blinked in surprise. The ADA and the defendant’s lawyer – a pretty blonde with big bones and a tired face – just kind of stood there.

“I’m sorry?” I asked.

“Oh, now you don’t have no sass for me, huh?”

I wasn’t sure a judge should use a double negative like that.

“What were you saying about the defendant? And don’t look at me like I just stole your lollipop. I know all about you and your antics, little girl.”

“Your Honor,” the ADA said. He was young, hungry for the top spot, and working his ass off to get there. He certainly didn’t have time for underlings like me. He’d actually said that to me once when I tried to tell him the man he was investigating was on to him. He would have saved a lot of time and a lot of face if he’d just listened to me.

God, if I had a nickel for every time I’d said that.

“I don’t know what this woman has told you, but she is always causing trouble. I have no idea why APD puts up with her, besides the obvious.” He cast a sideways glance at Uncle Bob, implying nepotism, and that’s where I took offense. Not about the nepotism but about the glance. Nobody cast sideways glances at Ubie but me.

I straightened. “Look here, Nick,” I said, leaving off the last part of his name: the Prick.

“Did you just speak in my presence after I told you to shut up?” Quimby asked.

I bit my bottom lip. “No.”

“That’s what I thought. I will not ask the same question three times. I have my limits.”

When everyone turned to me, I said, “May I speak?”

“If, and only if, you have something to say about this case that might be of benefit to anyone in this room with a law degree.”

There were three things wrong with this picture that I could decipher right off the bat. First, a judge never asked people if they had information pertinent to a case. Wasn’t that the lawyers’ job? Judges presided. Lawyers deposed. Second, she’d actually called a recess to get said information. Things like that just didn’t happen in real life. And third, what would make her want to listen to anything I had to say, whether it was about a case or not?

I cleared my throat and said, “In that case, the defendant’s completely innocent.”

Nick the Prick threw his hands in the air. “Gosh, if only we’d had you during the months-long investigation into this crime to tell us these things. However did you break the case?”

“Mr. Parker,” the judge said, “would you please let me do the questioning here?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” His face darkened to a purplish hue. Disturbing? Yes. Entertaining? Even more so. “But, begging Your Honor’s pardon, why would you even listen to her?”

I was right there with him.

The judge gave him her full attention. “Because her instincts have a way of… How shall I put this?”

I shrugged, at a complete loss.

“Her instincts have a way of bearing fruit.”

Aw. She thought I was fruity. I got that a lot.

She placed a much gentler glare on me than normal. It made me very uncomfortable. “Any thoughts on who actually killed Mrs. Johnson’s husband?”

After a hesitant nod, I said, “Her sister did it.”

“Of course she did,” Nick said, tossing his hands in the air again. He was such a drama queen.

“I can prove it,” I said, growing desperate.

Every gaze landed on me.

I swallowed hard and said, “She’s wearing a necklace underneath her sweater. I think it’s significant. I think it’s the poison she used to kill her brother-in-law.” When everyone just sat there, gaping at me, I added, “She was fondling it, secretly rubbing her sister’s nose in it.”

“Detective?” Judge Quimby said, raising her brows at Uncle Bob. “Did you question the defendant’s sister?”

Ubie shifted in his chair. “We did, Your Honor, but she was never a suspect. In fact —” He shook his head in disbelief. “— she was the one who convinced us of her sister’s guilt.”

The defendant’s lawyer spoke with a confidence she hadn’t had moments earlier when she said, “Your Honor, may I ask for a continuance until we can look into this further?”

“You have twenty-four hours.”

The fatigue slid from the woman’s features. “Thank you,” she said, beaming at me. “I know my client is innocent. Thank you for this opportunity to prove it.”

I nodded. “You might want to get that necklace. Like, now.”

“Your Honor?”

“Go,” she said. Standing from behind her desk, the judge waved a dismissive hand. “All of you, out.”

I was the first to obey, practically sprinting toward the exit. Of all the strange events in my life, that was by far the weirdest I’d had in hours. But the day was early.

The defendant’s sister had been detained by security before I even got out of the building. I stopped and watched as they escorted her to a waiting patrol car. They could question her, but if she didn’t give up the necklace, they’d need a warrant. Hopefully, the Iron Fist would help with that as well.

Uncle Bob stood down the hall, gripping his phone. He was both angry and relieved. I couldn’t blame him. He worked hard on these cases. It couldn’t be easy to have me waltz in and tell him he was wrong, with no real proof to back it up. He had to take a lot of what I said on faith, just like Kit. It made me appreciate them all the more. And if everything went as planned, we’d just stopped an innocent woman from going to prison. Nothing felt better than that.

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