Barely Legal

8

Herbie got to court at 2:05. Ordinarily that wouldn’t have been a problem, but apparently in Judge Buckingham’s court it was. The judge was already on the bench, and everyone appeared to be waiting for him.

Judge Buckingham had a hawk nose and a perennially stern look. He wasn’t drumming his fingers on the desk as Herbie came down the aisle, but he gave that impression.

With a sickening feeling, Herbie realized that he knew him. The judge had presided over one of his many arraignments. Of all the luck.

Charles Grover, a young ADA, was standing next to the prosecution table. Herbie knew Grover, had met him on a case involving the illegal transfer of funds. He and Herbie had managed to work out an equitable solution. At least equitable from Herbie’s point of view. Grover had always been of the impression that Herbie had gotten the better of him, which, in fact, he had. Herbie wondered if he still bore a grudge.

Grover caught his eye and smiled. It was, Herbie noted, the smile of a man holding every ace in the deck.

Seated at the defense table was a young man Herbie presumed was his client, a college-age kid, very preppy-looking, with short brown hair and wearing a suit and tie.

Herbie was not one to pigeonhole people, and he had seen criminal lawyers from his firm perform miracles on the scum of the earth with nothing more than a shower, a shave, a haircut, and a clean set of clothes; still, he got the impression his client was the genuine article. Herbie just couldn’t imagine this young man dealing drugs. He had an eager, puppy-like quality that couldn’t be faked.

“David Ross?”

“Yes?”

“Herb Fisher. Your attorney’s in the hospital having emergency surgery. He sent me to fill in.”

“Surgery?”

“It’s minor. He’ll be back.” Herbie pointed to his suit jacket. “Did James tell you to wear the suit?”

“No, it’s the way I dress.”

“Good move. You’re a college student?”

“That’s right.”

“What are you studying?”

“Prelaw.”

“Well, you’re getting an early education.”

Judge Buckingham banged the gavel. Herbie looked up to find the judge glowering down at him. “Well, now, nice of you to join us. Where is Mr. Glick?”

“He had an emergency appendectomy, Your Honor,” Herbie said.

“Couldn’t he have had it after court?”

“No, Your Honor. It was an emergency.”

“And who, may I ask, are you?”

That was a relief. The judge didn’t remember. “Herb Fisher, Your Honor. Mr. Glick asked me to appear in court and explain his absence.”

“You’re appearing in his stead?”

“Temporarily. It’s minor surgery, and he expects to be back. For that reason, I would ask for an adjournment until tomorrow, at which time Mr. Glick should be able to rejoin us.”

“I see no reason for that,” Judge Buckingham said, “when he has sent so competent an attorney to function on his behalf. Motion denied.”

“Your Honor, I am unfamiliar with the case. Might I have a short recess to confer with my client?”

“I don’t see why they couldn’t have gotten someone who was familiar with the case.”

ADA Grover stood up. “Excuse me, Your Honor, but if you would grant me a brief recess to bring opposing counsel up to speed, perhaps we could expedite this proceeding.”

Judge Buckingham nodded. “Excellent idea. Court is in recess for fifteen minutes.”

He banged the gavel.

David Ross grabbed Herbie by the arm. “What’s going on?”

Herbie put his hand on his client’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right. The prosecutor wants to talk to me.”

“About what?”

“We’ll see. But it must be good.”

When they were alone in the conference room, Grover grinned. “How do you like it so far, Herbie?”

“It’s Herb these days.”

“Whatever,” he said dismissively. “I didn’t know you were doing criminal law.”

“I didn’t either. James Glick called me out of the blue. Apparently he couldn’t get anyone else.”

“Why’d he ask you?”

“I was the first one to answer the phone. I’m still kicking myself.”

“Well, don’t. It’s all worked out. Didn’t James tell you?”

“He said to expect a plea bargain. Is that right?”

“Yes, and you couldn’t get better terms considering the quantity of drugs involved. Two years’ suspended sentence, community service, and the kid walks.”

“Why are you offering it?”

“He’s the son of a councilman. Councilman Ross is a friend of the police department — no one wants to put his son in jail.”

“Just how strong is the prosecution’s case?”

“Airtight. The kid was caught with three grams of cocaine in his jacket pocket, individually packaged and ready for sale. Not to mention half a kilo we found stashed in his locker. It’s more than enough to convict. It’s only natural the kid would cop a plea.”

“I suppose.”

“Relax. I already worked it out with James Glick. All you have to do is take the deal. So, are we all in agreement? We have a deal?”

“I believe so, but I will have to verify with my client that he wants to accept it.”

Grover chuckled. “Are you kidding me? It’s a defendant’s dream plea. Of course he’s going to take it.”