Barely Legal

89

Herbie got back to Manhattan, returned the rental car, stopped by his apartment to drop off the gun, and took a cab to court. He ran down the corridor and came striding through the door to find the jurors in place, the undercover policewoman on the stand, and Judge Buckingham in the process of inquiring whether the prosecuting attorney was ready to resume questioning.

The judge broke off and held up his hand. “One moment, Mr. Prosecutor. I see the other defense attorney has decided to grace us with his presence. Mr. Fisher, did you forget what time court convenes?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Herbie said. “I’m ready to go. Don’t let me hold you up.”

“I’m afraid it’s a little late for that. Ladies and gentlemen, stay where you are. If you would indulge me for a few minutes. Mr. Fisher, in my chambers, if you please.”

Judge Buckingham turned and stalked off. Herbie had to run to catch up.

As soon as the chambers door closed behind them, Judge Buckingham rounded on Herbie. “Mr. Fisher, when you started these shenanigans I looked you up.”

Uh-oh.

“It would appear you have been in my courtroom before. The reason I didn’t remember you is it was not as an attorney. You appeared for disturbing the peace, resisting arrest, and assaulting a policeman.”

“Your Honor, I fail to see that my police record has any bearing on these proceedings.”

“It does not. Only it would appear to explain your utter disdain for the law. It’s seldom that an attorney has appeared in my court with such an adversarial attitude, not just toward his opponent but toward the judge himself. I did not understand your personal animosity until your record came to light. Perhaps it explains why almost every aspect of your presentation borders on contempt of court.”

“That was not my intention, Your Honor. I must say I find this warning irregular at the very least.”

“It’s not a warning, Mr. Fisher. I thought it only fair to let you know that I have become aware of the fact that we have a history.”

“Well, I’m sure that it won’t color your judgment any more than it will color mine.”

Judge Buckingham’s eyes narrowed. “Your remark borders on insolence.”

“That’s a bad sign. I was trying to show respect.”

“I’m in no mood for joking, Mr. Fisher. If I thought your unorthodox behavior was in any way precipitated by our past history, I would take a dim view.”

“I understand, Your Honor. Say no more. Believe me, I am as eager as you are to conclude this trial.”

Herbie smiled and gestured to the door. “Shall we?”

As they resumed their positions in the court, Stone Barrington whispered, “What was that all about?”

“He doesn’t like my attitude.”

“Who does?” Stone said.

Judge Buckingham gaveled court to order. “Court is in session. The witness is on the stand. Mr. Prosecutor, do you have any further questions for this witness?”

“No, Your Honor.” Grover turned to the defense table. “Your witness.”

Stone Barrington started to get to his feet, but Herbie stopped him. “I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes.”

Herbie approached the witness. It was the first time he’d gotten a good look at her. Julie Parker, despite her youth, appeared to be an experienced and competent undercover detective.

“Ms. Parker, when did you first become aware of the defendant?”

“Detective Kelly pointed him out.”

“By name?”

“No, as the man he’d observed selling drugs. He told me to check him out.”

“What did that entail?”

“I was to get next to him, bump into him, apologize, and smile. The usual.”

“Let me ask you this. Were you there when Detective Kelly searched the defendant?”

“Yes, I was.”

“And did he remove an envelope from the defendant’s pocket?”

Parker shook her head. “He did not. The defendant reached in his pocket and took out that envelope.”

“Thank you. And you say Detective Kelly pointed the defendant out to you?”

“That’s right.”

“How long had you been at the party before he did so?”

“It was right after I arrived.”

“You weren’t there, staking out the party?”

“No. Detective Kelly called for backup.”

“So when you showed up, he had already spotted the defendant?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you witness any of the transactions Detective Kelly testified to? When the defendant and other students left the room?”

“No. I was just there for the bust.”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

The witness was stunned.

So was the judge. It took him a second to recover. “Any redirect, Mr. Grover?”

The prosecutor was also caught off guard. “Ah, no, Your Honor.”

“The witness is excused. Call your next witness.”

“Yes, Your Honor. If you will forgive me, I had expected cross-examination to take all afternoon.”

“Clearly, it didn’t,” Judge Buckingham said dryly. “Call your next witness.”

“Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Felix Weintraub.”

No one came forward.

Grover glanced around nervously. “Ah, if I might have a brief recess. I believe he’s in the building.”

“Then find him. We’ll wait.”

ADA Grover dispatched a law clerk to fetch the witness. As the young man hurried up the aisle, Stone leaned over to whisper to Herbie, “Why didn’t you follow up with the lady cop?”

“I got what I wanted. She isn’t part of the frame-up. She’s cleared on several counts. She contradicts what Detective Kelly said about taking the envelope out of David’s pocket, she didn’t see any of the alleged transactions, and she doesn’t claim she was staking out the party.”

A bald, bespectacled man bustled through the back door and down the aisle.

ADA Grover’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Here’s Mr. Weintraub now, Your Honor.”

“Very well. Proceed.”

Felix Weintraub qualified himself as a fingerprint expert, and testified to finding the defendant’s fingerprints on the envelope containing the packets of cocaine.

When it was his turn, Herbie asked, “Did you find anyone else’s fingerprints besides the defendant’s on that envelope?”

“No. Just his.”

“That’s all.”

Grover called the chemist, for the quantitative analysis of the cocaine in the envelope.

Again, Herbie asked only the most perfunctory questions.

ADA Grover, having ripped through his case in record time, asked for a recess to decide if he wanted to put forth more evidence or rest his case.

Judge Buckingham was scowling as he left the bench.