The Summer House

Chapter 31

Captain Allen Pierce finds the law offices of Cornelius Slate busier this Monday morning than during yesterday’s visit. It’s already been a grueling time since he arrived here, and he hasn’t gotten much sleep. At first he thought it might be a treat — okay, sexist and rude, but he’s male after all — to share a room with Agent York, but she has been brisk and no-nonsense, and goes to bed in shorts and a T-shirt. Nothing untoward has happened.

Which is fine.

He yawns repeatedly and barely has enough energy to do his job.

Slate’s waiting area has five chairs, and all of them are occupied. A man holding metal crutches stares at the cast on his lower left leg. A young man in jeans and a T-shirt sits slumped, fingers working on his cell phone, baseball cap sideways. An older couple sit stiffly next to each other, one periodically turning a head to whisper harshly to the other.

The interior door opens. A woman in a floral dress belted in slim black leather steps out. Her brown hair is cut short, and her round glasses look vintage 1985.

“Captain Pierce? Attorney Slate will see you now.”

“Thanks,” he says, getting up and grabbing his case, following the woman into Slate’s office. He sees her belt has missed a loop at the rear and decides to keep that observation to himself.

Slate is better dressed today — blue shirt with a white collar, red necktie, gray slacks — and he comes around his desk to say, “Captain Pierce! Good to see you again. Glad I could make time to fit you in. Have a seat, have a seat. Coffee?”

Remembering the vanilla swill he had yesterday, Pierce says, “No, thanks. I’ve already had my morning allotment.”

Slate grins, goes back to his desk, and says, “Well, I’ve got some news for you, Captain Pierce.”

Great. No more son. At least Slate didn’t call him boy instead, which Pierce sees as a small victory. He says, “What’s that, Mr. Slate?”

Slate looks down at his desk. “We’ve got the arraignment hearing set up for those four Rangers this coming Thursday, only three days away. Circuit judge Howell Rollins shuffled his schedule, so the judicial process is starting to grind its way along.”

“But not much is going to happen at the hearing, correct?”

“Nope, not at all,” Slate says. “Official reading of the charges and pleas entered. That’s about that.”

“How about representation?” Pierce asks.

“That’s a funny thing,” Slate says.

There’s a line from a Joe Pesci movie Pierce is tempted to use — Funny how? — but instead he says, “Could you explain?”

“Sure,” the district attorney says. “I visited the prisoners this morning, just to see where things are. And those four are refusing outside representation.”

“But... you’re saying the hearing is still scheduled for Thursday? Even without representation?”

Slate nods. “That’s right, Mr. Pierce. You see, the thing is, these four plan to represent themselves.”