Theodore Boone: The Accomplice

Chapter 14

Early Saturday morning, Judge Frank Pendergrast was snoozing in his recliner in the den, still in his pajamas. It had been another long night with little sleep. For about the tenth night in a row, his bloodhound had gone berserk around midnight, barking and howling and lunging at the kitchen door. Once again, he had stepped outside onto the patio and listened in disbelief as every dog on the street yelped and shrieked hysterically in one endless chorus. Something was provoking the neighborhood dogs to go nuts at midnight, and once the racket started it went on for hours. He had talked to his neighbors and no one was sleeping. No one had ever seen their dogs behave in such a bizarre manner. It was like a ghost was running door-to-door and whipping the animals into a frenzy. Something had to be done, but what? How do you catch a ghost?

Just as he dozed off again, the phone rang and he grabbed for it. A mistake.

A familiar voice said, “Good morning, Frank, this is Marcella Boone. Hate to bother you at home but this is important. Hope I didn’t disturb.”

Oh no, Marcella. It’s only Saturday morning, my day off, and I haven’t slept in days. And you called me “Frank” as opposed to “Judge Pendergrast.”

He swallowed hard and said, “Well, good morning, Marcella. To what do I owe this honor?” He asked the question but he had a hunch.

“It’s the Lambert boys, Frank. They’re still in jail. We’ve raised the money for their bail and tried to get them out yesterday afternoon. However, there is a hold on them because of a fight at the jail. They can’t get out until Monday, which is outrageous.”

The tone of her voice left little doubt that Marcella believed strongly in her cause and was itching for a fight. He had always admired her, and Woods as well, and he really didn’t want trouble. For the most part, the local bar — the lawyers and judges — knew one another well and strived to get along. There was nothing to be gained by fighting and bickering, regardless of the conflicts they dealt with. It was a civilized bar and they took pride in their professionalism.

He stood, scratched his head, and said, “Well, I’m not sure what’s happening here, Marcella. I do not recall hearing anything about a fight.”

“The jailers are blaming you. They told us you are reprimanding the boys for fighting in jail. Is this true?”

“No, it is not. This is the first I’ve heard about it. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Listen, Frank, this is what’s going on. The Lambert boys were arrested Tuesday night and charged with armed robbery. The guy with the gun, and the driver of the car, posted bail Wednesday morning and is having his fun on social media. His family has money. The Lamberts do not. Once in jail, they were attacked by another juvenile named Jock. I’m sure you know of him, and he’s already out. We have managed to beg and borrow the money necessary to post bail, ten thousand dollars each, which, in my opinion, is excessive, but nonetheless we have the money and we want the boys out. Now.”

Had they been in the courtroom, His Honor would consider gently suggesting that Mrs. Boone relax her tone a bit. He felt as though he was being reprimanded. But the courtroom was far away, and he was standing in the middle of his den, in his pajamas, and he felt all of his power draining away.

He said, “Marcella, I swear I do not remember anything about a fight.”

“I’m not surprised. That jail is a zoo and you know how often the paperwork gets lost. May I suggest you call down there and instruct them to get the boys ready to be released? I’ve just talked to the bail bondsman and he can meet us at the jail in an hour. As I said, Frank, we have the money.”

It was such a silly fight, and a small one. And he knew she was not going away. His Honor really wanted to crawl back into his recliner, snuggle under his quilt, and try to resume his nap. “Sure, Marcella.”

“Thank you, Frank. And tell Caroline I’ll see her at the luncheon next Wednesday.”

“Will do.”

An hour later, Theo and his mother met Daisy Lambert at the jail. Mr. Bob Hawley of Action Bail Bonds arrived on time and was all smiles. Mrs. Boone wrote two one thousand dollar checks from the firm’s trust account, and Daisy signed the necessary paperwork. It took another hour to round up the Lambert boys. They were given their cell phones and personal effects, then handed over to their mother. When they walked outside, they stopped and took a long, deep breath of fresh air, and soaked up the sunshine. After a round of hugs and thank-yous, Woody and Tony hopped in the car with Daisy and sped away.

As Theo and his mother watched them disappear, he said, “Well, that was easy.”

The last thing Woody had in mind for his first full afternoon of freedom, and a Saturday no less, was to slog his way through a pile of homework. However, he had no choice. Pursuant to an agreement hammered out by his mother, Mr. Mount, Mrs. Gladwell, and Theo, he dutifully reported to Strattenburg Middle at two p.m. for an intense study session.

When he arrived, Woody admitted, but only to himself, that he had actually missed the place. He met Theo and Mr. Mount in their empty homeroom and was glad to see them. They spent half an hour talking about his days in jail, and Woody quickly grew to enjoy his own stories. There were some laughs, and for the moment his legal troubles were somewhere else. Under Mr. Mount’s guidance, they studied for three straight hours.

That night, the gang surrounded Woody. Theo, Chase, Brian, Justin, Ricardo, and Aaron met him at Guff’s for a frozen yogurt, then they walked to the downtown cinema and watched Spider-Man 7. By ten, Woody was back home watching late night TV with his mother and Tony, eating popcorn and laughing about how much they missed Jock.