Cliff Janeway (04): Sign of the Book, The by Dunning John

Author:Dunning, John [Dunning, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Detective Series, Fiction, Literature, Novel
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 2005-11-15T02:00:00+00:00

The courtroom was empty, except for the judge, the deputy, and a reporter. The hearing was announced and the judge peered down from on high.

“Well, you’re just like Charlie Chaplin, aren’t you? You seem to pop up when I least expect you, and when I do expect you, you’re not there. Would you explain to me, please, what the hell you were doing out at the Marshalls’ last night?”

“I went to see the kid. I had visited with him that afternoon and I was concerned for his safety.”

“What about his safety?”

“He’s being abused by his grandfather.”

“What does that mean? You don’t mean to insinuate he’s…” He made an obscene gesture with his hands.

“Not that kind of abuse.”

“What, then?”

“He beats the kid.”

“Is that all? Listen, a little birching never hurt a kid yet, and from what I’ve heard, that one’s a handful.”

“He can’t speak, Your Honor, and I’m not talking about a little birching. I’m talking about a beating, Judge, a beating bad enough to leave his whole shoulder black.”

“In case you hadn’t heard, Mr. Janeway, there’s a system in this state. Social Services is in charge of the kids. There’s a guardian ad litem who’s been appointed—”

“I know all that, Your Honor…”

“Then why didn’t you report all this to the guardian?”

“There wasn’t time.”

“So you thought you could ride in there and rescue this kid yourself. Is that about what happened?”

The hell with it: I launched into the tale. I told him about my interview with the grandmother and my growing sense that something was wrong. Call it an old cop’s instinct: call it a feeling, a hunch. I told him about the bruise on Jerry’s shoulder and how I had found it. I told him about the grandfather and how he had chased the kid through the woods, threatening him with more violence. “That’s a toxic old man the kid’s been put with, Judge; he’s already been slapped around at least once and would have been again if I hadn’t been there. The old man drinks like a fish and talks like a drunken sailor. Maybe he loves the hell out of his real, blood grandchildren and hates this one, I don’t know. Last night Jerry ran away and hid freezing in a ditch, wearing nothing but a pair of pajamas, while the old man thrashed drunkenly through the bushes, cursing and threatening to kill him. I’m afraid for his safety, and if somebody doesn’t take him out of there, whatever happens to him is on all your heads, all of you, I don’t care who’s got jurisdiction or who wants to pass the buck to some other department. I’m going to make it a personal cause to see that everybody in the state of Colorado knows about it.”

Stunned silence. For long seconds the judge stared as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Then he leaned over his bench and said, “You dare come in here and talk to me like that. My courtroom is not a soapbox. You must want to go to jail, fella.

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