The Hanging Judge by Michael Ponsor

Author:Michael Ponsor [Ponsor, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Mystery
Goodreads: 18113886
Publisher: Open Road Media E-riginal
Published: 2013-12-03T05:00:00+00:00

32

“How the fuck did they know to do that?” Eva was leaning in the doorway to Frank’s office. “How the fuck did they know?”

Frank was sitting in his chair with his head in his hands. “Had to be somebody coaching them,” he said blindly. “They knew to wait until he’d put the jury under oath.” He looked up. “Assholes! Five weeks down the tubes.”

“He won’t scrub the jury!” Eva said, aghast.

“Oh, I bet he will. I bet he’ll have to.”

Eva paced in a tight circle and stamped her foot. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Stop,” Frank said. “Please. You sound like a chicken.”

The judge’s secretary, Lucille, came into the library. She’d picked up on the mood and was looking steely. “Judge wants to see you. Pronto.”

Norcross was sitting at his desk with his long torso thrown back, staring at the ceiling. His face when he turned it to the law clerks was so angry and exhausted it was frightening—the countenance of a man who’d been staggering through the last quarter mile of the Boston Marathon, only to be told that, for technical reasons, the race’s length had just doubled. Another twenty-six miles still lay ahead, with another Heartbreak Hill.

“I’m going to ask this once,” he said. “Has either of you discussed this case with anyone—anyone—outside these chambers?”

“No.”

“No, definitely not.”

“Judge,” Eva said. “People ask me questions, and I just say I can’t talk about it.”

“Not your partner? Not Bonnie? Not your wife, Frank?”

“Judge,” Frank said. “I’m sorry, but they don’t care. They don’t even ask.”

“So how the heck did those brats know to do that?” Norcross asked. “We’ve busted our tails to keep Hudson’s record out. The trial’s one Achilles heel!”

“Most lawyers would know,” Eva said. She had, in fact, discussed the case with Bonnie, a little, and was feeling defensive. “Anybody who does criminal work.”

“No lawyer set this up.”

The phone buzzed, and Norcross made a sour face.

Without picking up the receiver, he shouted, “Lucille, take a message please.”

“It’s Claire,” Lucille called back. “Says she just needs a second.”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh.

Frank and Eva started to get up, but Norcross waved them down. This would be quick.

“Hi,” he said to Claire. “I’m pretty tied up at the moment.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re a busy boy. So, here’s my message, in shorthand: Don’t come at seven. I won’t be there. Come at eight, okay? Was that fast enough? I was afraid I wouldn’t reach you.”

“Great,” Norcross said dully.

“Whoa, you sound terrible. Must be some mess.”

“I can’t go into details, but you remember our friend Brittany? From the Pratt dinner? Well, she showed up in court today with two pals and a nice little banner informing my jury that Hudson was a drug dealer. It just dawned on me who she was. We’re trying to figure out how on earth she and her friends knew to do that.”

“Oh dear,” said Claire. Then, after a slight pause, “That might have been me.”

“You? I really doubt it.”

“Well, I bumped into Gerry a while back, and

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