The Wages of Sin by Nancy Allen

Author:Nancy Allen
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2016-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-­Six

No breeze filtered through the open windows in Judge Callaway’s chambers, but the ­people assembled in the judge’s office didn’t complain, or even comment about the temperature. They knew better. Judge Callaway had an appetite for fresh air and a prejudice against central air-­conditioning that was famous in McCown County. The windows of his office, and the adjoining courtroom, remained open from April through October.

The freshly printed pages Elsie had prepared with such care the night before lay unheeded on the judge’s desk. She had proudly presented hard copies to the defense, as well as to the judge, but no one was flipping through her written suggestions. It was a new day, with a new wrinkle in State v. Larry Paul. A hot new day, Elsie mused.

Of the seven individuals crowded into the chambers, six were sweating. Only the judge looked comfortable, with no beads of sweat on his forehead, no telltale ring round the collar of his white shirt.

The jailer of McCown County, Vernon Wantuck, appeared to be suffering the most from the temperature of the crowded office. A man of considerable girth, he had a red bandanna in his hand and was using it to mop his face and the back of his neck.

With a weary sigh, Vernon Wantuck spoke. “We got to get him out of there, Judge. Get that old boy out of our county lockup. That Larry Paul, he has got to go.”

Near the window, a beefy middle-­aged man stood with his arms crossed, a sheriff’s badge pinned to his chest. “Ditto that, judge,” said Shelby Choate. He had served as the county sheriff for twelve years. His no-­nonsense, no-­frills approach to law enforcement made him a popular candidate with the voters in McCown County.

Claire O’Hara and Josh Nixon sat together, at the right end of the judge’s desk. Madeleine’s chair was between theirs and the jailer. Elsie stood behind Madeleine; no other seats were available. And Sam Parsons was absent, stuck in traffic that morning on highway I–44.

Josh Nixon leaned into Claire O’Hara. She whispered something in his ear, but Elsie didn’t catch it.

“Your honor, we have to have access to our client. Larry Paul has Sixth Amendment right to counsel, and the right to assist in his defense. How can he exercise his rights if you send him away?”

Wantuck grunted, shifting his weight in a chair that was a tight fit. “Call him on the damn phone.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed; the lines on either side of his mouth deepened. “You’re in the presence of ladies, Vernon. Watch your mouth. And offer Ms. Arnold your seat.”

Elsie shook her head. “I’m fine, really.”

Wantuck made no movement to leave his chair. Sherriff Choate shook his head in disgust. “I don’t see how you can let a woman stand when you got a seat. Vernon, you must’ve been raised in a barn.” His eyes cut to Josh Nixon. “Wouldn’t expect any better from a defense attorney.”

“Ouch,” Claire said, flashing a feral smile at the sheriff. “Shelby. You wound me.

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