Hollywood Enemy: A Hollywood Alphabet Series Thriller Page 29
After a lengthy discourse, bringing up prior case law decisions regarding the release of minors charged in capital cases, Aster summarized his argument. “Your honor, my client, Maddie Washburn, has been a resident of this island her entire life. She’s willing to be released on electronic monitoring, house arrest, and any other conditions the court might impose. Nothing will be gained by continuing her costly detention during trial proceedings that will likely take months while we prove her innocence. I have letters from dozens of community members supporting her release.” The attorney held up a sheath of papers. “And I don’t have to remind you that these are three African-American girls accused of crimes on an island largely inhabited by non-minority subjects.”
“I’m quite aware of the ethnicity of the minors,” Maxine Cooke said, shaking her head at the arrogant attorney. She turned to Roth and the public defender. “Anything else?”
Peter Roth stood up and dropped his case file on the floor releasing a wad of legal documents. He scurried around, picking them up and said, “Ah…ditto to what Mr. Aster said your honor. My client…” He turned to the holding area. “Sarah?” She told him her correct name. “…Sissy is agreeable to any similar restrictions the court might impose, involving monitoring or house arrest.” Roth’s phone rang. It played a tune that I recognized was from Sex and the City.
“Really, Mr. Roth?” the judge said. “Or should I refer to you as Carrie? I didn’t realize you swung in that direction.”
Roth killed the ringtone, smiled at the judge. “Someone set me up. It’s a payback…”
“Thank-you for your explanation,” Maxine Cooke said. “Now turn off that phone or I’ll click my magic heels together and find you in contempt, maybe send you to New York with Samantha and the rest of your girlfriends.”
Roth apologized, turned the color of a pair of scarlet panties, and fumbled with his phone before the public defender, Eleanor Crawford, also made a plea for her client’s release.
The assistant district attorney was on his feet again, arguing against a release. He was passionate, energetic, and hit on all the key elements again. Brutal crime. Victim shot at close range. Body disposed of by accomplices. The defendants all fled the scene. They were a threat to the health and safety of the community.
After Tom Kincaid concluded his argument I glanced over at Buck McCade as Maxine Cooke prepared to make her ruling. He smiled and nodded at me. It now occurred to me that he might be the arresting officer on the case. I drew in a breath and looked away, at the same time realizing that the handsome cop made me tingle in all the right places. I pushed some explicit thoughts about spurs and ropes out of my mind as the judge made her order.
“I’m convinced there is no compelling argument that can allow me to release the minors charged in this matter pending further court proceedings,” Maxine Cooke said. “This is a matter involving a capital crime and I need to assure that community safety is not jeopardized. These minor defendants are to remain in detention. These proceedings are adjourned.”
As Maxine Cooke’s gavel came down Mo’s sister Roma wailed and her body slumped forward. “She’s fainted again,” Mo yelled as Big Bird flopped out of her nest and landed spread eagle in the aisle of the courtroom.
I stood up, tugged on Bernie’s leash, and we went over to them at the same time Buck McCade came over. We were both on our knees in the aisle when the overhead lights dimmed, blinked twice, and then suddenly went out. Bernie let out a whine as the courtroom was now in total blackout.
“What the hell’s happening?” I said. Even in the darkened room I realized I was instinctively clutching the big detective’s arm.
“I think this means we’re going steady,” McCade said, his voice full of mirth.
That’s when the shooting started.
CHAPTER TWO
When the overhead emergency lights in the courtroom came on, I saw that someone was down near the defense table. I’d counted two shots while the lights were out. I grabbed Bernie’s leash and stepped over Roma who was still unconscious in the aisle where Mo was tending to her.
I rushed over to the defense table with my gun drawn. McCade was already there along with Clay Aster’s assistant, a bailiff, and a couple of clerks. They were assisting someone who was down on the floor.
When the path cleared, I bent down and saw that Aster had been shot through the head. Even though the lawyer was still breathing and someone had used his shirt to try and stem the bleeding, I’d seen enough shooting victims to know that he was a dead man.
Aster’s assistant stood up. His face was ashen. “I’ve called an ambulance but this doesn’t look good.”
“Any idea who would do this?” I asked.
He mumbled something about not having a clue as Natalie yelled over to me, “I think the shooter ran out into the corridor.” She was at Mo’s side. I saw that Big Bird was starting to regain consciousness, thrashing around and moaning.
“Get the prisoners back into the holding area,” McCade yelled over to the bailiff. “And secure the courtroom. No one leaves.” No sooner had he said the words than we heard a commotion in the hallway, somebody screaming.
We scrambled through the double doors together, pushing our way into the outside corridor. There were several people down on the floor and under benches, trying to hide. “He went down the hallway,” a woman screamed. “He has a gun.”
McCade called over to me as we moved down the corridor together with our guns out and Bernie straining on his leash ahead of us. “He’s probably heading for the stairway. Won’t trust the elevators.”
Seconds later, we came around the corner and bullets flew in our direction. The shooter was dressed in black, wearing a ski mask. I hit the floor, pulling Bernie down with me as we took cover with McCade behind a clerk’s desk. There was screaming, lots of panic down the corridor. Returning fire in the crowded courthouse wasn’t an option and there was no way I could release Bernie into the hail of gunfire.
I then realized my ripped skirt had come open as I went down, exposing my unmentionables again. I pushed the skirt down, at the same time tossing my red Steve Madden heels into a corner. “Bad fashion day.”
McCade smiled over at me. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
I ignored the comment. “Are there other offices, maybe a way downstairs from an employee entrance? We need to try and cut him off when he leaves the building.”
“Let’s find out,” he said as the shooting stopped. We made our way through a door marked private that someone had left ajar, probably after making a hasty exist. We found ourselves inside the judge’s chambers. Judge Maxine Cooke was huddled on the floor with the court reporter and a couple of clerks.
“Is there a way to get downstairs from here?” McCade asked the judge.
“Down the hallway,” Cooke said, pointing to the interior corridor. “There’s some stairs that lead directly outside into the parking lot.”
We heard more shots being fired from somewhere in the building as we scrambled down the private corridor and found the stairway. Seconds later, we burst through the doorway into a small courtyard.
“He’s running through the parking lot,” I said, pointing as the gunman sprinted away from us. I reached down and released Bernie. “FASS,” I yelled, giving him the German command for attack, at the same time praying that might big dog wouldn’t get shot.
“Let’s cut him off, try and get a clear shot,” McCade said as we chased after Bernie.
It would have been a good plan, except for one large problem. A garbage truck barreled through the parking lot, cutting off Bernie and also blocking our path. When we finally worked our way past the truck, we heard the high-pitched whine of an engine.
I looked up as the shooter jumped on the back of a motorcycle and lowered his weapon, aiming at us. As the motorcycle accelerated and the bullets flew, we dove, taking cover behind a parked car. Bernie chased after the motorcycle but it accelerated away from him out onto the main highway. The engine whi
ned as the shooter and his accomplice disappeared into traffic.
We chased after Bernie, me calling to him as we went. After a lengthy pursuit we finally caught up with him. I got him back on his leash and tried to catch my breath. I grabbed my knees, sucking in air, and glanced over at McCade. He was looking at me, smiling again.
“What?”
His eyes lowered and I realize he was looking at my dress that had come open again. I then also saw that my silk blouse was stained with grease and my nylons were ruined. I pulled my dress back together, met his blue eyes, and shook my head in disgust. “What a disaster.”
He nodded, continued smiling, and said, “I guess we didn’t cut them off at the pass, partner.”
I let out a long breath in frustration and ran a hand through my damp hair at the same time my phone rang. It was Natalie.“You need to come back to the courthouse right away, Kate.”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s the girls,” she said, her voice now breathless and full of panic. “Sissy and her friends have all been kidnapped.”
Copyright © 2014 by MZ Kelly
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