Page 17 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

Eddie

As Kate ran off to grab a quick word with Elly, I stopped Bernice in the hallway.

‘Hi, Eddie, I’m sorry. I tried. You should appeal. Busken is way out of line,’ she said.

‘An appeal will take too long. I appreciate you being straight up. How’s the kids?’

‘The five-year-old is just getting over chickenpox so my whole house is smeared in calamine lotion, the eight-year-old has joined the school band and is torturing a violin every night for three hours, the twins aren’t speaking to each other and my eldest just broke up with her boyfriend. It’s Armageddon. How’s yours?’

‘Amy’s fine,’ I said without thinking. She wasn’t fine. I was worried sick about her and her mother, and Bloch was going to pay a visit to the creep who was stalking the house. ‘Look, what can you tell me about this case? I know the DA is mad at me, but Elly is barely holding on . . . ’

‘Castro absolutely hates your guts, but this is about your client. You’re on the wrong side of this one, Eddie. That’s all I can say . . . ’

‘Give me something. This is like the secret police prosecuting this case. What’s the COD? Do you have a murder weapon? Forensics? Come on, Bernice.’

Something caught her eye, and she glanced to her left.

Bill Sacks slowly folded his thick arms across his chest. Even though his eyes were covered with his Oakleys, we could both tell he was watching Bernice carefully. Cops don’t one hundred per cent trust prosecutors, and decent prosecutors should never, ever, fully trust cops.

‘I can’t say anything at the moment,’ said Bernice, still with her gaze on Sacks.

‘Either that means you don’t have a cause of death, you don’t have forensics, you don’t have a murder weapon, you don’t have a timeline, you’re working to kill the defendant’s alibi or you don’t have a case at all. You’ve got motive and jack shit.’

‘I can give you an early trial date. That’s it.’

I half expected Bernice to give me some hint of the case against Elly, but not this. It was way too early for a trial date.

‘You haven’t even convened a grand jury. You want to set a date?’

‘Grand jury is just a formality. We’re fast-tracking this one. February twenty-first. Two-week trial. I already spoke to Judge Quaid. You want it?’

Quaid was a ball-busting Superior Court Justice who dreamed of dunking defense attorneys into vats of acid for fun. He would be my last pick for a judge for this case, but that trial date sounded like a lifeline for Elly.

‘That’s three months away? This has to be the fastest trial in history. What the hell is going on?’ I asked.

‘You want it?’

‘I don’t want Quaid, but I’ll take the date. Why so fast?’

‘I can’t say any more,’ she said. ‘I’ll book the trial date. Grand Jury before the week is out. I take it your client won’t testify before the Grand Jury.’

‘Of course not.’

‘Good. Let’s get this show on the road. I hope you get her out, Eddie. I wouldn’t put a rabid dog in Rosie’s.’

Bernice left me in a cloud of lavender perfume, her bag rattling with pens as she made her way down the hallway, where Sacks fell into step alongside her, shuffling along in his Crocs.

I called Harry.

‘Busken got scared of bad press. Set a million-dollar bond and a million in cash. I’ll take care of it, but I wanted to ask you something. Bernice is prosecuting and she just offered me a February trial date.’

‘February next year? Three months away?’

‘Yep.’

Silence. Harry was just as perplexed as I was. It wasn’t unusual for defendants to wait two years for a trial date.

‘She hasn’t even sat a Grand Jury yet,’ said Harry.

‘That’s happening this week, so I’m told.’

‘Did she tell you anything at all about the case against Elly?’

‘Nothing,’ I said.

Harry fell silent again.

‘I’ve never heard of this. Something is up. Bernice gave you that trial date because she had to. There’s some need or advantage to the DA’s office in getting this case to trial fast. Right now, I can’t think of anything specific. Unless . . . ’

‘Unless what?’

‘It’s a long shot, but it could be a witness problem. That’s the only thing I can think of. Your evidence dictates your trial. If you’ve got a witness who is key to your case, then you schedule your trial around their availability.’

‘Can’t they set a date that suits them and just subpoena their witnesses?’

‘They’ll subpoena them anyway, but if you’ve got a professional witness you have to incorporate their timetable because they might be under subpoena in a dozen cases.’

‘What kind of professional witness? Maybe forensics?’

‘Yes, maybe. Let me ask around. What are you going to do about Elly’s bail. Is Kate filing an appeal?’

‘That’ll take too long. I’m just going to get her out.’

‘Are we breaking people out of Riker’s Island now? I’ve got a steel file and Denise could bake a cake and send it to Elly.’

‘If Denise is baking, we won’t need the steel file. Elly could use Denise’s meatloaf to breach a steel door.’

‘I don’t like to cast aspersions on her culinary expertise.’

‘Leave Elly’s bail to me. I just need you to get me a couple of things first. I’ll pick them up at the office later.’

‘What do you need?’

‘Our filing fee receipts from the court office for last year. I don’t need all of them, maybe three months’ worth, copied.’

‘I can’t work the damn Xerox . . . ’

‘Ask Denise to do it. That’s not all. I need a roll of duct tape, a pillowcase and a .45 caliber ACP cartridge.’

‘A cartridge . . . ’

‘From the magazine of the Colt 1911 that’s in the holster under your left arm.’

‘I’m not sure the New York Bar Association would approve of your methods of legal practice.’

‘What they don’t know won’t bother them.’