Dinah nodded weakly.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to need you to answer yes or no.”
“Yes.”
Donahue placed a hand on Dinah’s head.
Jessica watched as her aunt seemed to fold in half, disappear into the cruiser’s back seat.
“You can follow us to the station,” Donahue told Jessica. “We’re going to book your aunt, then see about a bail hearing.”
“Where’s detective Randal?” Chaucer asked.
“He’s searching their apartment,” Donahue replied flatly. He rounded the car and stepped in, as one of the officers got into the driver’s side and started the engine.
The remaining uniforms held out their arms once more, asking Jessica to make room.
“I’m doing it!” she yelled, taking ten giant steps back, arms outstretched. “All right?”
“Easy, Jessica,” Chaucer said.
“Shit!”
“Jessica –”
“Fuck! What am I supposed to do now?” Jessica asked, glancing around to find that night had fallen on Verona. The cruiser’s lights flashed in a dizzying, red dirge. She watched it round the parking lot and disappear out the driveway. “What am I supposed to do?”
The hotel lights shone down on Chaucer’s face as he waited for the remaining cruiser to clear the scene. Finally, he put a hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “We should stop by your place. See what Randal’s up to, if he’s found anything.”
“I can’t leave Dinah alone.”
“You’re probably going to have to. I think it’s a pretty good sign that they’re still searching your place. It means that no matter what they had on Dinah to get the warrant served, this case is far from shut.”
Jessica kicked at a pebble, sent it skipping against the dumpster with a low thud.
“Look, I doubt she’s going to be getting a bail hearing within the next hour… Let me drop you off at your place. I’ll head down to the station and see what I can find out. The minute anything happens, I’ll come pick you up. All right?”
Jessica closed her eyes, nodded. “Too early to tell, right?”
“Too early to tell?”
“If she’s going to be all right.”
“Too early,” Chaucer replied, on the level.
“OK. Then take me home..”
Jessica watched the Prescott-Pantheon fade in the side mirror as they drove away. Picturing how it must have looked to have the police take Dinah away. With or without a public arrest, handcuffed or not, Jessica would have to gear up for a crash course in public relations.
Another line in her runaway résumé.
Chapter 31: Key Information.
By the time she arrived, the authorities were almost done violating Jessica’s apartment. She plowed into a pair of officers on the second-floor landing, each carrying a stack of white cardboard boxes. Through one of the handholds, Jessica spied the fluffy tail of Dinah’s slutty cat costume.
She rushed up the remaining steps.
A single policeman was stationed at the open door. The sight of Jessica seemed to startle him, as though he had forgotten why he had been stationed there. He promptly blocked the entrance, held out his hand.
“I live here,” Jessica snapped. “You can’t keep me out of my own place, I don’t give a shit if you’re not done sniffing my underwear.”
“Miss, please –”
“Is Randal in there? Get Randal for me.”
The officer cleared his throat and called out over his shoulder: “Detective!”
Randal’s voice came floating from deep within. “Yeah, yeah…”
Jessica peeked around the guard and saw the detective making his way down the hallway, forearm wiping his brow.
“Ms. Kincaid...” He motioned with a vinyl-gloved hand. “Come on in, we’re almost done here.”
Jessica walked into the living room. “See anything you like?”
“I’m real sorry about all this,” Randal said. His face carried its usual flush, blue eyes exhibiting a juvenile embarrassment. “We’ll be giving you a receipt for anything seized. You’re free to walk around and have a look as we wrap things up –”
“Thanks, I think I will.”
Randal followed her down the hallway. “Don’t be sore, Jessica... Actually, never mind. That’s stupid, of course you’re sore.”
“Get this man his MacArthur Genius Grant.” Jessica peeked into her room. Squinting, unaccustomed to the overhead light. Spotted a couple of books missing from her milk-crate shelves. Her laundry basket had been searched, along with the closet and her book bag.
“Please hold your search until we’re done with ours, Jessica.”
“I know that. I also know you owe me a search warrant, and you owe it now.”
Randal pulled a folded piece of paper from his jacket.
“And you’d better hope it adds up,” Jessica added, snatching the document from him. “If I find you’ve been sneaking in Dinah’s makeup kit looking for a handgun –”
“I’m aware how much more you know about this than I do.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you are…” The books taken from her room had been Forensics For Dummies and the NOLO Guide to Criminal Law. The warrant had made no mention of literature or anything similar, but they remained legal seizure. The noted items – lock-pick kit, pocket knives, pills, vinyl gloves, bottles suspected to contain dangerous chemicals, ranging from 20mls to a half-liter – were small enough to allow the police to search almost anywhere and confiscate anything in plain view.
Including any books that might prove Dinah had sufficient knowledge to pull off a pair of complex crimes.
Jessica headed for the kitchen, search warrant held before her like a shopping list.
Bumped into yet another officer, this one leaving Dinah’s room.
“We found another wine key!” he announced, holding up an evidence bag.
Another one, Jessica noted, along with the officer’s choice of paper over plastic. Blood, DNA?
“That’s great,” she bitched, casting her line. “You’ve taken all of our wine keys with you.”
Randal bit, motioned briskly for the officer to move on: “Just get it packed, and make sure you sign off.”
The officer’s apologetic look was all the conformation Jessica needed. “Really, Detective… Now how am I supposed to open wine bottles? With my mind?”
“I didn’t think you drank.”
“My tables do. They drink a lot.”
Randal began to make his way down the hall. “You’ll be getting a receipt for everything seized. If you want, I can give you a lift to the station. I don’t know if you’re aunt’s been processed yet –”
“I’ve got my own ride, thanks.”
“Then I guess our time is up.”
“You know you’re both wrong about Dinah, right?” Jessica took Randal by the arm, stopped him halfway through the living room. “You and Donahue. Arresting her before a complete search of her apartment? Even an unseasoned observer might think you were grasping at straws.”
“Only an unseasoned observer would think we’re grasping at straws.” Randal signaled the officer at the door to take off. Turned his full attention on Jessica, with a compassionate sigh. “You didn’t ask for any of this. And don’t tell Donahue I said anything, but I am rooting against us on this one. All the way.”
“For such a good cop, you really are a lousy detective.”
“I’m better at this than you could possibly imagine.”
With that, Randal removed his gloves with a pair of resounding, elastic snaps.
Didn’t bother closing the door as he disappeared down the steps.
Jessica took care of that for him, then went on a little tour.
The cops had been exasperatingly efficient. Without prior knowledge, she might never have guessed anyone had even been there. Along with her books, Jessica found two of her white dress shirts missing. A search of the kitchen verified her earlier hunch: all their wi
ne keys were gone.
She rushed back to her room.
Picked up her journal from the desk.
The red, spiral-ringed notebook was just as she had left it, Folded open to a blank, college-ruled page.
Jessica closed her eyes. If she hadn’t left it open… Had she simply closed the journal after her last entry… Face up, with the words ANGRY JONNY written on the cover for all to see…
Every insignificant move she made, another possible nail in her coffin.
Jessica stuffed the journal into her book bag and carried it into the living room.
Dialed Al Holder’s cell.
From the sound of it, he was still at the office… “Jessica, it’s your damn birthday, already –”
“I think I know the weapon the police are looking for.”
She heard Al’s muffled voice talking to someone else, before returning: “I’m sorry, what?”
“The weapon…” Jessica repeated. “Tool, I think, is the technicality, I don’t know. Whatever it is Angry Jonny’s been using to slice them up. I think I know what it is.”
“Really.”
“They’re looking for a wine key.”
“You mean those little Swiss-army-type things waiters use to open wine?”
“Not enough like a Swiss army knife…” Jessica went to the window, searched the streets. Didn’t see any signs of police activity, nobody monitoring her. “The police report mentioned light abrasions around the eye sockets.”
“Sure, but –”
“Look, maybe these bruises were made by the hilt of whatever he used. That means that the blade Angry Jonny used was small. With a longer knife, going hilt deep, he would have punctured the brain. Probably killed Jason Castle, Davenport, and Dr, Lazenby. The smallest blade on a Swiss army knife folds out towards the end that has a knob on it. A small, metallic ring you can use to attach to a key chain.”
“Jessica –”
“That would leave a very specific mark. A wine key doesn’t have that, its blade folds out towards the smooth end of the handle. A completely different abrasion. Angry Jonny’s using a wine key to cut out their eyes. A solid, high-end one. The cheaper ones have longer blades.”
“Jessica, please, how do you know all this?”
She reached into her back pocket, search warrant crumpling between her fingers. Unwilling to reveal her tricks. Come tomorrow, it would be all over the news. Nobody’s scoop, all things equal. But it wasn’t easy. Al had elevated her from a common intern to sit at his right hand.
Jessica was no journalist.
For the moment, she was just a girl looking to score some petty revenge.
Bring the police department down a peg with her inside track.
“I know because I know…” Her phone beeped; Chaucer trying to get through. “Trust me. Get the police to cop to this one. Don’t let Ethan let them off the mat. Angry Jonny is using the blade of a wine key.”
“Could you just hold on, damn it –”
“I have to go.” Jessica switched calls. “Yeah, Chaucer. What’s up?”
“Dinah’s got a bail hearing,” Chaucer said, voice rasping in Jessica’s ear. “And we may have gotten lucky.”
“Lucky how?”
“Casper Noel’s on for magistrate tonight. I’m coming over to get you.”
“I’ll be out front.”
“Jessica, be warned. This is just a bail hearing. This does not mean that Dinah’s going to walk tonight.”
Jessica scooped up her bag, already heading for the door. “I’ll take whatever good news I can get.”
“Good to –”
The phone went dead.
Jessica didn’t bother with finding her charger. She was already halfway down the stairs, racing outside to meet her ride. One step at a time. Measured breaths, readying herself for another set of circus hoops.
Chapter 32: Bond Ambition.
The offices of the criminal magistrate for Verona’s seventeenth district had an independent visitor’s entrance. Hand-carved signs skirted the police department, arrows burning a bright yellow trail.
Jessica and Chaucer waded grimly through the humidity.
He was the first to break the silence, holding Jessica back as she reached for the door. “You remember what I said on the phone?”
“Yeah…” She wiped her brow. Back of her neck. “Keep it cool, right?”
“Better know it.”
“I know you’re just dying to spell it out for me.”
“That’s because I know Casper’s dying to take it easy on Dinah. But he’s got to make it look good. The support of well-behaved friends and family can only help. And what do well-behaved friends and family do?”
“Speak only when spoken to?”
“Or not at all. You just remember: this ain’t On The Rail, and that ain’t Casper Noel in there. That man’s the man, all right? He is Your Honor, and you will address him as such.”
“We done here?”
“Just keep your mouth shut.”
With that, the situation finally became real. She brushed the chip off her shoulder, as Chaucer held the door open. They stepped into a narrow antechamber. Went through the metal detector. Her belt set off the alarm, prompting a request to raise her arms for the wand.
Jessica complied, throwing Chaucer an apologetic look.
There was probably a time when the office of the magistrate had been an actual office. Jessica’s single brush with the law had landed her in a similar place, long way back in Louisville. Thanks to a technicality, she had been shuttled to another district, where the bail hearing had taken place before a stately-looking desk, in a room of ornate decorations that screamed tradition.
The room she found herself in now was a stark reminder of Verona’s struggle with overcrowded courts. No pictures on the walls. Basic furniture. Even the American and State flags had casually slipped away, unwilling to be associated with such a desolate environment. It was as though someone had stripped a typical classroom bare, leaving behind nothing but a pair of foldout chairs near the front.
Fluorescent lights set on migraine.
The desk was situated on a raised platform surrounded by bulletproof glass. All it needed was a rack of cigarettes, some dirty magazines, and it could have passed for any shady gas station on Verona’s east side.
Night clerk played by Casper Noel.
Jessica barely recognized him. A bartender, he would often regale the regulars with tales from the bench; stories of lowlifes, lunatics, and audacious losers who believed they could talk their way out of anything. His mischievous eyes would gleam as he spoke. Unable to hold his grin in check, as though he couldn’t believe this was where his law degree had landed him.
And now Jessica was finally on his turf, other side of the story. Casper the magistrate was all business. Eyes focused intently on an outdated monitor, his elevated position and black robe giving shape to the abstraction.
A pair of officers on either side of his glass cage brought the contradictions crashing down.
Chaucer motioned for Jessica to stand with him against the back wall.
A door near the front of the room opened.
Detective Donahue walked in, escorting Dinah to the chairs before the magistrate. Her arms were still cuffed behind her back. She stood with her head bowed, not one glance over her shoulder, reassuring or otherwise.
Jessica bit her lip. Swallowed her words, proceedings underway before she realized it. There was no grand announcement, no theatrics or inspired traditions. Donahue led Dinah to the magistrate’s desk and slipped a few documents through a slit at the bottom of the window.
With an almost casual air, Casper asked: “Do you swear that what you are submitting to me is the truth to the best of your knowledge?”
“Yes, your honor.”
Casper motioned for him to continue.
“This is Dinah Titus. We’re asking for the following charges…” He pointed to the papers in Casper’s hand, speaki
ng at a fast, rehearsed clip… “On this particular date the aforementioned broke into the private residence of Clarence Davenport…”
Jessica had to strain her ears, half the detectives words lost in their journey across the room. Between dials on the radio; even through the static it was clear that the offences were manifold. Casper didn’t appear to be convinced about any of them one way or the other.
“– We believe she is also involved with two other incidents with the same MO, but all we are asking for tonight are the charges presented.”
Casper nodded, turned to Dinah. Not as her friend, bartender or confidant. It was as though he had only just noticed her. “Ms. Titus, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Dinah shook her head.
“I’m sorry Ms. Titus, I’m going to need you to answer out loud.”
Jessica couldn't hear her reply.
Casper nodded, turned to Donahue. “Is the police department asking for a particular bond?”
“The police requests no bond, Your Honor, based on the nature of the crimes.”
Jessica clenched her jaw, positive this was destined to become yet another story Casper would be using to entertain the drunks at the pool hall. She saw him turn to his computer. The clatter of the keyboard resounded with a pure, crisp clarity.
She glanced at Chaucer, trying to gain some insight.
He motioned for her to keep quiet. Keep watching.
During this brief interlude, Randal quietly entered and took a seat.
Casper turned to Donahue. “I am not seeing sufficient evidence of a weapon specifically connected to Ms. Titus. Possession of the use of an intoxicating or impairing substance is at the moment purely speculative. There is nothing to sustain either count of assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill. I am therefore only charging Ms. Titus with breaking and entering, a class A-1 misdemeanor in the state of North Carolina.”
Jessica broke into a grin that threatened to wind its way clear around her head.
Never mind the robes, the real Casper Noel had arrived.
He threw a quick look across the room.
Jessica expected a wink, a sly grin. Some sign that they were all in this together.
Nothing of the sort. He gathered himself and imposed the bond. “Based on the evidence presented before me with the arrest warrants issued, pretrial release conditions are set at ten thousand dollars secure bond… in cash, or ten thousand dollars collateral in assets if you have any –”