CHAPTER FIVE

Beth was already up at five am with a pot of coffee supplied by the hotel kitchen staff.  She was studying all of the motions submitted by the attorneys and making notes in the margins.  Damn, I really need my law books and quarterlies and a fax and a clerk she thought.  And Jose’s cheerful face she thought with regret.  She fished out her phone and called the number Mrs. Juarez had given her.

“Hello,” she addressed the voice that answered, “This is Judge Able.  Is this Mrs. Jose Juarez?” she asked. 

“This is her sister, Elaina, she’s finally lying down.  I hope she’s sleeping.”

“Don’t wake her Elaina, just tell her I called when she wakes up and that I’m thinking of her and the children.”

“I will, Judge, and thanks for calling and coming yourself last night.”

“Jose was special to me Elaina and I’m grieving too.”

“I will tell her you called Judge.”

The phone rang as soon as she disconnected and it was the chief, “I hope you’re at the hotel,” he said.

“Yes, I’m trying to work without my law library or clerk.”

“If you go to your office take Matt with you
,” he said, and added, “I’m calling with the latest news.”

“We have some partial prints of a hand and some shoe prints in the blood in the garage and at your car,” he paused, “No finger prints for getting his I.D., just good evidence for the trial.”

“Hold on, Judge, I have a call coming in…”

When the chief came back on line he was cursing a blue streak, “Someone claiming to be the killer sent a message to the newspaper, it’s on its way to the lab.”

“I’ll meet you there,” the judge said and called Matt and told him the news. 

“Meet me there?” she asked.

“You got it,” he answered.

I got the b***h teacher. I got that uppity n***** clerk. I got the sp*c in his pretty uniform. Guess who is next? The Avenger.
Matt and the judge stood reading the note printed on the blackboard.

“It’s him,” the judge said, “What do you think, Matt?”

“I agree.”

“Chief, send an officer to the school and get a list of all of her students going back at least thirty years and run it against employees in the courthouse and the hotel.”

Matt offered, “Get a separate list of all of the students who didn’t go on to high school.”

“Have you determined what kind of shoes he was wearing yet?” she asked.

“Red Wings we think and we found a green button stuck in the blood in the garage,” Lowe said.

“The janitorial staff at the hotel and courthouse wear dark green uniforms, let’s get a list of all of the janitorial staff from human resources” the judge said.

“Do you have a picture of the button?” Matt asked.

“Lowe, let’s send someone over to unobtrusively check out the buttons on the men’s uniforms at the courthouse and the hotel,” the chief said.

“Check out who does the laundry and check with them,” the judge said, “Easier and it won’t alert our perp.  He’s probably noticed that he’s missing a button.”

“What have they found on the note itself?” the judge asked Lowe.

“We’ve dusted and no prints but the envelope may have DNA,” Lowe said.

“I think we’re closing in,” the chief said.

“Before he strikes again, I hope,” Matt offered.

“A clerk came in with the list of janitorial staff from both the hotel and courthouse.”

Lowe took the two lists and projected them on to a screen trying to line them up alphabetically. 

“Let’s scratch out the obvious female names and make a list of all the male janitors. We have the social security numbers so let’s run that and concentrate on the twenty five to thirty five year olds first,” the judge said.

An hour later they had a list of five and the judge called the school and got a little pushy with her title and was given a clerk who looked up the five names. 

“Run the name George Snyder,” the judge said, “He had Mrs. Devaney as a teacher and he’s a janitor at the courthouse,” the judge said.

“Got him,” one of the computer techs said.  He ripped off a sheet and handed it to the chief.

“Petty crimes, traffic violations, frequent address changes, runs out on his bills and rent…” the chief said.

“Let’s find him and keep tabs on him,” the judge said.

“We can stop him for any obvious violations,” the chief said.

“Good,” she said, “But warn them to have plenty of back up, he may bolt.”

“He probably will run,” Matt said, “You want to check out the address, judge?” he asked.

“Let’s go, I can’t get anything done without my chambers and a clerk,” she said.

“Don’t do anything foolish,” the chief said, “Remember to call in back up if something goes down.”

They drove to a rather unpleasant part of the town and parked in a visitor parking area in front of the apartments across the street from their target address. 

The carports for their target ran parallel to the apartment building which was at a right angle to the street. 

“I don’t see his car,” Matt said.

“From the way the numbers run he must be upstairs,” the judge said. 

They had spent hours in surveillance in the early days and fell easily into the pattern again.  They watched for about two hours and decided to call in an unmarked patrol car to take over and then went back to the chief’s office. 

“Anything new?” the judge asked.

“He’s due at work in an hour,” the chief said.

“He won’t show,” the judge said, “He thinks he’s holding four aces, king high.  He’ll keep playing until we catch him.”

Matt agreed, “He’s on a run.”

“Chief it wouldn’t hurt if you told your men at the hotel to be especially alert tonight if he doesn’t show for work,” the judge said.

“I plan on going over myself and to give a pep talk,” the chief said, “This guy is dangerous.”

“You have people in the parking garage?” Matt asked the chief.

“Yes, we’re spread thin but everything we discussed is covered,” the chief said.

The phone rang and the chief answered, “O.K.,” he said, “Let’s party.”

He turned to Matt and the judge, “He didn’t show for work and the patrol car says he hasn’t been home.”

Lowe came in with an evening newspaper and the note was in giant print on the front page.  The headline said, “Serial Killer Stalks Our Streets.” Gory stories recounting the three murders filled the special edition with wild speculation meant to sell newspapers but actually inciting panic among the readers.

“I hope no one on the jury gets a copy of this,” the judge said.

“The second two murders prove he’s not just after jurors,” Matt said, “But who’s thinking reasonably at this point?”

“Hmm, maybe he has a total of fifteen targets in mind and we mistakenly assumed he meant the jury because his first target was on the jury,” the judge said.

“That means he could be anywhere in the city,” the chief said.

“I think the fact that he left Jose Juarez’s body in the judge’s car means something,” Lowe said.

“So do I,” Matt said, “I’m staying on your sofa tonight,” he told the judge.

“I’ll give you a key to the connecting room so it looks a little more appropriate,” the judge said.

They all laughed and Lowe went back to the lab and the chief, Matt, and the judge headed for the hotel. 

When they got out of their cars in the garage the judge said, “Let’s grab a bite in the dining room before we go upstairs,” I’m starving.

Matt and the chief agreed.  The chief had been living on coffee and donuts all day and a steak sounded great.   

They enjoyed dinner together and then went up in the reserved elevator so the chief could talk to his officers.  The judge decided to make the rounds with the chief and let them know how much she appreciated their hard work and diligence while Matt went on to the judge's room. 

A few of the officers remembered the judge from her days in homicide and the rest knew her by reputation.  Her courtroom was always a favorite with the officers. She shook hands with all of them and had personal comments for the ones she knew. 

When they finished rounds she asked the chief, “Night cap, chief?”

“A quick one,” he said following her to her room.

They were all sitting with a Jameson when the chief got a call, “Yes?” he said.

An officer reported to the chief, “We’ve got a guy climbing the old fire escape on the hotel chief.  He’s up to the sixth floor and moving fast.”

“The snipers have him?” the chief asked.

“In their sights,” he reported.

“Let’s give him an opportunity to surrender, turn on the search lights and let him know we have him.”

The chief turned to them, “Get into the hall and keep down, we have a climber on the fire escape.”

In seconds the search lights were sweeping the building and a bull horn was calling on the perp to surrender. Matt and the judge went out into the hall and the jurors were beginning to stir as the bull horn woke them.  They were frightened and the judge was glad she was there to calm them.  They wanted to leave the hotel but the judge told them they were safer in their inside rooms.  She and Matt took them all to one large room and the judge explained what was happening.

“He’s after you isn’t he judge?” J-2 asked.

“Probably,” the judge said, “And as far as I can recollect I don’t even know him,” she responded. 

Blake who had been putting the make on the redhead, J-2 since the bazaar and failing miserably decided to try and use this to get out of his duty, “Don’t you think we’ve all been through enough?” he asked the judge, “Especially the ladies,” he said.

“This lady is quite ready to serve,” the redhead said, “I’m losing thousands a week but it’s worth it for Grace and the others who have suffered from this and the men out there who are protecting us.”

“Here, here,” the others said and raised their bottled water in a toast.

Just then they heard the crash of glass and a gunshot.  They waited to see what had happened and in about a half hour the chief came in and the judge introduced him.

“It’s over ladies and gentlemen.  Our killer is dead and you can all sleep in peace tonight.  I’ll leave the police in place until you all feel safe but we have our man,” the chief said.

They all applauded including the judge who could get back to her office and complete her work on the motions before her.

That Monday the judge had the honor of offering the eulogy at Jose Juarez’s funeral. She rose and went forward, stopping at Jose’s casket before proceeding to the lectern.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I will speak in Spanish so that Jose’s wife and many of you can understand what I say.”  A ripple of pleasure rose from the congregation. She looked over the large crowd gathered to honor Jose. 

“I don’t know all of you and I haven’t known Stella and the children for long but I did know Jose Juarez for years and he was a fine man.  He was a co-worker and a friend who was often on special assignment to me at my request because he was willing, able, and brave.” She paused, “I miss him terribly because he was a cheerful presence in the courthouse as well as being an excellent bailiff. I can’t say enough in his behalf except that he died in service to the justice system of this country and that he was a hero.”

She stepped down and returned to her seat to join her parish congregation in honoring Jose Juarez.
(C) August 2013 Karen MacEanruig

CHAPTER FOUR

Judge Able woke with a start in the middle of the night.  She realized that she hadn’t heard back from Jose and that was very unlike the man she knew.  The bailiff’s office was closed and she didn’t know his home number so she tried his mobile and was greeted by a strange voice. 

“Hello,” a voice slightly out of breath answered.

“Who is this?” the judge asked.

“Who is this, lady?”

“This is Judge Able and I’m trying to reach Jose Juarez,” she responded, getting out of bed.

“Good judge, then I can tell you in person; it’s three down now and twelve to go.”

She heard laughter then the phone went dead.

She took a deep breath and bowed her head for a moment.  This is getting way out of hand she decided.  She had been fond of Jose since he had been an illegal standing before her in her first courtroom.  His only crime was that he was on the wrong side of a man made line on a map, looking for a job.  Damn, damn, damn!

She dialed the chief and told him what had happened and then called Matt.

“Hello,” she heard Matt’s sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

“Hey, Matt,” she said.

“What’s up doc?” he asked.

“I think he got Jose,” she said and proceeded to tell Matt about waking up and making the call to Jose’s mobile.

“Jesus, partner, call me sometime with good news,” he said, “I kind of liked the man.”

“He was hard not to like,” the judge said.

“Well, put on the coffee, we might as well wait at your place until we know where to go,” Matt said.

Beth got up and put the coffee on and took a quick shower,  dressing in a pants suit she added a little make up to liven up her tired face and walked into the kitchen just as Matt knocked on her back door. 

“You have a flashlight he asked her?”

“Sure,” she went to her utility drawer and pulled out a large flashlight and handed it to Matt.

“You always leave your car in the driveway?”  he asked.

“What’s with the questions, detective?”

“Let me check before we get upset,” he said.

He went out the front door and walked across the circular drive to her coupe parked near the garage.  The trunk had been pried open and blood had dripped from the trunk to a congealed puddle in the driveway. 

He sighed and yelled for her to call the cops. 

Matt walked to the porch and asked if her sprinklers were on a timer and she said yes and pointed to the control box.

He turned the watering system off and when she asked if it was Jose he said, “I didn’t mess with the evidence, Judge, I couldn’t tell but my guess is yes.”

She dialed Lowe and the coroner and she and Matt sat on the steps to her front porch while officers taped off the area and the front lawn filled with police personnel. 

The judge brought out a card table and made coffee in a huge pot she kept for family gatherings while Matt carried out jars of creamer and containers of sugar with plastic spoons and Styrofoam cups.

Several cop cars were parked with their headlights trained on the judge’s coupe and red, blue, and orange lights flashed while police radios blared out in the night.  Most of the nearby homes had lights on after the occupants were roused by the unusual noise and activity at the judge's house.   Patrolmen were canvassing the neighborhood for any information about unusual sounds or activity.

The chief showed up and poured himself some coffee before he sat down with Matt and the judge.

The chief told her, “I think you better move to the hotel judge, you might be his next victim.”

The judge started to protest but the chief was adamant, “Judge I can’t cover the fourteenth floor and your place too, I just don’t have the personnel and the whole floor is already covered by the trial expenses.”

“It makes sense judge,” Matt said.

“All right, I’ll pack a bag and Matt can take me over when we’re finished here.”

A patrolman trotted up and told the chief, “We found Juarez’s car abandoned about two blocks from here, with what looks like blood smeared on the trunk.  I left my partner watching it.”

The chief got on the phone and called more lab personnel to secure and investigate the abandoned car and when he finished talking he listened for several minutes and sighed as he put the cell phone back in its holder. 

He turned to the judge, “Cops getting off duty at the hotel found blood on the cement floor in the parking garage.  It’s taped off and being guarded while they wait for the lab guys.”

“Jesus,” Matt said, “The guy must have taken him in the parking garage and stuffed him in his own trunk and then drove him here and transferred the body to the judge’s car.”

“That’s taking a big risk of being caught,” the judge said, “But at this point he’s running on adrenalin and probably feeling pretty invincible.” 

Lowe walked over from the judge’s car and told them, “We have a positive I.D. its Jose Juarez all right.”

“You have a verified address?” the judge asked.

Lowe gave her the address and she asked Matt, “Shall we do the honors?”

“You going to notify the next of kin?” the chief asked.

“The least I can do,” she said, “He has a wife and several kids.”

She packed her bag along with several bottles of Jameson and Matt drove them to the middle class neighborhood where Jose had proudly purchased a home several years before. 
They found Jose’s street and house number then parked in front of the neatly kept, little house with all of its lights on and they glanced at each as other they got out of the car, to perform a familiar duty.  Their car doors slammed loudly in the quiet night. A curtain moved at one of the windows as they crossed the lawn and the front door opened when they reached the steps to the porch.

A lovely woman with a baby stood in the doorway, eyes red from crying, “My Jose, do you know where my Jose is?” she asked in Spanish.

The judge answered in Spanish, “Are you Jose Juarez’s wife?” she asked.

“Yes, where is Jose?”

“I am Beth Able, Judge Able said and this is Matthew Crenshaw a retire police officer.

“I know who you are, you helped Jose when he was young and he had lunch in your office yesterday.”  Mrs. Juarez said, “He showed me your picture in the paper.”

“Do you have someone who can help you with the children?” the judge asked her quietly.

“My sister, she lives a mile or two away.  She was here until it got so late.” 

“Let me take the baby while you call her to come back,” the judge said.

“What’s happened?  Is Jose hurt?  Is he in the hospital?”

“First, call your sister and then we’ll talk about Jose,” the judge said.

She took the baby and two little fists came up to try for her glasses.  The judge smiled and sat down on the sofa cuddling the baby and making cooing sounds.

Matt’s eyebrows rose as he watched Beth with a baby for the first time in their long friendship.  Then he spotted three little boys in the hall and he went and knelt down and showed them a coin trick and each little boy ended up with a quarter that Matt found in their pajama pockets. 

He took them into the family room and put them on the couch and plunked a child’s movie into the television.  He found a blanket for them and settled them in to watch the movie with their quarters and stuffed toys.

Mrs. Juarez was back on the couch with the judge when he went back into the other room. 

“Mrs. Juarez this is a very sad duty for me because I have known Jose for years and he has worked for me personally on several cases.  Tonight your husband was killed in the line of duty.  I’m so very sorry.”

“Oh, my God,” she cried out, “my poor Jose.”

“Do you have a priest, Mrs. Juarez?” Matt asked.

“We attend St. Catherine’s parish,” she said.

“That’s my parish too,” the judge said.

The sister arrived and the judge gave her the baby and made a call on her cell phone, before she and Matt left there was a priest there consoling the young widow.

The judge left a card with her cell number and promised the widow that she would help her with all of the paper work for the insurance and any pay that Jose had coming.  She made Mrs. Juarez promise to call if she was in any danger of missing a house payment.

Beth left her card and number with the priest and told him she expected to hear every few days because Jose was a close personal friend and coworker who had lost his life in the line of duty.

Exhausted they left the pretty little house and Matt drove the judge to the hotel where she was given the key to a double room on the outside with a view of her court house.  Matt escorted her up in the reserved elevator and checked out the suite before joining Beth in the main room where she had poured two fingers of Jameson into hotel glasses. She was sound asleep so he tossed off one of the drinks, threw a blanket over his old partner and left her sleeping on the sofa.
(C) August 2013 Karen MacEanruig

CHAPTER THREE

Beth Able woke at four the next morning and put on coffee and went out for her paper.  She never set an alarm because she was always up before the sun after years of working and going to school had accustomed her to very little sleep and long hours of work and study.

She put the television on with no sound and spread the paper on her dining room table and saw what the media had done with the dead juror story. 

Enough blood and gore to ruin anyone’s breakfast and speculation to rival the idiots who thought the nine eleven had been staged by the federal government.  Whatever happened to good investigative reporting she wondered?
She scrambled eggs and made toast and then checked her fax machine and found the coroner’s report for J-6.  Not unusual breakfast reading for the old homicide detective. 

The coroner decided from the facts that the juror’s throat had been slashed first to kill and quiet the victim and then the rest of the damage had been inflicted.  The killer had probably killed the victim while she lay sleeping and then added the gory details later. Not a frenzied killing at all but a quick kill with the details added later for show.

But what was the motive she wondered, to frighten the jury and end the trial, or a personal grudge against J-6, or even a cover for a later murder?  It could even be a murder to smear her reputation and ruin her chances for the federal appointment?  Nothing was clear yet except that she was going to be busy with damage control until this trial was over or tainted.  God forbid anyone else loses their life over this case.

The phone rang and she told the caller to come to the back door.

“Morning Matt,” she said, “What a nice surprise.”

“Thought you’d want to know that suddenly there is a lot of activity on the fourteenth floor.  Lights blazing and more police activity,” he told her.

“Here, read this while I shower,” she handed him the coroner’s report and she was ready to go in twenty minutes.

He drove her down town and they parked in the hotel garage and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor. 

“What happened?” she asked her bailiff.

“Apparently one of the jurors smuggled in a cell phone and received a call with all of the gory details.  She proceeded to have hysterics and woke up everyone on the floor,” the bailiff reported to the judge.

The judge walked to the room that the bailiff pointed out and she rapped on the door and entered without waiting for a response.

“What’s going on here?” she asked.

A man bent over the woman in bed turned and said, “Who are you?”

An officer standing quietly in the corner told the judge, “This is the hotel doctor, Judge.  They called him when the women began to get hysterical and scream and cry about being murdered in her bed.”

“I’m Judge Able, doctor, how is my juror?”

“I administered a sedative to calm her down but she has everyone else up and asking questions,” the doctor informed her.

The judge called the hotel manager and asked for coffee, juice, and donuts to be served in the private dining room in half an hour.

She went out into the hall and made another call to an old friend, retired from St. Catherine’s parish.

Most of the jurors were huddled in four of the rooms speculating on what was going on and whether they were all in danger from a homicidal maniac.

“Matt, would you ask everyone who is up and about to join me for coffee in the private dining room in twenty minutes?”

Matt issued the invitation to everyone as if it were an everyday coffee klatch and told them dress was informal as befitted the hour.

They came down in the reserved elevator in two groups and joined the judge in the dining room where they found her sipping coffee and eating a jelly donut. 

“Please help yourselves,” the judge said, “There is coffee, tea, juice and donuts to tide you over until breakfast,” she commented. 

The group began to help themselves to the refreshments and seat themselves near the judge who it turned out was a slender rather attractive woman in street clothes.

“If everyone has coffee let’s have a little chat to clear the air,” she said. 

“I’m sorry to say that Mrs. Hawsworth has broken the rules by having a cell phone so she will be replaced by one of the alternates,” the judge informed them. 

Hands went up with questions and the judge took a sip of coffee and told them, “Now, as to the incident she was upset about,” the judge paused, “Unfortunately, one of our jurors was murdered here in the hotel.”

Excited questions and speculation greeted that statement. 

“The police are investigating the crime and you may have noticed that I’ve installed additional police staff to make sure that you are all safe and secure even though we have no reason to suspect anything else will happen.  Better safe than sorry,” the judge said. 

They talked softly among themselves, noticeably calmer.

“Each of you has his or her own police officer who will be checking your room with you before you settle in for the night and then will be outside your door all night so that you can rest easy and do a good job as jurors.”

“Of course, we are all sad for Mrs. Devaney and her family but the police will find out who took her life and another jury just like you will decide if that person is guilty or not guilty. 

Ladies and gentlemen our system is a good system and I’m proud of all of you for taking this time from your busy lives to perform your duty.”

She could see that they were much calmer and she said,

“Now, I have a full day’s work with the attorneys ahead of me so I’ve arranged for an old friend to come in and have a small bazaar with bingo, cards  and other games in your conference room to keep you occupied.  There are also books and movies for your convenience.”

She rose and thanked them for their coffee and hospitality, escaping before more questions could come up.

“You really worked that room, Judge,” Matt said as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage. 

She was ready to reply to Matt but when the elevator doors opened and flashbulbs went off and reporters began shouting questions to the judge.

“No,” she told the reporters, “There is no problem, I just had coffee with the jurors and discussed a private jury matter with them.”  It was easier for me to come to them then have all of them hauled over to the courtroom.  Besides, I hadn’t had my coffee yet.”

 “Th-Th-Th- That’s all Folks!” she said as she climbed into the car and Matt drove off. 

“Sorry, Matt, I’m all out of nice this morning.”

Matt laughed, “It’s all right, Bugs.”

“I read the coroner’s report and it just confuses the matter,” he told her.

“I know,” she said, “More contradiction, it just means we don’t see the pattern yet.”

“I hope the cops are on the job and come up with something soon.  I need to concentrate on the case before me,” she said.

Matt dropped her off and she went up to her chambers.  When she unlocked the door and went in there was a sign on her wall in red, “2 down 13 to go.”

She backed out of the office and called the police lab to go over her office with a fine tooth comb.

The chief came over and talked with the top criminologist,
“Any leads on how the perp got in Lowe?”  He asked.

“No signs of tampering at the door or window,” Lowe said, "No unexplained prints or other signs of disturbance.”
“The Judge said the files don’t appear to be disturbed, but her clerk isn’t in yet and hasn’t called in.”

“Judge I don’t like this, let’s send a man out to check on your clerk,” the chief said.

The judge dialed a number, “Jose?”

“Yes, Judge,” he answered immediately.

“I want you to ride along with a couple of policemen going over to my clerk’s apartment.”

“Thanks Jose.”

“Have your cops pick up my bailiff in front of the courthouse on their way,” she said.

She called Matt and filled him in and gave him her clerk’s address. 

“What do you think is up?” the chief asked her.

“I don’t think he’d be happy without a kill,” she said, “He’s out to make a statement.”

“And what’s that?” Lowe asked.

She shrugged, “That he’s more important than any of this or any of us,” she said, “And he thinks the murders are going to prove it.”

They waited in the Judge’s chambers and when the call came in from Matt her fears were confirmed.  The clerk was dead from knife wounds and the apartment was covered in blood.

“Lowe, you take it, I’m assigning you to this case exclusively,” the chief said.

“Let’s have the same coroner do the autopsy that performed Miss. Daveney’s autopsy.  I want to know all of the differences and similarities between the two kills,” the judge said and then added, “We want to keep the team as small as possible with no leaks.”

The chief smiled tiredly, “Who else do you have on the team?” he asked the judge.

“Matt, Jose, two others and a federal agent are looking into it,” she said.

“Feds?” the chief’s eyebrows rose questioningly.

“This guy is interfering with a jury and the justice system chief, that’s a federal crime but at this point they’re just assisting,” she responded.

Matt and Jose came in, both white faced with shock at the bloody scene.

“It was worse than before Judge, lots worse,” Jose said.

Lowe and his crew went to investigate the crime scene and the team coroner was called in and sent to the clerk’s address. 

The Judge called for lunch to be brought in for she and Matt, Jose and the chief and they talked over the situation until the Judge was due in the courtroom that afternoon.

She took Jose aside and asked him to visit the fourteenth floor that afternoon and try to gauge the mood of the jurors and report to her before the end of the day. Jose knew that the judge trusted him and he had eaten lunch with a judge, a homicide detective and the chief of police.  He had a good job and respect. Jose Juarez was a happy man.  But what Jose didn’t know was that he was being watched. 

Judge Able brought the attorney’s to her chambers and gave them a much abbreviated version of what was happening with the murder of the juror and her clerk and cautioned them about speaking to the press.  She put the court sessions on hold until Monday and asked them to have all motions to her by Friday and she promised rulings on Monday. 

Matt joined her in chambers that evening and they sipped a few Jameson’s while they waited for the coroner’s report on the judge’s clerk.

The phone rang and the judge picked it up and listened.

“He’s escalating Matt.  No quick kill this time.  Pretty much wanton, frenzied, butchery,” the judge said, “Lots of anger and mutilation.”

She called her federal agent and gave him the latest news,

“Do you think he’s still a danger to the jury?” she asked the agent.

“Your right, he’s a danger to everyone,” she said and hung up.

She poured another drink for she and Matt and they sat in companionable silence not needing conversation to be comfortable together.
(C) August 2013 Karen MacEanruig

CHAPTER TWO

Jose Juarez had the dubious pleasure of waking the disgruntled jurors the next morning and announcing that lunch would be served at twelve noon.  Several had been up earlier and had eaten breakfast but a few were still dawdling in their rooms.  Room 14C didn’t respond so he went back after rapping on the rest of the doors and knocked again.  

Jose waited and then used his key to wake the heavy sleeper.  He switched on the light and almost fainted at the sight of the blood splattered room.  He had to check his list to see if the victim was a man or a woman the knife wounds were so extensive. 

Jose had worked for Judge Able for years so he got on his radio and called her chambers immediately.  When her clerk answered Jose asked for the Judge personally.  It was an unusual request from a trained bailiff and the clerk looked over at the Judge.

“Well, what is it?” she asked.

“It’s the bailiff, Jose, and he says that it’s an emergency.”

For some reason the Judge decided to take the call and deal with Jose later if it proved to be unimportant. 

“What is it Jose?” the Judge asked impatiently.

“Judge, I’m in J-6’s room and there is blood everywhere and a corpse in the bed.  I can’t tell if it’s the juror or not.”

“What?”

He repeated himself and asked her who he should call first. 

“You haven’t told anyone yet?” she asked.

“No mam, it’s your trial.”

“Stay there and don’t let anyone in the room and don’t call anyone until I get there,” she ordered.

The tough ex-cop called the D.A. and the Chief of Police and met them in the parking garage and they rode up to the fourteenth floor.  They approached room C with caution and when they knocked Jose wouldn’t let them in until he heard the Judge’s voice.

He opened the door and stood aside allowing them to enter and then stepped outside to guard the door.

The Judge took over and told the Chief, “Get the crime lab on this quickly and quietly,” she ordered.

“It’s a change of venue case?” the D.A. asked Judge Able.

“Yes, and it’s related to the use of embryonic material from aborted fetuses so you never know whose going to lose it in this kind of case.”

The D. A. was having a hard time holding his breakfast down and decided to cancel his lunch appointment. 

“Absolutely no press until we know who the victim is for sure and then I’ll decide what we release.”

The Judge carefully examined the room and bath with her experienced eye and said, “Let’s keep the message on the wall to ourselves or this trial and our careers are over.”

She went out and told Jose, “Thank you, Jose, you did exactly the right thing.  Can you stay here until I have you relieved?”

“Yes, mam,” he responded.

“I’ll call and tell you who is taking over for you and in the interim I’ll want you on personal detail to me and this case,” she told him.

“Yes, mam.”

“And Jose, no leaks to the news, do you understand?”

Jose nodded and stood straight and tall at the door.  The Judge had given Jose a break when he was a very young man and an illegal and now Jose was her loyal supported for life.

She called the bailiff’s office and had Jose and two others she trusted detailed to her for the duration of the trial without telling the head bailiff what was going on.  He was a political appointee and she didn’t trust him.

Soon uniformed police were placed at each door on the fourteenth floor and Jose was relieved by another bailiff who was told to keep a log of everyone coming and going from the room for the Judge’s eyes only.

The head bailiff questioned Jose when he came in to time out but Jose just said that he was on personal assignment to Judge Able and had received his orders from her in person. 

The Judge cancelled the afternoon court session and waited in her chambers to find out the ID on the victim.  According to the records it was one Grace Devaney a grammar school teacher with no record of any kind.  It looked like a rage killing but that could very well be a cover the Judge decided.

Reporters’ were asking for a report on jury activity but told there was no unusual jury activity to report, but they were on to something and may have seen the D.A. or police chief arrive at the hotel.

As soon as confirmation reached the Judge that the victim was indeed Grace Devaney she called some federal people she knew and asked for assistance in analyzing the case and all the jurors.  When the assigned agent called her back she told him that the bloody note on the wall had read, “One down and fourteen to go.”  It could be connected to the trial itself as the note on the wall indicated, or it could be a personal motive using the trial as a cover.  Or the tough old veteran thought to herself it could be a crazy on the staff of the hotel or among the jury itself. She told the agent that the case involved the use of fetal material from aborted fetuses so he should check that angle. 

On a hunch she called the chief and asked him to place snipers on surrounding buildings and if anyone was spotted near the fourteenth floor to shoot the bastard. 

The attorney’s called to find out if something was going on and she told them that she had to replace juror J-6 and that she would fill them in the next day.

Out of her robes Judge Able was a slender pleasant looking woman even though she was a scarred veteran of the homicide squad before going on to law school and it was many years later that she was appointed to the bench.  She was sitting at her desk in chambers sipping Jameson neat when she heard a tapping on the door. 

“Come,” she called.

A smile crossed her face when she saw the scarred face of her ex-partner from homicide. She pulled out another shot glass and poured another Jameson’s as the lanky man took the chair across from her.

“Hear you got problems Beth,” he commented.

“You still got my back, Matt?”

“Cop’s last longer than marriage,” Matt laughed.

“You need someone to nose around?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t hurt, Matt, I’ll get you a temporary assignment,” she smiled at her old bud.

“Thanks, Beth.  Word on the street is that it’s a crazy.”

She described the crime scene and told him what the message said. 

He pursed his lips, “Contradictory,” he said.

“I thought so, too,” she said, “Killer’s showing off already, taunting us with what he’s done and is going to do.”

“Has he contacted the press yet?” Matt asked.

“I’m waiting for that shoe to fall, it will tell us a lot more,” she said, “Meanwhile we have to keep the rest of the jurors alive.”

“Even if you cut them lose he could keep killing them,” Matt said.

“Yes, but I’d hate to have to convince the jurors of that,” she said , “And to complicate it even more it’s a change of venue case involving the use of fetal material from aborted fetuses.”

The phone rang and the Judge listened for a few minutes and hung up. 

“No sexual assault, no prints unaccounted for, surveillance cameras didn’t catch anything,” she told Matt.

“Have the rooms checked before the jurors go in for the night,” Matt said.

“Buy you a steak?” he asked.

She grinned, “Sounds good but my treat,” she said.

“Kelly’s Place?” he asked.

“Kelly’s Place,” she replied.

(C) August 2013 Karen MacEanruig

 

CHAPTER ONE

Nina Forester saw the reminder on her calendar; damn she thought she was due at the courthouse today for jury duty and her work schedule was jammed. The beautiful, flawlessly groomed redhead had started a one station beauty salon right out of high school then Beauty College and now she owned her own high end beauty salon/spa and her co-workers were all carefully selected, independent contractors.  Nina was already losing money because of this blasted civic duty.

Blake Givens was running late and pulled into the jurors parking area taking up two parking spaces with his fancy Porsche. He remembered to toss his parking permit on the dash before he hurried into the courthouse.  Blake had spent the entire previous day at his country club trying to get out of the summons but had failed to avoid his obligation for the first time in his life.  No one seemed to want to mess with this particular judge.  Screw her Blake thought probably a damn lesbian.

Alice Hawsworth, twice divorced with blue hair and long brightly colored nails lived in a mobile home with her precious little poodle and a pink flamingo on her front lawn.  Alice was missing all of her favorite television shows today, especially Ellen and that woman everyone loved to hate, Bethenny Frankel.  Her sweet little poodle must miss his mama and would probably mess on the carpet because mama wasn’t there to take him out on his morning and afternoon walks.  Alice had an annoying habit of clicking her longs nails against each other when she was bored and she must be very bored this morning because there was a constant click, click, click coming from her direction.

Grace Devaney, a petite, graying, middle aged widow taught history and U.S. Constitution in the local grammar school and as well informed as she was she couldn’t remember any cases in town that would garner this kind of attention.  She racked her brain but nothing came to mind and none of the other potential jurors seemed to have a clue about all of the security and the news presence. 

Apparently the prosecution and defense had gone over the jurors questionnaires they all returned to the court because at least half of the jury pool was dismissed almost immediately. The crowds outside the courtroom grew and news van from as far away as the state capitol had begun to show up before lunch.  The remaining jurors were served box lunches in a conference room to avoid the news presence outside the courthouse.

At three that afternoon the judge called the prosecution and defense into chambers and asked both for a list of fifteen acceptable jurors, twelve to serve and three alternates.   The judge seated eight jurors acceptable to both sides and told  prosecution and defense that they had asked for a sequestered jury so they had until five to make their choices or the remainder would be sent out into the night with the news people and protestors because she couldn’t sequester anyone that hadn’t been selected for duty.  The tough, grey haired, female judge called in the bailiffs and assigned each one of the bailiffs a juror to contact and bring to her chambers immediately.

The black robed judge with cropped, iron grey hair informed them that they had been selected and that the jury was to be sequestered.  They all looked at each other and began protesting.  The judge pounded her gavel and told them any further demonstration would be met with contempt charges and jail time.  Each was sent home with a bailiff to pack for two weeks and the judge stared them all down coldly before releasing them to the custody of the bailiff’s.

“For Christ’s sake, do I have to leave my Porsche parked in a damned public lot?” Blake Givens asked the bailiff?

The bailiff handed him a ticket and a towing notice and told him to pick it up after the trial.

“What the hell?” Blake asked.

“Apparently, you were illegally parked, taking up two spaces,” the officer told him.

Blake huffed and puffed to no avail and sat silently as the bailiff drove him to his penthouse condo and watched him pack.

Nina Forester wasn’t any happier about jury duty but she was pleasant to the bailiff because she might find him useful later.  Ms. Forester  was a consummate businesswoman and she needed to get back to her beauty spa as soon as possible to keep business from falling off.  If things kept going well she was planning to expand and introduce her own product line into the spa and if that was a success she would start selling her line in retail stores all across the country.  Even in high school Nina had planned to be a millionaire before she was forty and civic duty, marriage and babies didn’t figure into those plans.

Alice Hawsworth was almost hysterical as she was driven home to pack.  Her spoiled poodle could be heard a block away barking and the neighbors descended on the official car when it pulled into the drive bringing the manager with an official warning.  The uniformed bailiff ran everyone but the manager off and told Alice she’d better make some arrangements quickly or she would be held in contempt.  Alice called her daughter and made arrangement for the beloved pet and packed enough polyester pants suits to last for two weeks along with different colored nail polish for each day.  Luckily she had her hair done the previous day.

Grace Devaney was the only happy camper in the group and took pleasure in calling her principal at home and informing him of her circumstances.  He hemmed and hawed a bit and she handed the phone to the bailiff and neatly packed her bags.  When she tried to pack her lap top the bailiff told her to leave it or it might be confiscated.  Indignantly, she complied with the judge’s order.

There was a traffic jam when they all arrived back at the hotel.  The streets seemed to be full of protestors and the lobby was swarming with reporters but they were escorted straight upstairs on a reserved elevator to their own floor.  The whole floor was reserved and the jurors were each assigned their own private room with bath.

The judge got her way when the attorneys saw the growing demonstrations and the trial was set to begin the following day. That night they were served dinner in a private dining room and given a choice of books or movies to watch on their televisions.

Alice Hawsworth was hysterical again along with a few sports fans when they learned that their televisions weren’t hooked up to cable and their entertainment was to be strictly censored.  They were told they could sleep in the following morning because the judge would be occupied with motions but that they should be prepared to join the trial at one thirty.

(C) August 2013 Karen MacEanruig