Killer Ambition - [79]

I immediately spotted Don Wagmeister on the other side of counsel table. It wasn’t hard to do, since he stood six feet four and was built like a solid rectangle-a rectangle that was usually adorned with brightly colored theme ties, like sharks, the scales of justice, and the guy on the Monopoly “Get Out of Jail Free” card. I’d heard he had hair plugs, but I’d never noticed it myself. Then again, he slicked his hair back with so much goo, who could tell? I was about to go over and hand him the first batch of discovery-all the crime and evidence reports that’d been generated so far-when the judge took the bench.

The bailiff told everyone to rise. Declan and I were already standing, so we stayed that way. Judge Patrick Daley, a bird-thin, nervous man in bifocals, moved up the steps to the bench swiftly, his black robe flowing around his legs. His eyes landed briefly on the camera, then flicked away as he called the court to order. He spoke so rapidly, the sentence came out as one long word. “Everyone-be-seated-court-calls-the-case-of-People-versus-Powers-and-Averly.” The judge paused just long enough to take a breath. “Lawyers-please-state-your-names-for-the-record…People?”

Some judges are definitely not in love with the limelight, and Judge Daley seemed to be one of them, so he chose to get rid of us first-a very wise move. I hated it when judges put a high-profile appearance last on the calendar. It meant everyone had to suffer through a courtroom crowded with reporters that much longer. Declan and I gave our names, then the defense-with Wagmeister drawing out the opportunity for free advertising by announcing his name in a booming voice.

“Donald Wagmeister for Ian Powers, Your Honor.”

The next voice, low and husky but firm, took me by surprise. “Terry Fisk for Jack Averly.”

Terry Fisk? Unlike Wagmeister, Terry was easy to miss-at first. Barely five feet tall, with a pug nose and a square jaw that jutted out when she argued-which was often, and with vigor-she was one of the toughest in the business. Smart as they come and always prepared, she was a brawler of a lawyer who took her gloves off when she walked into court and never put them back on. If you were looking for a gentlemanly trial, you’d never get it with Terry. I’d counted myself lucky not to run into her before. Now, obviously, my luck had run out. It couldn’t have happened in a worse case.

“People, please arraign the defendants.”

I read the charges, then asked, “Mr. Powers, how do you plead, guilty or not guilty?”

Powers cleared his throat to declare in a voice he tried to pack with outrage, “Not guilty!”

“Mr. Averly, how do you plead?”

Jack Averly’s head had been down. Terry nudged him with her elbow and whispered to him. He glanced up briefly, then dipped his head and stuttered, “Not-uh-not guilty.”

Terry shot him a sidelong dark look. Notorious for demanding total control of her clients, she coached them to within an inch of their lives and expected them to repay her efforts by doing exactly as they were told. I knew that Averly would catch hell from her for that pathetic performance the moment they got back into lockup.

The judge accepted the pleas and I moved toward the defense side of counsel table as I spoke. “Your Honor, I’d like the record to reflect that I’m handing each defense counsel a copy of the discovery that we have to date.” I described the reports that were included in the packet.

“It will,” the judge said. “Counsel, please acknowledge receipt.”

“Acknowledged on behalf of Mr. Powers,” Wagmeister said as he took the packet from me.

Fisk took her packet without looking at it, or me. “I won’t acknowledge that’s what the prosecution gave me because I haven’t had time to look at it. All I’m prepared to say is that she handed me some papers.”

I walked back to my side of counsel table. “That’s fine, Your Honor.” I kept my voice calm but thought to myself, “Here we go.” Turning over the initial discovery was a routine thing-it was never a reason for even a minor skirmish. Even for Fisk this was an unusually testy start. “I’ve number-stamped all the pages and I’d like to lodge a copy of what I gave to counsel with the court at this time. Let the record reflect they’re numbered one through fifty-seven.”

I always made an extra copy of discovery to lodge with the court just in case of situations like this, though it’d been a long time since I’d needed to. Giving the court a copy of what I’d given the defense offered some proof that I hadn’t deprived them of anything. I handed the packet to the bailiff, who passed it up to the judge. He looked through the pages quickly. “The record will reflect I’ve received the pages and noted that they are numbered as you indicated. Now let’s pick a date for the preliminary hearing.”

“I’d like to go past the statutory ten days,” Wagmeister said, consulting his calendar and picking a date a few weeks out.

“That’s acceptable with the People,” I said.

“Ms. Fisk, is that acceptable to you?” the judge asked.

“No. We’re not waiving time. Mr. Averly wants his preliminary hearing within the statutory ten days.”