Vanishing Acts

cases, and nervous-looking men and women with greasy hair and dangling cigarettes. Madison tried to keep away from the nasty cigarette smoke as the line inched forward. She scanned the street, anxiously looking for Jake, who was late. Five minutes after they’d agreed to meet, a Volvo station wagon stopped in front of the courthouse and Jake hopped out. Madison waved and Jake ran over. He was dressed up for his first visit to court in a blue button- down shirt with thin white stripes and pressed khakis.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jake said. “My mom made me change clothes when I told her where I was going. I feel like a dork in this outfit.”

The exterior of the courthouse was brutish, but the lobby was an elegant mix of marble, dark wood, and polished brass. It would have looked nicer if it wasn’t cluttered with metal detectors and guard stations. Madison had grown up in her father’s law office, so she was used to mingling with suspicious-looking people. Madison watched Jake force himself to keep his eyes forward when two bearded bikers in black leather jackets and stained jeans crowded in behind him, then shift them toward the floor when he found himself looking at a skinny girl with glazed eyes and a nose ring and her muscle-bound, tattooed boyfriend.

After Madison and Jake made it past the airport-like security, they rode the elevator to the fifth floor, where Mark Shelby’s bail hearing had just started. They tiptoed down the aisle and took seats on a hard wooden bench a few rows back from the low fence that separated the spectators from people having business before the court.

The Honorable Vikki Young presided in a grand, high-ceilinged courtroom with ornate molding, marble Corinthian columns, and a dais of polished wood. She was an intimidating, dour woman with jet black hair and piercing blue eyes who glared at the lawyers through glasses with Coke-bottle lenses. Madison really wanted to try cases . . . but she hoped Judge Young was retired by the time she graduated from law school.

“That’s my dad,” Madison whispered, nodding toward Hamilton, who was sitting at the heavy wooden counsel table at the side of the courtroom farthest from the empty jury box. Seated beside Hamilton was Mark Shelby. Madison studied him. He was a tanned, athletic man in his mid-thirties, thick necked and broad shouldered. He looked tall even sitting down. Madison only had to look at him for a few seconds to see that he was very nervous. Shelby was fidgeting in his seat, and his eyes darted around the front of the courtroom as if he expected to be attacked.

“Is that your dad’s client?” Jake asked as they sat down.

Madison nodded.

“I thought a murderer would look creepier,” Jake said.

“Mr. Shelby is an alleged murderer,” Madison corrected Jake. “Remember, accused people are innocent until found guilty.”

“This guy looks too nice to have killed anyone.”

“I know, most murderers look normal. If they all looked weird, it would be easy to catch them. But since they look normal, anyone could be a murderer—your dentist or librarian . . . anyone.”

“Okay, okay, smarty,” Jake whispered, smiling. “Where’s the jury?”

“This is a bail hearing to decide if Mr. Shelby will have to stay in jail until the trial is over or if he can post bail and stay out. A judge decides whether to grant bail. You have juries at the full trial.”

Before Madison could say anything else, a well-dressed African American in his early thirties stood up.

“The State calls Thelma Bauer,” he said.

“Who is that?” Jake asked.

“He’s Dennis Payne, an assistant district attorney. He works for the state, and his job is to convict people who are charged with a crime.”

“Is he any good?”

“Dad thinks he’s one of the best prosecutors in the District Attorney’s office.”

“Shh,” someone behind them said. Madison turned to see an old lady shake her finger at them for talking.

“Sorry!” Madison whispered.

The courtroom door opened and the key witness in the case against Mark Shelby walked to the witness box. Thelma Bauer was dressed in her Sunday best and had applied too much makeup. She was just over five feet tall, but she stretched to her full height as she proudly took the oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Madison found herself thinking that Miss Bauer was relishing every second in the spotlight.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened on the morning in question, Miss Bauer?” Dennis Payne asked.

Miss Bauer sat up straight. She looked very serious. “My neighbors fight all the time, but this time their screams woke me up at five o’clock in the morning. My bedroom is on the side of the house across from their kitchen, and there’s only a thin strip of lawn to separate us. I had slept with my window open, which was unlucky for Mr. Shelby.”

“Could you see what was happening?”

“No, I couldn’t see much, but I could definitely hear those two shouting at each other.”

“What were they saying?” the DA asked.

“I’m not sure. Their kitchen window was closed. I heard glass shatter, and I heard Ruth Shelby scream like she was being murdered.”

Madison’s dad leaped to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor.”

“Objection sustained,” Judge Young said. “Miss Bauer, it’s my job to decide if there is a good reason to think Mrs. Shelby was murdered. Just tell me what you saw and heard.”

Miss Bauer reddened. She obviously didn’t appreciate not being able to say anything she wanted. Madison smiled, proud of her dad.

“I heard their front door slam,” she continued. “I can’t see the front door from my bedroom, so I ran to the front of my house and looked out. I have a very clear view of their driveway.”

“And what did you see?”

“Mr. Shelby’s station wagon was parked facing out from the garage with the trunk open. That man had his back to me and he was carrying something in his arms. Something big.” She paused for effect. “Something the size of a body. Then he put his poor wife in the trunk.”

Leaning forward on her bench, Madison waited for another objection, but Hamilton’s only reaction was a small smile.

“After that he slammed the trunk shut and sped away. That’s when I called 911.”

“Did you check to see if Mrs. Shelby was home before you called 911?”

“Of course. I was afraid to go over there in case he came back, but I called their house.” Thelma paused dramatically. “I’d heard Ruth scream just minutes before, but she didn’t answer. All I got was the answering machine.”

Madison thought that Miss Bauer looked disappointed when Dennis Payne said that he had no further questions. When the prosecutor sat down, Hamilton Kincaid rose.

“Hello, Miss Bauer,” Hamilton Kincaid said, flashing a friendly smile at the witness.

“Well, hello.” Thelma answered with her own smile.

“We appreciate your taking time to come here and help the judge decide this matter.”

“It’s my civic duty to help the police.”

“I’m sure they appreciate your help,” Hamilton said. “In fact, you try to help the police a lot, don’t you? How many times would you say you’ve called 911 to report a crime in the past year?”

“Oh, my, I can’t remember the exact number.”

Hamilton stood and held out a document for the judge’s clerk. “Perhaps this exhibit will help you. It lists five calls to 911 in the past year. Does that sound right?”

“I guess so.”

“You live in a nice part of town, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Most of the houses sell for three hundred thousand or more?”

“I suppose.”

“Not exactly a crime-ridden slum, is it?”

“Oh, no, I have very nice neighbors. Or I did before Mr. Shelby moved next door.”

“We’ll get to Mr. Shelby in a minute. But first, I’d like you to tell the judge how many of those 911 calls led to an arrest.”