Stopping, Casella turned. “Are you talking to me?”
“Of course I am.” He asked, “When are you going to learn to behave?”
She shook her head, dislodging a few tendrils from the knot at her neck. She always scraped it back like some elderly matron and the style was unattractive. For as prim as she looked, she was hell on wheels.
But now, those usually snapping green eyes clouded. “You sound like my father.”
“Who didn’t do a very good job raising you.”
That took the starch out of her. Her already light complexion paled making freckles stand out. Finally, she said, “Since he died when I was nine, and I missed so much time with him, that’s a shitty thing to say, even for you.”
Some starch left him, too. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He’d lost his father, too, but in a different way.
“I don’t want your condolences.”
“What do you want from me, Casella?”
“Your behavior in court is atrocious. I’d like you to show some manners.”
“The pot’s calling the kettle black there, don’t you think?”
“I comport myself well.”
“Not according to Judge Branson.” He frowned. “Could she have really meant she’d throw us in jail?” He winked at her to piss her off. “I have a hot date tonight.”
“Give the woman my condolences.” She walked away. He watched her hips sway in the dark green suit she wore with a sage blouse. Then he cursed himself for noticing.
* * *
During the lunch break, a very interesting visitor came to Hayley’s office. Now, she stood at the prosecution table. “I call Harry Jenkins to the stand.”
Covington shot out of his chair. “He wasn’t on the witness list.”
That was true but she delighted in needling him. She widened her eyes in sham innocence. She and her brother Ronan were in all the plays in high school, and though he was a lot better than she was, she remembered how to act. “This witness came forth during lunch.” And shocked her with his story. “He followed the reports on the trial online.”
“Approach,” the judge said wearily. There had been no fireworks in this afternoon session—so far.
“Who is this guy?” Covington asked, his tone belligerent. Maybe she could finagle it so only he was accused of contempt.
“The former principal of the last school Jamie Callahan got kicked out of.”
“Once again, Ms. Casella is quoting facts not in evidence.” He arched a brow. “What’s the relevance of Mr. Jenkins?”
She looked at him like he was a cockroach. “You’ll see if you let me question him.” She made the statement in a sugary voice to upset him more.
“ADA Casella!” Again, Judge Branson was angry. “I’m going to allow the witness but no more surprises from you.”
“Yes, Judge,” she said demurely.
A tall, thin man with the bearing of a Dean of Students he used to be came to the front, was seated and sworn in. “Thank you for coming forward, Mr. Jenkins.”
He nodded. “I felt it was my duty.”
“Tell us how you know Jamie Callahan.”
“I was a teacher at Havisham Prep, then became Dean of Students.” Another of the most prestigious private schools in New York. The name came right out of a Dickens novel.
“And did you know the Callahans? Jamie?”
“Yes to both.”
“What kind of student was he?”
“He was a C student.” The man cleared his throat. “And young Mr. Callahan was a bully.”
“How did that manifest itself?”
“I object.”
Hayley barked, “On what grounds?”
She suffered a stern look from the judge. “Mr. Covington, what do you object to?”
“I can see this witness is going to be important. I need time to prepare my cross examination.”
“I object to that. You said all you wanted was relevance. You accuse us of having no corroboration or pattern in Mr. Callahan’s behavior.”
“You ambushed me.”
“Your honor, as I said, Mr. Jenkins came forward at lunch time.” She turned to Paul. “I’m sorry if Mr. Covington can’t keep up. Perhaps your second chair, Ms. Parker over there, can help you.”
A lovely woman, Marcy Parker was a good second chair. At least she was well-behaved.
Judge Branson banged her gavel. Her face red, she announced, “I’m going to allow this witness then adjourn for the weekend.” She glared at first Hayley, then Covington. “And I’m charging you both with direct contempt of court for misconduct. Bailiff, you can take them away as soon as we finish with Mr. Jenkins.”
“But…”
“The next one of you to speak will get two nights.”
“Overnight?” Hayley asked.
“Yes. Proceed, Ms. Casella.”
Upset at the prospect of jail time, Hayley was off-kilter now. “W-what did Callahan do to make you label him a bully?”
“He picked on weak classmates. Backed them into corners, stuffed them in lockers. I tried to punish him so nothing worse would happen. But his parents…had sway with the board.”
“Ah. Did he ever hurt anybody?”
“Yes, a young student fell flat on the floor when he tripped the boy. Broke several of his teeth.”
“And how was Jamie punished?”
Mr. Jenkins pressed the glasses at the bridge of his nose. “He wasn’t. Again, his parents intervened.” Turning his head, his gaze narrowed on Mr. and Mrs. Callahan. “I quit the school at that point because I couldn’t tolerate the politics.”
“Do you have another job?”
“I’m afraid I was blackballed in all private schools.”
“Hmm.” She turned to the jury and said, “Another victim on Jamie Callahan.”
“I object,” Covington said.
“Of course, you do.”
* * *
Paul took it as long as he could, but he finally spoke. “I can’t stand this silence,” he admitted to the woman beside him. They’d been sitting in here in this dank, dreary and odorous cell for two hours and the only word spoken was supper when the guard brought them food. Which neither of them touched.
“I was about to say that.” She gave a small smile. In the light from the hallway—there were no windows in this tiny cave—he could see she’d bitten off her lipstick and more hair had come out of
