even after my mother passes. It stinks, Grady, and it goes all the way up to Judge Guthrie.”
“Bennie.” Grady grabbed a chair, yanked it across the plywood subfloor toward the bed, and sat down. “Listen to yourself. You’re saying that a Common Pleas Court judge is plotting against a criminal defendant. How likely is that?”
“It’s possible,” Bennie said, alert for the first time in what seemed like years. “Guthrie got his judgeship because of Henry Burden. Burden was the D.A. and knows everybody in law enforcement. Connolly says the cops framed her for this, and the police response to the scene-the timing-is suspicious. Even if Connolly was selling drugs-”
“Connolly was selling drugs?” Grady interrupted, and Bennie realized she hadn’t told him that.
“Grady, assume the cops killed Della Porta and framed Connolly for it, why can’t a judge be involved, too? You never heard of judicial corruption? On the Common Pleas Court bench? Please. Years ago the roofers were paying cash for cases, Grady.
“Connolly is a liar. She’s lying about being framed and she’s lying about being your twin. Now you’re telling me she’s a drug dealer? She’s manipulating-”
“We don’t know she lied about any of that, Grady. She agreed to the DNA test, did I tell you that? We both gave blood yesterday. Or the day before that.” Bennie rubbed her eyes. Her mother’s death had chased every other thought from her head.
“No, you didn’t tell me, but don’t infer so much from the fact she agreed.”
“Why not? You’d infer an awful lot if she refused. So would I.”
Grady cocked his head. “She could have agreed to string you along. Or maybe she believes she’s your twin. Who knows?”
Bennie sighed, exasperated and confused. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was definitely fishy about Judge Guthrie’s order. She sprang up from the bed, jolting the golden retriever from her lap. “I have to get dressed.”
“What? Why?” Grady asked, startled. “You going to work?”
“Not exactly,” she answered, and hurried to shower.
44
“My goodness! Ms. Rosato, you, eh, don’t have an appointment, do you?” The judge’s aged receptionist looked startled behind her bifocals and double-checked the appointment book lying open on her desk. Her slim hand bore an Irish wedding band, and Bennie could smell her lemony hand lotion from across the desk.
“This is an impromptu visit. Judge Guthrie wasn’t in his courtroom, so I assume he’s in chambers.”
“Why, yes, but one can’t simply
“Oh, he’ll be thrilled to see me.” Bennie winked, and the secretary rose to her feet, waving a hand.
“Please, no. You can’t go in there. The judge is working.”
“So am I,” Bennie said. She strode to the office door, knocked briefly, and opened it. The judge’s chambers were decorated in Shaker style, and antique cherry furniture circled an elegant silk Oriental in front of a large mahogany desk. Certificates blanketed the paneled walls, and ginger lamps lent an understated glow to casebooks and legal treatises that filled cherry bookcases. Judge Guthrie stood across the carpet reading a chubby United States reporter; its stiff, ivory pages open in a fan. He peered over his tortoiseshell reading glasses at the intrusion.
“Ms. Rosato,” he said, turning from the bank of cream-colored volumes. The judge made a frail, stooped figure without his judicial robes. “Please accept my condolences in the death of your mother.”
“I got them this morning. ‘It is hereby ordered,’ I think it said.”
“Ah, quite. I thought you might be disappointed.”
“That, too. Puzzled is more apt, Your Honor.”
“Ms. Rosato, please call me Judge. Lawyers who barge into my office always call me Judge.”
Bennie couldn’t find her smile. “I need to know why you didn’t grant my motion, Judge. I should have been able to withdraw, especially in these circumstances. I can’t represent the defendant anymore. I’m too close to her, too emotionally involved, and with my mother-”
“I can understand your predicament,” Judge Guthrie said, his voice calm even as the door behind Bennie opened and his secretary peeked in worriedly, with a male law clerk cowering behind her.
“Judge,” the secretary interrupted, in a tremulous voice, “I telephoned the sheriffs, and they’re on their way.” She glanced at Bennie, who thought she read a twinge of regret behind her bifocals, but the judge only laughed.
“Call off the dogs, Millie. Get back to work, Ronald. I can handle Ms. Rosato on my own. She’s not the first lawyer unhappy with one of my rulings and she’s not quite so terrifying as she thinks.”
“Yes, Judge.” The secretary nodded, withdrawing and closing the door after her.
Judge Guthrie cleared his throat. “I anticipated your displeasure with my order. It wasn’t an easy decision, given my sympathy for your recent loss, and we do have history, you and I, don’t we?”
“Yes, we do.”
“I’m fond of you, Ms. Rosato. I tell you that directly. However, I had to deny your motion to withdraw. Recall that I granted your earlier motion to step in as defendant’s counsel. Less than a week later, you move to step out. I can’t sanction that sort of conduct. It would create havoc, not only with my calendar but with the rights of criminal defendants.”
“But, Judge, you read the papers. Surely you’ve seen that there are extenuating circumstances in this case. I admit it, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place.”
“You mean the ‘twin murder case.’ I would prefer to avoid tabloid journalism, though it’s impossible these days.” Judge Guthrie shook his head, his wispy white hair bright in the light of chambers. “No, it was imprudent of you to become involved in the Connolly matter. But you did, and that’s where we find ourselves. I don’t recall your asserting in your brief that the defendant wishes you to withdraw, do I?”
“No. She wants me to remain her counsel.”
“I assumed as much.” Judge Guthrie nodded. “I couldn’t very well grant that withdrawal motion then, now could I?”
Bennie swallowed. Ever since this case began, she’d been arguing the wrong side. Still. “But why no extension, Judge? It’s routine in the case of death in the immediate family. The trial hasn’t started yet. You know I’m right on the extension.”
Judge Guthrie stiffened. “I’m not in the habit of scheduling my cases around counsel’s availability. That’s the cart before the horse, my dear. I told you in open court we couldn’t have further delays in this matter, and we cannot. I have a breach-of-contracts matter scheduled for the following week with out-of-town counsel and that should take a full month. Now. You have my order.” Judge Guthrie snapped the casebook closed, and the soft
“I don’t believe that’s the real reason, Judge.”
“The
Bennie hesitated. She was accustomed to busting cops, but judges were another matter entirely. “I believe there’s a police conspiracy against Alice Connolly and I think you’re a part of it. I think you’re protecting the police, in return for the old favor of getting you this judgeship. I think that’s why you gave Connolly’s defense to Henry Burden in the first place, so he’d sit on it. And how convenient that Burden is out of the country so nobody can question him.”
“My, that’s quite a theory.” Judge Guthrie smiled faintly and replaced the book. Only when it was completely ensconced did he turn and face Bennie. “Corrupt judges, corrupt police, corrupt lawyers. Who is behind all this, and why?”
Bennie found his reaction odd and noted he hadn’t denied her charge, even reflexively. “I don’t know yet, but it’s not who, it’s what, and the answer has to be money. It always is. I think a lot of people stand to make a lot of
