Bacon's Blood (58)

Tugnar Mayıs 01, 2022

The first image that drew his focus when Blow pushed through the courtroom doors was the small white face atop the billowing black robe of Circuit Judge Roger Pendleton. He (the judge) was perched on his leather-padded throne at the very center of the elevated, polished walnut furniture ensemble that comprised The Bench. As the doors swished shut behind Blow he saw the judge tilt his face downward and fix his countenance upon him. Blow's peripheral vision detected his client seated at the defense table; five yards away, the prosecutor at his. The air snapped with electric anticipation.

“Your honor.” Blow's salute as he brisk-walked up the aisle between the rows of empty benches.

Pendleton spoke into a little black curved microphone on his desktop. He sounded friendly. “Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Mr. Stone. Hope you had time to get something to eat.”

“Yes, sir, Judge.” He pushed through the bar gate and headed for the table. Elvin Bacon was facing him. The vacant look was gone, replaced by something new, unfamiliar. No smile, no sneer. The eyes were focused, but there was something strange in them. Bacon returned Blow's polite nod. It occurred to Blow that Leonard wasn't present. Another flag.

Blow went to his chair. The judge held up a hand. “Not yet, Mr. Stone. I'd like to meet with you and Mr. Gobble in chambers.” Blow heard Gobble push to his feet. Bacon started to rise, but Pendleton checked him.

“Just counsel, Mr. Bacon, for now.”

“I'm an attorney, your honor.” Bacon's voice was tense.

“You're also the defendant. Unless you're representing yourself you will allow us this conference. We won't be--”

Bacon shot to his feet. “Dammit, Judge, I have a right--”