by John Grisham
In typical Yeck fashion, he said, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Ms. Spangler and Ms. Cross, I am very sympathetic to your complaints. If Pete shows up again, I want you to video him. Have a cell phone or a camera ready, and catch him on video. Then bring me the video. At that point, Mr. Boone, we will take Pete into custody and have his wings clipped. The owners will be responsible for the costs. There will be no hearing—it will be automatic. Is this clear, Mr. Boone?”
“Just a second, Your Honor.” Theo huddled with the three Regniers and they were soon nodding in agreement.
“They understand, Your Honor,” Theo announced.
“Good. I hold them responsible. I want Pete kept at home. Period.”
“Can they take him home now?” Theo asked.
“Yes. I’m sure the good folks at the animal shelter are ready to get rid of him. Case closed. Court’s adjourned.”
Kevin Blaze and his clients and the rest of the women in black boots hustled out of the courtroom. When they were gone, the bailiff brought Pete back and handed him over to Anton, who immediately opened the cage and removed the bird. His grandparents wiped tears from their cheeks as they stroked his back and tail.
Theo drifted away and walked to the bench where Judge Yeck was making notes on his docket. “Thanks, Judge,” Theo said, almost in a whisper.
“That’s a bad bird,” Judge Yeck said softly with a chuckle. “Too bad we don’t have a video of Pete dive-bombing the ladies on their horses.” They both laughed, but quietly.
“Nice job, Theo.”
“Thanks.”
“Any word on the Finnemore girl?”
Theo shook his head. No.
“I’m very sorry, Theo. Someone told me you’re a close friend.”
Theo nodded and said, “Pretty close.”
“Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”
“Yeck, Yeck, Yeck,” Pete squawked as he left the courtroom.
Chapter 14
Jack Leeper wanted to talk. He sent a note to the jailer, who passed it on to Detective Slater. Late Friday afternoon, they marched Leeper from his cell block and through an old tunnel which led to the police station next door. Slater and his trusty sidekick, Capshaw, were waiting in the same dim and cramped interrogation room. Leeper looked as though he had not bathed or shaved since they had chatted with him the day before.
“Something on your mind, Leeper.” Slater began rudely. As always, Capshaw was taking notes.
“I talked to my lawyer today,” Leeper said, as if he were now more important because he had a lawyer.
“Which one?”
“Ozgoode, Kip Ozgoode.”
As if they had rehearsed, both detectives chuckled and sneered at the name. “If you have Ozgoode, you’re dead meat, Leeper,” Slater said.
“The worst,” Capshaw added.
“I like him,” Leeper said. “He seems a lot smarter than you boys.”
“You want to talk or swap insults?”
“I can do both.”
“Does your lawyer know you’re talking to us?” Slater asked.
“Yep.”
“So what do you want to talk about?”
“I’m worried about the girl. You clowns obviously can’t find her. I know where she is, and as the clock ticks her situation gets worse. She needs to be rescued.”
“You’re a real sweetheart, Leeper,” Slater said. “Snatch the girl, stash her somewhere, and now you want to help her.”
“I’m sure you have a deal for us,” Capshaw said.
“You got it. Here’s what I’ll do, and you guys better do it fast because there’s one frightened little girl out there. I’ll plead guilty to one count of breaking and entering; get two years in prison, with my time to run at the same time as that mess in California. I stay here and do my time. My lawyer says the paperwork can be done in a matter of hours. We sign the deal, the prosecutor and judge okay it, and you get the girl. Time is crucial here boys, so you’d better make a move.”
Slater and Capshaw exchanged a nervous look. Leeper had them. They suspected he was lying because they expected nothing else from him. But what if he wasn’t? What if they agreed to his deal and he led them to April?
Slater said, “It’s almost six p.m. on Friday afternoon, Leeper. All the judges and prosecutors have gone home.”
“Oh, I’ll bet you can find them. They’ll hustle up if there’s a chance of saving the girl.”
Another pause as they studied his bearded face. Why would he offer such a deal if he didn’t know where she was? Such a plea bargain would be thrown out the window if he couldn’t deliver. Plus, they had no other leads, no other suspects. Leeper had always been their man.
“I don’t mind having a chat with the prosecutor,” Slater said, giving in.
“If you’re lying, Leeper, we’ll ship you back to California come Monday,” Capshaw said.
“Is she still in town?” Slater asked.
“I’m not saying another word until I sign the deal,” Leeper said.
As Theo was leaving the courthouse after saving Pete the Parrot, he saw a text message from Ike, who wanted him to run by the office.
Because he got off to a slow start each day, Ike usually worked late, even on Fridays. Theo found him at his desk, piles of papers everywhere, a bottle of beer already opened, and Bob Dylan on the stereo.
“How’s my favorite nephew?” Ike said.
“I’m your only nephew,” Theo replied as he shook off his raincoat and sat in the only chair that wasn’t covered with files and binders.
“Yes, but Theo you’d be my favorite even if I had twenty.”
“If you say so.”
“How was your day?”
Theo had already learned that a large part of being a lawyer was relishing the victories, especially the ones involving courtroom battles. Lawyers love to tell stories about their weird clients and strange cases, but they thrive on their dramatic wins in court. So Theo launched into the saga of Pete, and before long Ike was roaring with laughter. Not surprisingly, Judge Yeck did not hang out with the more respected lawyers in town, and he and Ike occasionally bumped into one another at a certain bar where some of the misfits liked to drink. Ike thought it was hilarious that Yeck allowed Theo to handle cases like a real lawyer.
When the story was over, Ike changed subjects and said, “I still say the police should be checking out the girl’s father. From what I hear, they’re still concentrating on Jack Leeper, and I think that’s a mistake. Don’t you?”
“I don’t know, Ike. I don’t know what to think.”
Ike picked up a piece of paper. “His name is Thomas Finnemore, goes by Tom. His band calls itself Plunder and they’ve been on the road for a few weeks. Finnemore and four other clowns, most from around here. There’s no website. The lead singer is a former drug dealer I met years ago, and I managed to track down one of his current girlfriends. She wouldn’t say much, but she thinks they’re in the Raleigh, North Carolina, area doing cheap gigs in bars and fraternity houses. She did not act as though she missed her boyfriend that much. Anyway, that’s all I could find out.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“See if you can find Plunder.”
Theo shook his head in frustration. “Look, Ike, there’s no way April would take off with her father. I’ve tried to tell you. She doesn’t trust him, and she really dislikes him.”
“And she was scared, Theo. A very frightened little girl. You don’t know what she was thinking. Her mother had abandoned her. These people are nuts, right?”
“Right.”
“No one broke in the house, because her father has a key. He gets her and they take off, for how long no one knows.”
“Okay, but if she’s with her father, then she’s safe, right?”
“You tell me. You think she’s safe hanging around with Plunder? Not the best place for a thirteen-year-old girl.”
“So I find Plunder, and just hop on my bike and fly down to Raleigh, Nort
h Carolina.”
“We’ll worry about that later. You’re a whiz with a computer. Start searching, see what you can find.”
What a waste of time, Theo thought. He was suddenly tired. The week had been stressful and he’d slept little. The excitement of Animal Court had sapped whatever energy he had, and he just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.
“Thanks, Ike,” he said as he grabbed his raincoat.
“Don’t mention it.”
Late Friday night, Jack Leeper was once again handcuffed and led from his cell. The meeting took place in a room at the jail where lawyers met with their clients. Leeper’s lawyer, Kip Ozgoode, was there, along with Detectives Slater and Capshaw, and a young lady from the prosecutor’s office named Teresa Knox. Ms. Knox immediately took charge. She was all business and didn’t appreciate being called from home on a Friday night.
“There’s no deal, Mr. Leeper,” she began. “You’re in no position to make deals. You’re facing kidnapping charges, which means up to forty years in prison. If the girl is harmed, then more charges. If she’s dead, then your life is really over. The best thing for you is to tell us where she is so she won’t be harmed anymore and you won’t face additional charges.”
Leeper grinned at Ms. Knox but said nothing.
She continued, “This is assuming, of course, that you’re not playing games. I suspect that you are. So does the judge. So do the police.”
“Then all of you will be sorry,” Leeper said. “I’m giving you the chance to save her life. As for me, I’m sure I’ll die in prison.”
“Not necessarily,” Ms. Knox fired back. “You give us the girl, safe and sound, and we’ll recommend a twenty-year sentence on the kidnapping charge. You can serve your time here.”
“What about California?”
“We can’t control what they do in California.”
Leeper kept grinning, as if he was enjoying the moment. Finally, he said, “As you say, no deal.”
Chapter 15
The Boone family breakfast on Saturday morning was rather tense. As usual, Theo and Judge dined on Cheerios—orange juice for Theo but not for Judge—while Woods Boone ate a bagel and read the sports page. Marcella sipped coffee and scanned her laptop for news around the world. Not much was said, at least not for the first twenty minutes. The remains of other conversations were still hanging in the air, and a disagreement might flare up at any moment.
The tension had several causes. First, and most obvious, was the general gloominess that had afflicted the family since about 4:00 a.m. Wednesday morning when they were awakened by the police and asked to hurry over to the Finnemore home. As the days passed without April, the mood had only darkened. There were efforts, especially by Mr. and Mrs. Boone, to smile and be upbeat, but all three knew these were futile. Second, but less important, was the fact that Theo and his father would not play their weekly nine holes of golf. They teed off almost every Saturday at 9:00 a.m., and it was the highlight of the week.
The golf was being cancelled because of the third reason for the tension. Mr. and Mrs. Boone were leaving town for twenty-four hours, and Theo insisted he be allowed to stay by himself. It was a fight they’d had before, and Theo had lost before, and he was losing again. He had carefully explained that he knew how to lock all the doors and windows; arm the alarm system; call the neighbors and 911, if necessary; sleep with a chair wedged under his door; sleep with Judge by his side ready to attack, and sleep with a seven-iron golf club in his grip, if necessary. He was thoroughly and completely safe and he resented being treated like a child. He refused to stay with a babysitter when his parents went out for dinner or the movies, and he was furious that they refused to leave him on this little overnight trip of theirs.
His parents wouldn’t budge. He was only thirteen and that was too young to be left alone. Theo had already started the negotiating, even pestering, and the door was open to serious discussion on the issue when he was fourteen. But for now, Theo needed the supervision and protection. His mother had arranged for him to spend the night with Chase Whipple, which would have been okay under normal circumstances. However, as Chase had explained, his own parents were going out for dinner Saturday night and leaving the two boys to be watched by Chase’s older sister, Daphne, a truly dislikable girl of sixteen who was always at home because she had no social life and therefore felt compelled to flirt with Theo. He had suffered through such a sleepover not three months earlier when his parents were in Chicago for a funeral.
He had protested, griped, sulked, argued, pouted, and nothing had worked. His Saturday night was about to be spent in the basement of the Whipple home with pudgy Daphne chattering nonstop and staring at him while he and Chase tried to play video games and watch television.
Mr. and Mrs. Boone had considered cancelling their trip, in light of April’s abduction and the general sense of uneasiness in town. Their plans were to drive two hundred miles to a popular resort called Briar Springs for a few hours of fun with a bunch of lawyers from around the state. There would be afternoon seminars and speeches, then cocktails, then a long dinner with more speeches from wise old judges and dull politicians. Woods and Marcella were active in the State Bar Association and never missed the annual meeting at Briar Springs. This one was even more important because Marcella was scheduled to give a speech on recent trends in divorce law, and Woods was on tap to participate in a seminar on the mortgage foreclosure crisis. Both had prepared their remarks and were looking forward to the afternoon.
Theo assured them he would be fine, and that Strattenburg would not miss them if they left for twenty-four hours. Over dinner Friday evening, they had decided to make the trip. And they had decided that Theo would stay with the Whipple family, in spite of his vocal opposition to such a plan. Theo lost the argument, and though he conceded this to himself he still awoke on Saturday in a foul mood.
“Sorry about the golf, Theo,” Mr. Boone said without taking his eyes off the sports page.
Theo said nothing.
“We’ll catch up next Saturday by playing eighteen. Whatta you say?”
Theo grunted.
His mother closed her laptop and looked at him. “Theo, dear, we’re leaving in an hour. What are your plans for the afternoon?”
Seconds passed before Theo said, “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll just hang out here and wait for the kidnappers and murderers to show up. I’ll probably be dead by the time you get to Briar Springs.”
“Don’t get smart with your mother,” Woods said sharply, then raised the newspaper to conceal a grin.
“You’ll have a great time at the Whipples’,” she said.
“Can’t wait.”
“Now, back to my question. What are your plans for the afternoon?”
“Not sure. Chase and I might go the high school game at two, or we might go to the Paramount and watch the double feature. There’s also a hockey game.”
“And you’re not searching for April, right, Theo? We’ve had this conversation. You boys have no business riding around town playing detectives.”
Theo nodded.
His father lowered his newspaper, glared at Theo, and said, “Do we have your word, Theo? No more search parties?”
“You have my word.”
“I want a text message every two hours, beginning at eleven this morning. Do you understand?” his mother asked.
“I do.”
“And smile, Theo. Make the world a happier place.”
“I don’t want to smile right now.”
“Come on, Teddy,” she said with a smile of her own. Calling him Teddy did nothing to brighten his mood, nor did her constant reminders to “smile and make the world a happier place.” Theo’s thick braces had been stuck to his teeth for two years and he was sick of them. He could not imagine how a blazing mouth full of metal could possibly make anyone happier.
They left at 10:00 a.m. on the dot, on schedule, because they planned to arrive precisely at 1:30 p.m. Marcella’s speech was at 2:30
p.m.; Woods’s seminar was at 3:30 p.m. As busy lawyers, their lives revolved around the clock, and time could not be wasted.
Theo waited half an hour, then loaded up his backpack and took off to the office. Judge followed him. As expected, Boone & Boone was deserted. His parents rarely worked on Saturday, and the staff certainly did not. He unlocked the front door, disarmed the alarm system, and switched on the lights to the main library near the front of the building. Its tall windows looked onto the small front lawn, then the street. The room had the look and smell of a very important room, and Theo often did his homework there, if the lawyers and paralegals weren’t using it. He fixed Judge a bowl of water, and then unpacked his laptop and cell phone.
He’d spent a couple of hours the night before searching for Plunder. He still found it hard to believe that April would leave in the middle of the night with her father, but Ike’s theory was better than anything Theo could come up with. Besides, what else did Theo have to do over the weekend?
So far, there was no sign of Plunder. Working in the Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill area, Theo had found dozens of music halls, clubs, private party rooms, concert venues, bars and lounges, even wedding receptions. About half had websites or Facebook pages, and not one had mentioned a band called Plunder. He also found three underground weeklies that listed hundreds of possible venues for live music.
Using the office landline, Theo began cold calling, in alphabetical order. The first was a joint called Abbey’s Irish Rose in Durham. A scratchy voice said, “Abbey’s.”
Theo tried to lower his voice as much as possible. “Yes, could you tell me if the band Plunder is playing there tonight?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Thanks.” He hung up quickly.
At Brady’s Barbeque in Raleigh, a woman said, “We don’t have a band tonight.”
Theo, with every question scripted to learn as much as possible, asked, “Has Plunder ever played there?”
“Never heard of ’em.”
“Thanks.”