by N. M. Silber
I decided to give it a try, “Folks, what Mr. Brenner is saying, is that Mr. Smith isn’t really from another planet; he’s mentally ill. He needs to go to a hospital.”
“He’s still going to have to fill out the paperwork,” Mr. Fisher replied and I sighed. Okay, they wanted Captain Kirk to fill out paperwork, that was fine with me. I went off in search of Mr. Smith. I found him in the vending machine room, talking to a beverage dispenser, and I led him back to meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dumber.
When I got back to the courtroom, it was immediately clear that there was some kind of situation going on. A group of deputies were meeting with the Spirit Hunters Team. Burt was gesturing wildly and the rest of them were nodding. I didn’t see Ernie anywhere, though. I led Mr. Smith over to the government think tank, and tracked down Braden to ask him what was going on.
“Is there some sort of crisis in the spirit realm?” I asked.
“Ernie is missing.”
“Missing?” I raised an eyebrow, inquisitively.
“Missing. He went off to retrieve some equipment and he never came back. I’m thinking that maybe he’s with Mr. Marley, who is also still MIA.”
“Oh hey, that reminds me, Edna Manson said something weird.”
“That’s not really surprising. Edna Manson’s pretty weird in general, Gabrielle.”
“Yeah, she is kind of creepy,” I agreed, “but listen to this, she claims that Mr. Marley’s case is just supposed to be administrative, because Mr. Marley died of a heart attack before it could be resolved.”
“What?” he asked turning to look at me. “He was sitting right over there, in the vortex area. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Wait, it gets better. This fatal heart attack happened in, you guessed it, 1905, in this very courtroom.”
“Yeah, right,” Braden replied skeptically. “What is this a horror movie?”
Suddenly, as if on cue, the lights went out, leaving us in total darkness. There was a second of silence, and the room filled with sounds of chairs scraping and falling over as people started yelling. The lights immediately came back on. Everyone froze and stopped yelling. The lights went back off. They started moving and yelling again. They came back on! Back off! Back on! That happened three more times, until finally everyone just shut up, and they came back on and stayed on, illuminating a bunch of bored, pissed off looking people. At that moment, the courtroom doors flew open and there was a sudden explosion of color. It was Delores Crowley. She was running up the aisle toward the bench.
“He’s here and he wants justice!” she cried, waving her arms like she was trying to land a 747.
“Who wants justice?” Judge Epstein asked with a scowl. There wouldn’t be any justice in her courtroom, dammit.
“The one who died,” Ms. Crowley answered. “I need an empty vessel.”
“Have you met Ms. Brooks and Mr. Fisher from the federal government?” I asked helpfully. Suddenly a blast of cold air came shooting down from the ceiling, blowing their enormous stack of papers all over the courtroom. Coincidence?
“The EMF meter is going off the scale!” one of the Spirit Hunters called out.
“Three point five, three point six, point seven, point eight,” another chimed in, looking at his own little light up box.
“This place is crawling with abnormal energy!” Burt informed us.
“It’s like that every night,” Mr. Brenner noted.
“His soul is disturbed,” Delores went on in a deep raspy voice, her eyes rolling back in her head. I had news for her, that wasn’t all that was disturbed. From somewhere out in the hall, came a horrible sound, not unlike the wail of a Banshee.
“Sid! It’s my Sid! I knew it! He wants justice!” Apparently, Gladys Peterman had not left the building. She came tearing into the courtroom like a bat out of hell, or more accurately, like a bat into hell, in this case I suppose.
“If he wants anything, Gladys, he wants you to shut up already,” her brother-in-law Irv said, coming in after her. “The poor guy can’t even get away from you by dying.” A loud clanging noise sounded from somewhere in the building. I guess Sid agreed.
“I need something to contain it!” Delores cried. “An empty vessel of some sort.” She looked around frantically. A guy who looked like a biker stood up and dumped a bottle of vitamin water onto the floor, handing it over to Delores.
“Fifty dollar fine!” Judge Epstein yelled out with a bang of her gavel.
“Ask Sid if that pervert violated him!” Gladys demanded.
“Tell him it’s about time he got some,” Irv muttered.
“What’s going on in here?” Edna Manson asked, joining the party a bit late … from the jury room? Mr. Bates came out behind her, pulling up his fly. Okay, that was something I really didn’t need to see. I glanced at Braden.
“Don’t think about it,” he said grimly.
“There’s a ghost in the room, and he’s pissed off, because somebody screwed him … or didn’t screw him,” a woman who looked like a working girl answered.
“Is it Mr. Marley? If so, I have that case,” Edna said, heading over to the prosecution table and digging through a pile of files. Braden rolled his eyes.
“It’s my Sid!” Gladys insisted.
“How do you know?” Edna shot back. She wasn’t going to let Mr. Marley off the hook just because he died in 1905.
“Because she said that the spirit wanted justice and he was disturbed!” Gladys seethed. A Spirit Hunter approached her with his Light Bright and she swung at him with her purse.
“I think this one might be a demon,” the Spirit Hunter said, ducking just in time.
“You’re just figuring that out now?” Irv Peterman asked.
“Enough of this!” Judge Epstein shouted, banging her gavel so hard that she broke it. “Everybody shut up!” There was silence as we all waited expectantly. “You, in the shit shirt, you first. What’s going on in here?” She glared at Bert malevolently.
He cleared his throat and launched into his explanation. “Well, Judge, my partner Ernie went to retrieve some equipment and seems to have gone missing. Our equipment is indicating that there is paranormal activity going on in this room at the moment.”
“Okay, and you, dressed in the rummage sale, Ms. Crowley, what’s your problem?” she asked Delores.
“I’m hearing voices from beyond demanding justice and I’m prepared to perform an exorcism … for a reasonable fee.”
“Uh huh. And you, Mrs. Peterman, you think this is your husband.”
“It’s because the narcoleptic violated him!”
“But you, Ms. Manson, think it’s a different ghost?”
“Yeah, I think it’s a guy named Marley, who died in 1905. He’s charged with trespassing, and if he doesn’t make an appearance,” she shouted at nobody in particular, “I’m gonna request a bench warrant!”
“I made an appearance two hours ago,” a voice answered from the back of the room. “This place moves like a glacier.” Everyone turned to look at Mr. Marley, who had reappeared, or materialized, depending on what you believed.
“You’re Marley?” Judge Epstein asked. “And you’re not dead?”
“Yeah, I’m Marley, and I’m as alive as he is,” he said glancing over at Mr. Fisher from the INS. We all took a second to try to figure out what that meant.
“Your Honor, we straightened out that trespassing case,” the judge’s clerk said, coming in through a side door. “The 1905 case was Commonwealth vs. Morely. This is Commonwealth vs. Marley,” he said laying a file on her bench and looking up. He seemed a bit perplexed at what exactly was going on.
“So, it looks like Mr. Marley is among the living. Does the Commonwealth have an offer?” Judge Epstein asked Ms. Manson with a smile.
“Yeah, we’ll come up with something,” Edna replied, looking disappointed.
“Your Honor, I apologize for the problems with the power,” another voice announced from the back of courtroom. On
ce again, everyone turned to look. It was Ernie, looking sheepish.
“You were responsible for that?”
“Uh, yeah,” he shuffled his feet. “I got a little carried away with the EMF meter. Wound up causing an electrical surge so powerful I knocked myself out for a few. All better now, though.”
“So, nobody is missing. Nobody is dead. And there’s an explanation for why the lights went out and the air conditioner went wild.” She tossed her broken gavel down on her bench.
“I still think there’s paranormal activity here,” Ernie answered.
“Me too!” Delores agreed. The two of them gazed at each other and you could almost hear the violins and see the little cherubs floating above their heads.
“I still think it’s Sid,” Gladys grumbled.
“Somebody get her out of here so we can wrap this nightmare session up,” Judge Epstein grumbled back and a deputy escorted Gladys out of the courtroom. Braden went off to negotiate a plea bargain, for the very much alive, Mr. Marley, and I went over to talk to Mr. Fisher, Ms. Brooks and Mr. Brenner.
“We’ve determined that you’re correct, and Mr. Smith is not actually in the country illegally,” Mr. Fisher informed us.
“There are some people from Mental Health who are coming to pick him up,” Ms. Brooks added. “It seems that our work here is done.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. The two federal employees gathered their things and left.
“Happy Halloween, Mrs. Pierce,” Mr. Brenner said, turning to leave.
“Happy Halloween!” I called after him.
A half an hour later, Braden and I finally walked wearily out of the front doors of the criminal courts building and headed for our car. It was too late for Jess’s party, but we were exhausted anyway.
“So, that was definitely an interesting experience,” I said to my husband.
“Yeah, no more Night Court.” He stopped walking and stood staring at something in the sky. I followed his gaze.
“What is that?” I asked, puzzled by the cigar-shaped object with the blinking lights. Suddenly, with what looked like a burst of energy, it disappeared.
“It’s gone. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“You don’t suppose …” The two of us looked at each other.
“Nah, couldn’t be,” he answered and we walked on hand in hand. We had bigger things to think about anyway, like the baby we were planning to make.
The End
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About The Author
N.M. Silber is an attorney, turned full-time author, who survived the Philadelphia criminal court system, largely by having a sarcastic sense of humor. She used her experiences there as a starting place to build her humorous cast of characters and sexy story lines, and she uses her knowledge of legal practice, courtroom procedure, and how lawyers really think, in every one of her novels.
She has been a USA Today Bestselling author and #1 Bestselling author in Romantic Comedy on Amazon. She was voted an Amazon Reader's Choice Best New Author for 2013, and has been ranked as a Top 100 author there overall. She has stated that her goal is to write books that make readers laugh, blush, swoon, and genuinely feel good.
She is represented by Kimberly Brower of Rebecca Friedman Literary Agency .
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