Secrets and Fries at the Starlight Diner

by Helen Cox

  ‘I am appealing to both of you to set bail terms for my client in accordance with what the Criminal Justice Agency recommended when they interviewed her,’ Jimmy continued, alternating his gaze between Miller and Carter. ‘This woman is not a murderer. In fact, she witnessed the murder and was almost murdered herself by the perpetrators. Imprisonment of Ms Brooks would be wrongful on the evidence as it stands. I have serious questions about the integrity of that evidence, and because of that, and several other factors, I’d like to request that bail is granted to my client and that we agree on home detention terms, which will alleviate the prosecution’s concern when it comes to risk of flight.’

  ‘House arrest?’ said Judge Miller. ‘But I was of the understanding that Ms Brooks was currently without residence?’

  I swallowed and pressed my lips hard against one another. I hadn’t outright thought about it like that, not in the long-term, but the judge was right. My landlord wouldn’t have thought twice about advertising for a new tenant once the police informed him I’d skipped town, and I wasn’t wanted back in Detroit. So I guess what the judge said was true. I was, by all reasonable measures, homeless.

  ‘The reason Ms Brooks came to New York for help is that she has good friends here, Your Honour,’ said Jimmy. ‘Ms Esther Knight and Mr Jack Faber have agreed to house Ms Brooks until the court trial. The full address is provided in the documents I issued to the court.’

  I was looking at Ms Carter as Jimmy said this, and at the mention of Jack’s name, her head swooped in Jimmy’s direction and I could’ve sworn I saw her eyelashes flutter.

  Jimmy didn’t notice this and slid straight into his next sentence: ‘I’d also like it noted on the record that this is the first time Ms Brooks has ever had criminal charges brought against her, unlike Mr Francis Ray, the man Ms Brooks states is the true culprit of the crime, who in his youth was prosecuted for both theft and violent behaviour.’

  ‘Well, we are not here to discuss other suspects, Mr Boyle, we’re here to agree terms for the suspect in front of us,’ said Judge Miller. She had a deep, commanding voice and, although she probably wasn’t as tall as me when she was standing, her long judicial robes gave the illusion of a towering, formidable figure.

  ‘Yes, Your Honour,’ Jimmy said. ‘My client is willing to fulfil any conditions the court dictates in order to secure home detention. Bernard Castillo, owner of the Starlight Diner on East Houston, has offered Ms Brooks a job waiting tables between now and her court date, allowing Ms Brooks to pay for domestic and legal costs and enabling her to contribute to the local community between now and her court date. Esther Knight and Jack Faber rent an apartment on Ludlow Street just a couple of blocks from the Starlight Diner. My plea to this court is that Ms Brooks be allowed to live and work within this small area of Manhattan until her court date, under the care of her friends and with me as her legal representative. Ms Brooks will also report to a police station local to her work and home on a daily basis, should the court request it. She will not, between now and the court date, communicate with other witnesses. She will also abide by a curfew set by the court. On these terms, I am asking you, Your Honour, to consider granting bail to this woman who has done nothing to invite this tragedy.’

  Both Ms Carter and Judge Miller turned their heads and looked at me. I looked right back at them. It was important, Jimmy had said, to show you had nothing to hide, to try, at every opportunity, to get them to see past the idea that you might be a criminal and through to the human being behind that label.

  ‘Ms Brooks,’ Judge Miller sighed. ‘It is not for me to decide today whether or not your testimony is true, but if you did indeed witness this murder rather than carry it out, as you claim, then you have some hard weeks ahead of you. The murder weapon was found in your apartment, in a city that you fled within an hour of the murder being committed. Do you understand how that might look to a judge and jury?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, I understand.’

  ‘All of the evidence collected by the detective in Atlantic City points at you. That said, your interview with the Criminal Justice Agency was favourable. But even taking that and Mr Boyle’s passionate defence into consideration, I cannot in good conscience release you on bail for anything less than eighty thousand dollars.’

  I felt my eyebrows lower and my face tense up as the weight of that figure hit me. I barely had eight dollars. She may as well have asked me for eighty million.

  ‘Thank you, Your Honour,’ Jimmy said.

  Thank you?

  I looked at Jimmy in disbelief.

  Thank you? What world was my attorney living in? This wasn’t a solution, just a more frustrating problem.

  Judge Miller cleared her throat, drawing my stare away from Jimmy.

  ‘I have the person responsible for bail written here as a Mr Edward Brooks,’ said the judge, looking at her notes.

  ‘What?’ I whispered to myself, shaking my head, figuring I must’ve heard wrong or started imagining things. Gone delirious or something like that. I looked at Jimmy but he still had his eyes on the judge, reminding me that court was still in session and I should do the same, even if my head was spinning. ‘Once your bail has been paid, Ms Brooks, you will be released under the terms of home detention stated in this court. Mr Boyle will reinforce these conditions to make certain they are adhered to. Any breach of these terms, in any form, will result in immediate incarceration between now and your court date, and it will reflect very poorly on you during your trial. Do you understand, Ms Brooks?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour.’

  ‘Very well. A court date has been set for the 31st of January, four weeks from today. As this crime falls under the New Jersey jurisdiction, the trial will take place in Atlantic County Criminal Court. Any further submissions, counsellors?’

  ‘No, Your Honour,’ said Ms Carter.

  ‘No, thank you, Your Honour,’ said Jimmy, and then, nodding at the prosecution, ‘Ms Carter.’

  ‘Court dismissed.’

  A police officer walked over to where I was standing and took hold of my left arm.

  ‘You’ll have to come with me until your bail is paid, Ms Brooks,’ he said. I let him take my arm but hesitated when he started walking me out.

  I turned to Jimmy. ‘You didn’t… call my father, did you? I mean, it was the court that did that? Or Alan?’ I asked, though the sheepish look on Jimmy’s face gave everything away.

  ‘We were out of options,’ he said, ‘so I got a secretary at the paper to track down their number. Look, the main thing is that you’re not going to spend the next four weeks in county jail.’

  ‘Come on now, Ms Brooks,’ the police officer prompted. ‘We must return you to custody.’

  Not knowing what else to do or say, I looked at the police officer with weepy eyes and followed him.

  ‘Bonnie…’ Jimmy said, and I turned my head a little in his direction but didn’t look right at him. ‘It’s going to be alright. Your father’s agreed to do a transfer and pay the bail charges. We’ll have you out of that cell in a few hours.’

  I didn’t say anything in return. I couldn’t, not right then. My father was going to have to pay out eighty thousand dollars for a daughter he’d rather not have to bother with at all. Nothing about that was going to be OK.

  No matter how much I wanted to believe it.

  Chapter Twelve

  I ran my fingers along the handle of the diner door. It was silver and shaped like a crescent moon.

  ‘What’re you waiting out in the cold for?’ Jimmy asked. He was standing by my side, shivering in his blue suit.

  ‘I… I just don’t know how people are going to be with me, you know? After what happened at the party.’ I looked down at my hand resting on the handle.

  ‘It’ll be alright,’ Jimmy said, and then put his hand on top of mine, working with me to push the door open. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to hold on to the warmth that fluttered through me whenever Jimmy touched me, and tried not to thin
k too hard about why he’d barely looked at me since we left the 34th Precinct.

  On opening my eyes again I saw a very different scene to the one I’d left behind at the diner on New Year’s Eve. All the tables and chairs had been shifted back into their usual position, not shoved to the edges like they had been at the party. The crowds on the dance floor had disappeared as if they were never there. Only a few afternoon customers were dotted about: a couple on a corner table, digging into thick slices of pie; a woman with a notebook and pen in her hand who was chatting with Lucia, loud enough for everyone to hear, about a new guy she was dating; meanwhile, up at the counter, a muscular guy with pitch-black hair sat all alone, sipping at a cup of coffee. Bernie and Esther were his only company but were paying him no heed. Not that it looked like he was that interested in making conversation; he was staring down into a copy of the Chronicle. Flicking the page now and then.

  Looking at the diner now, it seemed as though there’d never been a party.

  If only that had been the case.

  ‘Hey.’ Esther stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to give me a hug. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come today, I had to work here and neither Jean nor Mona were free to cover me.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I said, resting my head on her shoulder and inhaling that familiar scent of rose oil. ‘To be honest, the fewer people who were there to witness what just happened to me, the better.’

  ‘Oh God, was it terrible?’ Esther asked, rubbing my back.

  ‘The worst, or maybe that’s still coming,’ I said, thinking about the fact my father had chosen to stay in Detroit and just wire the money over. He knew his daughter was in desperate trouble, probably guessed at how distraught I was, but Jimmy had said that, according to the receptionist at the Chronicle, my Dad hadn’t phoned back to check on me. Part of me had half expected, and half dreaded, him coming in person to see if I was alright. But nope. Guess I should just be grateful he bailed me out at all.

  Esther gave me an extra-tight squeeze before withdrawing so she could direct her next question to both me and Jimmy. ‘You want something to eat?’

  I looked between Jimmy and Esther. Were they actually being civil with one another? That was an improvement.

  ‘I’ve got a few things to run through with Bonnie. Trial’s in four weeks and there are some particular rules she’ll need to adhere to between now and then, so some coffee would be great for me,’ said Jimmy, not really making eye contact with either me or Esther.

  I looked at him as he spoke, wondering what it was that stung about his words. And then I realised: he’d referred to me as Bonnie. He’d been calling me Bonnie all the way back from the courthouse. I know it might seem like nothing much to anyone else, but it seemed odd to me. What happened to Blue? Maybe that particular vision he’d had had of me had been shattered when I was arrested for murder.

  That didn’t seem to add up though. He thought I was innocent, after all.

  ‘You want anything?’ Jimmy asked, noticing I was staring at him.

  I shook my head. ‘No, that’s alright. Just a coffee. I sorta lost my appetite.’

  ‘Alright, I think that’s just two coffees then,’ Jimmy said to Esther. Without another word she ducked back behind the counter to start pouring out our drinks.

  ‘Why don’t we sit in that booth over there, where we’ll have a little privacy,’ Jimmy said, pointing to the line of booths that ran down the middle of the diner.

  ‘Alright, just give me a minute,’ I said, walking over to Bernie, who was perched at the end of the counter, looking over in our direction. ‘Hey,’ I said to him. ‘I’m real sorry for ruining your party on New Year’s Eve. I had no idea about the warrant out on me.’

  ‘Yeah, I figured getting arrested on stage wasn’t part of the act. There’s no hard feelings, kid. You’re in a tough spot, I can see that. You got bigger problems than a party that didn’t go to plan.’

  ‘Well, that’s true, but after all that, you offered me a job too. You can’t know how much that means to me. Jimmy said it would’ve made a big difference to the judge when she was deciding the terms of my release. It shows them I’m trying to contribute something to the community, which I really want to, while I’m here. I want to try and make it up to you, what happened.’

  ‘Well…’ Bernie looked me in the eye, which he’d done maybe twice since I’d met him. ‘Truth is, I’m happy to help you. You know, you’re the first person who’s really tried to have a proper conversation with me in as long as I can remember. I don’t forget things like that.’

  ‘Well, I hope that ain’t true about the conversation, but I’m glad I got to know you a little better.’ I put my hand on his arm; he didn’t smile, but this time he didn’t flinch either. I gave his arm a little squeeze before turning back to Jimmy and walking over to a red leather booth in the middle of the row.

  ‘Here you go,’ Esther said, setting down our coffees. She was about to ask something else, likely about my appearance in court, but another customer called her over right away. She gave out a faint, weary sigh and went over to see what the couple in the corner wanted.

  ‘Right, I’ll just take you through this information. It’s pretty straightforward,’ Jimmy said.

  ‘Alright,’ I said, looking into the darkness of my coffee and adding a swirl of cream.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ I made sure the sting in my voice was sharp enough to get his attention.

  He squinted at me. ‘I don’t know. You’ve just got a tone you didn’t have before.’

  ‘Well there’s a lotta that going around at the minute,’ I said, staring at him.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I sighed, staring back into my drink.

  ‘Yeah, it sounds like nothing. What, are you mad at me about something?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ I scraped my fingers through the front of my hair, pulling it out of my face.

  ‘If it’s about your dad, I already said— ’

  ‘It’s not about that,’ I snapped, and Jimmy flinched in surprise.

  ‘Ugh,’ I covered my face with both hands.

  Why was I so mad at him? I didn’t really have the right to be. He’d defended me after all, for no pay. He’d promised to win the case for me when he really didn’t have to. Alright, he’d gone behind my back and called my dad, but he’d done it with the best of intentions. He hadn’t meant to put me through another ordeal on top of everything else.

  Yet here I was. Unable to even look at the guy.

  ‘Well, you got something to say, just say it,’ Jimmy said. I pulled my hands away from my face to see his mean look. His eyes had gone all narrow and sharp around the edges.

  I paused for a moment, figuring out how to phrase a sentence that’d sum up the sudden emptiness eating away at me. Being too honest could cost me a good attorney here, but maybe I would rather take my chances with the disbelieving and unsympathetic Lange than have to deal with Jimmy’s hot and cold signals all the time.

  It was unusual for him, but for some reason he couldn’t hold eye contact with me. He tried to look elsewhere, but I waited until he looked back at me to be sure I held his full attention.

  ‘Were you tryin’ to make a fool out of me, Jimmy?’ I asked at last. My voice was quieter than I would have expected considering the anger bubbling up inside me.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he said, though I could tell by the shifty look on his face he knew exactly what I was talking about.

  ‘I mean, were you leading me on?’

  Usually, given the fact I was in this guy’s debt, I wouldn’t have asked such a direct question, but frankly I had enough to process without being messed around by some fella who may or may not even like me. Being accused of murder really helps a gal put the little things in perspective.

  ‘Me leading you on?’ Jimmy tried to sneer but it seemed put on; he couldn’t quite make it work. ‘You kissed me, reme
mber?’

  ‘You weren’t exactly fighting me off,’ I said. How dare he pin all this on me after the way he had been at New Year?

  ‘Yeah, well, if I’d known how much trouble you’d be, I would’ve fought you off,’

  Jimmy said, and then, seeing the look in my eye added, ‘Don’t look that way. Don’t. You know that’s not fair. Look, Bonnie—’

  ‘It’s fine. I get it. It was my mistake.’

  Jimmy sighed, guessing, from my tone, no doubt, I didn’t mean a word of it.

  ‘It was different when I thought you were leaving town,’ he said. ‘But this is a professional relationship now. You’re my client, I’m your lawyer.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said.

  ‘Well, I can show you the code of conduct.’ His voice was getting tetchier by the second. ‘Dating clients is against those principles. It’s heavily frowned upon.’

  ‘No, I mean, I believe that principle exists, but I don’t believe that’s the reason you’re blowing me off,’ I said, crossing my arms on the table and leaning down on them.

  ‘Well, it is,’ he said. But he wouldn’t look at me. He was holding something back for sure.

  ‘Really? Alright, well, I guess I don’t need to worry. Because as soon as the case is over and you win it, as you say you will, you’ll be taking me out to dinner, if that’s really the only thing standing in our way. And I’ll have the lobster.’

  Jimmy lowered his eyes to the table then and started fiddling with the mustard bottle.