CHAPTER 42
CONTINUANCE
Jodie was at the office when I arrived and had already made coffee. She told me that Paul was running late. On the way over I had contemplated just scrapping the meeting and heading for the airport, but I knew it wasn't my place to go to Paula's rescue. I called Bart and told him what had happened. He said he'd pack a bag and get on the next flight out.
When Paul arrived, we all huddled in the conference room and began to discuss our very delicate situation. It was bad enough that Paula had been arrested, but with a murder trial looming in the horizon we had some serious problems to overcome. It wasn't just a question of whether or not Paula was locked up or not, it was quite likely she'd be disqualified from defending Cheryl since the allegation against her was that she was aiding Cheryl in fleeing the jurisdiction of the court.
"Bart is on his way to the airport," I said. "I told him to call me just as soon as he got there. I know Paula didn't do what they say she did, so the question is, who is responsible?"
"None of this makes sense," Paul said. "If Windsor was alive he would have just taken the money. He already has the children."
"Or, somebody does. We don't know for sure who has them."
"I'd bet on Windsor. Who else would want them?"
Jodie replied, "Paula said something about a criminal organization that bought and sold children. Do you think—?"
"They wouldn't go to such elaborate lengths to frame Paula," Paul said. "How would they know how to liquidate all of the assets? The only persons who could do that would be Martin or Cheryl."
"You don't think Cheryl orchestrated this whole thing, do you?" Jodie asked. "Why would she frame Paula?"
"Like I said, none of it makes any sense," Paul repeated.
“Cheryl knew very little about Martin’s businesses and investments,” I noted. “She couldn’t be behind all of this. My guess is that Paula must have been getting close to finding out what Martin was up to so he decided to take her out of the equation. If he wanted Cheryl to be convicted taking her lead counsel out of the game would go a long way to achieving that objective.”
“And making it appear Paula was helping her flee the country would also make her look more guilty,” Paul added.
“Exactly. . . . Anyway, one thing is clear," I said. "We need more to time to figure all this out and get ready for trial. I guess I need to file a motion for a continuance."
"How much time are you going to ask for?" Paul asked.
"Six months is what I need, but if I get ninety days I'll be happy. In the meantime, Paul, I need you to get somebody down to Tortola and find out exactly what happened. We've got to figure out who's trying to set Paula up and why."
"I'll take care of it."
"And check with Bart and see if he needs any help finding Paula a good honest lawyer."
"What can I do?" Jodie asked.
"I need you to go through Paula's case files and notes and see what's been done and how everything is organized. Get Maria to help you. Then you and I will have to sit down and go through it all. I've got to get up to speed as quickly as possible. There's no guarantee that Judge Abbott will grant us a continuance."
The next morning I called Rob Wilkerson and told him I was filing a motion for continuance and taking it to the judge immediately. He said he'd meet me down at the courthouse at 11:00 a.m. At 10:30 I was in the clerk's office filing the motion. Word of Paula's arrest had already spread through the courthouse. Several people stopped me and asked if she was okay. I told them I didn't know. At 10:45 Wilkerson walked into the clerk's office with a short brunette woman in her late 20s. I hadn't seen her around, so I figured she was a new recruit at the DA's office. They came over to me.
"Stan, this is Veronica Simpson. She'll be assisting me during the trial. I think the judge is ready to see us. He said for us to come directly into his chambers when you got here."
I nodded and we all filed into Judge Abbott's office. He looked up and smiled. Sit, gentlemen, Ms—?'
"Oh. Judge, this is Veronica Simpson," Wilkerson said. "She's new to our staff."
"Hi, Ms. Simpson. . . .Okay, who filed this motion?"
"I did, Your Honor," I replied. I don't know if you heard but my partner, Paula Waters, was arrested last night in Tortola, British Virgin Islands."
The judge nodded. "Yes, I heard something about that—seems hard to believe."
"Exactly. Paula detests the use of drugs. She used to prosecute drug dealers for the DA's office for godsakes and she wouldn't think of helping a client flee the jurisdiction of the court. She's obviously been set up."
"Well, a half million dollars in cash and another 3.1 million ready to be wired anywhere in the world is quite a temptation," said Wilkerson. "I understand she had a power of attorney, maybe she was going to leave Cheryl Windsor to rot in jail."
"Give me a break," I said glaring at Wilkerson. "Paula doesn't give a damn about the money. She loves being a defense counsel and kicking your ass every chance she gets."
Wilkerson jerked around at me, tightening his fists.
"All right. That's enough," the judge said.
Wilkerson relaxed a bit but didn't take his eyes off of me. The judge said, "So, does the DA's office have any plans to charge Ms. Waters?"
Wilkerson took a deep breath. "We don't have enough information yet, Your Honor, to make that determination, but I would say that's likely."
"Then I'll have to grant the continuance. Obviously, Ms. Waters will not be able to defend Cheryl Windsor if she's under indictment. How much time will you need to prepare for trial, Mr. Turner?"
"Six months, Your Honor. I really don't know that much about the case. Paula's been pretty much handling it."
"What do you say about that Mr. Wilkerson?"
"Your Honor. The state is ready for trial now. We oppose any continuance. Mr. Turner is quite capable of defending Mrs. Windsor, and despite his protests, I am sure he is very familiar with the case."
"Your Honor, I just finished a murder trial. I haven't even looked at the Cheryl Windsor file in three weeks. It's going to take some time to get this case ready."
"Well, you can't have six months. I'll give you thirty days."
"But, Your Honor. I couldn't possibly—"
"If you can get Ms. Waters out of jail, she can sit with you during the trial as an assistant, but not as co-counsel."
Wilkerson jumped in. "But, Your Honor, we may need her as a witness."
"Not at this trial you won't. If there was a conspiracy to flee the jurisdiction, it would have occurred after the murder and wouldn't be relevant to this trial. I'd suggest, Mr. Wilkerson, if you decide she is culpable, that you wait until the trial is over to indict her. That will make life easier for all of us."
Wilkerson didn't look happy, but he shut up. I wasn’t sure if he was really that anxious to go to trial or was just being his obnoxious self.
Once we were out of the judge's chamber, I asked Wilkerson if he'd support our suggestion to the Tortola authorities that they let Paula come home to Dallas where she'd surrender to the sheriff. He said he'd talk to his bosses about it, but by the look on his face I seriously doubted he wanted to. He was obviously having too much fun watching us twist in the wind and didn't want to lift a finger to ease our pain.
Solving the Cheryl Windsor case in thirty days seemed a daunting task. The case defied all logic and was as bizarre a case as I'd ever seen or even heard of. When I got back to the office, Jodie had all the case files and evidence in neat little piles in the conference room. Paula organized her cases much differently that I did. She was an organization freak and had files for everything. My style was much more basic. I usually had a medium sized trial notebook with everything I needed at my fingertips. The evidence of course was separate but it was organized by exhibit numbers and I had an index of all the exhibits in the trial notebook. My task now was to go through all the evidence, and decide what I needed to introduce at trial and then make an index. I got right to work.
Later that night Bart called and said he'd seen Paula and she seemed physically fine with the exception of a few bruises to her back and the lingering effects of the drug overdose. I told him Paul was sending someone there to help him find a barrister and to do some factual investigation. He thanked me and said he'd call me the next day with an update.
It was very late that night when I got home. Rebekah was already in bed asleep when I eased under the covers. Despite my exhaustion, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought of Paula in jail surrounded by thugs and perverts just waiting for an opportunity to hurt her. Lawyers were universally loathed by inmates almost as much as cops. We had to get her out of there before she left the hospital. My stomach was in knots just thinking about it and I tossed and turned for a long time before I finally fell into an uneasy slumber.
Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8 Page 42