Death of a Prince

by Susan P. Baker

  Kitty wore slides and an orange jumpsuit again. Leg irons lay on the floor beside her feet, yawning open like they were hungry for an ankle.

  Judge McWheeter’s schedule called for him to handle the felony jail docket that morning. That meant that the deputies had to bring chains of defendants over from the jail. Sandra looked through the narrow window in the side door. From the looks of things, Kitty appeared to be the only female. She sat alone on a bench, the male defendants lined up on several rows in the front of the courtroom.

  Edgar Saul sat at the table closest to the jury box. There was an unwritten rule that the prosecution always got that table. Since there was nothing in writing anywhere, sometimes it was a bone of contention between attorneys, but Sandra didn’t care to make an issue of it in a non-jury hearing. Kitty was staring at Edgar when Sandra saw her. Fear and something akin to loathing painted Kitty’s face. Her expression quickly changed when she spotted Sandra tiptoeing in. Several prisoners and lawyers stood before the judge.

  Nodding to Edgar, Sandra slipped past to the holding area where she could sit beside Kitty. She listened to the proceedings underway with one ear while whispering to Kitty. “Remember what we talked about last night?” Sandra tried to keep her voice down. The judge was good enough to let lawyers speak to their clients in the courtroom. Generally, lawyers didn’t abuse the privilege, except for a few jerks, but they didn’t do it more than once.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kitty replied.

  “How was life at the jail last night?”

  “Same as always. Awful. It’s loud and you can’t sleep. The people are so nasty.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century. What did you think of the memorial services?” Sandra watched the courtroom proceedings. Edgar Saul watched them and drummed his fingers on his case file. Usually Edgar was very controlled. Something serious must be preying on his mind. A reporter strolled up and hissed Edgar’s name. Edgar rolled his chair to the bar and leaned back. The reporter whispered in Edgar’s ear.

  Kitty answered her question, but all Sandra thought of was that she had just missed her chance at getting some good pretrial publicity. If the judge ruled against them and if the tide of public sentiment appeared to be against Kitty, Sandra would file for a change of venue to get the case moved to another location. In order to do that, there would have to be some good, prejudicial publicity. Edgar Saul was not stupid enough to make any remarks that would cause the case to get transferred out of town unless he was goaded into doing so. Another time, Sandra could probably aggravate him enough, but in a whispering conversation in a courtroom, never. She watched as the reporter listened to Edgar and nodded. What a missed opportunity for her.

  A deputy took away the men who had been standing before the judge. Another deputy replaced him. The judge announced a five-minute recess and left the bench.

  The tables in the district courts sat perpendicular to the bench, parallel to each other. Edgar sat on the far side of his table, the jury box behind him. Sandra put Kitty on the far side of their table, her back to Edgar, but facing her. Sandra sat on the opposite side of the room from Edgar but with the same advantage of being able to survey the whole courtroom. After spreading the contents of her briefcase and Kitty’s file in front of her, Sandra got a pen and a legal pad. She glanced at the reporter. He winked at her. She nodded at him. The judge returned.

  “State of Texas versus Kathryn Fulton. Writ of habeas corpus,” Judge McWheeter said.

  The three of them stood. The reporter slid into a chair behind the first row.

  “State’s ready,” Edgar said.

  “Relatrix is ready.” Kitty looked at her. Sandra whispered, “That’s what you’re called in a writ hearing.”

  Kitty nodded and stared at the judge. Sandra thought Kitty looked rather angelic.

  “Did you want to give some evidence, Miz Salinsky?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. The state has recommended no bond. We wish to show the court that the Relatrix is not a flight risk and also to show the amount of money that she can afford to post.”

  “Any objection, Mr. Saul?”

  “Your Honor, the great state of Texas is objecting to any bond being set for this woman. We are most likely going to indict her for capital murder in the death of her father.” Edgar spoke in a monotone, as if they charged people with capital murder every day and it was routine to deny them bond.

  “I see,” said the judge. “Is there an examining trial set, or have you already presented the case to the grand jury?”

  “The examining trial is set for next Monday, Your Honor,” Sandra said. “In Justice of the Peace Court One. Judge, I need Miss Fulton out of jail to help me prepare for the examining trial. It’s only four days. We’re ready to show that she is engaged to a local attorney, that she has a residence here, that she can afford to post a satisfactory bond, and next Monday, we’ll be asking that she not be referred to the grand jury because there is not enough evidence to indict.”

  The judge held up his hand. “I’m not interested in what you think is going to happen next Monday. What do you have to say, Mr. Saul?”

  “With a charge like capital murder hanging over their head, anyone would be liable to run, Judge. We, the people of the great state of Texas, request you to deny any bond.”

  The judge frowned at Edgar. “Raise your right hand, ma’am,” he said to Kitty. “Do you solemnly swear or affirm to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kitty said.

  “Take the witness stand,” the judge said. “You two sit down.”

  When Kitty sat in the witness chair, she turned to face the judge like Sandra had instructed her. She folded her hands on the counter in front of her and smiled demurely.

  “Proceed, Miz Salinsky.”

  “State your name for the record.”

  “Kathryn Fulton,” she said, still looking at the judge. “But everyone calls me Kitty.”

  Sandra said, “Would you mind if I called you Kitty during this hearing?”

  “No, ma’am,” she said, her eyes on the judge’s face.

  The judge rocked back in his chair and smiled at Kitty. Sandra heard, rather than saw, Edgar throw his pen onto his legal pad. She knew that he knew they’d won. It was only a formality before the judge set a bond. The question was, how high? Sandra continued with her examination for a few minutes before turning Kitty over to Edgar. At the conclusion of the testimony, the judge said, “Bond set at an even one hundred thousand dollars, cash or property. I’ll be in chambers.” He pushed back in his chair and was gone.

  Kitty’s face became red as Sandra hurried up to the witness stand. “A hundred thousand dollars, Sandra?”

  Edgar picked up his things and slammed out of the courtroom without a backward glance.

  Sandra said, “Step down.” She motioned for Kitty to come around the stand. “Be glad it isn’t cash-only.”

  “Why so high? I don’t understand.” The deputy stood tapping his watch.

  Sandra gave Kitty a little squeeze and said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be over this afternoon after lunch and we’ll figure out something. I promise you’ll be out tonight.”

  The deputy took Kitty by the arm, led her over to the bench, and picked up the leg irons. He didn’t shackle her. Sandra mouthed, “Thanks,” and nodded as the deputy led Kitty away. Now all Sandra had to do was figure out a way to make that bond before her client got upset enough to fire her.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sandra hurried back to the office to catch a bite to eat and see whether Erma had arrived. They’d missed each other after the memorial service. Patricia sat at the kitchen counter. A liver and cheese sandwich on white bread with real mayo sat in front of her. Sandra had no stomach for liver, too much fat and cholesterol. Besides, she thought it tasted like creamed bile and knew why they called it liver worst. Yellow cheese also never crossed her lips. She didn’t want her insides dyed. And she couldn�
�t see any redeeming social value to white bread, particularly couldn’t see bleaching her digestive system with it. Lastly, she certainly never used anything but fat-free, cholesterol-free mayo.

  Sandra stepped into Erma’s office to tell her about the bond hearing and caught Erma hiding a glass of bourbon behind a stack of files. Sandra could smell it the minute she walked in the door. It always reminded her of college, when everyone had at one time or another drunk too much and thrown up in the dorm. Sandra didn’t say anything, although Erma wasn’t supposed to be drinking at all, much less before lunch. If she could just get Erma through the next few weeks, Sandra thought her mother would recover nicely. She’d worry about Erma’s drinking when Erma was through mourning. Shaking her head, she went back to the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator, and rooted around for something to eat.

  “How’d the hearing go?” Erma asked.

  There was some wilted zucchini, a few leftover slices of onion, a potato, broccoli, and lowfat, low-cholesterol mozzarella cheese. Enough to make a meal. “Hundred thou, cash or property.” Sandra pulled out the wok and set about making lunch. “Pissed off Edgar.”

  “I’ll bet. That old S.O.B. Can Kitty raise that much?”

  “I don’t know, Erma. Get a couple of plates out.”

  “I’m not eating that. I’ll have the leftover tuna,” she said. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  Erma got a plate for Sandra. She took the bowl of leftover tuna salad out of the refrigerator and some crackers and walked around to the other side of the bar, where she hiked herself up onto a barstool next to Patricia.

  Patricia quietly munched away. They had long ago declared a truce over discussing any of the weird things that each of them ate. Sandra smiled at Patricia. Her blouse pulled loose at the waistband and hair mussed, mayo smeared next to her mouth, Patricia was a sight. Sandra also knew Patricia was covering for her mother. It made Patricia very nervous, so she usually kept a low profile. Sandra shook her head but didn’t say anything as she watched Erma use crackers to shovel tuna into her mouth. At least the old lady was eating.

  “So what is more important than getting our client out of jail?”

  “Bubba’s coming over here in a few minutes,” Erma blurted. “I made him an appointment with me so you could search his apartment while I kept him here. I told him that he was in the will.”

  “Tell me you’re lying. You want me to go search his apartment? That’s burglary of a habitation.” Sandra stirred the vegetables in the wok.

  Erma smiled. Tuna fish clung to her front teeth. “Not if you don’t get caught.” She pulled a paper towel off the roll and wiped her face. “The more I think about it, Sandra, the more I’m sure he stole that watch and ring off Phillip’s body. If you can find it and turn it over to Edgar Saul, not only might the state lower the charges against Kitty, but they might drop them altogether if they think Bubba did it.” Erma’s eyes beamed like she’d just won a major prize on “The Price Is Right.”

  “Yes, and I could go to jail on a first-degree felony.”

  “Um, I’m not sure it’s burglary if you have a key given to you by the executrix of the estate. You could always say you were inspecting the premises for me prior to his vacating.”

  “You have a key to Bubba’s apartment?”

  “Of course, my dear. I have keys to everything, including Phillip’s safe deposit box.”

  Sandra grimaced. “I’m not in the habit of breaking the law.”

  “Goddamnit, quit acting so high and mighty. Just go search the place.”

  Sandra scraped the vegetables onto a plate and shredded some mozzarella cheese over them. A quiver of excitement flushed through her, but she didn’t want Erma to know it. She took a bite of her food and sprinkled more salt on it. “I don’t know, Erma.”

  “Look, all you have to do is drive out there and search. I’ll keep him here. No one else will be there, I can assure you. What could happen?”

  “Is this how you used to practice criminal defense law?”

  “Sandra—”

  “But to tell him he’s in the will—”

  “Well . . . I’ll give him a little something. He’d never know the difference. Say a thousand or two?”

  “You would give him two thousand dollars?”

  “Me? Well, I suppose we could take it out of Kitty’s fee.”

  “Yes,” Sandra said. “Your half.”

  “Ha ha. I’m sure that if you find the watch and ring, Kitty will be more than glad to give us a couple more dollars. So you’ll do it?”

  “So Bubba’s really not getting anything under the will?”

  “The reading of the will is tomorrow, Friday, at ten-thirty in the morning. You know that.”

  “Shit, Erma. I’ll do it, but you have to keep him here long enough for me to get out there and really conduct a search. I’m not going if I only get a few minutes. And if I get caught, you’re going down with me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure everything will be all right,” Erma said. Patricia’s eyes had grown wide during the conversation. As soon as she could stuff the rest of her sandwich down her throat, she slipped off the barstool and left the room.

  “Okay. I don’t care if you give him any money or not, but stall him here long enough that he doesn’t come back and catch me. I’d hate to see what Bubba would do to me. The idea of his even touching me. Yuck.” Sandra glanced at her watch. She had just enough time to finish eating and get away from the office before Bubba got there, not enough time to play any more games with Erma.

  After a few minutes of silence, Erma said, “I didn’t mean to lie to the man, Sandra. I just needed some excuse to get him away from the apartment. It’s not like you have all the time in the world before the examining trial.”

  Sandra frowned. “I don’t like being used in your schemes.”

  “No. Only your own.”

  “I would just like to win this case with a good defense,” Sandra said.

  “Yeah, wouldn’t we all, Sandra, but it doesn’t always work out that way.”

  “Just make sure that I have a good fifteen minutes search time. If I can get there before he gets here, that’ll take about twenty minutes, then at least fifteen minutes to search.” She pushed her plate away. She couldn’t eat any more. “Just keep him here thirty to forty-five minutes. Jesus, I hope you can do that.” Sandra jumped up and dumped her plate in the sink. “I’ve got to get out of here now.” She was angry, but she’d have to worry about that later. She quickly used the restroom, yelled goodbye, and removed the apron.

  As Sandra reached her car, Erma stuck her head out the back door. “By the way, don’t forget the key.”

  Sandra caught the key ring and saluted as she slid into the car. Erma saluted her back, but it wasn’t the Girl Scout salute.

  As Sandra pulled out of the alley, she saw Bubba parallel parking Phillip’s BMW. She knew, if anything, it would be a close shave for her to get down the island and complete the search before he returned. She silently prayed for Erma to come through for her.

  To save time, Sandra skipped Seawall Boulevard, which at any given time in the summer is not much quicker than crawling because of the tourist traffic. Instead, she headed for Stewart Road, named after Maco Stewart, a county commissioner back in the 1950s. He had been big into beach development—hence, Stewart Beach and Stewart Park. She followed Stewart Road until she had to cut over to the entrance to the subdivision.

  Patricia came into the back of the office where Erma was cleaning up the kitchen. “There’s a man at the door. I haven’t unlocked from lunch yet. Want me to let him in?”

  Erma stood in her stockinged feet and wore an old embroidered apron over her black dress. “It’s probably Bubba. Let’s let him wait a few minutes. Sandra hasn’t been gone more than a moment.”

  Patricia turned away. “I don’t want to know what’s going on. Just holler when you want me to let him in.”

  Erma chuckled. She knew Patricia relished the going
s-on in the office but felt insecure. “Okay. Keep an eye on him.” She dried off the last plate and put it away. She wiped the counters and the stove and removed the apron. The doorbell rang incessantly. Stopping in the restroom on the way to her desk, Erma peed and washed her hands. Checking her face, she rubbed at the shiny spot on her nose and applied a very red lipstick. She fluffed her hair and picked some lint from the apron off her dress. The doorbell had stopped before she was out.

  Patricia called, “He’s leaving, Missus Townley. What do you want me to do?”

  Erma jerked open the door. “Run after him! Quick! We can’t let him get away.” She heard Patricia’s footsteps on the wood floor and the key turn in the lock. Patricia hollered. Erma, still only in stockinged feet, hobbled down the hall toward the front door, careful not to slip. It was ten after one. When she got to the stained-glass front door, which stood open, she could see Patricia standing in the parking lane on Broadway and waving her arms. From the top of the porch, Erma could see the rear end of the BMW driving through the break in the esplanade.

  “Goddamnit!” Erma said. There was no way he wouldn’t catch Sandra if he went straight back home. If traffic hadn’t been coming from the other direction, she would have told Patricia to run across the street. “Did he see you?”

  “I don’t know.” Patricia breathed hard as she climbed the five steps up to the porch where Erma stood. “Can you still see the car?”

  “Yes. Wait.” She trotted to the end of the porch. “Patricia, look, he’s coming back! All right! He must have seen you. Good girl.”

  Patricia smiled. “Thanks, Missus T.” She tucked in her blouse and straightened her skirt. “I need a drink of water.”

  “I’m going to my office. Let him in as soon as he comes up the stairs.” Erma hurried inside to her desk and put on her shoes. When Bubba got there, she stood as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Hello, Bubba. Come in.”