Blind Rage (Blind Justice Book 3)

by Adam Zorzi

  “How do you intervene?” Bella was curious. She'd improvised her interactions with humans.

  “Depends upon the situation. When it was time for them to enroll in school, I called the enrollment office where I wanted them to attend and had an application sent. I told the admissions officer they were Legacies so she'd be certain to follow up.

  “I rely on being invisible. I remove things in the house I don't think the girls should have and I leave notes in their aunt's handwriting. I've become quite good at forgery.”

  Bella laughed. “We ghosts have to resort to crime to accomplish things. I'm quite a good thief.”

  They chatted about their techniques over drinks they poured out when no one was looking. “When do you plan to retire?” Bella asked.

  “We don't know. William wants to see them married. I want to see them turn eighteen. After that, they're beyond parental influence. They're eleven.”

  “That's a long time. I find it tiring to be visible for long periods. I'll be glad to go.”

  “We have the advantage of being two who can switch off. Also, supervising doesn't require us to be visible too often. I wouldn't be visible now if we hadn't met.”

  “It's been lovely to see you, Lena. I haven't had a good ghost-to-ghost chat in ages.”

  ***

  Sunday morning was time for sleeping late, rolling around in bed, and reading the paper. Mark was delighted that The Royal Gazette covered cricket and soccer. “I wish we could stay another day. I'd like to play golf again.”

  “Sorry, but you have a court date tomorrow morning,” Bella reminded him as she rolled over to face him in their bed with tangled sheets.

  “Don't you think Opal could handle it?” He grinned.

  “Probably. She'll make you obsolete if given free rein.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. “She can take over the firm and you and I can travel the world.”

  Bella silently slid her right hand under the sheets. Although she didn't like to be the aggressor with Mark, Bella wanted to avoid a discussion of the future. She had a tan, handsome, virile man in her bed now and she wasn't going to waste an opportunity for a deliciously satisfying romp. Mark responded vigorously before smoothly switching to a more languid pace. Bella enjoyed all of it. She had no self-consciousness about her body or her sexual prowess. When they were sated, Mark lay on his stomach with his left arm flung across Bella's body and slept. Bella rested.

  About one o'clock, Bella woke Mark. “Hey, it's time to go. We need showers and lunch.”

  Mark reluctantly sat upright.

  “That, Bella, makes me want you in my life even more.”

  She shushed him as she ordered room service.

  While they waited, Mark returned to the topic Bella had hoped to avoid—the future. “I get it. We don't need to close the office so you and I can travel the world. You've already done that. Bella, you're thirty-one and you've lived three lifetimes more than I have. How is that? Why do I feel so far behind?”

  “Mark,” she said kindly without condescension, “we're different people and want different things.” She swung her legs across the bed and onto the floor. “You know the French novelist Émile Zola?”

  He nodded.

  “When I was very young, I read his quote: ‘ I am here to live out loud.’ That inspired me to live my life as I do—out loud. I always wanted to travel as part of my life. I couldn't wait to get out of Virginia Beach for college and from Charlottesville to Paris. From there, the world was open to me. I pursued it. You were content with a life in Richmond until recently.”

  “When I realized how much of an outsider I am. You showed me that. You showed me I can do more. I don't have to live a circumscribed life. In just the few days we've been here, I've golfed with a Scotsman, sailed with a South African couple, and played croquet with two Indian guys. I've never met such exotic people.”

  Bella uttered her joyous, melodious laugh. “Mark, they're not exotic. They all have roots somewhere in the British Empire. You share a common language and interests. All that's missing is some Canadians and Australians.”

  He looked pensive. “Australians. I've never visited my sister in Sydney. She's been there more than ten years and I haven't seen her. It never occurred to me to visit. I had no curiosity about where or how she lived. I'd like to go now. After the trial. What do you say?”

  Bella headed to the shower. “I say you should go,” she called over her shoulder before he could invite her to travel with him. She didn't want a disagreement to distract him from the work before him. Tomorrow's court appearance was important.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Monday morning, the deputy attorney general himself argued the motion to postpone the trial. Normally, this would be done by a staff attorney, but apparently the office wanted to demonstrate the seriousness of their intent.

  Mark, alone at the plaintiff's table, rose to argue against postponement. The plaintiffs had conducted discovery, including depositions, of more than 120 witnesses, reviewed the murder trial transcript, and received reports from expert witnesses. He was prepared for trial.

  There had been no amended complaint, no new evidence, and no outstanding matters regarding the case that would be reason to postpone. Most importantly, Evan Cooper's family would be harmed by the delay. They had waited two years for the murder trial and sentencing of their son's killer. There was no need to further prolong their wait for justice.

  Bella, who sat invisibly at the back of the courtroom, silently applauded. Mark was great in court. Knowledgeable, quick, and serious. Handsome.

  Judge King questioned the deputy AG until she was satisfied. “Mr. Deputy Attorney General, could you please explain why your office with its two hundred attorneys has been unable to depose no more than five witnesses when plaintiff's counsel, who is a solo practitioner, has completed discovery, including the deposition, of more than one hundred witnesses?”

  “I can't speak for the plaintiff's counsel. The AG's office has an enormous caseload and is understaffed.”

  “Has the number of cases or attorneys changed since the plaintiff's complaint was filed?”

  “I don't know, Your Honor.” He desperately turned to the lawyers behind him at the defense table. None of them met his eyes.

  “Did you have any Reductions in Force or mass exodus of staff, Mr. Deputy Attorney General?” she prompted.

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Deputy Attorney General, your office didn't make an appearance at the scheduling conference for this case.” She sent him a sharp look that demanded explanation.

  “Your Honor, the attorney general and the staff were in shock at the allegations against Judge Whiting.”

  “So shocked as to neglect your duties to the people of the Commonwealth? To neglect to send even the lowest ranking staff attorney to the conference?”

  “Your Honor, none of the missed appearances were intentional.” Bella noted that the back of his neck had turned red with embarrassment.

  “I'm glad you mentioned appearances—plural. Your office missed three appearances in this court that day. Notice of misconduct has been filed with the Office of Professional Responsibility.”

  Ethics violations. If so inclined, the ethics committee could sanction or even disbar anyone reported by Judge King.

  The deputy AG blanched and didn't respond.

  “After the office recovered from the shock of Judge Whiting's loathsome activities, why didn't you file a motion to amend the schedule?”

  A young woman rose to address the court. “May it please the court.”

  “Yes, Ms. Kellogg, can you explain the apparent laxness in the AG's office?”

  “Your Honor, several senior attorneys were taken out of rotation in order to handle any matters that might arise from Judge Whiting's death. Some cases may have slipped through the cracks in rescheduling.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Kellogg.” Judge King refocused her attention
on the Deputy AG.

  “Mr. Deputy Attorney General, your office has played fast and loose with the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. United States attorneys in offices under the jurisdiction of the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals managed the impact of Judge Whiting's death without assistance from the Virginia attorney general. You've had ample time to raise any objections, complete discovery, and be prepared for trial in two weeks. I order the original trial date to stand.”

  Mark, who had remained silent with no show of emotion on his face throughout Judge King's questioning, merely nodded and said, “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  Judge King wasn't finished. “I'm also sanctioning the attorney general and the deputy attorney general personally for failure to raise the proper motions at the proper time and for bringing this frivolous motion today.

  “I'm not going to award a default judgment in favor of the plaintiff although I would be well within my powers to do so because the people of the Commonwealth deserve to be heard on this matter. Sanctions will be court costs plus $15,000 payable by the end of the business day to plaintiff for attorney's fees. Adjourned.”

  ***

  “That was awesome,” Opal said as she walked out of the courthouse with Mark. She'd asked to attend the hearing to see if it was anything like TV courtroom dramas. She'd dressed conservatively in a navy blazer that hit her mid-thigh, navy and white pinstriped tights, and red suede platform shoes.

  “I can't believe how Judge King schooled the deputy attorney general. I thought he was going to faint with embarrassment. I didn't know judges could do that. What did she mean about the plaintiffs getting $15,000?”

  Mark nodded to a few attorneys he knew as they walked back to the office. “He dissed her when no one from his office showed up for a scheduling conference after Judge Whiting's murder. That's a huge mistake and against the rules. She could've issued a verdict in favor of us right then, but she knew she'd be overturned on appeal and as she said, the Commonwealth does have a right to provide a defense against our accusations. So, she fined them fifteen thousand dollars, which is what she estimated my expenses were today.”

  “Fifteen thousand dollars for today?” Opal whispered in awe.

  “It was more of a fine than a true estimate of my services.”

  “Do you keep the money?”

  “I'll put it in an escrow account. When we win, the judge will award a certain amount for expenses in addition to the damages—we've asked for twenty million dollars for Evan Cooper's family. I'll use that fifteen thousand dollars to pay some of the actual expenses. Of course, Judge King might order Commonwealth to pay all expenses so that would just be added to the amount the Coopers receive.”

  “Twenty million dollars. How did you come up with that amount?” Opal was talking and walking so fast Mark almost thought she was high.

  “In cases like these, the law requires us to put a value on human life. Nineteen million dollars is one million for every year of Evan's life. An extra million is requested as a penalty.”

  “There's like a formula to calculate what a person is worth?”

  “No, we look at other amounts awarded in similar cases and ask for about the same thing. There weren't really any cases like this so Bella came up with something that seemed reasonable. The judge doesn't have to abide by the number. They usually lower it.”

  “I had no idea judges had so much juice. How do you get to be a judge? Do you have to be a lawyer first? Why aren't you a judge, Mark?”

  Mark's ringing phone saved him from further discussion.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SIX

  “Change of plans,” Mark called to Bella when he got back from court. “Dr. Constantine called to say we can depose Larry Yarbrough. He's alert enough to speak and know he's under oath. He's in organ failure, so we need to get there as soon as we can.”

  Opal stepped into Mark's office. “I checked the airlines. Nothing non-stop. Unbelievable. You have to go to Atlanta to get to Raleigh/Durham. The drive is about two and a half hours. The only full-service hotel near the hospital is the Hilton. The concierge at the hospital can arrange your rooms. Should I make that happen?”

  “Yes.” Mark answered before Bella had a chance to speak.

  “The concierge will arrange transportation to the hospital so you won't have to worry about parking. Dr. Constantine said you should be there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning. Anything else?”

  “Yes, Opal. Please see that there's a court reporter available to be at the hospital at that time,” Bella said.

  Mark looked at his watch and then Bella. “Do you need to get anything from home?”

  “No, I always carry a change of clothes in my bag. I don't need anything else if you're taking your laptop.”

  “Okay. I have to stop by my house, but it's on the way. I want to finish these motions and get on the road,” Mark said. “Opal, you're in charge.”

  ***

  Bella waited impatiently until they reached the North Carolina state line. Virginia was so strict on speeding that traffic crawled along the highway. As soon as they were in North Carolina, Mark could open up the car. She wondered if she was addicted to speeding in fast cars. Cars had never mattered in New York or Paris or the south of France. She loved flying down the highway.

  “Want to drive?” Mark asked.

  “No driver's license,” she yelled over the wind. Yes, yes, yes. She wanted to drive, but she was a ghost. She couldn't concentrate on being visible and driving.

  “I've never heard of that.”

  “Never needed one. I know how to drive, I just don't.”

  They pulled up in front of the hotel in just over two hours. Mark had flown down I-95. The hospital concierge had booked a suite on a corporate floor where patients' families weren't located. He explained patients and their families tended to prefer to be away from business travelers. He offered to make a dinner reservation for them in the hotel dining room. Bella demurred.

  “You're not hungry?”

  “I thought I'd take a swim and grab something in the fitness café.”

  “Well, I need a steak. Maybe I should order room service.”

  She kissed him. “Whatever you want. I'll be back in about an hour.”

  Bella loved water. She loved the feel of moving through it even as a ghost. She'd been surprised her ghostly body could swim. It was one of the first things she’d tried when she became an active ghost. The worst that could happen was she'd learn her limits. She couldn't drown. She'd grown up with the Atlantic Ocean as her back yard in Virginia Beach. Her childhood summers and holidays were spent at the family house in St. John. There was nothing better than a salty swim and being kissed by the sun. Thanks to her mother's insistence she wear a hat, her skin remained free of sun damage. Regular skin treatments as an adult had kept her body silky smooth.

  Alone at the pool, Bella swam underwater laps. She felt a rush of tranquility when she first put her head under the water and pushed off. Because she didn't need to breathe, Bella rolled and tumbled and somersaulted under the water as long as she wanted. Before she got out, Bella did ballet barre exercises, holding onto the side of the pool with her fingertips. She concentrated on her movements and shut out the sound of traffic on the other side of the pool fence.

  In the ladies' locker room, Bella sat alone in the steam room. The warm, moist water rising from cedar felt delicious. She luxuriated there for what seemed like moments before her twenty-minute timer sounded. She got out, dressed in an oversized Duke University Hospital jersey that brushed her knees, and stopped by the small café. She plucked a boxed salad, an apple, and a flavored iced tea from the chilled display case and charged them to the room. She couldn't eat, but Mark would see she'd bought it.

  She took the express elevator to their floor. Mark, wearing his suit pants and a blue oxford shirt with his sleeves rolled up, was eating his favorite meal of steak and baked potato and watching something on the Syfy channel. “The Martian is coming on. I missed it in the
movie theatres. What do you say?”

  She sat on the arm of his chair. “I say I'm going to review the Larry Yarbrough trial transcript and initial assessment by Dr. Constantine. I might tweak the depo questions.”

  His hand traveled up her silky leg to her thigh. “Do you ever wear panties?”

  “Of course. I thought I'd wear them tomorrow at the hospital. No need for them after a swim.”

  He pushed the dinner tray aside and pulled her onto his lap. “You are the most gorgeous, wild, and single-minded woman I've met. I must have been under a lucky star when you walked into Beacon's that night.” He kissed her with a promise of more and she scooted off his lap.

  “I'll be in Bedroom Number One if you need me,” she teased and closed the door.

  In the solitude of the room, she re-read the key points of Larry Yarbrough's murder trial. He was a prime example of when a Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity plea should be used. His public defender never raised it. Yarbrough would never live long enough for an appeal.

  She read what little there was on his background from a social services report. Laid off from a construction job. Turned to drugs and alcohol. Lived with his younger sister and her husband until he started taking dangerous drugs. After that, he drifted from score to score, most likely unaware of where he was or what he did. Drugs had seduced, conquered, and were now killing him.

  Dr. Constantine's written assessment confirmed what he'd said by phone. Bath salts had kidnapped Larry's heart, kidney, and liver. He had significant cognitive damage and memory loss. If they could get anything that would implicate the state in Evan Cooper's murder, their case was won.

  CHAPTER