*ring ring*

*click*

Hello?

Victi vincimus.

It is done, then?

As commanded, sir.

Alea iacta est... Audentes fortuna iuvat, tamen. See to the rest.

Sanguis mutare iustitia.

*click*

---------------------

May 28, 9:06 AM
District Court
Defendant Lobby No. 2

I wonder… are all defense attorneys this nervous before their first trial?

With a heavy sigh, Alexa Acclaro shook her dark brown bangs out of her face. Pacing the lobby, her gray-blue eyes roved over her vest of matching hue, scanning every inch of it with the strength of ground-penetrating radar. Her targets: any inventive balls of lint that had escaped her initial perusal two hours earlier, or the equally thorough inspection she had given it five minutes ago, or the identical examination of twenty seconds prior.

Okay, just calm down. She thought to herself. Your vest is spotless, so focus on something else.

Admittedly, that was easier said than done. The lobby was deserted—it contained naught but a single painting and a lone sofa, both of which had apparently been in the lobby since it was first built. The former’s subject was indiscernible due to age, and the latter was, well, a sofa. Not the sort of things which captured one’s imagination.

Her eyes fell on her briefcase, exactly where she’d left it five minutes ago when she’d walked fearfully into the lobby for the first time. Contained within, organized to exacting perfection, were her case files. She’d spent all of the previous night studying them, and could probably recite them by memory at this point. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give things one last look.

With a single sigh, Alexa sat down on the couch—it gave a pitiable squeak as she did so—and, making sure the creases in her slacks were still crisp, opened her briefcase. A sense of déjà vu was instantaneous, but not unexpected. Each letter, each word, seemed to wave up at her, as if saying “Hey, fancy meeting you again! Ready to start your first trial? You realize you’re doomed, right?”

Alexa shook her head. It’s a formidable case, but nothing is insurmountable.

At least, she hoped so. The case was a homicide, of course. What else for one’s first trial? It was always more exciting that way. Alexa smiled to herself. That was exactly how her friend and fellow lawyer Sharon Rhys had described it: exciting. And it was guaranteed to be so, with her in the courtroom. She had a knack for theatrics.

Even with her friend to guide her, though, Alexa still had misgivings about the case. Her concerns were probably rooted in the fact that, by all rights, it shouldn’t have been labeled a homicide in the first place. The victim, one Otto Creed, CEO of Tradeland Insurance Corporation, had been found hanging three feet off the ground, a rope lashed tightly around his neck. Cut-and-paste suicide, it seemed. Apparently, though, the autopsy had revealed a different cause of death, one which implicated her client.

Exactly what that was, neither Alexa nor anyone else (excepting, of course, the prosecution) had any idea. A suppression order had been placed on that bit of information from the very moment it was discovered—mandated by the police, approved by the judge, tough beans for the defense. Oh, her fellow lawyers at the firm had argued vehemently for their right to view the evidence, but the judge had ruled that their ignorance, and the public’s, was necessary for the trial to proceed smoothly.

That hadn’t stopped them from speculating, however. Both Alexa’s law firm and the press had been relentless in their conjecture, and the general consensus was that some form of poison had been used. If that was truly the case, the defense was in trouble.

Suddenly, with a loud squeak, the door to the lobby swung open. Startled, Alexa turned to see who had entered. At first, it seemed the door had swung open of its own accord, but then, a man’s head slid into view, framed by many dark blonde locks of hair. He took a single step into the lobby, revealing his attire: a well-cut, cream-colored suit with a high-collared shirt and white vest. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, and his aquamarine eyes scanned the lobby with a curious intent. His right hand was still clasped on the doorknob, making it appear as though he were gripping a sword at his waist, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

After a few seconds, his eyes found Alexa sitting on the sofa. He blinked.

“Oh, hello,” he said rather awkwardly.

“Hello,” responded Alexa, even more sheepishly.

“You’re here rather early. Are you a lawyer?” He turned to face her fully, though his left side was still concealed by the door.

“Um, yes, I am.” He has to ask? Great…

“Ah, I should have seen the attorney’s badge on your vest.” His face took on the same inquisitive look it had earlier, “You wouldn’t happen to be here for the Creed homicide, would you?”

“Uh…” Alexa’s voice seemed to leave her. He’s not… No, he couldn’t be!

The man smiled, “Well, if that’s the case, shouldn’t you be in the defendant’s lobby?”

It took a moment for the question to register. “What?” she asked flatly.

The man’s eyebrow lifted, “This is the prosecution’s lobby.”

“What?!” Alexa asked again, much more loudly.

“This is the west end of the courthouse, right? The defendant’s lobbies are on the east side.”

“No, no!” Alexa said, though she was already on her feet. “I’m sure I’m in the right place!”

The man chuckled, “Really? No offense, but you don’t seem to be as certain as you think.”

“Well, I…” she trailed off, unsure of how to respond.

He took another step into the room, shutting the door with another creak. His left hand was tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and with his right he waved around the room. “When in doubt, retrace everything you know,” he said. “How did you arrive at the courthouse?”

Alexa blinked at the sudden change of subject. “W-Well, I got off the subway, walked up the steps… came down the corridor and right in here…”

“And do you recall, exactly, what was written above the doorway to this room?”

“No… I didn’t…” Suddenly, she straightened up with a realization, “But I heard the bell directly overhead as I came in. The bell is in the east wing of the courthouse.”

For a long moment there was silence. The man regarded her, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and that same curious expression formed on his features. Then, a smile touched his lips, and he bowed his head. “A well-made, if unorthodox, deduction,” he said, “I’ll be going then. Thank you for your time, Miss…”

“Acclaro. Alexa Acclaro,” she responded cautiously.

“Miss Acclaro, thank you for your time. And remember: uncertainty is death in court. You must be sure of your convictions at all times if you are to be successful as a lawyer.”

And with that, he left as swiftly as he had entered, leaving Alexa alone and more than a little perplexed. She continued staring at the door for several seconds, her thoughts racing. I really hope that he wasn’t who I think he was… She sat back down heavily. I really do.

With another loud squeak, the door swung open once more, giving Alexa yet another start. Expecting the mysterious stranger again, she was surprised to see a pair of bailiffs entering the room; they gave quizzical glances in her direction as they took up guard positions. Alexa stood to meet the people following them.

First was a relatively young man—late twenties by the looks of it. He was dressed in a black suit and shiny dress shoes with red tie—very formal, very professional. His black hair was slicked back, revealing a sharp nose and dark grey eyes. Despite his intimidating features, however, the modest expression on his face gave him an amicable aura.

Behind him was Sharon Rhys, clad in her usual courtroom attire: scarlet vest with matching slacks and orange tie. Her auburn hair was done up with a band matching her tie’s hue, and two golden earrings sparkled alongside her amber eyes. With tanned skin glowing in the light streaming into the lobby, it was rather understandable that the bailiffs couldn’t keep their eyes off of her. That sort of attention was common in court, too—a fact which she was known to use to great effect.

“Well, well, you must’ve gotten up early, Alex,” she said with a wide, white grin.

Alexa shook her head. “I know, I know. Too early. I think I just had a bit of a hallucination. ”

Sharon looked surprised. “Really? What happened?”

“Some guy came in here and… asked me questions.”

Sharon’s surprise turned to suspicion, “Was he a member of the press or something?”

“I…” she chuckled, “No, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t. You didn’t see him? He left right before you came in.”

“Nope. Maybe you are hallucinating. How much sleep did you get last night, Alex?”

“Well…”

Sharon placed her hands on her hips, “How much?”

Alexa hung her head. “Three hours.”

“Well, there’s your problem! In the future, try to get more sleep the night before a trial.”

Ahem. The cough sidled its way into their conversation. The two women turned to look at its source.

“Oh, but where are my manners!” Sharon said. “You two haven’t been introduced yet! Alexa Acclaro, this is Jacob Riche, your client.”

“Uh, how do you do?” Alexa offered her hand slowly. Real smooth, acting like that in front of the defendant, you idiot!

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Acclaro,” Mr. Riche said with a delicately cultured handshake. “I hear you took this case on your own initiative. That was rather bold, considering how much attention this case is getting from the media.”

Alexa took a deep breath. Okay, stand up straight, be confident… “That’s correct,” she said, “I’m pretty sure I even surprised my coworkers at the firm.”

“Indeed.” He cocked a black eyebrow, “I understand this is your first trial?”

Before she could answer, Sharon cut in, “But not her first time in court! She’s worked at least half a dozen cases with me.”

Thanks, Sharon. Just don’t tell him that we lost three of those cases. “Exactly. I may be new, but I am by no means inexperienced.”

The defendant smiled. “Well, I’m glad to say that this should be an easy one,” he spread his arms, “I am innocent, after all, and Ms. Rhys tells me that all the evidence against me is circumstantial.”

Alexa glanced at her friend, “Well, I’m afraid she may have been fudging the truth a little, there, Mr. Riche. As it stands, there are still some things we don’t know about the case. Most importantly, exactly how the victim died. If there’s anything else you can tell us about that night, please do so.”

Mr. Riche’s smile faltered, “I hadn’t heard about that.” He shook his head, “Pretty much all I have to say is already on record. Mr. Creed and I were served dinner by our maid, Ms. Rose. We had some light conversation about business, and then went our separate ways. I didn’t see Mr. Creed again until they wheeled him off in the ambulance.”

“How did you not see each other at all after that?”

“Creed Manor is a large structure, a good forty rooms. I went to work out in the gym for a bit, while Mr. Creed retired to his study. And when I say ‘retired,’ I mean he locked himself in. That was his normal practice.”

“I thought you were his protégé?” Alexa asked, “How come you spent so little time together?”

“Well, I can’t really say. In years past he spent quite a bit of time with me, most of it focused on teaching me the ropes of running a corporation. I don’t exactly know what made him choose me as his successor; perhaps he never trusted the other men on his executive board. I like to think I was the closest thing he had to a son, but I don’t know if he ever felt that way about me.” His head sank. “And now I never will.”

“Hey, chin up,” Sharon said, “You always leave a better impression that way.”

The defendant smiled, “Mr. Creed said something very similar to me once,” he straightened, “‘One of the first rules of business is to always be presentable.’ I suppose I owe it to him to abide by that.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sharon patted him on the shoulder.

Alexa resumed her inquiry, “So, what happened the morning the body was discovered?”

Mr. Riche’s face took on a pained expression, “Ms. Rose found him… hanging from the rafters of his study, and immediately phoned the police. They took us both in for questioning, and I was being released when they turned me back around in handcuffs.”

Sharon crossed her arms, “Did they tell you why they arrested you?”

“I was arrested ‘on suspicion of the murder of Otto Creed.’ The officers said that forensics had discovered something.”

Alexa nodded, “Well, that’s pretty much all we know. Did they let slip any more details? Did they tell you what they found?”

“I’m afraid not. Though, considering I ate dinner with him, that may make me suspect.”

“That’s my take on it, too,” said Sharon. “No doubt the prosecution will milk that for all its worth. We’ll just have to be ready, I guess.”

You guess? I thought we were a little more confident than that, Sharon. Alexa shook her head. It was frustrating, having such a big question mark hanging over the case. The exact nature of the victim’s death was like an invisible, armed grenade in the prosecution’s pocket, which they could hurl at the defense at whatever moment they deemed appropriate. At present, it seemed all the evidence was circumstantial, save for that one piece. That one piece which led the prosecution to believe they could successfully convict her client.

“Attention!” A bailiff opened the door and announced to the lobby, “The trial is about to begin. Will the defendant and his attorneys please enter the courtroom at this time.”

“Well, here we go!” Sharon said with an eager grin, “Let’s get in there, Alex!”
Alexa’s stomach squeezed tight again, “Right. Well, Mr. Riche? Are you ready?”

The defendant clasped his hands behind his back, “I am. My fate is in your hands, now.” He smiled, “And I’m certain that those hands are able.”

Alexa nodded back, and with as much care as possible given her haste, she stuffed her records back into her briefcase and hurried to join the other two as they walked out the door. With one final glance around the lobby, she left its comparatively inviting confines and proceeded out into the long hall leading to the courtroom. With every step, her mind became more and more uneasy. Perhaps it was a growing feeling of vulnerability, or the sense that she was walking into something inescapable. Maybe it was the unfamiliar noise of her footfalls—echoing through the hall, disappearing into nothingness—that set her on edge. Or perhaps it was because at the back of her mind, she remembered the stranger’s words from before—“Uncertainty is death in court.”—and realized that she was feeling more than a little uncertain.

May 28, 10:00 AM
District Court
Courtroom No. 2

The scrapes of shoes, the creak of wood, and the noise of talk filled the courtroom as the crowds began pouring into the audience seats. Down at the defense’s bench, Alexa poured every last bit of her anxious energy into studying her files one last time. Her eyes roved the pages on her desk with an almost murderous intent, as though there was some last revelation hiding amongst them. For all her effort, though, it did little to calm her frantically beating heart, or to uncoil the knot in her stomach.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Alex?” Sharon’s voice came from beside her.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Alexa responded shortly, her eyes still on the papers.

“Relax, will you? It wouldn’t do to have you fainting during the trial.”

“I’ll be fine, Sher, really,” this time, Alexa spared a glance at her partner.

“Okay,” Sharon replied, “If you say so.”

The sound of Judge Dusens’ gavel boomed through the courtroom with a loud, clear bang. To Alexa’s ears, it was like the sound of one last nail being driven into a coffin. Before its ringing echoes could even fade into nonexistence, the pre-trial murmuring of the audience came to a sudden silence.

Clearing his throat, Dusens’ voice sounded out with a resonance not unlike the tone of his gavel’s impact. “Court is now in session for the trial of Jacob Riche.”

Still caught up in her furious perusal, it took Alexa a second to realize she was meant to speak. “T-The defense is ready, Your Honor,” she said with a timid glance at the Judge.

“Now, now, Ms.… Acclaro, was it? This may be your first trial, but try not to make it seem that way.” Judge Dusens said with a kind smile.

I can’t tell. Was that supposed to be an admonishment or not…? “Um… Yes, Your Honor.” Alexa let her head hang lower with every word.

“Now, is the prosecution prepared as well?” Dusens turned to the opposite bench.

“As always, Your Honor.”

That voice! With a sudden jolt, Alexa snapped her gaze to the opposite bench. Standing behind it was a man in a cream-colored suit, high-collared shirt, and white vest. His left hand resided smugly in his jacket pocket, and with his right he tapped his brow in a two-fingered salute to the Judge.

“Mr. Darnell, it’s good to see you again. I must say, it’s been quite a long while since I’ve seen you in my court.”

“Time well spent, I assure you, Your Honor.”

“As I should hope!” the Judge said, his tone somehow striking the midpoint between jovial praise and grim warning, “Now then," he continued, his voice now very sober, "This case concerns the murder of a very high-profile individual, and is thus receiving considerable attention from the media. I do not exaggerate when I say that the eyes of the nation are upon us. I think we owe it to ourselves to make our best efforts in ensuring justice is done. To this end, I hope the members of the jury pay close attention to the proceedings, and that both the prosecution and the defense present their arguments carefully.” He paused, taking one sweeping look around the courtroom, “Well, let’s get this thing started, shall we? Mr. Darnell, if you would explain the charges.”

The prosecutor nodded, “Yes, Your Honor,” he straightened up, addressing one of the closed-circuit cameras through which 6 jurists were watching, “Mr. Jacob Riche stands accused of murdering his mentor, Mr. Otto Creed. The motive is obvious: Mr. Creed’s protégé was after his mentor’s money. Driven by pure avarice, and unwilling to wait for his timely succession, Mr. Riche decided to speed up the clock. As the prosecution will demonstrate, there is no one else who could have killed the CEO.”

“He’s not bad with words,” Sharon said, nodding toward Darnell, “Though, I thought they’d send an older prosecutor for a case like this,” she turned to look at Alexa, and blinked, “What’s up? You look like… well, like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That’s the guy from before,” Alexa breathed, “The one who came into the lobby earlier.”

“The one who ‘asked you questions?’ You didn’t tell him anything about the case, right?”

Alexa shook her head, “No, and he didn’t ask.”

Sharon raised her eyebrow, “So what did he ask?”

“That’s…” Alexa felt her face getting a little warm, “I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Sharon shrugged, “Whatever he said, don’t let it get to you, okay?”

Alexa nodded, and stole a quick glance at the prosecution’s bench. She was startled to find Darnell meeting her gaze evenly, his features set in an impassive, analytical expression. Quickly, she shifted her eyes away, but not before catching a glimpse of a smirk on the prosecutor’s face.

Judge Dusens pounded his gavel, “Now, then, we’ll start with our first witness.” He glanced down at a piece of paper on his desk, “I call Detective… Nicholas Hoch to the stand!”

The bailiff left to fetch the witness, leaving behind a courtroom that had fallen dead quiet. Behind the witness stand, the door remained unmoving, its polished finish reflecting the gazes of everyone in the courtroom. With a sudden jerk, the handle turned, and slowly the portal began to open. There was a shuffling sound, not from the door, but from the audience benches, as everyone craned their necks to see who was entering. The mysterious door remained open for but a moment before it closed again. There was an exchange of glances in the galleries; several people stood up to check if their eyes deceived them. Whispers passed from seat to seat.

“What, is he the Invisible Man?”

“Where’s the detective?”

“I can’t see anyone from here.”

The silence suddenly returned with deafening clarity as a pair of hands appeared on the witness stand. Ten fingers grasped its upper edge, and with one swift lunge, the detective appeared, swinging his short legs around to sit comfortably atop his perch. He was dressed in apparel typical of his profession: gray trenchcoat, matching pants, and black, well-worn shoes. His face was round and friendly, and he wore a pair of large glasses over equally large blue eyes. With a voice surprisingly deep for his stature, he proclaimed to the courtroom:

“Detective Nick Hoch, reporting as ordered!”

There was a sound like a xylophone’s note as everyone in the room blinked.

“Ah, I love that,” the detective said with a wide grin, “You should all see your faces!”

Prosecutor Darnell, seemingly unperturbed, asked politely, “Your first appearance, I assume, Detective?”

“Yes, sir,” Hoch ran a hand through his scruffy black hair.

“I’ll see to it that a milk crate is waiting for you next time, if you’d like.”

“I appreciate it, Prosecutor, but I enjoy making entrances like that. People never expect it.” He gave a hearty laugh.

Alexa didn’t know what to say. Sharon whispered her opinion with a wink, “I suppose being closer to the ground makes investigating easier.”

Judge Dusens spoke up, “Um, well, Detective, if you would be so kind as to report your findings.”

“Can do, Your Honor. I’ll try to keep it as short as possible.” Detective Hoch gave another grin before clearing his throat; he was all business now.

“The victim is one Otto Creed, chairman and CEO of Tradeland Insurance Corporation. He was found dead in his study at 8:40 AM on the 26th by his maid, one Martha Rose. Time of death was between 10:00 and 11:00 the previous evening. Cause of death was determined to be asphyxiation.”

Alexa leaned in, “The coroner confirmed this? The cause of death was asphyxiation?” That seems rather mundane…

Hoch nodded, “Yes. When I arrived on the scene, I immediately came to the same conclusion. There was a noose wrapped around his neck and a chair on the floor. It seemed obvious to me that he had hung himself.”

“Just the facts will do, Detective,” Prosecutor Darnell chided lightly.

“Sorry sir, first time and all,” Hoch said with another grin.

“Darnell’s acting rather calm,” Sharon whispered, “I expected him to chew the detective out for that little remark in our favor.”

“No worries, Detective,” the prosecutor continued, “Now, there was something strange they found in autopsy, correct?”

“Yes, sir. When they examined the contents of his stomach, they found a slurry of various medications. His blood work showed he had OD’d on at least three of them,” Hoch shook his head, “His liver was gone. It couldn’t take the strain. The same goes for his kidneys. Even if he hadn’t hung, he would have dropped dead from that within 12 hours.”

Darnell spoke again, “Where did these drugs come from, exactly?”

“Well, sir, Mr. Creed’s study was part of his ‘chambers’ as they were. His bedroom and personal bathroom were connected to it. The medicine cabinet in his bathroom was cleaned out. Pretty much every bottle was empty. He’d even taken all of his antacids!”

“In your professional opinion, Detective,” Darnell asked, “Why did the victim clear out his medicine cabinet?”

“Well,” Hoch exhaled, “I’d say the victim did that to make sure he…passed away. One of the things he took was a sleeping medication. I was told by our forensics expert that he had a mere five minutes or so before he would’ve been out cold, and the multiple system failure would have made sure he never woke up again. Add on to that the fact that he hung himself, and I think it’s a fair assumption he was trying to kill himself.”

“Now Darnell’s asking our questions,” Sharon said to Alexa, “All of this is painting the picture that it really was suicide.”

“What do you suppose he’s up to?” Alexa whispered back.

“I don’t know. Either he’s supremely confident, or he wants this testimony on record.”

Alexa turned her gaze to the prosecutor’s bench. Darnell’s expression, however, was as unreadable as always. Maybe he’s lulling us into a false sense of security? Yeah, definitely.

“Anyway,” Hoch continued, “This is all detailed in the autopsy report, which I have right here.”

“The court accepts this into evidence,” Judge Dusens announced. “Does the defense have anything to add?”

Alexa glanced at Sharon. Her red-clad associated was deep in thought, however, her thumbnail in her mouth.

“Um, no, Your Honor. No questions.” Alexa said.

“Well,” the Judge said with a lighthearted look on his face, “I should hope you’d have something to say eventually,”—his expression became a frown—“Trials get rather boring otherwise.”

“Of course, Your Honor.” Again, is he scolding us or…?

“Good,” the Judge turned to the witness stand, “Your presence is no longer needed, Detective Hoch. Thank you.” He gave another kind grin.

“Uh, right,” Hoch seemed to be deciding whether to be offended or not. “Well, I’ll be going, then…” He leapt from the witness stand, removed a fedora from within his coat, and with a final nod to the lawyers, made for the door.

“Hold it!” Alexa was startled to hear Sharon’s voice ring out. “Detective, you look like you had something to say.”

Detective Hoch turned around, spinning the hat in his hands nervously. “Well, I did want to ask something of the Judge, but I think he, you, and Prosecutor Darnell would deem that irrelevant.” He gave a nervous grin.

“Is that really true?” Sharon fixed him with a hard stare.

The detective’s shoulders sank as he let out a sigh. “No.”

“Then what did you wish to say?”

Hoch gave a glance toward Darnell. “During my investigation, I found something. It was declared irrelevant to this case.”

“I think that is for the court to decide, Mr. Hoch.”

Sharon’s disuse of his job title visibly rattled the detective. “I was explicitly told by the prosecution to refrain from bringing this up.”

That statement knocked the courtroom back in its seats. Shouts rose immediately, glares and gasps were directed at Prosecutor Darnell, and Judge Dusen’s voice and gavel tried to rise above the tumult.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Sharon looked apologetically at Alexa.

“What do we do now?” Alexa said, trying to block out the noise.

“Whatever’s in that letter, Darnell didn’t want the court knowing about it, so it must be good for us! Take it away, Alex.”

“What?”

“Object, of course!”

“Oh, right…” With a deep breath, Alexa straightened up. She had dreamt of this moment for a long while—ever since she had made the decision to become a lawyer. It was the chance to finally show she was capable, that she was worthy of wearing the shiny new badge on her chest. It was a moment she had recited to exhaustion in the days leading up to her first appearance. She pushed down her feelings of unease, raised her arm, and with all the strength she could muster, shouted, “Objection!”

Unfortunately, she shouted it into a courtroom still in uproar.

“Alex,” Sharon said, with a sympathetic smile, “Wait until they can actually hear you before you object.”

Right… Not that I really want to now, of course.

“Order! Order in the Court!” Judge Dusens finally quieted the last of the disquiet, “Mr. Darnell! The court demands an explanation for this!”

Darnell sighed, rubbing his forehead with his right hand, “It’s as the witness says, Your Honor, what he found is irrelevant.”

“Objection!” This time, Alexa’s voice resounded through the courtroom, summoning all eyes to her as she leveled her index finger at the prosecutor’s bench. There were a few seconds of total silence, then…

“Yes, Ms. Acclaro?” the Judge asked encouragingly.

“Oh, that’s right!” Alexa felt her face turning red. She cleared her throat, “Mr. Darnell, you know it is the defense’s right to examine any and all pieces of evidence!”

The prosecutor merely shrugged, “When was it stated that the subject at hand was evidence at all? It is irrelevant, and further discussion will only waste the court’s time.”

Sharon slammed her hands onto the desk. “Unless you can prove that, Darnell, the defense demands that Detective Hoch reveal what he found!”

“If that’s the case,” Darnell turned to the judge, “Your Honor, I respectfully ask that the audience be excused from the courtroom.”

Judge Dusens looked taken aback and concerned at once, “Mr. Darnell, are you certain you are fit to be back in the courtroom? You realize what you are asking?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I am sure.”

“Request denied, Mr. Darnell! If you have no evidence to corroborate your claim that can be heard in open court, I’m afraid we have no choice but to examine whatever it is we have on our hands here.” He banged his gavel. “Detective Hoch, please give your testimony!”

The detective took the stand once more, spinning his hat with even greater energy now. “Sorry about all this. Despite what I said earlier, I don’t mean to surprise people this much.”

“Detective, if you would,” said Judge Dusens.

“Yes, Your Honor.” He cleared his throat again, “During my investigation, I found a letter, written by Mr. Creed himself. It was located on the desk in his study, sealed in an envelope.” He gripped his hat a little tighter, “It was a suicide note.”

The courtroom was filled with noise once again, and Judge Dusens banged his gavel a few more times before asking, “What did it contain?”

Hoch drew a deep breath, “It deferred the controlling rights of TIC to Mr. Riche, as well as a sizeable sum of money, and an equal amount to his maid, Ms. Martha Rose.”

“How much?”

“Ten million. Each.”

There was a collective gasp. “T-twenty million?!” Judge Dusens breathed. “He bequeathed his personal fortune to these two?”

“Hardly, Your Honor. Mr. Creed’s estate alone was worth roughly that. No, the letter mentions one particular account where the money was kept, in a separate bank from Mr. Creed’s personal funds.”

“Why are we just learning of this now?” Alexa asked her partner.

Sharon shrugged, “You tell me. You asked our client the questions.”

“Hey, you could’ve asked him at any time, too!”

“Now’s not the time to be pointing fingers,” Sharon grinned, “Or rather, it is. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think so.” I’m thinking it’s time to take this case in a whole new direction.

Judge Dusens banged his gavel. “Mr. Darnell, do you have the letter in question?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“The court accepts this as evidence. Strange... This letter was typed?”

Detective Hoch nodded. “That's correct. Mr. Creed kept an old typewriter in his study, and examination of the ink ribbons showed the letter was written on that particular machine. The signature on the letter was verified as Mr. Creed’s. His fingerprints were found on both the typewriter and the pen which signed the letter, but it was his study, after all.”

“So, there’s little doubt that this is genuine?” the Judge asked.

“At present, yes,” Darnell admitted.

Alexa seized the moment, slamming her hands onto the desk, “Then explain why, Mr. Darnell, you claim this piece of evidence to be ‘irrelevant!’ This note gives a prime motive to Mr. Creed’s maid!”

Darnell flicked his arm to the side, as if parrying her words with an invisible sword. “It is irrelevant because it was in a sealed envelope. No one, aside from the victim, had any idea these funds were to be given away.”

“Objection!” Alexa shouted, this time without losing focus, “That is pure conjecture on your part, Mr. Darnell! The defense requests that the maid be summoned as a witness, so that we can ascertain for ourselves just how much she knew!”

“Good work, Alex,” Sharon said, smiling, “You’ll make it as a lawyer yet!”

Judge Dusens pounded his gavel, “The defense raises a fair point. Prosecutor Darnell, you will issue Ms. Martha Rose a subpoena immediately. I wish to hear what she has to say, as well.”

Darnell bowed his head, “No need, Your Honor. Ms. Rose is waiting in the prosecution’s lobby as we speak.”

What?! Alexa gave a shocked look at Sharon, who returned it. He was planning on calling her?

“However,” Darnell continued, “before she joins us, I again request that the audience leave the courtroom.”

The Judge’s brow furrowed, “Noted, Mr. Darnell, but unless you can give some reasoning behind your request, I cannot ask that the public be dismissed from this court.”

“In this case, Your Honor, the ends will justify the means. There is a sensitive matter behind this.”

“I’m afraid that is not good enough. Your witness is currently under suspicion, Mr. Darnell. Until she is not, she will not be given any special considerations. Request denied.”

The prosecutor’s shoulders sagged a little, “Understood, Your Honor.”

Judge Dusens nodded, “Very well. We will now take a ten-minute recess, during which time the prosecution will prepare their witness.”

Darnell nodded, apparently conceding defeat.

Alexa turned to Sharon. “What have we gotten ourselves into here?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Sharon replied, frowning in concentration, “We’d better make the best use we can of these few minutes; see if we can plan out some sort of strategy.”

Alexa nodded, her thoughts turning inward. Once again, there were many, many questions and very, very few answers. Why did Darnell try to hide the note, when it gave their client as much a motive as the maid? Why was he trying so hard to clear the courtroom for her? For that matter, what role did the maid truly play in all of this? It seemed like the case was becoming more and more muddled, sinking beneath the weight of so much uncertainty.

“Uncertainty is death in court.”

The sound of Darnell’s words came ringing back with crystal clarity, this time carrying considerably more meaning behind them. Is this what he meant? Alexa gave one last look at Darnell, who was busy clearing papers off of his desk. Is he trying to disorient us? To muddle the truth?

Is he setting us up for a fall?

The sound of Dusens’ gavel rang out like an ominous thunderclap. “Court is now in recess!”