Free Unleashed by David Rosenfelt

draining.
    “Sure,” he says. “Regular rate?”
    “Regular rate,” I confirm.
    He smiles. “Let’s go get ’em.”

 
     
    “Nothing that happens today will be significant.”
    “Why?” Denise asks, obviously disappointed. We’re in an anteroom in the courthouse, and I am prepping her for the arraignment, set to begin in a few minutes.
    “It’s all a formality. They will read the charges against you, and you should not show any expression at all when they do, just stare straight ahead. Then they’ll ask how you plead, and you should simply say, ‘Not guilty, Your Honor.’”
    “Then what?”
    “Then we prepare for trial.”
    Like most defendants, Denise is constantly expecting someone to snap his or her fingers and realize in the moment that she is not guilty and that this is all a mistake. I’ve been trying to make her understand that it won’t happen, that it’s going to be a difficult grind, but it always takes a while to internalize it. It is going to take waking up in a jail cell, day after boring day, to get the message across.
    “Denise, a few of the witnesses the prosecution spoke to mentioned that they attended a party at your house the night before Barry died. Sam was there as well.”
    “Right. The parties were more Barry’s idea, and we had them periodically.”
    “Who would attend?”
    “There were a lot of his clients and some friends. Barry thought it was best to mix the two, that it would make the conversation more interesting to have people from different backgrounds.”
    “How many people were there that night?”
    “Probably fifty or so.”
    “Can you write out a list of the people you remember being there?”
    “I can try; I’m not sure if I can remember everybody.”
    “Did you argue with Barry that night?” I ask, knowing that there have been references to that in the witness reports, and Sam had mentioned it as well.
    “I argued with Barry almost every night. We usually tried not to do it in public, but that time we did.”
    “Okay,” I say. “Please work on that list.”
    I open the door and we enter the adjacent courtroom. It probably seats about seventy-five people, and every seat is taken. The media have adopted this as a story worthy of covering, probably because of Barry’s money and the fact that Denise is good-looking.
    Denise recoils slightly when she sees all the people; this is humiliating for her. Of course, when the final resolution comes, she will either have vindication, or if not, then humiliation will be the least of her problems.
    I recognize only a few people in the room. Hike is at the defense table, Thomas Bader is at the prosecution table with three assistant attorneys, and Sam is in the front row.
    Judge Calvin Hurdle takes his place behind the bench. I’ve never tried a case before him, so I’ve asked around, and I’ve been told he’s a no-nonsense judge.
    Of course, that really doesn’t help me much, because I haven’t exactly run into a whole bunch of nonsense judges. You don’t find too many judges who are real practical-joking cutups, putting shaving cream in lawyers’ shoes and whoopee cushions on jurors’ chairs.
    Judges are a predictable group, disciplinarians who pride themselves on maintaining total control of their courtrooms. They have their humor genes surgically removed when they take the oath. It’s one of the reasons they can’t stand me.
    Judge Hurdle goes through some housekeeping issues, and then the charges are read. Denise follows my instructions well and stares impassively throughout. My reason for cautioning her about this has nothing to do with the judge or any of the court members; I simply don’t want the media characterizing her in a negative way. The people who matter are not here today. They are out there in the real world, and they will be reading and hearing about the case through the media. And after they do, some of them will make their way to the jury box.
    Finally it comes time to enter her