Free Break and Enter by Etienne Page B

they would.”
    “True.”
    The week sped by quickly, and before we knew it, the fateful day was at hand. We met at the courthouse about twenty minutes before the ten o’clock hearing was scheduled in the judge’s chambers. Ernest had found a small, unused room not too far from the site of the hearing, and we held a brief meeting. Martha had brought a young woman named Linda Mears from her office, and she was going to stay in the room with Robbie and keep him company.
    Charles and Philip showed up about five minutes after we arrived, and I introduced them to everyone present, that is, Ernest Rodgers, Lucinda Hawkins, Bob and Martha Plott, Sheriff Sutton, and Chief and Mrs. Bridges.
    “Okay, everyone,” Ernest said. “It’s time to go down the hall to the judge’s chambers.”
    “What’s the judge’s name again?” Charles said.
    “Rosalie Jordan,” Ernest said. “She’s very good at this sort of thing. As you know, she interviewed Robbie yesterday and accepted all of our documents in evidence. She told me today would be a mere formality.”
    “Then let’s get on with it,” Charles said.
    Ernest led us down the hall and stopped at a door marked “Judge Jordan’s Chambers.” He opened it, and we followed him inside, where we found a slightly frantic secretary.
    “Oh, Mr. Rodgers,” the secretary said, “I’ve been trying to track you down. I’m afraid I have bad news. The judge was rushed to the hospital early this morning and probably won’t be available again until late next week.”
    “What do we do now?” Ernest said.
    “The clerk has reassigned the case to Judge Williams,” she said. “You know where his chambers are, and I believe you’re expected.”
    Ernest told her thanks and motioned us outside.
    “What’s the matter, Ernest?” I said. “You don’t look so hot.”
    “That’s because Judge Albert Williams is the worst bigot in this entire courthouse,” he said. “Do you want me to withdraw the petition and wait for Judge Jordan to recover from whatever it is that ails her?”
    “If I may speak?” Charles said.
    “Be my guest,” Ernest said.
    “I think we should charge right ahead as if there were no problems at all with this change,” Charles said. “To do any less would be a sign of extreme weakness and would show a lack of faith in our position.”
    “George?” Ernest said.
    “I’m with Charles,” I said. “Let’s get the show on the road.”
    “Okay,” Ernest said with a grin. “Now you know why I wanted to enter the fray with the biggest gun in town.” He clapped Charles on the back. “Follow me.”

• 7 •
     
     
    H E LED us down another hall and opened a door. Letters stenciled on the glass identified the office as Judge Williams’s chambers. We followed Ernest inside and found yet another secretary sitting at a desk.
    “Hello, Susan,” Ernest said. “I believe His Honor is expecting us.”
    “Go right in, Mr. Rodgers,” she said, pointing at an inner door.
    Ernest opened the indicated door and we followed him inside.
    “Good morning, Ernest,” a voice said. I looked in the appropriate direction and saw a somewhat fat-looking man (it was hard to tell because he was seated behind a desk) with a bad case of male pattern baldness and an even worse comb-over. “You folks find seats, and we’ll get this procedure going.”
    Ernest and Charles took chairs on the left side of the judge’s desk, and Ernest indicated that Mike and I were to sit in the chairs next to them.
    The judge looked at the documents in front of him and said, “This case involves a petition from George Martin and Michael Foster. Are the petitioners present?”
    “They are, Your Honor,” Ernest said, motioning to Mike and myself.
    “Who’s the young man next to you, Ernest?” the judge said.
    “This is Charles Barnett, senior partner of Chandler, Todd, Woodward & Barnett out of Atlanta,” Ernest said.
    “What possible interest could a presumably high-priced Atlanta