Free Jack Daniels and Associates: Snake Wine by Bernard Schaffer Page A

Keenan Marvin up from his seat and handcuffed him, leading him out of the courtroom.
    Joel Roth looked down at his notepad and said, "That really sucked, Jack. We didn't make any friends with this."
    "I know," Jack said. She winked at him half-heartedly and said, "But you bought us time, and I assure you, it will be worth it, I promise."
     
    Cops are always lingering in the hallways of the courthouse. Going to and from court, waiting for juries, staring at the pretty girls in business suits who work there, staring at the pretty girls in street clothes there for warrants. You name it, cops found a reason to hang around courthouses. It was better than going back on the street. Jack stood in the hallway, talking to a few she knew, when the entrance doors slid open, followed by four deliverymen pushing handcarts filled high with cardboard boxes. Each of them stopped at the metal detectors and were soon flanked by courthouse security. "Show us what's in the boxes, one at a time," the first guard insisted.
    The delivery guy looked up at him, "Every single box? Are you serious?"
    "Every single box, mister, now let's move it. We close in an hour."
    Jack listened to the grumbles as they hefted each box from the handcarts and set them out, pulling away the lids one at a time to show there weren't any bombs or chainsaws or terrorists hiding inside. She had to force herself not to smile. She checked her phone again. No messages. She scrolled through her contacts and pressed the one marked Captain Miller. "It's me," she said when he picked up. "Any word?"
    "Nothing yet," Miller said. "How's it going over there?"
    One of the guards bent over to look inside a box and accidentally knocked it over, spilling hundreds of sheets of paper onto the floor. It was high comedy watching them all scurry to get them back inside. "We've got some time," Jack said.
    "I'll call Sparky and see what's taking so damn long."
    "I appreciate it, sir."
    Jack walked into the courtroom and made her way up the aisle toward the prosecutor's table. The judge was on the bench, talking about golf scores with both attorneys. His tie was loosened and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. "Tell me we have good news, Lieutenant," Ceparullo said.
    "The reports have arrived," Jack said.
    "Thank God," Alan Davidson cried out. "Let's get this show on the road." He looked across the aisle at Joel Roth, eyes narrowly fixing on him, and he said, "I'm assuming you're going to stipulate that the reports contain what Mr. Ford says they contain, right? We're not going to waste anyone else's time with this nonsense, are we, Joel?"
    Joel Roth turned slightly in his seat to look at Jack. Jack cocked an eyebrow at him, and Joel's face fell by degrees. He sank down in his seat a little and said, "With all due respect, I think it would be prudent to verify the accuracy of these reports. Just to be on the safe side."
    Alan Davidson exploded in a long string of frustrated legalese, pounding the table for emphasis. The judge looked at his watch and interrupted him, saying, "It's already four o'clock. Tomorrow is Friday and I told this jury that the trial would be finished before the weekend. Both of you had better understand that if you make me look like a fool up here, I will return the favor, in spades. Do you understand?"
    "Yes, your honor," both attorneys said.
    Judge Ceparullo turned on Roth with a pointed finger, "I'm dismissing the jury for the evening so you can go through these reports, and you will have every single one of them verified by eight AM tomorrow morning. I don't care how many people from your office you need to haul in here, or how late you have to stay. And so help me God, you both had better be here on time and ready tomorrow morning."
    Joel Roth sat staring blankly as the judge got down from the bench and headed for his chambers, his long robe a swirling sea of black. Roth was watching those big flashing lights of the Governor's mansion fading slowly in his mind's