The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(70)

When Rick was in the seventh grade, a fifth-grader smarted off to him and Rick grabbed the little SOB by the collar. When he did, the fifth-grader kicked him in the balls as hard as he could, and Rick lay in the school parking lot in pain for fifteen minutes.

This felt worse.

He felt the jury’s eyes on him. The Judge. Tyler. He had trusted his gut, and... I was wrong. He looked over at Ruth Ann, who was glaring at Wilma. I failed her. She came to me and... I failed. Rick’s hand went into his front pocket and he felt for the photograph of Bob, Jeannie and Nicole Bradshaw. Envisioning the photograph, his legs began to shake. I failed them too.

Rick knew he needed to regroup, but he didn’t know how. He had fallen in a trap. Glancing at Tyler, the Big Cat’s amused expression told him all he needed to know. He knew all along, Rick thought again.

The courtroom was silent as a morgue. Rick turned to the galley and saw Powell hold his face in his hands, and Rick wished he could do the same. I should’ve taken her deposition or gotten her to sign the affidavit. I should not have put her on the stand without getting her sworn.

Rick turned around, feeling the sweat on his forehead, as the silence was broken by the sound of the double doors in the back of the courtroom squeaking open and footsteps clacking on the hardwood floor. Rick was frozen in place. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do.

“Mr Drake,” Judge Cutler said, and Rick managed to look up at him. “Would you like a short recess?”

“I...” You can’t take a recess now, Rick thought. Not like this. Not with Wilma’s testimony emblazoned in the jury’s mind. But what else could he do? There weren’t any questions left to ask her. “I...”

“Your honor, may I approach?”

The hard, gravelly voice cut through the air like a knife. It did not belong to Tyler or his associate. And, though it sounded familiar, Rick was so numb with shock he didn’t turn around.

“Who are you?” Judge Cutler asked, sounding annoyed. Then Rick saw Cutler’s eyebrows raise, and the Judge cocked his head to the side. “Well, I’ll be...” The Judge didn’t complete the thought, and his face changed from irritation to awe. Finally, Rick forced his head to turn towards the voice.

When he saw who was there, his knees gave a little. What the hell... Then he caught Jameson Tyler’s face and saw initial recognition replaced by a look he had never seen before on the arrogant bastard.

Fear.

“Your honor, my name is Thomas Jackson McMurtrie.”





59


“I’m sorry, I’m late,” Tom said, setting his briefcase down on the counsel table next to Ruth Ann. He caught her eye and leaned towards her. “I am so sorry,” he whispered. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to trust me. OK?”

Ruth Ann’s face was white with shock, but she nodded. Tom took her hand. “I’m going to make this right, I promise.”

“Late?” Judge Cutler asked, sounding confused.

Tom squeezed Ruth Ann’s hand, and then turned to face the bench. “Yes, sir. I intended to be here yesterday, but I got into a little scrape on my farm.”

“You’re Professor... McMurtrie, right?” Cutler asked, holding up a book that he kept on the Bench. It was McMurtrie’s Evidence. Second Edition.

“Yes, your honor.”

“I thought you were... I mean, the papers said you were almost...” Cutler’s face blushed red, catching himself before he said the word, but Tom knew where he was going.

“Dead?” Tom offered, smiling and thinking of something John Wayne had said in the movie Big Jake. “Not hardly, Judge.” Then, turning and taking a long stride towards Jameson Tyler, who was now standing in front of the bench, Tom repeated himself. “Not hardly.”

Tom stood straight, looking down on his former student. His former friend. Tyler cut his eyes to Judge Cutler.

“Your honor, I don’t know what the Professor is doing here, but I object to this interruption.”

Tom took a step closer to Tyler, their toes almost touching now.

“Your honor, I’d like to enter my appearance as additional counsel of record for the plaintiff, Ruth Ann Wilcox.” As he spoke, Tom never took his eyes off Tyler.

Tyler rolled his eyes, then brushed past Tom’s shoulder and stepped in front of him. “Judge, it is way too late in the game to be trading horses.”

“It’s not a trade, Judge. I’ll be joining Mr Drake. There’s nothing in the rules of civil procedure that would prevent a party from retaining additional counsel during a trial.”

Judge Cutler leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his chin. He looked past the lawyers to Ruth Ann and banged his gavel.

“Ms Wilcox, would you please approach the bench.”

Ruth Ann walked towards them, her eyes on Tom, and then on the Judge.

“Ms Wilcox, the Professor here, er... Mr McMurtrie, I mean, has asked to join Mr Drake as your lawyer in this case. I presume you’re OK with that?”

Ruth Ann looked at Tom, and, for a split second, Tom thought she might say no. Then her mouth curved into the smallest of smiles and she nodded at Cutler. “Yes, your honor, I’d like that.”

“Your honor, I object,” Tyler said, his frustration obvious. “This is ridiculous... I mean...”