Hayley - Kathryn Shay Page 0,14
his client, his mood darkened even more. The guy was a scumbag.
* * *
Raising her chin, stiffening her jaw—something Bridget taught her to do when she didn’t want to show emotion-Hayley walked down the short aisle to the prosecution’s bench in Courtroom Three. She peeked over at John Cramer. He was older than she expected. At fifty-five, his hair in a combover, he was, well, weaselly, as Paul had described him. He held her gaze. “ADA Casella.”
“Mr. Cramer.”
“Good luck today.”
“To you, too.”
His client arrived at the defense table. “Sorry I’m late. I had a meeting that ran long.”
“If you walk in late when the judge is already out, you’ll have a problem.”
“I didn’t.” The man’s tone was dismissive. “Now let’s sit and you can tell me what’s going to happen. I don’t have a lot of time.”
Hayley rolled her eyes. Good luck with this one, Cramer.
In ten minutes, the bailiff announced, “All rise,” and Judge Branson walked into the room and sat down. The others followed suit.
She peered down at the file of her first case, then lifted her head. “Good morning, everyone. Today we’ll hear arguments from the prosecution detailing why the charge of embezzlement against Simon Lassiter should result in bail or confinement. We’ll hear from the prosecution first.” She nodded to Hayley. “ADA Casella, you’re up.”
“The prosecution is asking the court to withhold bail. The alleged perpetrator, Mr. Lassiter, has bank accounts all over the world, and housing in places with no extradition agreement. The flight risk involving him is considerable.”
Cramer stood. “The argument the prosecutor makes is ludicrous. You confiscated his passport at the charging hearing, Judge. He can’t go anywhere.”
“Ms. Casella?” Branson again.
“We all know that people of means have ways of escaping the country illegally. Since he’s already committed one crime, why not another?”
“I’d object if this was a trial.” Cramer’s tone was condescending. “Perhaps Ms. Casella is too new to the game to know she’d be putting half of Manhattan’s alleged criminals in jail.”
Hayley went in for the kill. “Only when they ripped off senior citizens.”
Cramer’s face blanked. Apparently, he hadn’t done his research. “My client isn’t even accused of that.”
“It’s recently come to our attention that one of those clients…” She looked down as if she didn’t know the name “…was Mary Anderson. When I investigated her circumstances, I discovered she resided in an independent living community and has been managing the money of twenty residents.” She glanced at Cramer. “You should know that, Mr. Cramer. It was easy to find. Perhaps your somewhat older eyes missed that.”
She saw Judge Branson roll her lips inward. To keep from laughing. Hayley didn’t expect to get no bail, but she’d ask for an exorbitant amount and an ankle bracelet.
At end of the arraignment, she got both. A great day for the good guys.
* * *
Paul got back to the office around five, wound up tight after a long day of charges and bail hearings. His shoulders were heavy and his stride slow. What he needed was a massage. The low rumble of voices from the first year’s cubicles drifted over to him as he made his way down a corridor.
Paul had heard Hayley did indeed beat the pants off Cramer, and he made a point to walk by the man’s office.
And heard Cramer say, “Fuck it, Edward. Casella’s a cunt. No wonder Covington couldn’t handle her.”
Paul halted quickly. The use of the epithet offended him on an ordinary day. To hear it applied to Hayley made him see red. Despite the presumptuousness of what he was about to do, he crossed to the entrance of the junior partner’s office. “Did I hear my name invoked?”
Edward sighed. “Come in, Paul. Apparently, John’s having problems with ADA Casella.”
“I’m offended by the crass language you used to describe her, John.”
Cramer bolted out of his chair and circled his desk. His eyes were flaming “Now wait just a minute. I’m a partner in this firm. I can use whatever language I want on the premises. You’re fired, Covington. Pack up your things.”
The outer room went silent.
“You can’t fire me. It’s in my contract with the firm that only Mr. Cook can do that.”
“Is that true, Edward?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had my reasons.”
Cramer banged his fist on the desk’s surface. “This is outrageous! I want a meeting called with you, me and Shelby to discuss this.”
Edward straightened his shoulders and stepped closer to Cramer. “For the record, John, I don’t ever want to hear that kind of language on these premises again.