The World According to Vince - Jane Harvey-Berrick Page 0,73

I was already feeling nostalgic about it, but then I checked my voicemail.

There was a message from District Attorney Randolph Barclay—he was denying a plea bargain and taking us to trial. And the smug bastard added a postscript:

“The judge was able to find a space in her schedule to move the trial date forward as that’s in the public’s best interests to curb the spate of copycat vigilante behaviour that we’ve been experiencing across the State. I hope you’re ready, Counselor.”

I felt all the blood rush from my body.

I had one week to prepare for Vince’s trial.

Vince

“Free the Canine Crusader! No walls for four paws! Justice for the dogs’ best friend!”

Cady laughed as I chanted, then stopped abruptly when she saw the stern look on Grace’s stony face.

“Sorry,” she grimaced. “It was quite funny.”

“Hilarious,” Grace said stiffly. “Am I the only person here who understands that Vince could go to prison?”

“Sorry,” Cady muttered again.

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” I smiled at her. “They’re not going to send the Canine Crusader to the clink. They wouldn’t dare!”

Grace turned to me with a pained expression. “Vincent, this is what I’m trying to explain—they want to make an example of you. They want you to go to prison because they think it will stop the rash of copycat crimes that are taking place all along the eastern seaboard.”

“No one wants a nasty rash,” I winked at her.

She stood up with a frustrated huff. “Will you please take this seriously? I’m worried! You should be worried, too. And I really think it’s time to call in an experienced criminal lawyer—I’m a specialist in mergers and acquisitions, for Pete’s sake! I’ve never tried a criminal case in my life! I can’t…”

I shook my head, serious for once. “No, it has to be you, Gracie. No one knows me like you do; no one gets me like you do. It has to be you. And I know you’ll be brilliant.”

“I agree with Vince,” said Cady. “Words I never thought I’d utter. But he’s right. You do know him better than anyone, God help you. And you’re a great lawyer, Grace. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve been researching this since Vince was arrested and you’ve got a plan—don’t lose your balls now, hon.”

Grace’s face turned red. “This is not a joke!” she yelled, flailing her arms and losing her cool in a very un-Gracie way. “This is not a game where Vince wins a ‘get-out-of-jail-free card’. If a person is found guilty of burglary in the third degree, it’s a class D felony, punishable by one to seven years in prison and a fine up to $5,000.”

Her nostrils flared. She was really turning me on.

“Then there’s the charge of larceny,” she said with gritted teeth, chewing the words and spitting them out. “Larceny is when a person wrongfully takes, obtains or withholds property from its rightful owner, with the intent to deprive the owner of such property.”

“But they were rescue dogs,” I piped up. “They didn’t belong to no one.”

“They were the property of the shelter,” Grace gritted out. “If the loss to the shelter is worth less than $500, you might get away with a misdemeanor, while anything worth $500 or more is a felony.”

She sighed, and her voice became quieter.

“I’m confident that we’ll be able to dismiss the larceny charge on the technicality that you hadn’t left the building, so it’s supposition that you were planning to steal the dogs … even though you had six puppies in your pockets.”

“I wasn’t stealing them,” I insisted. “I was rehoming them, which is what the shelter was supposed to do anyway. And I can’t believe those tossers are pressing charges after everything I’ve done for them.”

“Yeah,” said Rick from the sofa where Tyson was sitting on him. “Tossers.”

“Cheers, mate!” I grinned at him.

Grace’s mouth twisted. “I know,” she said quietly. “I think they’ve been leaned on. I heard a rumor—completely unsubstantiated but probably true—that they’ve been threatened with closure on some B.S. zoning code. The DA is playing hardball. That’s why I’m so worried, Vince. They’re not going to play fair because they intend to find you guilty.”

“Bloody hell,” said Rick, summing up the situation for all of us.

For the first time since I’d been arrested a two months ago, I felt a nervous twitch in my gut. I still didn’t believe that I’d done anything wrong, but the law seemed to say otherwise. And I didn’t like to see Gracie looking so stressed either—I