City of Angels (The Trials of Kit Shannon #1) Read online

  "Now you will remove yourself from the floor," Judge Ganges said.

  "Your Honor," Kit said, not moving. The judge flashed his eyes her way. "I would beg the court to allow us time for Mr. Rogers to recover."

  After a quick glance at Sloate, Ganges said, "Denied. And you are not to speak to me further! Now go before I have you removed."

  Kit turned back to the counsel table. Ted looked at her, pleading with his eyes for her to tell him what was happening.

  Then she remembered the letter. The one Rogers had given her when she first went to the county jail. She had saved it, and it was in her briefcase now. She opened the briefcase and took it out, not knowing if it would do any good.

  But she could not walk away. Ted's life was hanging in the balance. Without Rogers to defend him, he was as good as dead.

  Kit was aware of the silence in the place. She looked up from the letter and saw what seemed like all of Los Angeles looking back at her. There were Barrymore and Phelps and Chief Hoover and Aunt Freddy. There was a deputy sheriff, standing at the door, and faces looking in through the door's windows.

  And there she was, Kit Shannon, knowing this moment could not be lost. For what she had was something that could not wait.

  "Your Honor," she said. "The defense wishes to present its case!"

  Now the hush in the courtroom was broken by the low rumble of voices. Kit felt the paper shaking in her hand. Her knees were shaking more.

  "What did you say?" said Judge Ganges.

  Kit approached the bench, each step laborious. But she did not stop. She handed the letter to Ganges, who snatched it. "What is this?" he said.

  "That is the appointment of an agent by Earl Rogers. You will see my name written there."

  Judge Wiley Ganges was struck speechless. His eyes kept looking at the letter up and down. And then he looked at Kit. And while it wasn't explicit, Kit was sure she saw something in Ganges' eyes, something like a spark of admiration for the audacity of her move.

  "Let me see that," said Sloate, snatching the letter from the judge.

  "Miss Shannon," the judge said to her, his voice softer now. "I cannot allow this."

  "But you can," Kit said. And now her mind switched into high gear. She knew she would have to do what Rogers had told her just a few days before—make an argument.

  In a flash she remembered something her beloved professor, Mrs. Titus, had told her once in her class in Constitutional law. "Come, Miss Shannon, make a noise like a lawyer!"

  Now was time to make noise. And the Constitution was the vehicle. Under Mrs. Titus, Kit had come to love and revere this nation's foundational document, especially the first ten amendments known as the Bill of Rights. She had memorized them and the cases interpreting them.

  "The Sixth Amendment, Your Honor," Kit said. "In all criminal prosecutions the accused shall enjoy the right to the assistance of counsel for his defense."

  "I am aware of the Bill of Rights, Miss Shannon."

  "And the accused shall have the right to choose his own counsel."

  Judge Ganges appeared to be listening. Kit quickly added, "Mr. Fox has chosen Mr. Rogers, and Mr. Rogers has chosen me to be his agent, and therefore, Your Honor, under the United States Constitution I must be allowed to continue the defense in this case."

  Now Judge Ganges broke into a wide grin. Kit was breathing so hard she thought she might faint. Ganges looked at Sloate and said, "That's a pretty good argument."

  Sloate glared at the judge, then at Kit. "You're a very clever girl," Sloate said. "Too clever by half."

  In the face of Sloate's insults, Kit, astonishingly, felt herself growing stronger. "It's not cleverness I am concerned with, Mr. Sloate. It's the Constitution."

  "Mr. Sloate," the judge said, "I'm inclined to agree with her."

  "You must be joking."

  To Kit, Judge Ganges said, "I must warn you, though, that it would be folly for you to try this, Miss Shannon. You are fresh off the turnip cart. Mr. Sloate is a skilled and experienced advocate."

  It was true. Kit hesitated. But she did not back down. "I am well aware of Mr. Sloate's . . . attributes. I wish to continue."

  "Mr. Sloate?" Ganges said.

  "Let her," Heath Sloate said. "I will enjoy watching this woman fall on her face. But before I accede to it, I want it on the record that the client agrees, and that he waives his right to appeal based on this farce."

  Judge Ganges called to a deputy. "Bring the defendant up here."

  Now the courtroom was so noisy Ganges had to gavel for order. Ted appeared at the bench with a deputy sheriff at his arm.

  The judge said, "Your lawyer is incapacitated by drink, and I want him replaced. Miss Shannon, who is not a member of the bar, has nevertheless secured an appointment of authority and wishes to go forward with evidence. If you accept this, Mr. Fox, you will waive your right to appeal this decision. That means if you're convicted, you can't go to a higher court and say you didn't have adequate counsel. Now, you do not have to accept this, and it is my firm advice that you do not. You need an experienced lawyer to represent you, sir. Rest assured you will be assigned good counsel, son."

  Ted looked amazed. "You?" he said to Kit.

  Kit nodded.

  He looked at her intently. "May I speak to my lawyer?" Ted asked the judge.

  "She is not your lawyer," Judge Ganges said. "At least not yet. And if you follow my advice she won't be. I'll give you two minutes." Ganges took out his pocket watch.

  Kit and Ted went to the side of the bench. "What is going on?" he asked her.

  "I have something," she said. "A witness."

  Ted's eyes widened.

  "If I don't present him now, I'm afraid they'll find out who he is. They'll be able to stop him."

  "Then put him on."

  "But Ted, the judge is right. I'm not experienced. I'm not even a member of the bar. You can wait for another lawyer to be assigned to you."

  "I don't want another lawyer. They'll fix it."

  "But—"

  He put his hand up. "I trust you. If you think the moment is now, then I want you to do it."

  And then he smiled.

  Kit felt a surge of assurance. No, she was not experienced, but she knew the case as well as Earl Rogers. If she could just make it through this day, just get her witness on, she could find Rogers, get him back on his feet, keep him sober—and then he could finish the case. She had one witness waiting. She could do it. With God's help, she could do it.

  "All right," she said. "Let's tell the judge."

  They walked back to Ganges and Sloate. "I am quite satisfied," Ted said. "Miss Shannon may represent me."

  "Well, I'll be," Judge Ganges said. With a thin flicker of a smile he said to Kit, "All right, Miss Shannon. It is so ordered. Your client has chosen to go ahead with you, and he has waived his right to appeal. I feel like saying may God have mercy on your soul."

  "I won't mind if you do," Kit said.

  "Let's get on with it," said Heath Sloate.

  The judge banged his gavel. "Bring in the jury!"

  As a bailiff repaired to the jury room, Kit rushed to the rail and motioned to Luther Brown.

  "Earl's been hospitalized," she said.

  "What!"

  "Drunk! Go find him."

  Luther looked as stunned as she felt. "I'll do it, Miss Shannon." And he rushed from the courtoom.

  Then Kit motioned to Aunt Freddy and Corazón. Her aunt came bounding up, knocking at least one man out of her way, followed by the maid.

  "What on earth?" Aunt Freddy said.

  "Listen," Kit said. "What was it you told me Uncle Jasper liked to say? Jump first and grow wings later?"

  Confused, Aunt Freddy said, "Yes. Exactly."

  "Well, I've jumped."

  Aunt Freddy shook her head. Kit took Aunt Freddy's hand, and then Corazón's. "And I want you both to pray for God to send me wings."

  Corazón smiled widely and said, "Sí. I will pray like you show me h
ow."

  "But I," Aunt Freddy said, "I don't know . . . how to pray."

  "No time like the present to learn!" Kit said. She turned to watch the jurors entering the courtroom.

  ———

  When the twelve men had filled the box, the judge addressed them. "Gentlemen, due to a certain . . . set of circumstances, the defense will now commence its case under the direction of Miss Shannon. Accord her all of the attention you would to any other lawyer."

  Kit nodded toward the jurors, who looked upon her as if she were some exotic exhibit at the zoo.

  "Call your first witness," said the judge.

  This was it. Kit turned toward the back of the courtroom and made a motion toward the door. "The defense calls Thomas Ryan."

  He came through the door, looking nervous. He walked down the aisle to Kit, who showed him where to stand. He was sworn in and sat in the witness box. As Kit turned to question him, she saw Heath Sloate watching her like a coiled snake. She would have to proceed carefully.

  "Mr. Ryan," Kit began, "you are the father of Millie Ryan?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "What is your employment?"

  "I work at the asylum in San Fernando."

  "In what capacity?"

  "Any capacity that's needed, ma'am."

  "Does that include the registration of inmates?"

  "Yes, sometimes."

  "Were you working there on August the tenth of this year?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Can you tell us if anyone was admitted on that day or evening?"

  Sloate interrupted. "Objection, Your Honor! I demand to know what relevance this witness has to the proceedings."

  "If I may be allowed to question the witness," Kit said, "the relevance will be shown. Just as Mr. Sloate did with his witnesses during the prosecution's case."

  Clearing his throat, Ganges said, "Well, I will allow you a few more questions."

  "Your Honor!" Sloat said.

  "A few more questions, I said." Judge Ganges shot Sloate a look of rebuke. Sloate sat down with a stunned look on his face.

  "All right, Miss Shannon. But please get to the point."

  "Thank you, Your Honor." Kit turned back to the witness: "Was anyone admitted to the asylum on August tenth?"

  "There were two, ma'am."

  Kit paused and looked at Ted. His eyes were steady but pleading. She went on. "Can you describe the two who were admitted?"

  "Yes, ma'am. One was a woman, an older woman. The other was a man of about twenty-five or six, near as I could tell."

  "This man, what time was he admitted, if you recall?"

  "Oh, I was roused from my quarters very late. Early, really."

  "You mean in the early morning hours of August the eleventh?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Can you describe this young man to us?"

  "He looked like a gentleman, but he was agitated, violent. His hands were manacled when he was brought in. His right hand was withered. He couldn't do anything with it."

  "Meaning that anything he did would have to be done left-handed?"

  "Yes."

  "Did this young man have a name?"

  "I only heard him called Billy."

  "Who called him that?"

  "The people that brung him."

  "How many people was that?"

  "Three men. Policemen."

  Kit sensed a small stirring in the gallery. She paused. "After that, Mr. Ryan, what happened to this Billy?"

  "He was placed in one of the cells."

  "Explain what those are."

  "The cells are for the most dangerous inmates. They can be dangerous to others or to themselves, so they have to be watched close."

  "Did you ever refer to this young man as anything but Billy?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "Did you ever find out his full name?"

  "Yes, ma'am. This afternoon."

  "And what—"

  A voice from the gallery shouted, "Stop!" Kit turned and saw exactly whom she had expected. Orel Hoover's face was red, his forehead gleaming with sweat.

  "Leave him alone!" Hoover shouted. He pointed at Kit. "You jackal!"

  A startled Judge Ganges almost lost his gavel as he hit the bench. "Order!"

  Hoover was undeterred. "Yes, it was my own son who was brought there. He is a sick boy, a good boy whose mind was taken away. Must you drag his poor soul into this? Your Honor, will you let this woman besmirch our good name? She is only trying to hide the truth about her own client! My son is an innocent—"

  "Chief Hoover," Judge Ganges said softly.

  "He is a good boy, a good boy. Why? Why?" And then Hoover choked on his words. Tears began to stream down his face.

  "I will see the lawyers at the bench," Ganges ordered.

  Kit's body was shaking as if she had a wild animal by the tail. What had just happened was an explosion, but was it enough? Would the judge allow her further questions?

  Heath Sloate did not even wait for the judge to speak. "This is slander," he said. "I want this testimony stricken from the record and Miss Shannon held in contempt."

  "For what?" Kit said. "Your Honor, Mr. Sloate is attempting to stop relevant testimony, testimony that could cast more than a reasonable doubt on his case."

  "You presume to tell me what I am doing?" Sloate turned to the judge. "I demand that you stop this."

  "You demand?" Judge Ganges said. It was a weak response, and Kit thought she saw a flash of resignation in the judge's eyes. He looked at Kit. "Miss Shannon, the Chief of Police is an honored member of this community. You are attempting to suggest that his son is a murderer."

  "And what if he is?" Kit said.

  "He is not on trial here," said Ganges. "Unless you can offer me evidence that conclusively ties him to the crime here at issue, I cannot allow you to proceed. You know the rules of evidence?"

  "I've studied them."

  Sloate snorted.

  The judge said to Kit, "Do you have any evidence to suggest that Chief Hoover's son is possibly the true killer?"

  Kit thought. "The fact that he is left-handed by physical necessity, Your Honor. And the testimony of the coroner that is consistent with a left-handed slashing wound from behind."

  "Nonsense," said Sloate. "The evidence is inconclusive on that issue. We have no way of knowing what hand the killer used. Miss Shannon is grasping at straws."

  Judge Ganges curled one end of his mustache with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Kit watched him curl the hairs as if she were hypnotized. The case—Ted's life—was hanging by those slender whiskers.

  "I am sorry, Miss Shannon," Judge Ganges said. "I cannot allow you to ask any more questions of this witness on this issue."

  "But—"

  "No, Miss Shannon."

  "What about the contempt?" Sloate said.

  "I will not hold her in contempt," Ganges snapped at Sloate. "She's been admonished. That's enough."

  Sloate glared at the judge in a way that seemed itself to be in contempt. The judge glared back.

  Judge Ganges then turned to the jury. "Gentlemen, the testimony that you have just heard was improper, and is not to be considered by you in any way during your deliberations. And I order the reporter not to record the testimony."

  Not enough, Kit thought. I did not give them enough. She was sure the real killer was in the asylum, that it was the son of the police chief. But now that testimony had been taken away.

  "Do you have further questions on any other matters, Miss Shannon?"

  Kit felt the case draining away like sand in her fingers. Should she have Thomas Ryan testify about Ted's mother? It seemed the only way to establish even the possibility of an alibi.

  But Ted, what would his reaction be? If he cried out in the courtroom, that could mean the end of the case. The jury would likely read guilt in his protest.

  Her head felt light. She looked across the courtroom at Heath Sloate, who had a smug smile on his face. Then she looked out into the
gallery, at the sea of faces. For a brief moment all the faces blended together.

  Then she saw one that stood out. And she knew immediately what she would do.

  "The defense calls Elinor Wynn," Kit said.

  Even from where she stood, Kit saw Elinor's face drain of color. The socialite looked right, then left, as if searching for a life preserver after falling off a ship.

  "Elinor Wynn," the bailiff intoned.

  As if pulled up by invisible strings, Elinor Wynn stood. She did not walk forward immediately, but waited, as if expecting someone to save her.

  Heath Sloate said, "What possible relevance is this witness, Your Honor?"

  Kit did not hesitate. "If Mr. Sloate will allow me, it will become apparent."

  "But I will not allow . . ." Sloate cut himself off.

  "Come to the bench!" Ganges said.

  Once there, Sloate spoke immediately. "This is a clear attempt to confuse the jury."

  "How do you know without her asking a question?" Ganges said.

  "You must not allow this witness!"

  Kit said nothing. She sensed a power struggle here, and her instincts told her to let it play out.

  Judge Ganges said, "I am still the judge here, Mr. Sloate. I will make the decisions about what evidence is admissible."

  Sloate scowled. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  Ganges paused. "What I have forgotten, Mr. Sloate, is that I swore a duty to the cause of justice a long time ago."

  Kit wondered what he meant by that, and why it should be coming up now. She saw Sloate glance quickly at her, as if he were about to say something, but stopped himself because of her presence.

  "Miss Shannon," Ganges said, "I'll allow a few questions. But I want to see the relevance quickly."

  "Yes, Your Honor."

  "Miss Wynn, take the stand."

  Slowly Elinor walked forward. Trying to keep her face impassive under her large, wide-brimmed hat, she did not glance at Kit until she was sworn and seated.

  Kit approached the witness. She felt remarkably calm, surprising herself. She should have been almost faint with nervousness, but she wasn't. It was as if she were meant for this moment and was fitting into it like a hand in a glove. She remembered Rogers telling her that she could size people up. Something told her Elinor was the key.