The Quiet Game

Eunice Franklin stops him with an upraised hand. "I'll hear argument in my chambers." She stands in her black robe and looks down at me. "Mr. Cage, this had better not be desperation grandstanding."

"The tape will speak for itself," I assure her, praying that Jenny knows evidence when she hears it.

"Counsel in my chambers," says Franklin. She points at Jenny. "You too, young lady."

CHAPTER 41

We stand like human islands in Judge Franklin's chambers, an archipelago of attorneys situated around the mainland of her mahogany desk. Blake Sims to the left. I'm in the center with Jenny behind me. Livy stands to the right, apart and alone, reading the spines of the books in Franklin's shelves.

"Ms. Sutter, are you with us?"

Livy half turns to the judge but doesn't come close to eye contact with me or Jenny. "Yes, Your Honor."

The judge looks up at me, her eyes hard. "All right, Mr. Cage. What exactly is on this tape?"

Blake Sims is shaking his head, but he doesn't speak.

"I haven't heard it myself, Judge. But this woman claims that it refers directly to the murder of Del Payton, and I have reason to believe she's telling the truth."

Franklin transfers her glare to Jenny. "How did you come by this tape, young lady?"

"I worked for Clayton Lacour. The lawyer who made the tape. I went to work for him to try to find out the identities of my birth parents. I'm an adopted child, and I knew that Lacour had handled my adoption." Jenny glances at Livy, who is pointedly ignoring her. "While working for Lacour, I found out Leo Marston had been involved in my adoption. When I quit that job, I took all the files and tapes pertaining to Judge Marston with me."

"You mean you stole them?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Judge Franklin looks like she wants a cigarette or a drink, and probably both. "I don't understand. Why were there tapes at all?"

"Mr. Lacour taped most of his phone calls. He was connected with the Marcello family in New Orleans. You know, Mafia. He was seriously paranoid."

Franklin sighs and holds out her hand. "Let me have the tape."

I hand over the cassette. The judge studies it for a few moments, then speaks without looking up. "Did you learn who your birth parents were?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Who are they?"

Livy goes rigid beside the shelves.

"At least one of them is in this room right now, Judge. Do you want me to say more?"

Franklin shakes her head in amazement. "Not at this time." She looks up at me. "I don't know exactly what's going on behind this lawsuit, but I don't appreciate having my court used as an arena to play out private vendettas. Is that clear?"

"Absolutely, Your Honor."

"I want counsel back at their respective tables. You"-Franklin points at Jenny-"stay with me. I'm going to listen to this tape. Then I'll make my decision as to admissibility. If I walk back into that courtroom and announce that the tape will be played, I don't want to hear a single objection. If I don't mention the tape, the same holds true, and I will give this case to the jury. It's late, and there's too much craziness surrounding this trial to drag it into tomorrow if we don't have to." She claps her hands together. "Everybody out."

As I walk back to my table, Caitlin nods in encouragement from the bar. I take my seat and slide back within earshot of her.

"What do you have?" she whispers.

"I'm not sure. A tape of Marston and a New Orleans lawyer. Jenny says it will nail Marston."

"You haven't heard it?"

"No. Franklin's listening to it now. She's going to rule on admissibility."

"I'm praying here," Caitlin says. "I'm actually praying."

The wait is almost impossible to bear. Two minutes stretch to five, then ten. The spectators are silent at first, but as the minutes drag on, they begin to whisper. Without Franklin to intimidate them, the whisper grows to a hum, then a dull roar. It reminds me of students assembled in a gymnasium. Twice I look across the aisle to Marston's table, but Leo and Livy stare straight ahead, their faces set in stone. Only Blake Sims looks worried. Sims looks, in fact, like he would rather be getting a root canal than sitting at his client's table.

At last Judge Franklin's chamber door opens, silencing the court. Jenny Doe walks through first and heads for the spectators' benches, her head bowed. Franklin emerges carrying a cassette tape player, a cheap jam box with a silver antenna sticking up off of it.

At Marston's table, Blake Sims actually covers his eyes.

"Yes," whispers Caitlin from behind me.

Judge Franklin takes the bench, sets the tape player before her, then turns to the jury box. "Members of the jury, I am about to play a tape recording of two voices having a telephone conversation. One, I am told, belongs to a lawyer in New Orleans. The other, I am convinced, belongs to the plaintiff in this case, Leo Marston. I have instructed counsel to make no objections to the playing of this tape. The supreme court might disagree with my decision, but this is not a murder trial, and I suspect that it will never see an appeals court."