Away with the Fishes (38 page)
Read Away with the Fishes Online
Authors: Stephanie Siciarz
Monday Jones’s closing arguments were so thorough and so moving that when Glynray Justice took the floor the following day, investing his words with the same emotion and authority that the Prosecutor had, he came across as derivative and fake. When, like Monday, he revisited the exhibits, refuting the charges a dozen times (hundreds of people on Oh own umbrellas; who doesn’t drink a beer on a Saturday night, but still make it to church on Sunday?; et cetera, et cetera), they thought him tedious and an out-and-out copycat. Though Glynray’s speech, on paper, hit all the right points and raised all the right questions, it just didn’t do justice to Madison’s case.
He talked about the blood, which was neither fish nor female and could not be used against Madison. He pointed out that the killer still likely walked the streets, since he had placed a second classified ad. Every time he said “ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” it sounded as if he were desperate and begging them for something he didn’t deserve. By the time he was finished, the Madison camp
started to think that Monday Jones was right—the trial was done, and how!
The jury was excused for the night and asked to report to the courthouse the following morning to begin deliberations. The judge warned that as long as the jury was out, the outdoor court was to stand empty and was not to be commandeered for dances, rallies, meetings, or festivities of any sort.
May was beside herself with grief. Branson had held her hand for the entirety of Glynray’s closing, but was afraid to speak to her when Glynray was done. It had gone so poorly, he thought for sure she would be furious at him. She wasn’t, and even sought his shoulder to cry on, literally. She was no longer upset that Branson hadn’t come forth and admitted to having placed the first ad, because she was certain (though they never discussed it) that it was he who had placed the second, in an attempt to save Madison’s life. Besides which, she now realized the Bicycle Trial was bigger than that. It had gotten away from them all, and the ad alone was no longer enough to exonerate her brother.
Branson took her home and did his best to comfort her, but like Glynray’s closing, he felt that his words, if accurate and on point, lacked the conviction they needed. He didn’t say it out loud, at least not to May, but the best they could hope for now was a juror or two with an ounce of common sense, who hadn’t been bamboozled by Monday’s “brothers
this
” and “sisters
that
.” Branson made sure that May ate some dinner, then obtaining her promise to try and sleep, he left her and went to the bakery. There, he found Trevor and Randolph behind the counter in a somber state.
“Good night,” Branson said quietly, not wishing to inject the silence with too much sound.
“Hey,” Trevor replied. Randolph lifted his chin in a solemn greeting.
“It doesn’t look good for Madison, does it?” Branson asked.
“No, it doesn’t,” Trevor sighed.
“I thought for sure when the second ad came out that Madison was as good as freed,” Branson said, pounding the counter with his fist. “Man!” He turned his back to Trevor and looked out the bakery window into the dusk. In the glass of the door, Trevor saw Branson’s reflection. His face, which Trevor could read like a book from Ms. Lila’s library, looked odd. Trevor opened his mouth, wanting to ask Branson if he had had anything to do with the second lonely hearts ad, but stopped himself. Trevor wasn’t convinced that his friend would tell him the truth. Nor was he convinced that he could stand another truth that day if he did.
Across town from the bakery, at the Buddha’s Belly Bar and Lounge in the Sincero Hotel, Bruce and Raoul commiserated over fruity, multi-colored cocktails Cougar Zanne was testing for his Rainbow Fair menu. (Cougar was unbothered by matters of justice or truth, and no island event—Rainbow Fair, Marimba Competition, Harvest Football Tournament—was spared a signature Cougar cocktail.)
“Did you hear that bastard? Calling me the Devil?” Bruce complained to Raoul, sipping a green sample from a tiny paper cup.
“Forget that, Bruce! An innocent kid is probably going to jail for the rest of his life,” Raoul said.
“You never know,” Bruce shrugged. “Maybe someone on the jury will see sense.”
“I know one thing.” Raoul let out a sigh. “And that’s that Rena Baker and Karen Arbe are one and the same. Rena Baker went to Killig. I don’t know how, or if she stayed, but she went.”
“I think so, too,” Bruce said. “But the police told you Karen Arbe was inadmissible.”
“Come on, you two, cheer up!” Cougar said, arriving with more cocktails to sample. “The Rainbow Fair is almost upon us,” he added with a wink.
“Cougar, knock it off, will you?” Raoul said. “We’re trying to talk business here.”
“Okay. But first try these red ones,” he said, leaving the cups on the table.
Raoul continued talking. “Rena could have easily slipped through Customs with her own passport, even if she signed Karen Arbe’s name. It’s not like in my day, when a man took his stamp and his inkpad seriously.”
Bruce didn’t answer, because he didn’t know what to say. Though neither Bruce nor Raoul knew it, the two men were sharing the same thought, that somehow they had failed. Bruce was a reporter and should have blown the lid off the case long before Madison faced a life sentence. And Raoul, well, the Bicycle Trial was his baby, though he hardly recognized it now. How had it turned out so differently from what he had pictured?
Raoul tapped his temples with two fingers, as if to loosen from his brain the solution to his problems. Where could that stupid girl be? he wondered. Where would she have gone off to?
“Wow, this one’s not too bad,” Bruce said, swishing a mouthful of Cougar’s red concoction.
Could he initiate an international search for Karen Arbe without involving the police? Raoul asked himself.
“Sangria and...vodka, is it?” Bruce said, studying his cup.
Was there any chance Rena might change her mind and come back on her own? Did she have any idea of the danger that Madison faced?
Raoul had a horrible thought: What if Rena
had
heard about Madison and just didn’t care?
“You gotta try this one, Raoul.” Bruce nudged him with his elbow. “It starts off sweet and fresh, then it really cuts loose and coldcocks you.”
49
W
hat the island of Oh wants, the island of Oh gets. There’s no way around it. If it wants you to suffer, you will. No amount of precautions or safety-nets will protect your hand or your heart, if either is meant to break. Likewise, when island fortune favors you, you’d be hard-pressed to duplicate the warmth of Oh’s sun on your back, or the sweetness of its fruit on your lips, no matter how far and wide you travel. If you do travel, if you go away, you will never really be gone, never free of Oh’s magic. Your mind will forever return to Oh’s wind and its rains, to its shady mangroves and its yielding sands. You’ll still feel the heat of its passions, should you bury yourself deep in Alpine snow.
You’ll remember Oh’s cool reggae groove and its icy juices, even as you sweat in some other palm-tree’d locale, perhaps as close as Killig (which, at first glance, might appear to mimic Oh’s wonders).
If you can relegate your returns to Oh to the back of your mind, to your daydreams and your fantasies, then pat yourself on the back. More often than not, Oh won’t let you off so easily. It will blow its breezes through your head and confound you, fool you into thinking that you want to go back, that you need to. It will
trick you into believing that you have unfinished business there, a mystery to solve perhaps; or will guilt you into accepting that a life needs saved and only you can save it. It will knock on your door or send a letter, and you will hop on a boat or a plane.
If Oh wants a murder trial, it gets one of those, too; and if it wants newspaper coverage, it fashions it. Just ask Bruce Kandele, who knows better than any. By Wednesday of Trial Week Four, as the jury continued its deliberations and the official verdict loomed, Bruce was waging an all-out press campaign to discredit Oh’s legal authorities and lay the ground for Glynray’s appeal. The Rainbow Fair, which was to start on Friday night, had been all but forgotten, except in Chanterelle, where organizers worked day and night to get everything ready. They feared, this year, that the Bicycle Trial might overshadow the town’s annual to-do.
What luck that, as Bruce typeset the Thursday edition on Wednesday afternoon, through the grimy-windowed office of the
Morning Crier
his eye was drawn to a newsworthy sparkle.
“Damn,” he sighed, grabbing his camera and rushing outside. He needed a rainbow like a fish needs a bicycle. “This one really
will
have to go on the front page, now won’t it?”
Rare Sun Halo Rings In The Fair
Rainbow City gears up for annual festival
At approximately 4:57 p.m. yesterday afternoon a rare weather occurrence was cited in the skies over Port-St. Luke. A circular rainbow, also known as a halo, was visible around the entirety of the sun’s circumference. The phenomenon, which differs in shape from the traditional arc or semi-circular rainbows more common to Oh, was last witnessed on the island
some eleven years ago in the northern parish of St. Charles, on the cusp between the dry and rainy seasons. The halo’s appearance is especially fitting in light of the annual Rainbow Fair in Chanterelle, which opens tomorrow night and runs through Sunday. According to island belief, sun halos herald major meteorological events, though none was documented subsequent to the St. Charles halo. There is no official record of halos on Oh prior to that; unofficially, local history confirms them as portents of drought or flooding. Organizers of this year’s Fair see the unusual rainbow as an auspicious sign for the event, which has been overshadowed by the Bicycle Trial murder case, recently turned over to the jury. The officials of Chanterelle have sent a formal plea to jury members, who have been in deliberation for over six working days, requesting that a verdict be reached by tomorrow; they have also petitioned Judge Maxted Samuels to reconvene the trial immediately for the delivery of the verdict, should it be reached before the end of the week. They hope to avoid that islanders, wishing to partake of Rainbow Fair offerings over the weekend, might feel shame in doing so while a man’s fate remains undecided. Although the run-up to the Rainbow Fair has been lackluster compared to that of previous years, as public attention focused almost exclusively on the trial, the Rainbow City authorities remain confident that actual attendance figures will outdo expectations by far. It would be negligent and irresponsible of this reporter not to suggest that the unusual halo phenomenon might also be a portent of a major judicial event, with the Bicycle Trial verdict expected at any time. What will the halo signify for the defendant, Madison Fuller, and for us, the citizens of Oh, as we look to our leaders in hope, and with faith in their ability to oversee the fair and reasoned judgment of one of our own? Will they embrace this challenge like the halo embraced the island sun? Or will they blind us with science, and dazzle us with an empty ruling wrapped in layers of colored and bent legality?
50
“R
aoul, hurry! You’ll be late!” Lila called to him as he washed and dressed for what was setting itself up to be a very busy Friday. Early that morning Raoul had been alerted that the jury was back and that Judge Samuels had reconvened the court for ten a.m. There was likely to be a real ruckus when the verdict was read, and Raoul would have to be ready for anything. He prayed that Madison would be acquitted, in which case Rena’s whereabouts would no longer matter, and Raoul could get back to the business of painting his house.
It was nearly nine o’clock as his wife yelled out to him from the kitchen. Normally an hour would be plenty of time to down a cup of tea and head to trial. On this particular Friday, however, Raoul’s judicial duties had been superseded by a Customs emergency that meant he had to rush. Not five minutes after getting the call from the courthouse in town, Raoul had got another from the airport. It seemed there was a problem there that only he could resolve. He hoped to do so quickly, and get back to the outdoor court before the session began. If Raoul wasn’t present for the ruling, there was no telling what mayhem the crowd might get up to.
