Devilish Details (18 page)

“Yeah, I knew that word was coming,” Jazz
muttered as she continued to scan the contract.

“You can use a court appointed attorney, but
Keith would do a much better job. So I wouldn’t wait too long to
sign. Mr. Ames is eager to invest. He’s ready to write that check,
Ms. Vaughn. I’ll keep the original. Call me any time. I’ll get over
here and get the money in my escrow account, pay Keith, and hold
the balance for you.” Higgins slipped the original contract back in
his leather portfolio as he talked.

“What balance?” Jazz retorted and grimaced.
“By the time I pay salaries and expenses with what’s left...”

Jazz blinked hard against the tears that
formed at the thought of people who depended on her. She’d never
considered it before now, but her decisions affected them as well.
Byron would struggle to find another job. So would Tyretta and the
others. No employees might make her business less attractive to
Ames, no matter what Higgins said. Unoccupied and untended
buildings deteriorated fast in the rough side of town.

“Ames does want the business to keep
bringing in cash. With his corporation’s reputation, I think the
city might even back off. But that’s if--” Higgins broke off as
though searching for way to frame his words just right.

“If the city thinks I’m no longer in
control,” Jazz said.

“Exactly”.

Jazz tapped a finger on the metal table top.
“Give me a couple of hours to read over the contract and then come
back.”

“Are you sure?”

“I want this brilliant lawyer’s name on
record so they call him for the bond hearing. You and I both know
they could schedule it any time. The DA might want to move faster
to keep me in here.” Jazz folded the contract.

“Good thinking. I’ll be back in two and a
half hours. They’ll let you keep the contract because it’s from
me.” Higgins stood and called to the guard.

As Jazz was led back to her cell, she
wondered why she should even waste time reading the contract. They
both knew she had no good choices but to sign away her business for
now. Still, she wouldn’t trust Higgins to have her back. No doubt
she’d find at least one decent jailhouse lawyer to help her decode
the thing.

* * *

Two days later Jazz sat in the courtroom
next to her new lawyer. Keith Phillips looked as she’d expected him
to given his reputation. His black hair was perfectly in place, his
black suit and dark red tie were immaculate. She’d grown more and
more confident the longer he talked to her before the bond hearing.
He had a sonorous voice that Jazz felt sure would be used to good
effect. Her only worry was he’d come across as too over the top
dramatic, like a slick attorney from a television drama. She soon
realized that Phillips had complete control of how his performance.
Jazz figured he saved his drama for juries, where it counted.

Willa sat with her adopted parents in the
gallery. Her older sister’s gaze darted around at the players,
taking their measure. Jazz knew Willa was both scared and furious.
She’d gone on a tirade upon learning Jazz had signed a contract to
avoid having Willa raise her bail money. MiMi had worked to calm
her down. They were in serious trouble if MiMi had become the voice
of reason, Jazz mused with a smile. Phillips patted her hand,
misreading the reason she was amused.

“Good. Reassure your family that this will
turn out fine, because it will,” Phillips said with poise,
obviously at ease.

“Psst, Jazz. I’m here.”

“Ma’am, take a seat.” A tall deputy the
color of ebony pointed to a bench.

Jazz turned around to see MiMi at work
trying to charm the man, and failing. She sat down and grimaced at
his back when he walked away. Then she waved at and mouthed
something Jazz didn’t understand. Willa’s father, Papa Elton,
gestured to MiMi. With a wide smile of recognition, MiMi popped up
again. MiMi asked a couple to move over which allowed her to sit
next to him and Willa’s mother. Willa sighed and rolled her eyes
before looking at Jazz again. The question in her sister’s gaze
came across clearly. Jazz nodded and turned back around. Looking at
the stern judge gave Jazz no hope that her lawyer could fast talk
her out of jail.

“The State versus Jazzmonetta Raye Vaughn,”
the court clerk read in a bland tone. “On the matter of bail.”

The assistant DA, a fresh faced young white
woman stood. “We’re asking that bond be set at 1.5 million dollars,
Judge Davis. Ms. Vaughn has known international criminal ties, can
liquidate assets and also has an arrest record.”

“Mr. Phillips, I’m sure you have a
response,” Judge Davis said. He sat back as if to say, “It better
be damn good, too.”

“Yes, your honor. Ms. Vaughn has strong
family and social ties to Baton Rouge, and she’s lived here all of
her life. The assets Ms. Thompson refers to consist of a business
she saved for years to buy. As for arrests, the assistant DA knows
very well Ms. Vaughn has never been to trial much less convicted of
any crime. In fact, she helped the police in a high profile murder
investigation. As for the reference to ‘international criminal
ties’, that is ludicrous.” Phillip raised a dark eyebrow at the
ADA, a silent gesture of admonishment. “Based on her lack of
previous convictions and her ties to this city, Ms. Vaughn should
be released on her own recognizance.”

“Save the fancy flourishes for later, Mr.
Phillips,” Judge Anderson said dryly.

ADA Thompson’s red lips twitched as she
worked not to smirk. “Your honor, Ms. Vaughn has documented ties to
one Filipe Perez, a convicted felon with dual citizenship in the
U.S. and Bolivia.”

“Mr. Perez is in prison for drug possession
with intent to distribute. Ms. Vaughn was not charged or even
questioned in relation to his arrest and conviction. Please provide
us with solid evidence of this international connection, Ms.
Thompson,” Phillips clipped.

“They were intimately involved for a year at
least,” ADA Thompson replied sharply. “They were close associates.
She continues to communicate with his gang.”

“What?” Jazz blurted out. Phillips put a
hand on her shoulder as a message to show restraint.

“No outburst, Ms. Vaughn. This is not a
reality TV courtroom,” Judge Anderson rumbled at her.

“Yes sir,” Jazz forced out.

“Again, I’m hearing gossip but no evidence.
Ms. Vaughn vehemently denies any kind of relationship with gang
members,” Phillips said.

Jazz relaxed. She had to give it to him,
Phillips was sharp. He didn’t claim Jazz never had associates with
criminal records. ADA Thompson would have a fun time bringing up a
list of her friends, including Byron. He least of all deserved to
have his past waved like a flag, not after the way he’d turned his
life around. Naturally ADA Thompson didn’t care about collateral
damage done to make her point.

“As for the business she worked so hard to
get, the city is trying to shut down her strip club, a nuisance
property. We have good reason to believe Ms. Vaughn would just as
soon cut her losses, sell the place, and get out of town. She’s
courting so-called investors as we speak,” Thompson smirked at her
opponent when Phillips huffed in outrage.

“Damn, how does she know?” Jazz whispered as
she looked up at Phillips.

He faced the ADA without glancing down at
Jazz. “Ms. Thompson is correct, but the contract Ms. Vaughn signed
is hardly enough to do more than pay her mounting legal fees to
fight this weak criminal case. In other words, the money is almost
spent.”

“Then give the court an accounting of those
funds. Otherwise we have no way of knowing how much money she has
to finance a life on the run,” the ADA shot back with heat.

Phillips faced Judge Anderson with a frown
of incredulity. “Your honor, we’re being asked to prove a negative
because the DA’s office has no other substantial support for such a
high bail amount.”

“Ms. Thompson, I have to agree. Your
argument about international ties seem to be a reach. Poor dating
choices would put a lot of people on the spot.” Judge Anderson
frowned when laugher came from the court audience.

“Quiet during court,” the deputy warned.

“Judge Anderson, Ms. Vaughn’s known
associations and her history of violence, not to mention the
seriousness of the charges...”

“Excuse me? What history are you talking
about?” Phillips cut her off.

“She may not have been convicted, but
assault with a deadly weapon after a childhood filled with
instances of aggressive behavior show a clear pattern,” Thompson
said, facing the judge.

“May I have a moment with my client,”
Phillips said.

“Five minutes,” Judge Anderson replied, a
look of interest stamped on his ruddy face.

Phillips sat down and leaned close to Jazz.
“What is she talking about?”

Jazz felt a familiar queasiness in the pit
of her gut. Shame and terror crept up her spine like a clammy hand.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Then
she looked over her shoulder. Willa pulled against the restraining
hands of both her parents. MiMi blinked in confusion. Jazz jerked
her head back to face Phillips.

“I stabbed my third foster father when I was
fourteen. He’d, he’d molested me and I couldn’t... I couldn’t take
it again. He almost died cause I cut an artery. I shut down,
wouldn’t talk., but my sister told them why. His wife, a nurse
swore I was lying.” Jazz tried to go on, but flashbacks of blood
and the sweaty smell of the man’s skin made her feel faint.

Phillips gripped her hand and then let go.
He poured water in a paper cup from one of two pitchers on the
table “Hold on, just hang in there.”

“Uh-huh,” Jazz managed to get out with a
weak nod.

He shot to his feet. “You honor, this is too
much. ADA Thompson is trying to be sly and skirt the law that
prohibits bringing up closed juvenile court issues. Ms. Vaughn was
a vulnerable child, a victim failed by the system and the adults
who should have protected her from a predator.”

Judge Anderson’s face flushed pink even
more. “The court will take a ten minute recess. I’ll see both sides
in my chambers. Now.”

“Come on, you have a right to be present,”
Phillips said.

“Okay,” Jazz replied, unsure she could
walk.

Still, she managed to stand when the deputy
nodded at her. The soft buzz of whispers from the court audience
rose at her back. Jazz had no time to look around at her sister.
They were ushered through a side door to the left of the judge’s
raised dais. A short walk down a hallway, a left and a right
brought them to the judge’s office. Judge Anderson didn’t invite
anyone to take a seat. Instead he marched behind his desk, but
remained standing.

“I want specifics, Ms. Thompson. Don’t leave
anything out,” Judge Anderson rumbled.

“It’s on record that a court considered
charging Ms. Vaughn as an adult. Due to the nature of that crime, I
believe it’s relevant to these charges. In both instances a knife
was used as a weapon of vengeance,” ADA Thompson said without
hesitation.

“She struck out after being abused,”
Phillips broke in.

“I was raped,” Jazz spat out. “Stop using
fixed up phrases. I couldn’t stand up the first time. See, he liked
it rough. I was ten years old.”

Phillips hovered close to Jazz, a hand under
her elbow. “Thanks for traumatizing my client all over again, Ms.
Thompson.”

“Your honor...” The ADA raised a forefinger
ready to make another point.

“That’s enough,” Judge Anderson thundered.
Both attorneys winced in the face of a judge’s wrath. He sat down.
“Ms. Vaughn, have a seat.

“Okay.” Jazz took a dark red leather chair
closest to her.

“Can you tell me about this case, not that I
won’t look at the record myself,” Judge Anderson added with a dark
glance at ADA Thompson and Phillips.

“My foster father raped me. I fought back
one night. I had a history of fighting, so the first thing
everybody thought was I just lost it. My foster mother told me no
one would believe a crack baby hood rat. He was an assistant
principal and they had lots of big time friends. My foster care
case worker even spoke against me, about how I had attacked other
kids before. My sister found out. She tracked down a couple of
girls that had been placed in that home, older than me; already on
their own. Only one of them agreed to back up my story. They kept
the case in juvenile court to protect him, not me,” Jazz said and
grimaced at the ugly truth. “Like I said, they had plenty of
friends.”

“Judge Anderson,” ADA Thompson started but
stopped when the judge held up one large hand.

“Due to the seriousness of this crime, bail
will be set at one hundred fifty thousand dollars. Mr. Phillips, to
request that your client be released on her own recognizance for a
murder charge audacious even for you.” Judge Anderson’s thick grey
eyebrows pulled together.

“We thank your honor for a more reasonable
bail amount,” Phillips replied with a nod to show respect. Then he
cast a dark glance at the ADA.

“In that case, your honor, the DA’s office
feels Ms. Vaughn should at least wear a monitor because of her
history.” ADA Thompson was about to continue when Judge Anderson
stood.

“You’re pressing your luck with me, Ms.
Thompson. Your backdoor attempt at introducing the defendant’s
juvenile record won’t work,” Judge Anderson said, turning his frown
on her.

“The court hearings on whether she would be
tried as an adult...”

“I said we won’t refer to juvenile court
matters. You know very well all such decisions are sealed, and for
good reason. Besides which, I happen to agree with Mr. Phillips.
From the limited facts it appears Ms. Vaughn was a vulnerable minor
child and a victim.”

“Thank you again, Judge Anderson.” Phillips
stood straighter than before and smoothed down his expensive suit
jacket.