‘I’m not your young lady.’ A pause. ‘Ma’am.’
Braun slapped at the table. ‘All right, then, I’m ordering you held in the county jail until you decide to answer Mr Randall’s questions.’ Judge Braun half turned. ‘Bailiff…’
But Frannie was on her feet now, her Voice raised, color high. ‘You want to talk contempt? I hold you in contempt. God help the system if you cretins are running it.’
Braun’s steely gaze came back to her. ‘You just got yourself four days before this grand jury citation even starts to run. You want more, young lady, just keep talking. Bailiff.’
The guard came forward.
4
Hardy got Frannie’s call at six twenty and made the half-hour drive downtown to the Hall of Justice in seventeen minutes. On the way, he stopped fuming long enough to think to call Abe Glitsky on his car phone, to see if he could work some magic. The county jail and the Hall of Justice were on the same lot. Maybe Glitsky could get the ball rolling.
But the lieutenant was waiting for him by the back door of the Hall, at the entrance to the jail. He wasn’t wearing his happy face.
Hardy came up at a jog, slacks and shirtsleeves, no coat, knowing before he asked. ‘She still in there? She’s really in there?’ Though he never doubted she was. This wasn’t the kind of funny birthday prank Frannie was likely to pull on him.
‘Yep.’
Barely slowing, Hardy swore and turned in toward the jail’s entrance. Glitsky reached and caught his sleeve, stopping him. ‘Hey!’
‘Let me go, Abe. I’m getting her out of there.’
‘Not without a judge you’re not. I couldn’t.’
When Glitsky let go ofhis arm he stayed put, glaring in the dusk. The night had turned windy and cold. The lawyer in him knew that his friend was right – it wasn’t a matter of summoning some patience. They had to find a judge, the night magistrate, somebody. To facilitate night-time warrants and other late business, the judges rotated magistrate duty so that there would be one judge on call every evening.