"Mr. Richey meets with his clients, often in a designated place that the client requests."

Grace wanted to roll her eyes. That Fielding was even considering this was crazy. But here he was again, flipping over papers as if he had missed something in the documents he had already examined.

She turned back to her table and noticed Detective Tommy Pakula sitting two rows down, shifting in his seat, impatient and ready. He was dressed for court, a collared shirt and tie, jacket and trousers, just in case she needed to call him today. Instead of calling him, she reached down behind her chair and pulled up the duffel bag.

"Your Honor," she said, bringing the bag out in full view of Judge Fielding, but more importantly in full view of the courtroom, "there is one more thing Mr. Richey had in his possession when Detectives Pakula and Hertz arrested him at Eppley Airport. He had this travel bag with him. If he was not fleeing the country, perhaps Mr. Perm might explain this." Grace unzipped the bag and turned it upside down, allowing the stacks of hundred-dollar bills to fall out onto the table.

This time the room erupted. Several reporters clamored out the door. Warren Penn shook his head as if, of course, he had an explanation for this, too. Grace scanned the room, and now she noticed that Jonathon Richey's smug look was gone.

"Okay, okay," Judge Fielding yelled, ignoring the gavel. He seemed pleased that his voice could still silence a room.

"Your Honor," Warren Penn began, but was interrupted when Fielding put up a hand.

"Bail denied." He stood even as he added, "Court is adjourned," and then escaped, not giving Warren Penn the opportunity to explain or argue.

Grace ignored the defense table as she repacked the duffel bag. The crowd had already turned into a crescendo of voices, shuffling feet and creaking chairs. She wouldn't need to worry about being accosted by reporters. They'd spend their energies on Richey, the price of being such an upstanding member of the community.