Dead Law

DEAD LAW A Cass Leary Legal Thriller ROBIN JAMES Copyright © 2023 by Robin James Books All Rights Reserved No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Newsletter Sign Up About the Author Also By Robin James Audiobooks by Robin James Chapter 1 “You’ll never make it,” Miranda said. “I’ll make it,” I countered, my fingers clacking across the keyboard. One more paragraph and the thing would be done. Not my best piece of writing, but it got the point across. “You missed a space.” Miranda stood over my shoulder. “Right there. After the wherefore.” I made the correction and hit print. “You’re gonna lose,” Miranda said, hustling over to the printer in the other room. She shook her head with disapproval as she gathered each sheet of paper when they spit out of the front of the machine. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said. “How much time do I have?” “Not enough,” she answered. “You’re due in Judge Castor’s courtroom at 9:00 a.m. and Judge Wentz’s courtroom on the Chaney hearing at 9:15.” “How do you expect me to be in two places at once?” “You’ll work it out. Just check in with Nancy. She’ll go up and stall Judge Wentz.” Miranda stapled my brief with gusto. “My bag?” “On the step.” I grabbed my well-worn leather messenger bag and heaved it over my shoulder. Before I could put a hand out, Miranda swooped in and tucked my brief in the outside pocket. “Your jacket,” she said. She took my black blazer off the chair and held it out so I could slip my arms into it. “I need my …” “Coffee,” she said, handing me my silver insulated mug. “Where’d I put my …” “Keys,” she said, dangling them in front of me. Smiling, I took them from her. “Thanks.” “Your breakfast,” she said. “No time.” She gave me no choice. As I headed for the back door, Miranda grabbed a glazed donut off the plate on the counter and stuffed it in my mouth. “Fanks,” I mumbled while chewing. “You can’t keep going like this,” she said. “Mmmmpf.” “Come back here straight after. I’ll order your lunch.” “No time.” I swallowed and mumbled as I pushed my way through the door. “Make time or I’ll come find you!” I waved behind me as I ran to my car, slid behind the wheel, and peeled out of my parking spot. It was 8:53 a.m. Seven minutes to be late in two different courtrooms. It was Monday morning. I knew my week would only go downhill from there. Two minutes racing down First Street. My tires squealed as I made the hard turn into the courthouse parking lot. It earned me a death stare from Ernie, the attendant. I gave him a sheepish expression and a wave. “Park in the sheriff’s spot,” he called out. “Then throw me your keys!” “I love you!” I yelled. Ernie just saved me a precious three minutes. I pulled into the spot, then tossed my keys underhanded in a high arc. Ernie palmed them and shot me a wink. Then I ran as fast as I could in heels. Down the hall. Up a flight of stairs. Down one more hallway then I burst through the solid oak double doors, brushing the donut glaze off my blouse. “All rise!” I barely made it into Judge Felix Castor’s courtroom. My newly printed counter-motion and brief in response was still warm in my hands as I slapped a copy on Rafe Johnson’s table and walked the judge’s copy up to his clerk. She glared at me, stamped it, then put it on Judge Castor’s bench just as he walked in from his chambers. “You’re cutting it too close, Ms. Leary,” Judge Castor said. “Your Honor,” Rafe said. “I haven’t even had a chance to look at Ms. Leary’s brief in response.” “Then you should have served your motion on me in a timely fashion,” I said. “I only got it the day before yesterday. I’m doing the best that I can.” Judge Castor stared at Rafe down the barrel of his reading glasses. He picked up my responsive brief and scanned it. “Your Honor,” I said. “In light of the untimeliness of the state’s motion, and in order to give this Court a proper amount of time to review my counter-motion and response, I respectfully ask for a continuance on this matter.” “You’ve had three of those already,” Castor said. “Mr. Johnson, Ms. Leary’s point is well taken in one regard. You know better than to file an evidentiary motion like this at the eleventh hour. We’re in trial next week. Your motions were due four weeks ago.” “Your Honor, some new evidence has come to light. It was beyond my control.” “Be that as it may, I’ve cleared my docket. We’re going to trial next week. Period. Ms. Leary, no more continuances.” The doors opened. Nancy Olson, the Circuit Court