Poetic Justice. Andrea J. Johnson
and gold Delaware State Police uniform superhero dimensions. But, as he sauntered across the well toward the gallery, I noticed he stopped by the defendant’s table and glared. The corporal attempted to mask the eye contact from the rest of the room as he donned his hat, but the unspoken interaction was unmistakable.
“He’s quite the barnyard stud, ain’t he?” Maggie stepped into place behind her desk, having finished gathering paperwork from the attorneys, and joined me in admiring Corporal North’s rear view.
I faced her and dropped the suspicious evidence envelope on her desk. “He thinks he may have found tampering on the evidence packaging.”
“Well, he should have said something to Mr. Stevenson.” Maggie cocked her hip and placed a hand on her waist. “He better not try to blame this on the clerks in the Prothonotary’s Office. We didn’t have anything to do with it. You court reporters and bailiffs are the ones who keep asking to rifle through the evidence closet every five minutes.”
“Whoa, Maggs. Cool it. He’s not interested in throwing around blame. He wants to hear what the chemist has to say before….” I don’t know why I bothered trying to talk to Maggie. If it didn’t involve a man fawning over her, she wasn’t interested.
“Well, whatever. As long as he leaves my name out of it.” She snatched the case file and evidence from her desk and stormed out of the courtroom, with Mr. Stevenson in tow.
I shook off her remarks and hunched over my equipment to do a final save when a sinister voice, an edgy vocal fry reminiscent of the Kardashians, drew my attention.
“What up, Sooty? Been swimming lately?” Langley’s clownish orange hair and ruddy skin gave the already contemptible statement an eerie bite. She was wearing black combat boots with a long-sleeved jean jacket over a black Lycra dress, whose hem clung above her knees. When she’d gotten my attention, she leaned back in the chair beside her attorney.
“Watch it, Langley. You’d have my head if I walked into your workplace and called you a Mick or a Paddy.” I should have ignored her, but I was determined to stand my ground. Trash was the only language Langley spoke.
“You know each other?” Harriston was pouring himself a drink from the water pitcher residing on counsel’s table.
“Oh, yes.” Langley raked her ruby red talons across the wood surface.
The low-pitched scraping sound sent prickles along the scars on my shoulders. The ones I’d received when I struggled under the weight of the mascot’s head harness.
“We were on the Pep Squad together our senior year,” Langley crooned. “She was our sacrificial lamb—I mean, mascot, Sooty the Seabird.”
“That’s Scrappy the Seabird. And boy, you sure made me feel welcome. Almost seemed like you were trying to kill me with kindness.” I clenched my jaw and gradually rose. “It’s amazing one person could get away with being so sweet.”
Langley ignored my comments. We were in a public forum, and I was cutting too close to the truth.
Instead, she spoke to her attorney as if I wasn’t there. “Sooty was a wonder kid. Jumped right over seventh and eighth grades to become our high school’s math champion, literary geek, and resident nark—all that fuss about her brain made her a little too big for her britches, if you ask me.”
“Look, Langley.” I stood arms akimbo to show her she held no power over me. “I’m not going to engage in some clichéd Mean Girls-style showdown with you. We were never friends and seeing you today is nothing but a bad roll of the dice.” I abandoned my equipment and took two steps toward the exit located at the rear of the courtroom. “Congratulations on your case. You seem to have an infinite number of ways of getting out of trouble. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”
Langley jumped out of her chair and slammed her hands on the table. I stumbled backward.
She spat out a maniacal cackle apparently satisfied by my reaction. “Still a mouthy little brat, aren’t you? Always quick to condemn someone with your goody-two-shoes act.”
“I never condemned you, lied about you, or narked on you. That’s what you choose to believe. Find someone else to blame for your problems.”
My temper flared. I’d finally found peace, and Langley’s presence threatened that harmony.
“Mr. Harriston, I believe your client is out of line. Do I need to call a guard?” I raised my voice and, as if on cue, one of the enormous corrections officers who monitor the holding cell next door stepped into the courtroom from a side entrance.
“She has a point, Ms. Mulligan.” Harriston’s jowls wobbled. “You’re out on bail. The court expects you to conduct yourself as a responsible citizen. We shouldn’t hurl insults and accusations at a state official.” He tapped two fingers on her wrist. “Let’s not press our luck.”
“Take it easy, everybody. We’re just talking.” She cautiously inched around to the front of counsel’s table with her hands raised in surrender and her sights on the corrections officer. “I’m innocent. I never had any drugs. The whole thing was a setup. Although, why would I expect a nark like you to believe anything I say? I saw the way you were cozying up to the judge and that cop. Did you tell them about us?”
“Wow. In ten years, nothing’s changed. Listen, not everything is about you. It’s called doing my job.”
“Is that so? Well, I’m glad to hear that because now I know exactly where to find you whenever I want to…play.”
As the last word slipped from her lips, she twisted her body, grabbed the water pitcher from the table, and flung the contents at me.
Everything slowed to the tempo of a dirge as the fat wave of frosty liquid crashed against my face. Darkness enveloped me. I was fifteen again and back in that pool.
Water thrust its way past my nostrils. Droplets seared the back of my throat. Panic-stricken heartbeats hammered so loud it muted all other sound. Pressure threatened to collapse my lungs until I recognized I was holding my breath in anticipation of a more treacherous onslaught.
Gasping for air, I groped at my bowtie blouse—the soggy clumps of fabric an unnerving reminder of my watery tomb. Voices clamored from all directions.
“Not so high and mighty now, eh, Sooty?”
I opened my eyes to find Langley speaking to me from the ground. She thrashed against the burly prison guard who kneed her in the back and shouted submission instructions as he pressed on a set of handcuffs. Mr. Harriston stood by my side, with his handkerchief, dabbed at my face, and issued rapid-fire apologies. I gripped his arm to steady myself.
“Forgive me,” Harriston said. “That shouldn’t have happened. I blame myself. If I’d had any inkling she was capable of this, I would have—I should have taken her outside as soon as she made it clear you knew each other.”
“Ma’am, would you like to press assault charges?” The guard’s voice echoed in my head. “We could ask for the surveillance video to support your claim, ma’am. Ma’am?”
My heart raced and my thoughts swirled. The emotions of the moment—fear, sorrow, hate, panic—combined with the adrenaline to create an elixir that left me dizzy.
“Please, please. Let’s all be rational.” Harriston’s words came out in a jumble. “This is just a misunderstanding. I assure you Ms. Mulligan meant no harm. This has been a stressful day for everyone.”
“Assault?” I struggled to find my voice. The word seemed foreign but right.
“This is your call, ma’am. I can put her in a holding cell and contact Bickerton P.D.” The guard rolled a handcuffed Langley over into a sitting position while I remained mute. “They’d have an officer here to take your statement within the hour. I could give your office a call when they arrive.”
“Yes…assault. I’d love to press