Chapter 14

Judge devoured his bowl of spaghetti, but Theo hardly touched his. He put the dishes in the dishwasher, locked the house, and went to his room, where he changed into his pajamas, grabbed his laptop, and crawled into bed. He found April online and they chatted for a few minutes. She, too, was in bed, but her door was locked, as always. She was feeling much better. She and her mother had gone out for a pizza and even managed to laugh together. Her father was out of town, they thought, and that always made life easier. They said good night, and Theo closed his laptop and found the latest copy of Sports Illustrated. He couldn't read, couldn't concentrate. He was sleepy because

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he had not slept much the night before, and though he was worried and even frightened he soon nodded off.

Mr. Boone came home first. He crept up the stairs and opened the door to Theo's room. The door hinges squeaked, as always. He flipped on the light and smiled at the peaceful sight of his son fast asleep. "Good night, Theo," he whispered, and switched off the light.

The closing of the door awakened Theo, and within seconds he was lying on his back, staring at the dark ceiling, thinking about the golf gloves hidden in his office. There was something terribly wrong with Ike's advice to simply butt out, to ignore the existence of an eyewitness, and stand by quietly while the judicial system went haywire.

Yet, a promise is a promise, and Theo had given his word to Julio and to his cousin that he would keep their secret safe. What if he didn't? What if he marched into Judge Gantry's chambers first thing in the morning and flung the gloves on his desk and told everything? The cousin would be toast. He would be chased down by Jack Hogan and the police and hauled into custody. His testimony would save the day for the prosecution. A mistrial would be declared. A new trial would be scheduled. It would be all over the newspapers and television. The cousin would be the hero, but he would also be locked up as an illegal immigrant.

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But couldn't he, the cousin, make a deal with the police and prosecutors? Wouldn't they cut him some slack because they needed him? Theo didn't know. Maybe, maybe not, but it was too risky.

Then he began thinking about Mrs. Duffy. In his file was a newspaper clipping with a nice photo of her. She was a very pretty woman, blond with dark eyes and perfect teeth. Imagine her final seconds as she realized with horror that her husband - wearing the two golf gloves - had not stopped by the house for some harmless reason, but instead was going for her throat.

Theo's heart was racing again. He threw the covers back and sat on the edge of his bed. Mrs. Duffy was only a few years younger than his mother. How would he feel if his mom were attacked in some savage manner?

If the jury found Mr. Duffy not guilty, he would literally get away with murder. And, he could never again be brought to trial for the crime. Theo knew all about double jeopardy - the State can't try you a second time if the jury finds you not guilty the first time. Since there were no more suspects, the murder would remain unsolved.

Mr. Duffy would collect his $1 million. Play even more golf. Probably find another pretty young wife.

Theo crawled back under the covers and tried to close

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his eyes. He had an idea. After the trial, after Mr. Duffy was acquitted and drove away from the courthouse, Theo would wait a few weeks or months, then he would send the gloves to Mr. Duffy. Ship them in an anonymous package, maybe with a note that would read something like: "We know you killed her. And we're watching."

Why would he do that? He didn't know. Another foolish idea.

The thoughts became more random. There was no blood at the scene, right? So there would be no traces of blood on the gloves. But what about hair? What if a tiny strand of Mrs. Duffy's hair was somehow stuck to one of the gloves. Her hair was not short, certainly long enough to touch her shoulders. Theo had not dared open the plastic bag. He had not touched the gloves, so he didn't know what might be on them. A strand of hair would be even more proof that her husband killed her.

He tried to dwell on his spectacular victory in Animal Court on behalf of Hallie, his client and potential girlfriend. But his thoughts swung back to the crime scene. Finally, he grew still and fell asleep.

Marcella Boone arrived home just before 11:00 p.m. She checked the refrigerator to see what Theo had for dinner. She checked the dishwasher to make sure things were in

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order. She spoke to Woods, who was reading in the den. She climbed the stairs and woke up Theo for the second time in an hour. But he heard her coming and pretended to sleep through the ritual. She did not turn on the light, never did. She kissed him on the forehead, whispered, "Love you, Teddy," then left the room.

An hour later, Theo was wide awake, worrying about the hiding place he'd chosen for the gloves.

***

When the alarm on his cell phone buzzed at six thirty, Theo wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep, or somewhere in between, nor was he convinced he'd slept at all. He was fully aware, though, that he was tired and already irritable and facing another long day. The burden he carried was not normal for a thirteen-year-old.

His mother was at the stove - a rare spot for her - frying sausage and grilling pancakes, something she did about twice a year. Any other morning, Theo would've been starving and ready for a big breakfast. He didn't have the heart to tell her his appetite was gone.

"Did you sleep well, Teddy?" she asked as she pecked him on the cheek.

"Not really," he said.

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"And why not? You look tired. Are you getting sick?"

"I'm fine."

"You need some orange juice. It's in the fridge."

They ate around the morning paper. "Looks like the trial is just about over," she said, her reading glasses halfway down her nose. She began most Fridays with a quick trip to the salon for work on her fingernails, so she was still in her bathrobe.

"I haven't kept up," Theo said.

"I don't believe that. Your eyes are red, Theo. You look tired."

"I said I didn't sleep well."

"Why not?"

Well, Dad woke me up at ten and you woke me up at eleven. But Theo couldn't blame his parents. He was losing sleep for other reasons. "A big test today," he said, and it was sort of true. Miss Garman had threatened them with a quiz in Geometry.

"You'll do fine," she said, and returned to the newspaper. "Eat your sausage."

He managed to choke down enough pancakes and sausage to satisfy her. He thanked her for the big breakfast, and as soon as possible he wished her a good day, said goodbye, gave a pat on the head to Judge, and took off on his

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bike. Ten minutes later he was racing up the steps to Ike's office, where his cranky uncle was waiting for the second early morning meeting in two days.

Ike looked even rougher on Friday. His eyes were puffy and redder than Theo's, and his wild gray hair had not been touched that morning. "This better be good," he growled.

"It is," Theo said as he stood in front of the desk.

"Have a seat."

"I'd rather stand."

"Okay. What's up?"

Theo unloaded the story about Julio and the two golf gloves in a plastic bag, now hidden behind some old Boone & Boone divorce files at the bottom of an old file cabinet in the basement where no one had ventured in at least a decade. He left nothing out of the story, except, of course, the identity of Julio and his cousin. He was finished in minutes.

Ike listened intently. He scratched his beard, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, sipped his coffee, and when Theo went silent Ike managed to mumble, "Unbelievable."

"What are we gonna do, Ike?" Theo asked in desperation.

"I don't know. The gloves need to be examined by the crime lab. They could have small samples of skin, Mrs.

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Duffy's skin, or her hair, or they could even have DNA from Mr. Duffy's sweat."

Theo hadn't thought about the sweat.

"The gloves could be crucial evidence," Ike was saying, thinking out loud, still scratching his beard.

"We can't just ignore this, Ike. Come on."

"Why did you keep them?"

"I didn't really keep them, you know? It was more like my friend just left them. He's scared. His cousin is really scared. I'm scared. What are we gonna do?"

Ike stood and stretched and took another gulp of coffee. "Are you going to school?"

What else would I do on this Friday morning? "Sure. I'm already late."

"Go to school. I'll go watch the courthouse. I'll figure out something and I'll text you later."

“Thanks, Ike. You’re the greatest.”

“Don’t know about that.”

***

Theo walked into homeroom five minutes late, but Mr. Mount was in a good mood and the class had not exactly come to order. When he saw Theo, he pulled him aside and said, "Say, Theo, I was thinking that you could give us an update on the trial. Later, during Government."

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The last thing Theo wanted to do was talk about the trial, but he could not say no to Mr. Mount. Plus, Mr. Mount was known to be a bit slack with his class preparations on Fridays, and he needed Theo to help fill in the gaps.

"Sure," Theo said.

"Thanks. Just an update, fifteen minutes or so. It goes to the jury today, right?"

"Probably so."

Theo took his seat. Mr. Mount tapped his desk, then called the roll. Announcements were made, the usual homeroom routine. When the bell for first period rang, the boys headed for the door. A classmate named Woody followed Theo into the hall and grabbed him near the lockers. One look at his face, and Theo knew something was wrong.

"Theo, I need some help," Woody said quietly while glancing around. Woody's home life was chaotic. His parents were on their second or third marriages and there wasn't much supervision there. He played the electric guitar in a bad garage band, was already smoking, dressed like a runaway, and was rumored to have a small tattoo on his rear end. Theo, like the rest of the boys, was curious about the tattoo, but had no desire to confirm the rumor. In spite of all these distractions, Woody maintained a B average.

"What's up?" Theo asked. He really wanted to inform

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Woody that this was a terrible time to ask for free legal advice. Theo had too much on his mind.

"You can keep this quiet, right?" Woody asked.

"Of course." Great. Just what Theo needed. Another secret.

Hallie walked by, slowed for a second, flashed a comely smile at Theo, but realized he was busy. She disappeared.

"My brother got arrested last night, Theo," Woody said, and his eyes were wet. "The police came to the house after midnight, took him away in handcuffs. It was terrible. He's in jail."

"What's the charge?"

"Drugs. Possession of pot, maybe distribution."

"There's a big difference between possession and distribution."

"Can you help us?"

"I doubt it. How old is he?"

"Seventeen."

Theo knew the brother by reputation, and it was not a good one. "First offense?" Theo asked, though he suspected the answer was no.

"He got busted for possession last year, his first. Slap on the wrist."

"Your parents need to hire a lawyer, Woody. It's that simple."

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"Nothing's simple. My parents don't have the money, and if they did they wouldn't spend it on a lawyer. There's a war in my house, Theo. Kids against parents, and nobody's taking prisoners. My stepfather has been fighting with my brother over the drug thing, and he's promised a thousand times he will not get involved when the cops bust him."

The bell rang. The hall was empty.

Theo said, "Okay, catch me at recess. I don't have much advice, but I'll do what I can."

"Thanks, Theo."

They hustled into Madame Monique's class. Theo took his seat, opened his backpack, and realized he had not done his homework. At that moment, he really didn't care. At that moment, he was thankful he lived in a quiet and cozy home with great parents who seldom raised their voices. Poor Woody.

Then, he thought about the gloves.

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