The Devil's Right Hand. J.D. Rhoades

neutral.

      “I’m concerned here, counselor,” he said, “that your client is a violent man. He was apprehended with a shotgun in his car. He was carrying a weapon concealed on his person--”

      “For which--” McCaskill began, but fell silent when Tharrington raised a hand. “I realize he claims to have a carry permit for that weapon. He has not been able to produce it.”

      “That’s because Officer Wesson took it. Sir.” Keller said.

      “Which brings us to my greatest concern,” Tharrington said. “The contempt and disrespect shown to law enforcement. It’s bad enough that Mr. Keller apparently fancies himself some sort of bounty hunter, despite having no official standing as a sworn law enforcement officer. But for him to assault a real officer and threaten him with further violence--”

      “Sir,” Keller said. “Officer Wesson assaulted me.” He ignored the lawyer’s hand on his shoulder urging him to keep quiet. “He struck me with his baton while I had my hands on the car. Officer Jones can confirm that.”

      Tharrington looked behind Keller. “Officer Wesson,” he said. “Is Officer Jones present in the courtroom with you?”

      Keller didn’t trust himself to turn around and look, but he could hear the smooth confidence in Wesson’s voice. “No sir,” he said. “She had, ah, other duties to attend to. And your honor, I was forced to use my baton to subdue Mr. Keller when he attempted to reach for the firearm I was taking from him.”

      “And is it not true, Mr. Keller, that you threatened to take Officer Wesson’s baton away from him and beat him with it?”

      “No sir,” Keller said through clenched teeth. “I told him I was going to take it away from him and shove it up his ass.”

      Tharrington reddened. He picked up his gavel. “Bail is set at fifteen thousand dollars. Cash.” He nodded to the deputy Sheriff standing at one end of the bench. “Take him back to the holding cell.”

      “Your Honor,” a soft female voice said. “I’ll be supplying Mr. Keller’s bail bond. But may I request that the court change it to a secured bond rather than cash?”

      Keller looked around for the first time. She was standing at the back of the courtroom, dressed in a floor length black trench coat that contrasted starkly with her white-blonde hair. Her jeans were black as well and she wore a white blouse buttoned up to the neck, despite the outside heat. Her hands were covered with black gloves. One hand rested on the silver handle of a dark cherrywood cane.

      “And you are…?” the judge asked.

      She walked down the center aisle of the courtroom with a pronounced limp, leaning on the cane for support. “Angela Hager, your honor,” she said. “H & H Bail Bonds. I’m Mister Keller’s employer.”

      The judge tapped his chin with his pencil. “Hager, Hager…” he said thoughtfully. “You look familiar…”

      She arrived at the bar and looked up at the judge. She brushed her hair from her eyes with her free hand. “My husband was Jeffery Hager.”

      The judge dropped his pencil. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I--I remember the case. You--ah--you seem to be doing well.”

      “Thank you,” she said. “Now, about the bond. I can supply a cash bond, but it’s less paperwork if I don’t have to transfer that much cash. The IRS, you know.” She smiled slightly. “I assume H & H’s credit is still good with this court?”

      The judge didn’t answer at first. He was staring in fascination at the narrow band of puckered scar tissue that peeked above the high collar of the blouse. She waited patiently, still smiling. Finally the judge realized that he was staring and his gaze broke away he began randomly shuffling papers on the bench.

      “Yes, yes,” he said. “Certainly. Fifteen thousand,” he said to the clerk. “Secured by H & H.”

      “Thank you, your honor,” Angela said. She approached the low desk to the side of the bench where the court clerk was organizing the forms she would have to sign. She didn’t look at Keller until she finished signing. Then she stood up and smiled at him. “I’ve got to get back,” she said. “There’s no one in the office. I had to lock up to come down here and get you. Will you be okay?”

      “Yeah,” Keller said. “I’ll pick up my car from impound. I’ve got some more leads to run down. I’ll keep in touch.”

      She patted his shoulder. “Back to work, cowboy,” she said, then walked out.

      The judge picked up his gavel, prepared to adjourn court “Your Honor,” Keller’s lawyer spoke up. “There is still the matter of Mr. Keller’s vehicle and ah, its contents, which were impounded.”

      The judge seemed to have recovered his composure. “He can have the vehicle back,” he said. “Not the weapons or the restraints.”

      The lawyer tried again. “Those are the tools Mister Keller needs to conduct his business, if your honor--”

      “Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” the judge snapped. He stood up. “Adjourn court, Mr. Bailiff,” he ordered.

      “This court stands adjourned,” the bailiff called out. “God save the State and this honorable court.”

      “Mister Keller,” a voice said.

      Keller turned. Officer Marie Jones was sitting in a red Honda Accord in a parking space in front of the courthouse. The driver’s side window was down. Her uniform blouse had been replaced by a white T-shirt with a Gold’s Gym logo on it. Her police cap was gone but her light-brown hair was still pinned up. She still wore the mirrored shades.

      “You need a ride?” she said.

      Keller approached the vehicle. “My car’s in the impound lot,” he said.

      “I know,” she said. She leaned over and opened the passenger side door. “Get in. I’ll take you over there.” Keller got in. She pulled away from the curb without speaking. She was dressed in a pair of black workout shorts and tennis shoes. Keller looked her over. Her body was lean and muscular, the body of a swimmer or long-distance runner.

      After a few moments, she spoke up. “I’m sorry about Eddie,” she said. “Officer Wesson, I mean.”

      “That would have meant a lot more if you’d been there to tell what really happened.”

      She sighed. “No one told me about it. I went off-duty and went to the gym.”

      “Would you have told the truth if you’d been there?”

      “Of course I would have,” she snapped. Keller looked at her for a long moment. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I guess. “She sighed. “Fuck, I don’t know.” She sounded weary.

      “What is he, your boyfriend?”

      Jones yanked the wheel suddenly, steering the car over to the side of the street and slamming on the brakes. She turned to Keller. “Get out,” she said. Her voice was absolutely flat.

      “Whoa, whoa.” Keller said. “I’m sorry, I--”

      “I am so SICK of that bullshit!” she slammed her open palm on the steering wheel. “From Eddie’s wife. From my ex. From every asshole in the station. The ones that don’t assume I’m fucking Eddie assume I’m some sort of dyke because I’m not fucking him. Well, fuck them, and fuck you too.” She grabbed the wheel with both hands. She rested her head on the steering wheel for a moment, getting herself under control. Her knuckles were white.

      “You’re right,” Keller said softly. “I was out of line. It was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

      She took a deep breath and straightened up. She looked straight ahead for a moment, took another breath, blew it out. She turned to Keller.

      “I