Murder at Ford's Theatre - Margaret Truman [64]
“The state requests bail of two hundred fifty thousand dollars, your honor,” LeCour said.
Millander’s expression reflected the absurdity of the amount.
“He has a previous criminal record, your honor,” said LeCour. “And he’s already attempted to avoid custody as evidenced by his flight from these officers.”
Millander asked the defense for its comments.
“Your honor,” Becker said, “his previous criminal record involves three minor charges, one of which was dropped.” He looked down at Jeremiah. “As you’re aware, the defendant comes from a distinguished family, pillars of the community. His father, Senator Lerner, who is here this morning, has agreed to take personal responsibility for his son, and will ensure his attendance at any future legal proceedings. Under the circumstances, we feel bail is not only inappropriate, it’s unnecessary.”
Millander addressed Jeremiah, who was prodded into standing by Smith. “If you are released to the custody of your father, Mr. Lerner, you understand the conditions of that release. You are to live with him, live by his rules, and otherwise stay out of trouble. Do you agree to those terms?”
There was silence at the defense table as Jeremiah hesitated before responding. Finally, he said, “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” said Judge Millander. “Work out a date for the hearing.” He slapped the gavel on the bench, stood, and left the courtroom.
“My car is outside,” Senator Lerner said angrily to Jeremiah. “Come on, before he changes his mind.”
“We’ll need some time with you,” Smith said. “Mr. Becker has agreed to handle Jeremiah’s defense—and let’s not forget the police want to speak with him about the Zarinski murder.”
“Whatever you say, Mac,” the senator said. He handed him a card with his home number written on it, shook Becker’s hand, and said, “Your reputation is well known to me, Mr. Becker. I know Jeremiah is in good hands.”
“We’ll be in touch,” Becker said.
Smith and Becker watched the father fairly push his son away from the table and in the direction of a doorway held open by the bailiff.
“Touching family scene,” Becker mumbled.
“No father likes to see his son in trouble,” Smith said, “and doubly so when the father is a U.S. senator.”
Klayman approached. “Professor Smith,” he said.
“Hello, Detective. This is Yale Becker.”
“A pleasure, sir,” Klayman said.
“I’ll see you Saturday,” Smith said.
“Yes, I’ll be there. I’m looking forward to it.” He walked away and left the room with his partner.
“What’s Saturday all about?” Becker asked.
Smith told him about the second section of his course on Lincoln the Lawyer.
“Uncomfortable about having one of the detectives in the case sitting in your classroom?”
“No. All we’ll be talking about is the honesty of Abe. Drop in. I think you’d enjoy it.”
“Another time. We need to meet with the senator and his son as soon as possible.”
“I’ll set it up.”
“And the mother, too.”
“I’ll call her.”
“And we should check on the two people who’ve allegedly confirmed that the kid was dating the murder victim.”
“Maybe having the detective in my class isn’t such a bad idea. The professor might learn something from the student.”
Becker laughed. “You wouldn’t take advantage of him, would you, Mac?”
“Of course not. Speaking of classes, I’ve got to get to the university. Faculty meeting. Too damn many of them.”
“Call me the end of the day?”
“Of course. Good being with you again, Yale.”
“Yeah, I like it, Mac. I really didn’t know how much I missed you.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“HE’S STAYING WITH BRUCE,” Clarise Emerson said to Bernard Crowley.
It was seven-thirty on Friday morning. Clarise had come to Ford’s Theatre especially early to prepare for a luncheon meeting with the finance committee from the theatre’s board of trustees, and was surprised to see Crowley already there, in shirtsleeves and sweating, putting final touches on a financial report for the meeting.
“Did you see him?” he asked.
“No. But I spoke to him. He’s not happy, of course, and claims the police beat him. God, to imagine it happened at the Millennium Arts Center