The Hornet’s Nest. Patricia Cornwell

“Your Honor, it’s like I said.” Mungo was unmoved.

“I asked him what was in the bag. He told me.”

“He told you crabs, and suggested you crack these crabs yourself,” said the judge, who really had to go now.

“Gee. I don’t know. I thought he said crack.” Mungo tried to be fair.

This sort of thing happened to Mungo more times than not. He’d always found it easier

to hear whatever he wanted, and when one was as big as him, one could. The case was

dismissed, and before the judge could adjourn to her chambers, the agitated ADA called

the next, and the next, and the next, and the judge did not interrupt, because it was one

thing she would not do. Citizens arrested for burglaries, car thefts, rape, murder, and

more drug dealers and those who patronized them stood with their public defenders.

ADA Pond was mindful of the judge’s constricted body language and miserable

demeanor. Pond was accustomed to the judge’s frequent visits to her chambers, and

knew that capitalizing on her disability was his only hope.

Each time Her Honor started to rise from her bench, ADA Pond was off and running on

the next case. As fast as he could, he announced the Johnny Martino once again, in hopes

Pond would break the judge, wear her down, and subject her to the water treatment until

she could take no more. Her Honor would hear the state of North Carolina versus Johnny

Martino so Hammer and West could return to life’s highways, and the hospital. ADA

Pond prayed Hammer would think kindly of him when he ran for DA in three years.

“Johnny Martino,” ADA Pond said as fast as he could, again, moments later.

“I’m not ready to hear that case yet.” The judge could barely talk.

“Alex Brown,” the ADA blurted out.

“Yeah.” Mr. Brown stood, as did his counsel.

“How do you plead to malicious wounding?”

“He started it,” Mr. Brown stated for the record.

“What I’m supposed to do, huh? In Church’s getting a quart of chicken livers and he

decides he wants the same thing, only he’s going to get mine and not pay.”

Hammer had tuned back in long enough to make an assessment of her surroundings and

those in it. This was much more disheartening than she had imagined. No wonder her

beat officers and investigators got so discouraged, so jaded and cynical. There had been

a time when she’d had no sympathy or use for people like this. They were lazy, no-

account, self-destructive, self-absorbed wastrels who added nothing to society and took

from everyone around them. She thought of Seth, of his money, privilege, and

opportunity. She thought of the love she and others had given him. Chief Hammer

thought of many people she knew who were no better than anybody in this courtroom,

really.

West wanted to kill Judge Bovine. It was outrageous making a chief and deputy chief sit

through all this. West’s attention wandered back to Brazil about every other minute. She

wondered if he had returned to the newspaper, and her ominous foreshadowing got

denser and more chilling. If she didn’t get out of this court room soon, she might cause a

scene. Her boss, oddly, had returned to the present and seemed fascinated by everything

around her, as if Hammer could sit here all day and think those private thoughts that had

made her who and what she was.

“Johnny Martino,” ADA Pond struck again.

“I’m not going to hear that case now,” the judge snapped as she carefully got to her feet.

That would be the end of it for at least half an hour, West thought with fury. So she and Hammer would get to sit in the hallway and wait.

Oh great. This would have been exactly right had Johnny Martino’s mother permitted it.

Like West, Mrs. Martino had been pushed too far.

Mrs. Martino knew exactly what was going on. She knew that those two ladies in front

were Batman and Robin, and that the judge had to pee.

Mrs. Martino rose before the judge could climb down from her throne.

“Now hold on one minute,” Mrs. Martino loudly said as she made her way over people

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