“Judy, what are you-?”

“You’re so amazing in the courtroom, Mr. Kincaid. I think you must be the best lawyer in the Southwest. Probably in the United States!”

“Judy…”

“Go along with it,” she said sotto voce. “It’s free publicity.” Then in a louder voice, she added, “I know how busy you are, what with every rich and important person in the country wanting you to be their lawyer, but if you could just take a few moments to sign something for me, it would be the greatest thrill of my life!”

Ben gave her a sharp look. “What is it you want signed, a check?”

“Ben,” she said under her breath, “think marketing. This could translate into big bucks.” And then, in her stage voice, she added, “Since I want to be a lawyer like you, perhaps we could get together sometime and discuss trial strategies and such. Maybe over dinner.”

“Judy, I’m not going on a date with you.”

Maura rolled her eyes. “See, Judy, I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“But I think I would really benefit from your career advice,” Judy continued, as loud as before. “And I know you don’t like to disappoint your fans.”

“Lawyers don’t have fans.” Ben took her by the wrist and led her away from the cameras. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“We’re out for break,” Judy explained. “And we’re getting extra credit for observing this trial.”

“I don’t think this trial is… appropriate for fifteen-year-old ears.”

“Why? Is there going to be sex?” They both giggled.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Let’s hope not. Although that would probably be more fun than the fingerprint expert.”

Sammie Flynn was pretty calm for a young woman sitting in the interrogation room at the Tulsa county jail. She was smoking a cigarette, her fourth in a row. Her auburn hair was slicked back behind her ears. She seemed relaxed and not at all perturbed by the stark environment or the two unfriendly faces on the other side of the table.

But then, she’d been here before.

“We’ve got you dead to rights this time, Sammie,” said Sergeant Lewis, the older of the two cops interrogating her. “You’re going down.”

She took a long drag on her cigarette. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play games, Sammie. You’re dead meat.”

She blew smoke in his face. “Well, I’ve been dead before.”

“Passing bad checks is a felony, Sammie,” said Patrolman Harriman, the younger man at the table. “That’s why I had to pick you up.”

She was wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt, which she pulled over her knees. She sat lotus-style, on her own bare feet, exposing the numerous tattoos on her upper and lower legs. “It’s all a mistake. I thought I had enough money to cover those checks.”

“You were short, Sammie,” Lewis said. “By about twelve thousand dollars.”

She shrugged, a revealing gesture, given that she was wearing no bra and not much of a T-shirt. “I was never good at math.”

“Can you count to twenty?” Lewis shot back. “ ’Cause that’s the minimum you’re looking at, sweetie. Twenty years.”

She lowered her cigarette slowly. “Twenty years? For passing a bad check? No way.”

“Yes way. You’re a three-time offender, baby. Minimum sentencing guidelines. Twenty years.”

Somehow, she managed to retain her cool demeanor. “You’re blowing smoke up my ass.”

“You don’t believe me, Sammie? Ask your lawyer when you see him.”

“I want to see him now. I thought we were having the arraignment or whatever the hell it is.”

“We’re trying. Courtroom’s stuffed to the gills and all cases are backed up. That priest-murder thing is gumming up the works.”

“Priest-murder? What the hell?”

“Don’t you know, Sammie?” Lewis gave his partner a quick but meaningful look. “Hell, you’ve been in a cell next-door to the guy.”

“Yeah, what’s the deal with that? Since when did the jail go coed?”

“It’s only temporary,” Lewis replied. “We’re having… space problems. So what did you think of him?”

“That old gray-headed coot? The one who never talks and prays all the time?”

“That’s the one.”

“He’s a murderer?”

“No doubt about it. I understand the DA is having a little trouble scraping together all the evidence he needs, but he’s guilty, take my word for it.”

Sammie took one last drag from her smoke, then ground it out on the table. “Go figure. Well, once I beat this rap, I’ll never have to see the creep again.”

Both the officers chuckled. “Beat this rap? Sammie, you’re in deep denial. Our case is ironclad. You’re hamburger.”

“I told you, I thought I had the money. My boyfriend must’ve made a withdrawal just before I wrote the check. Besides, I never actually passed the thing. I was just thinking about it.”

Lewis leaned across the table till he was close enough to smell her. “The bank says no one had withdrawal privileges on that account but you. You’ve never had a thousand dollars in the bank, much less twelve thousand. And we’ve got footage from the bank video camera that shows you passing the check.” He smiled broadly. “Your ass is grass, Sammie. You’re going down.”

Sammie left the interrogation room with an astounding degree of calm and reserve. But she was an experienced girl; she didn’t panic. Easily. And she had a battle plan that had served her well in the past and would no doubt do so again.

Since the arraignment had to be postponed to the next day, Sammie was given access to a phone to make whatever arrangements necessary. She made four phone calls, then asked for the week’s old newspapers, displaying a heretofore unrevealed intellectual curiosity. And then she called her attorney.

“Donald? Yeah, it’s Sammie. Yeah, I know. Hey, you gotta get me outta here. I can’t do no twenty years.”

She paused, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “I don’t care what the law says. There’s gotta be a way.”

She listened intently. Her disposition did not improve. “Well, you’re pretty goddamn useless, aren’t you? Public defender. More like public menace.” She ignored the eruption on the other end of the line. “Yeah, well, I know how you wanna be paid. And it ain’t gonna happen again, not unless you find some way to get me outta here.”

She listened patiently to another three minutes of insults and excuses. “You really are useless, aren’t you, Donald? Well, listen, you big jerk. I’ve got a way, even if you don’t. I’ve got it all figured out.”

At the end of the day, Harriman reported back to Lewis. “I had them give her the newspapers, just like you said. And we let her make as many phone calls as she wanted. What’s she doing, anyway?”

Sergeant Lewis grinned, then spread his hands. “How should I know? We’re not allowed to listen in, you know. Unconstitutional.”

“She was actually reading those newspapers. I was surprised. Of course, I was surprised she could read.”

“Sammie’s a girl of many talents. And amazing resourcefulness.”

“You think she’s up to something?”

“Couldn’t say. How could I know? I’m not her confidant.”

“Still… I thought maybe you had some idea.”

“Far be it for me to try to understand the criminal mind.” Lewis’s smile broadened. He leaned back in his chair, placing his hands behind his neck. “But I think maybe you’ve just made a friend of mine in the district attorney’s office very happy.”