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they'll be waiting until someone can sneak in, grab a quick
look and report my location. We'll have some time before
they figure it out."
"So where are we headed now." Caesar hoped they hit the
freeway soon because his legs were already cramping up.
Nate glanced down at Caesar. "No clue, right now I'm just
driving. Hopefully I'll figure something out before I fall asleep
at the wheel."
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The Good Thief
by James Buchanan
Chapter 23
Early morning two days later found Caesar downtown
heading for the Criminal Court building. The line to get in
snaked out the front glass doors, across the pedestrian bridge
and around to the sidewalk on Temple Street. Above his head
loomed nineteen stories of gray glass and concrete. Nate
walked ahead of him, all spit and polish in his deep-blue
uniform. The District Attorney, Stevenson and the two lead
detectives followed slightly behind and to his right. Dressed in
a simple dress shirt and slacks, not even a tie, Caesar felt
awkward. The only other time he'd gone into this building it'd
been up the holding elevators in an orange jumpsuit. Not a
memory he wanted to revisit. This time around he got special
treatment of a better variety, rabbiting to the front of the
security line. Still, they patted him down when the steel toes
in his work boots set off the sensors.
The elevator crawled up the floors. Caesar had just enough
time to feel consigned to a personal hell: confined in a tiny
room with three police officers and a DA. Do a good deed and
this was his payback. God had to be laughing at that. The
elevator disgorged them into a wood paneled hall floored in
white marble and roofed with stained acoustic tiles. Hardly
better, the place crawled with police and court personnel.
Then it was time for waiting. He grabbed a spot on one of
the narrow wood benches lining the walls. When Nate plopped
himself down next to Caesar, it surprised him a little. The
detectives had found a place at the other end of the hall.
They could watch, but not associate with Caesar from there.
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by James Buchanan
"Why don't you go hang with the rest of the cops?" By sitting
where he did, Nate had stepped over the line in the us-
against-them world.
"Why," Nate drawled the word, "would I do that?"
"'Cause you're a cop, stupid." Caesar stared at his hands.
Elbows braced on his knees, Nate spun his cap through his
fingers. "I'm also gay and sleeping with a guy who's on
probation. So where do I fit?"
"I don't know, man." Caesar smiled and shook his head
just a bit. "You are one seriously fucked up homeboy."
"Look who's talking." Stretching, Nate shifted his butt to
the edge of the bench. As he leaned against the wall, Nate
thought a moment. "So, after all this excitement is over, what
are we going to do for entertainment? Life will go back to
being real boring ... not sure I want that."
"I don't know, ese, what do we do?" Caesar's eyes slid to
consider Officer Nathan Reilly. There was no way he was
offering what Caesar hopped he was offering.
"Well," Nate considered the ceiling, "I figure somebody's
got to keep your butt out of trouble."
Still cautious, but more hopeful, Caesar asked,
"Somebody?"
"Yeah, make sure you get a real job, show up to all your
probation appointments." Nate's green eyes slid to lock
sideways on Caesar. A mischievous grin wicked across his
lips. "It's a dirty job, but somebody has to do it."
"You know anyone who wants to take on that kind of job
... and a dog?"
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The Good Thief
by James Buchanan
"I might." Then Nate snorted, "Even if it comes with an
overgrown rat-dog."
"Ponchito is not a rat-dog, he's a terrier."
"Rat-dog."
"Terrier."
Puppetting the sounds with his fingers, Nate teased, "Yip,
yip, yip..."
Stevenson appeared at the door to the court. His face went
blank with the same kind of startled look that people who
don't really believe what their seeing often sported. The DA
shook it off. "Officer Reilly, if I could tear Mr. Serrano away
from your scintillating discussion for a bit."
Caesar started to sweat as they both stood. This was it.
Showtime. When he stepped forward, Nate grabbed his arm.
"Okay, buddy," Nate whispered, "you tag 'em, I'll bag 'em.
Got that?"
"Got it." Caesar flashed a half-hearted smile in response.
Nate's own smile was much more confidant. "Knock 'em
dead." With that he moved off toward the other officers.
Caesar turned to Stevenson, who held the door open.
"Come on." The DA motioned with his head toward the
courtroom beyond. "It's time to tell them."
The District Attorney had gone over everything with
Caesar. They'd keep his identity and testimony a secret,
Stevenson promised. Although that hardly seemed
reassuring; the assholes had found him before and tried to
beat him into silence. Caesar would testify to that as well.
Unlike a trial, he'd been told the Grand Jury would look at the
evidence and decide if there was a strong suspicion that a
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by James Buchanan
crime had been committed. Most of their decision would be
based on Caesar's testimony about what he'd found and
events after, that of two alleged victims and the pictures.
Nate and the Detectives would testify to the actual
investigation, Caesar's beating and the other attempts to
derail the inquiry.
The DA had decided on the route of Grand Jury because of
who stood accused. There'd been enough obstruction of
justice by officers thinking they were protecting their own. A
grand jury would be the citizens' voice that this was
unacceptable. Plus, if they went straight to indictment there
was liable to be a lot of pretrial publicity. Any publicity in this
instance might be prejudicial. And one of the victims was still
a juvenile. It was better for her, keeping her out of the media
as long as possible.
Twenty men and women sat in the room arranged around
a u-shaped table. Caesar had been in many courtrooms in his
life, but never one like this. Directly in front of the large table
was a witness stand. To the right of that sat the court
reporter, his hands poised over the stenography machine.
Instead of two tables for counsel, there was only one. District
Attorney Stevenson took his place next to it and indicated
that Caesar should proceed to the witness stand.
At Caesar's approach one man rose from the group of
jurors. A distinguished, older man of African-American
decent, his close cropped hair had grayed at the temples. He
was the Foreperson of the Grand Jury and Caesar would
never be permitted to know his name. All the jury members'
identities were kept from the public. "Please raise your right
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by James Buchanan
hand." His voice was deep and rumbly, like he'd smoked for
too long. "Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are
about to give in the matter now pending before the Grand
Jury of the county of Los Angeles will be the truth, the whole
truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
Caesar swallowed. "I do."
"Thank you." As he sat, the man gestured for Caesar to do
the same. "Please be seated and speak directly into the
microphone during your testimony. Now, would you please
state and spell your full name for the record?"
"Caesario Jose Payan-Serrano," he replied before spelling
it out for the reporter. The clack of the keys faded into the
background. Everything else came into focus.
"Thank you." A warm smile was offered before he spoke
again. The butterflies in Caesar's stomach settled down a
notch. "District Attorney, you may begin your examination."
Stevenson stood. His smile was professional, not
reassuring. "Now, Mr. Serrano, I'm going to go over some
ground rules for you." Like everything else about him, his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]