Connections (Part Three)

By: DesertVixen ()

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Follows "Bringing Down the Barriers" by about 2-3 weeks. As noted in that story, 3 years have passed since the SuperMystery timeframe.

AUTHOR'S APOLOGY: Sorry it's been so long since I updated this. I got a little writer's block, and that pesky reality thing keeps getting in the way.

FURTHER APOLOGY: I know it's really been a long time, I'll try to keep the next wait down. This is the end of THIS story, and I know you've been waiting a long time.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously do not own the characters, because if I did, we'd have ditched Ned a long time ago. My books all say Archway or Grosset and Dunlap, and of course we can't forget the Stratemeyer Syndicate. I'm just borrowing them for awhile to have fun.

-- -- --

It had been a long time since she had done this, Nancy reflected as she pulled into the parking lot. She had been in high school the last time. Today, she had finished up her assignments fairly early, and had decided that going to watch her father give closing arguments would be interesting. Nancy enjoyed hearing about cases, but she had rarely watched the cases end in the courtroom. It had always been more interesting to hear about what went into getting the cases into court.

Part of it was Carson's preference for keeping his personal and professional lives separate. Of course, with Nancy's passion for detection, that had not always been possible. She had lost track of the number of times her father's name and reputation had opened a door for her, or the number of cases she had worked for someone who knew him, or someone who had turned to him for help. Part of it was simply that Nancy's interest had always been in finding the evidence and unraveling the strands of a situation, not in presenting the situation to outside parties.

Today she had the time, and she told herself it was something else to think about. If she was going to be a lawyer, she would find herself arguing in court. Not all cases went to trial, of course, but when they did she would have to know how to handle it.

She parked and made her way inside the courthouse. Quietly, she slipped into a back row of the courtroom, somewhat surprised to see Helena already sitting there. Carson Drew was seated at the defense table, projecting a calm, unruffled demeanor, talking quietly with his client.

"Afternoon," Helena said softly. "I had some extra time on my calendar."

Nancy nodded in reply. Before she could say anything, the bailiff called the court to order.

The prosecutor's summation was bitingly precise. The case focused on a battered wife who had killed her abusive husband in self-defense. Lynne Delacey had emptied a full clip from Robert Delacey's Ruger 45 and then calmly called the police. Her face had been bruised, her clothing disheveled, and she had never before called the police to report being abused.

It was the sort of case Carson Drew excelled at. It was part of his formidable legal reputation that he had never defended a person he believed to be guilty, and he rarely lost. Some of his colleagues might accuse him of having watched Perry Mason a few times too many, but there was no denying his skill at what he did.

His practice was mostly criminal, although he handled some other issues as well for clients, usually in association with another lawyer. Nancy had always been fascinated by her father's career choice, and she knew it had influenced her interest in detection. Both of them wanted to help people, to find the truth, and to get other people to see that truth.

When her father rose and began to speak, Nancy could see the jury responding to his calmly persuasive closing speech. When he had finished, Nancy was surprised to realize he had been speaking for almost an hour. She had been so wrapped up in what he had been saying, she hadn't realized how much time was passing.

The prosecutor, of course, had the final say in front of the jury, to make an attempt to reinforce their case and poke holes in that of the defense. Again, he was bitingly precise, stressing the facts and evidence, and Nancy wondered which style would have more of an effect on the jury. There was, after all, no doubt that Lynne Delacey had killed her husband Robert. She had even confessed to it. The question was whether or not they would believe that she had done so in order to not lose her own life, if they would believe that she had been abused and terrified, backed into a corner from which the only escape had involved the victim's own handgun.

Carson was surprised to see the two of them sitting in the back row. Nancy had not come to court to watch a case she hadn't been involved in for several years. Helena, as far as he knew, had never sat in a courtroom just to watch him. She was aware of his legal reputation, of course, but she was more involved in issues related to family law.

The judge gave the jury their final instructions, the jurors were escorted from the courtroom by a bailiff, and the rest of the courtroom was dismissed. Carson joined them in the back row.

"What did you think?" He asked after they exchanged greetings.

"They seemed thoughtful when they left," Helena replied.

Nancy nodded. "You were pretty good," she said with a smile.

"I just hope they thought so." He took hold of Helena's hand. "What would you two say to a late lunch or early dinner?"

Nancy grinned. Her father had a habit of waiting out deliberating juries at a small Chinese restaurant near the courthouse. The owner was one of his former clients, and ensured that Carson always had a table waiting. "Chinese food?"

"Of course."

Helena nodded. "Shall we walk over?"

-- -- --

The proprietor seated the three of them at a comfortable booth under one of the large windows, the late-afternoon sun streaming in. When Nancy was still a little girl, Carson had defended the current owner's brother when the young man had been charged with taking part in a string of robberies. In the last robbery, a storeowner had been killed. Carson had won an acquittal for Jason Chin, and James Chin had made it his business to ensure that any time Carson chose to eat at the Fortune Inn, the lawyer had the best meal in the house. It had become a tradition of his that he waited out at least the first day of a deliberating jury there.

They ordered, and settled in to wait for the appetizers. They appeared so fast that Carson suspected James Chin had a spy in the courthouse. Rather than talk about the case, he asked Helena how her day had gone.

"As you can see, I finished up early. It's been a slow week, with no time in court." She picked up an egg roll, setting it on her plate. "We can't all have glamorous lives like you."

Nancy laughed. "I wouldn't say working in his law office is all glamour."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure Eleanor could find you something even less glamorous than courier duty."

Nancy gave a mock shudder. "Thanks, Dad. I'll pass."

They had finished a leisurely dinner, and were debating the merits of dessert when Carson's cell phone buzzed on the table. Nancy saw his relaxed demeanor evaporate as he answered. The conversation was brief, and when he ended the call, Carson signaled the waiter to bring the check.

"They're coming back," he told Nancy and Helena.

Nancy glanced at her watch. It was just shy of nine. "Under five hours?"

"Well, at least you know it's not a hung jury," Helena said quietly. She was not used to dealing with juries, since they were not a factor in family law cases. Family law judges could be just as problematic, but at least then she only had to worry about one person, not twelve.

"There is that," he said dryly as he signed the credit card receipt. "Are you two going to come for the verdict?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Nancy assured him.

-- -- --

Carson sat next to his client, speaking calmly as they waited. Nancy noted how Lynne drew on his calm reassurances, breathing deep and looking as composed as possible. She could also see how Lynne's hands were clasped in her lap, so tightly that her knuckles were going white.

The bailiff went through the routine of bringing in the jury, delivering the verdict to the judge, and handing it back to the foreman of the jury. After what seemed like a long time to Nancy, and must have seemed like an eternity to Lynne Delacey, the foreman declared the verdict to be not guilty on all charges. There wasn't a large uproar, although the members of Lynne's family that were present erupted into a cheer. Behind the prosecution's table, an older woman – the victim's mother, Nancy assumed – sat stone-faced. Lynne was hugging Carson, and then her family tried to envelope her in a group hug over the rail separating the spectators from the participants.

"What does the victory celebration entail?" Helena asked as they walked outside. Carson paused by his car so he could make sure Nancy made it to where the Mustang was parked without any problems.

"Drinks usually, with or without the client. Lynne plans on celebrating by getting a good night's sleep, or so she told me." He smiled at Helena as he watched Nancy get into her car and wave at him. He knew Lynne had not been sleeping well, despite being out on bail. She'd known that she had done the only thing she could, but waiting to find out what price she would pay had been nerve-wracking.

"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," she suggested slyly, moving in to give him a long kiss.

"Why don't we start with a drink first?" Carson slipped an arm around her shoulders. "Where are you parked?"

-- -- --

Nancy could see in her side mirror as Helena leaned in to give her father a kiss, a long one. He didn't seem to mind the move, and as she watched them turn away, walk down the aisle of vehicles, Nancy wondered what the odds were that her father wouldn't make it home tonight.

She liked Helena as a person, and liked even more that she made Carson happy. He relaxed around her, and Nancy didn't feel like it was an intrusion when Helena was around the two of them. It was past time for him to have happiness of that sort again.

Nancy drove the short distance towards home, and was almost there when her cell phone chirped, indicating an incoming text message. She picked it up, saw it was from Frank, and smiled when she read the two-word message – 'one week'.

'Can't wait', she replied as soon as she had pulled into the driveway. She would try giving him a call, see what was going on in Bayport, and see what he wanted to do in Chicago.

That thought made her pretty happy.