"So Mr. Crane, how does it feel to be working your first failed case?"
Ichabod darted a look at the reporter but then simply muttered "No comment" as he continued on.
"Crane!"
Ichabod spun around on his heels and then literally slammed up against the Burgomaster.
"You're late."
"I was not delivered a time of arrival, sir, and I am early by typical standards."
"But these are not typical standards."
"I understand that, sir, but no one made it evident to me of new circumstances until about 10 minutes ago. And he was not sent."
"But you should just know."
"And how, sir, would I do that?"
"It doesn't matter to me. I'm not the one with a job on the line," the man replied, then casually walking away.
Ichabod opened and closed his mouth a few times.
His job was at risk? He had been serving here for 17 years! How could his job be at risk?!
"On the line, sir?" he then tried to call out to the Burgomaster.
"That's right, Crane."
Slightly bug-eyed then, Ichabod made his way around through the doorways and into the main courtroom. He saw a nervous looking fellow that was probably in his late 40's or early 50's alongside a woman who looked Ichbod's age in her early to mid 30's.
Bringing back his core professionalism, Ichabod sat down and gathered together what little information he had scrounged together that was with him.
"It is now time for the questioning of Mister Don Rice over the matters of the murder of Grace McDaniels."
Ichabod could not believe how openly this information was being given, with reporters right there and what was the point of having a jury for this? It was needless frivolity.
"Mr. Rice," Ichabod began, "can you please explain your whereabouts on the night of the murder?"
The man whispered into the woman's ear, and to Ichabod's surprise, she spoke instead of him.
"My client feels that it is needless to answer that question."
"But it's the entire point of the questioning. No follow-ups can take place without an answer as to where he was."
"My client stands by his wish not to answer."
Looking a bit flustered then, Ichabod shuffled through a few papers before speaking once more.
"What were your relations with Grace McDaniels?"
Once again the man whispered in the woman's ear and she spoke up.
"My client wishes not to answer."
"Mrs.-"
"Miss."
"Miss Kohl, do you understand that without answering these questions Mr. Rice will have to go to court and officially be tried for this murder?"
The man grew incredibly pale and whispered frantically into his lawyer's ear.
"He still will not answer," she then replied, and Don looked surprised by Heather's words.
"With that then," the Burgomaster began, "we will end the questioning and review the answers. Further information will be sent out to the necessary individuals by the end of the week."
Ichabod blinked hard, taken aback by the speed and utter uselessness of what had taken place. And seemingly not by the accused's will.
When Ichabod made his way outside, he was met by both Edward and Masbeth.
"How did it go, Constable?" Edward quickly asked.
"Well, I-"
"Did the press bother you?" Masbeth interjected.
"Yes, but-"
"Was she really a woman?" Edward added.
"She-"
"Was the jury a bother?" Masbeth further inquired.
"Could you both please give me a moment to breathe?" Ichabod let out, with a bit too much frustration in his voice.
The two young men quickly quieted themselves and let Ichabod compose himself.
"Now then," Ichabod began, after a moment, "The jury was not given a chance to speak, but I cannot help but believe they will be used in the trial, which is inevitable, but that gives them unfair access to information. The press gave me a slight hussle when I entered, but they were easily brushed aside. It was Miss Heather Kohl that was the biggest struggle."
"Did she try to seduce the Burgomaster?" Edward asked.
"I don't believe so but-" Ichabod cut himself off to give Edward a questioning look, but shook it off and continued, "She wouldn't allow Mr. Rice to speak, and I do not think that she accurately portrayed his best interests."
"So what happens now?" Masbeth inquired.
"I'm not entirely sure, but I do know I want to find out more about Miss Kohl. Constable Greeves, do you believe that you can access records on the lawyer?"
Edward nodded.
"And Masbeth, I wish I could have you work alongside me, but with the strict orders of your apprenticeship we have no choice."
"Actually…" Masbeth grinned slyly.
"Actually? Might this be a good actually?"
"I've been promoted to Jr. Constable and they said I could choose to work with any constable that is more than 5 years from retirement and has worked on at least 30 cases."
"That's wonderful! Well in that case why don't you accompany Edward in digging up information on Miss Kohl?"
"Of course, sir!"
The men then parted ways so Ichabod could go back to the scene to investigate more.
"What do you mean it was found to be a useless mess?!"
Detective Cronwell shrugged his shoulders as Ichabod paced rapidly back and forth before him.
"The evidence needed further examination! I was the only one who obtained any resources and they were only limited!"
"I jus' did what the boss said."
"Of course you did, Detective Cronwell, but I can't understand why on earth they would find it necessary to have you do so!"
Ichabod stopped directly in front of Detective Cronwell then.
"I… I suppose I could speak with the sister," he mused, "though her memory can't be the most trusted-"
"Aaah!!"
"Wha' was that?" Detective Cronwell asked, peering round Ichabod as if the answer were hidden behind the younger man's back.
"A scream. I'm going to investigate," Ichabod returned, making his way out the door, to find the source directly on the steps.