The Case of the Deadly Scalpel

Chapter 13

1

Ben Stern Jr waited in a holding room. Thank God for Robert T Ironside. His sister told him she was able to visit their father outside of his jail cell because of the chief. When he arrived, he was told Chief Ironside arranged for him to see his father in a holding room.

On the flight over, Ben Jr thought continually what he was going to say to his father. He rehearsed it in his mind. Ben Jr was wrong to ignore his father for so long. He supposed he knew it all along, but he so dearly loved his mother. She was the reason he had been so angry with him. It wasn't until he finished medical school and became a surgeon that he actually began to understand his dad's dedication to medicine and helping people to walk again. At first, he did the same thing. He neglected his wife and newborn son. It wasn't until his wife sat him down and pointed out to him that providing for his family alone was not enough. He needed to be there for them as well. It finally dawned on him he was doing the same thing his father did.

From that moment forward, Ben Jr made sure he spent quality time with his wife and son, while still giving his patients the best of care. It was possible to do both! His wife became more understanding of his long hours when he was willing to make time for them. If only his dad had been able to see it, then he and his mom would not have divorced.

All of that no longer mattered to him. He was here to support his father, and here is where he would stay until Perry Mason cleared him of this ridiculous murder charge. If there was one thing he knew about his father, it was that he was a gentle man who dedicated his life to helping people; sacrificing much to do so. He simply wasn't capable of cold-blooded murder!

The door to the holding room opened, and his father walked in. Ben Jr stood up and went directly over to him. Putting his arms around him, he hugged his dad with pent up emotion. How could he have abandoned him for so long. The two men embraced for the longest time before Ben Jr finally let go. When he did, he could see the tears rolling down his father's cheek.

"Let's sit down, Dad," Ben Jr suggested. His father took the seat behind the table, with his back against the wall. Junior sat on the opposite side. Neither of them noticed the officer left the room without cuffing Ben's hands to the ring in the center of the table. It must have been another order of Robert Ironside.

"I can't begin to tell you how good it is to see you, Benny," Stern told his son.

Benny was a name Ben Jr had not heard in years. Even his mother stopped calling him that a long time ago. "Dad . . . I am sorry. I have wanted to call you so many times, and I . . ."

Stern shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You are here now. That is all that matters to me. You don't owe me an apology. You were right. I neglected you, your sister and your mother. I don't blame you for being angry with me."

"No, Dad. I was wrong. I never realized it until I became a doctor myself. It was then I understood your dedication to your patients. It is just . . . well, the longer I stayed away, the harder it was to admit I was wrong."

Ben smiled. "I was wrong too. I should have made time for my family. My patients were, and still are important to me, but so was my family, even more so. I failed to see the damage I was doing, and for that, I am truly sorry."

They were quiet for a moment before Ben Jr broke the silence. Softly, he said, "Tell me what happened."

Ben ran his hand down his face. Looking down, he replied, "That's just it, I really don't know. I did the surgery on Corbin, and then went outside for some fresh air. When I finally came back in, all hell broke loose. A nurse went in to check on him. He had my scalpel in his chest. I swear, Benny, I didn't kill him."

"You didn't have to tell me that; I already knew it." Ben Jr smiled. "You couldn't hurt a fly. Just how did the murderer get hold of the scalpel? I understand that was the gold one Chief Ironside purchased for you after you did the surgery on him."

Ben nodded. "It was." He drummed his fingers on the table as if it would help him solve the mystery of the scalpel. It didn't help. "It was locked in a case, displayed on a shelf behind my desk. My office door was locked. I just don't know how the murderer got it. It makes no sense."

"Dad, it makes perfect sense. It had to be someone in the hospital. There has to be another key to your office. The murderer somehow got hold of the key."

"I don't know how that was possible, Benny. The only other key is locked in a metal case on the wall in Peter's office."

"Peter?"

"He's the head of the hospital."

"What about a janitor?"

Ben smiled. "They don't call them that anymore."

"Maybe not, but they are still janitors. What about it?"

"He doesn't have a key. He always cleans my office when I am there."

"Your secretary? Could she have . . ."

Shaking his head, Ben waved off the suggestion. "She has been with me for twenty years. She is completely devoted to me. No, no way!"

"Twenty years is a long time not to move up in a job, Dad. She could have moved on to a job that paid more. Have you considered she might be in love with you, and resented that you never returned her feelings."

Ben grinned. "No, it never crossed my mind. She's gay, Benny. She and Sheila have been together a long time."

"Oh, I guess I better leave the investigating to Chief Ironside."

Ben chuckled. He stared at his son. It was a shame it took a murder charge to bring his son back to him. It was worth it. He just hoped Bob Ironside could find the real killer, or it would all be for nothing. He couldn't spend time with his son if he was behind bars.

The door opened, and a police officer walked in. "I am sorry, but that is all the time you are allowed."

Both men stood up. Ben Jr walked around the table and hugged his father. I am not going anywhere until this is over. I'll be back. Do you need anything?"

"Yes, but I already got it." He smiled at his son.

Ben Jr returned the smile. He touched his father's cheek, and then left the holding room.

2

The days passed with nothing significant learned. Perry Mason was used to entering a trial with very little evidence to help his client. This trial would be no different. Ben Stern was set up, of that, he had no doubt. Proving it was going to be an uphill battle.

The night before, Mason and Ironside stayed up late into the night discussing the case. Both of them agreed Ben was set up. Someone was able to get hold of the key to his office. That person or persons also knew where the key to the display box was. Somehow, the individual was able to get into his office, obtain the key to the box, open it, and remove the scalpel.

That would lead anybody to believe it was someone within the hospital walls who committed the murder. Neither one of them wanted to assume that scenario. If they did, the murderer might just get away, and Ben Stern would be convicted of a crime he didn't commit.

Mason and Street arrived at the Hall of Justice. As they always were, they were met by a flock of reporters. Every one of them were sticking a microphone in Mason's face, blocking their entrance into the building, and shouting question after question at him. Mason ignored the questions and the microphones. With his hand on Della's elbow, he guided her into the building. The reporters continued to follow them in, shouting questions as they went. It wasn't that Mason wouldn't talk to them. He discovered early on in his career as a lawyer that they could be a valuable asset in his defense of his client. Right now, he simply had nothing to say.

Mason guided Della Street down the aisle. He opened the gate that separated the lawyers and judge from the spectators. Ben Stern was already seated at the defense table. Mason sat down his briefcase, opened it and began pulling papers out. He reached over and shook hands with his client.

"All rise!" the bailiff called out.

Everyone in the room stood up as judge Herman Thatcher entered the courtroom through his private chambers door. After taking his seat at the bench, he indicated for everyone to sit back down. He turned his attention to Prosecutor Gary Sullivan. "Mr Sullivan, in the case of the people of the state of California versus Dr Benjamin Stern, are you prepared to put on your case?"

Sullivan stood up behind the prosecutor's table. "Yes, Your Honor. We call the medical examiner to the stand."

Dr Gwynn was sworn in and sat down in the witness stand.

Gary Sullivan approached his witness. "Doctor, how long have you been the medical examiner in San Francisco?"

"Well, as you know there are many in our department. I am the head medical examiner, and I have been doing the job for twenty years."

"You were the one who did the autopsy on Corbin Schulte, is that correct?"

"Yes, it is?"

"Can you tell the court what your findings were?"

The doctor crossed his legs and nodded his head. "Of course. A sharp metal object pierced and stopped his heart."

Sullivan walked over to the exhibit table and picked up the scalpel. When he arrived back at the witness stand, he handed the scalpel to the medical examiner. "Would this scalpel be consistent with the wound in the victim's chest?"

Perry Mason stood up. "Nothing has been entered into the record. The prosecutor is asking the witness to identify the murder weapon."

Judge Herman Thatcher took no time to shoot down Mason's objection. "Actually, Mr Mason, I don't believe that is what the prosecutor is doing. He is simply asking if that particular scalpel is consistent with the wound. He is not asking him to identify it as the murder weapon. You may answer the question," he said to the medical examiner.

Ben Stern leaned toward his lawyer. "I don't understand, why did you object to that? You didn't ask for it to be identified as the murder weapon."

"I have tried cases against Mr Sullivan before. The more objections I make, the more rattled he gets. Therefore, you will see me make a lot of objections that are going to be overruled."

He accepted Mason's exclamation and sat back.

Gwynn studied the scalpel for only a moment before replying, "Yes indeed. It is definitely consistent with the wound in the victim's chest."

"Can you place the time of death?"

"Yes, knowing when the surgery was, the victim was murdered almost immediately after being placed into his room."

"Thank you, Doctor. That will be all. Your witness, Mr Mason."

Perry Mason stood up behind the witness stand. Glancing down at the paperwork, he gave the impression he was going over the police report. In reality, he found that hesitating always seemed to make the witness nervous.

"Mr Mason, you may start your cross-examination," Judge Thatcher said.

Mason looked up and smiled. He walked around the table toward the medical examiner. "Dr Gwynn, you said that scalpel was consistent with the wound in Corbin Schulte's chest, is that right?"

"You were sitting right there when I said it, Mr Mason. I'm assuming there is nothing wrong with your hearing."

The room broke out in laughter, for which Judge Thatcher banged his gavel and silenced it immediately. "I will not allow such display of interruption. You may continue, Mr Mason."

Mason walked back to the defense table, and removed a scalpel from his briefcase. Taking it back to the witness stand, he handed it to the medical examiner. "Tell me, is that scalpel consistent with the wound as well?"

"Of course it is. However, it is not the scalpel that was used in the murder of Corbin Schulte."

Mason raised an eyebrow. "Really? Exactly how do you know it isn't. Were you the one that removed the scalpel from his chest?"

"Of course I wasn't. But it is well known that the scalpel was of solid gold."

"And just exactly how do you know that? Did the prosecutor tell you that?"

"Objection!"

Before Sullivan could give the reason for his objection, Thatcher cut him off. "I think the question is very reasonable, Mr Sullivan." He turned his attention back to Gwynn. "You may answer Mr Mason."

The doctor made no attempt to hide his displeasure with the judge's ruling. "Yes, he is the one who told me."

Mason turned to Judge Thatcher who held back a smile. He knew exactly what Mason was going to say. He walked the witness right into a trap. "I must object and request his answer be stricken from the record as hearsay."

"So moved," Thatcher ruled.

Gary Sullivan displayed his displeasure on the line of questioning and the ruling. It was just exactly what Mason was looking for.

Mason looked at the medical examiner. "Now, I ask you again, since the scalpel I handed you is consistent with the wound inflicted upon the deceased, you don't know, of your own knowledge . . . this time," Mason said, raising his voice and an eyebrow, "that the scalpel Mr Sullivan handed you is the murder weapon, now do you?"

Obviously livid at Mason, he had no choice but to give him the answer he seeked. "No, I don't!" The disgust was there in his voice, and he made no attempt to hide it.

"Thank you. That will be all," Mason said and went back to the defense table.

Gary Sullivan stared at Mason. He didn't understand him. What difference did it make who told Gwynn the scalpel was made of gold? It was the one found in Schulte's chest. It was the murder weapon. Furthermore, he hadn't even introduced it yet. That would be done when Carl Reese took the stand. There was nothing Mason could do to discredit it. Courtroom parlor tricks! That was all the man was capable of. Sullivan would enjoy beating him. This was the proverbial slam-dunk case. Ben Stern was guilty of murder, and as soon as he found out what Schulte was blackmailing him over, there would be no way Mason would be able to pull a rabbit out of his hat this time.

Mr Prosecutor!" The judge called out in a raised voice.

Pulled out of his private thoughts, Sullivan looked up. "Yes, Your Honor."

"Do you have anything else for this witness?"

"No, Your Honor."

Thatcher dismissed the medical examiner. "Call your next witness."

"The people call Lieutenant Carl Reese to the stand," Sullivan called out.

Carl stood up, walked to the front of the room and was sworn in as the next prosecution witness.

3

The streets in San Francisco were ridiculous. Carly Williams couldn't believe the slope of some of the roads. They made her feel like she was on a roller coaster. Despite that, she wouldn't mind being in this city permanently. She would like to be the reporter who brought down the great Robert T Ironside. She didn't believe for one minute that he was as squeaky clean as everyone made him out to be. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as an honest cop. They were all on the take in one way or another. She would find out what Ironside was into. It would definitely be sooner rather than later. Carly would find out just exactly why he was attempting to protect Ben Stern.

Dr Ben Stern was guilty as hell. Of that, she had no doubt. So why was Ironside so determined to get him out of a murder charge? What was Ironside hiding? There had to be a reason, and she was just the individual to find out what it was.

Williams entered the hospital one more time. She was going to find out just exactly what Corbin Schulte had over Ben Stern. That was definitely the reason Stern murdered him. Once Carly found out what it was, she would break the case wide open. Finally, her boss would realize what a good reporter she was. Then he would offer her a large salary. Unfortunately for him, he wouldn't be able to meet the salary the San Francisco Chronicle would offer her as she intended to give the story to them.

Entering the hospital, she went directly to the information desk. A little old lady was sitting in a chair. With her blue hair and false teeth, she smiled at Carly. "May I help you, young lady?"

"I would like to speak with Nurse Beverly Kane."

The elderly lady checked the employee schedule. "You are in luck. She is working today. In fact, if you hurry, You can catch her on her break. Otherwise, you would have to come back tomorrow."

Carly grinned. "Excellent! What floor is she on?"

Checking again, the old woman replied. "She is on the 5th floor. You might have to ask someone at the desk to let her know you are here. You won't be able to go back into the employee lounge."

"Thank you very much. I'll do that." Carly left the desk only to be called back by the woman.

"You must wear a visitor's badge with your name on it." She pulled out one, picked up a pen, and asked, "What is your name?"

"Carly Williams."

She wrote it on the sticky name tag and handed it to Williams.

Carly left the desk once again and headed to the nearest elevator. After taking it to the fifth floor, she went directly to the desk. "I would like to see Beverly Kane."

The nurse at the station looked up. "Is this an emergency?"

"Well no, not exactly. I am from the Los Angeles Times. I would like to have a word with her. I understand she is on her break. It will only take a minute."

"I guess it is alright. She is in the break room. It is down that hall," she told her as she pointed. "Please don't keep her from her job. We are short-handed today."

Carly smiled. "I won't. Like I said, it will only take a minute or two." She left the station and went directly to the employee lounge. So much for not being allowed to go in there. The old lady at the desk didn't know what she was talking about.

When she arrived at the breakroom, Carly opened the door and went in. There were three women in the room. No wonder they were short-handed. What were three of them doing on a break at the same time? "Which one of you is Nurse Beverly Kane?"

Kane looked as if she had been on duty for more hours than she should have. She had dark circles under her eyes and she looked as though she could drop any time. Her blond hair, which was pulled behind her in a ponytail, had several strands pulled loose from the rest of it. "That would be me. What can I do for you?"

"My name is Carly Williams. I am a reporter for the Los Angeles Times. I would like to talk to you about Corbin Schulte."

"There isn't much I can tell you. I didn't hear much at all. Mr Schulte accused Dr Stern of botching the first surgery, and that he had a surgeon who would testify that he did if the new surgery wasn't a success. That is all I heard."

It wasn't much. It only proved the two men were at odds regarding his surgery. If there was another surgeon involved, Carly had to find out who it was. "Did Schulte say who the other surgeon was?"

"No, he never mentioned a name. I told you I didn't hear much."

"Did anyone else hear a disagreement between them?"

She thought for a minute. She knew Jill didn't want to get involved, but what did she care? "You might talk to Jill over there. She might have some information."

Carly glanced over at the nurse sitting across the room with a soft drink on the table and staring into her cellphone. She left Beverly Kane and walked over to Gilbert's table. She sat down.

Jill Gilbert looked up from her phone. "Did you want something?"

"I am . . ."

"Yeah, I heard. I don't know anything about a conversation between Dr Stern and Corbin Schulte. Besides, there is no way Dr Stern killed him. He would never do it."

"Is that an opinion, or do you know something that would give him an alibi?"

"No, I know nothing, I just know Dr Stern."

Carly noticed Jill Gilbert wouldn't look her in the eye. "I don't think you are telling me the truth."

"You know, I really don't care what you think. If I heard an argument between Dr Stern and Corbin Schulte, I wouldn't tell you anyway. Schulte was scum. He deserved what he got. We are done here. I have to get back to work." She stood up and pushed her way past Williams.

Why were those two so protective of Ben Stern? From what she had found out, neither one of them knew the man very well. They rarely came in contact with him. Carly wondered if it was just his quiet and calm demeanor that had them protecting Stern. She couldn't think of any other reason. Still, she thought she would check into them further. Maybe they were hiding something.

Her cell phone rang. She reached into her purse and pulled it out. Looking at the screen, she could see that it was her editor. She had been waiting for his call.

"Carly, what the hell is going on? I sent you on a cruise to relax. You've been way too intense, and it shows in your writing. When I contacted the ship, they said you left at the last port they stopped at. Where in the hell are you, and what are you doing?"

"Wow, Jerry, you call me intense. Anyway, I'm in San Francisco."

Before she could say another word, Jerry Howell interrupted her. "Just what the hell are you doing in San Francisco."

"Following up on a story. You heard about the surgeon who murdered his patient, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. Everything Perry Mason does is news. Therefore, we always hear about it. That doesn't explain why you are in San Francisco."

"Because. Perry Mason is the defense attorney. I am covering the trial."

"We don't need to cover the trial. We cover them when he is here in Los Angeles. The San Francisco Chronicle is perfectly capable of covering the trial. If we need any information, they will send it over. Now get your ass back here to Los Angeles."

Carly couldn't believe it! He was telling her to drop the story. She had to convince him that the story was big, and it was going to be the first time Mason would be defeated in the courtroom. "Listen, Jerry, I haven't written an article that I wrote about Perry Mason and Della Street. Let me send it to you, and then we'll talk." She opened up her word processor on her phone. After emailing it to her editor, she waited for his reply. He would have to see that Mason and Street were compromised. She waited patiently for him to absorb what she wrote.

After a couple of minutes, Jerry Howell came back on line. "You must be kidding! You really think this is a story? People have been speculating for years about their relationship. Who gives a damn? No one in this day and age cares whether they are sleeping together or not. It's not a story, and the Los Angeles Times is not a gossip magazine. I am telling you for your own good, you get back here to Los Angeles, and you do it now!"

"I'm sorry, Jerry, I can't do that. There is a huge story here, and I know it. Mason and Ironside are trying to get the murderer off. I would think that you would want to cover that. If you don't want the story, I will go to the San Francisco Chronicle. I have uncovered facts. I have no doubt they will print my coverage of this trial."

"If you don't come back here immediately, you're fired! The story that you just handed in to me is nothing but garbage. I will not allow it to be printed. You would open this newspaper to a lawsuit by Perry Mason. In case you haven't covered him before, he never loses a case. I am not going to put this newspaper in jeopardy because of you. Either get back here, or you're done."

She had a decision to make. Then again, it wasn't that difficult to make. Her editor had never taken her work seriously. All he gave her was silly puff pieces to write. She was an outstanding journalist, and she knew it. She was onto something here and she wasn't about to drop it. Not even if it meant the loss of her job. She was certain that the San Francisco Chronicle would hire her. She never really cared for Los Angeles anyway.

"I'm sorry, Jerry, but I can't do that. I will offer the story to you before I do the Chronicle. You will see, I am right, and this is a huge story."

"Carly, you're fired!" Howell slammed down the receiver.

Jerry was so short-sighted! She had the story of the century, and he wasn't smart enough to see it. Well, she would investigate the story and write it. Then she would take it to the San Francisco Chronicle. She had no doubt they would appreciate her journalism. She was an investigative journalist! She would prove it to Jerry, and he would regret firing her!

4

Robert Ironside hung up the phone after speaking with Gladys Farnsworth. He thought about the years she was on the City Council. He always found her to be a level-headed council member. Yet, she wouldn't face the fact that her daughter being a prostitute couldn't be kept quiet. Furthermore, she seemed to be more concerned about that than she was about her disappearance. Something wasn't adding up. Whenever the hair on the back of his neck stood up, Ironside never ignored it. And right now, it was standing straight up. Why was Gladys Farnsworth not more worried about the disappearance of her daughter? She seemed to be in the beginning, but that was until she thought her daughter's occupation might become public. Now, every conversation seemed to center around that fact, rather than her daughter being missing.

Was Gladys hiding something? He hated to think so. He always felt she was an excellent council member who voted in his favor when it came to cases the city council was up in arms about.

With no one in the office, Ironside would do some investigating on his own. He turned his wheelchair around and headed for the ramp. His priority was to protect the life of Teresa Farnsworth. He had to allow the chips to fall where they may, regardless of how it affected Gladys Farnsworth.

Taking the van, Ironside drove over to the Hall of Justice. He got out of the van and headed inside. He wanted to see Judge Thatcher, but that would be impossible, since he was in court at the moment. However, he knew what he was about to do was a long shot anyway. Even as friendly as he was with Herman Thatcher, he didn't believe Thatcher would give him the court order. Maybe a judge of lesser abilities would do so.

He went directly to Judge Frederick Fillmore. If the truth be told, Ironside did not have much respect for Fillmore. He felt he ignored too many facts in the courtroom, and as a result, several criminals had been returned to society. More than one of them ended up in Herman Thatcher's Court, and were eventually convicted of the crimes they should have been convicted of in Fillmore's courtroom.

He entered the outer office of the judge's chambers. A smiling secretary greeted him.

"Hello, Chief Ironside. It is a pleasure to see you, although it is also a rarity that you come to this office. What can I do for you?"

In his no-nonsense, gruff tone, Ironside replied, "I need to see Judge Fillmore."

She cringed. Fillmore did not like anyone showing up without an appointment. Not even Robert T Ironside. "Chief, I am sure you are aware that Judge Fillmore does not see people without an appointment."

"I'm aware of that. However, when investigating a crime, I can't always make an appointment. So, please tell Judge Fillmore I am here to see him."

She nodded and went over to the door that led to the judge's chambers. She knocked and disappeared inside. Ironside waited. He hadn't thought ahead if the judge refused to see him. Besides, he knew that there was a good chance the judge would refuse him anyway.

The secretary came back into the outer office. "His Honor will see you."

She opened the door as Ironside wheeled forward. Putting one hand on each side of the door frame, the detective pulled himself into the judge's chambers.

"Hello Chief. I'm actually surprised to see you. You always go to Judge Thatcher when you have a problem."

Ironside noted his snarky remark. Ignoring it in pure Ironside fashion, he wheeled over to the judge's desk. Settling in his wheelchair, he said, "Judge Thatcher is in the middle of a murder trial."

Fillmore smiled. "I am well aware of that. No doubt, that is the reason you have come to me. However, I will not get involved in anything to do with Judge Thatcher's trial. So, if that is the reason you are here, you are wasting your time."

"Actually it doesn't have anything to do with the trial going on down the hall. I am here on behalf of Gladys Farnsworth. As I am sure you probably have heard, her daughter, Teresa Farnsworth has been missing for several days now."

"I have heard about it. What is it you need, Chief?"

"I am investigating her disappearance. You are fully aware that I have to turn over every stone. I would like to eliminate Gladys Farnsworth as a suspect in her disappearance."

Fillmore frowned. "You must be kidding! You can't really believe she had anything to do with her daughter's disappearance."

"I do not believe so, but I can't assume anything. As I said, I want to eliminate her as a suspect."

"So what do you want from me?"

"I would like a court order to examine her bank accounts, as well as search her office in this building."

"I'm not inclined to issue that type of court order, or the search warrant. Exactly, what evidence do you have that Mrs Farnsworth is behind her daughter's disappearance?"

"I don't. However, she doesn't seem to be all that concerned about her disappearance. She seems to be more concerned about her daughter's occupation."

Fillmore drummed his fingers on his desk. "I see, and what exactly is her daughter's occupation?"

"She's a prostitute. I don't have to tell you how that would affect Gladys Farnsworth if it were to get out into the public."

"Yes, I can see where she wouldn't want that to become known. The problem is, you are asking me to grant a search warrant with absolutely no evidence whatsoever that she is involved."

"Your Honor, I came here knowing fully well there was a very good chance, no not a good chance, but more than likely that you would refuse me. I am asking you to consider my position. Despite my belief that Gladys has nothing to do with her disappearance, she still has motive. I have to explore that motive. It will be pretty difficult to do without that search warrant. I want to check her bank accounts and her office."

"I'm surprised you're not asking to search her home as well."

The detective had known that this was a long shot, and it was obvious the judge wasn't going to go for it. "I need to know your answer, Judge Fillmore."

"I am sorry, Chief Ironside. If you had something that pointed toward Gladys being responsible, I wouldn't hesitate to give you what you want. However, I don't believe Herman would give it to you either. Your request is denied."

Ironside blew out of breath. He knew it was a long shot. He would have to find another way to investigate Gladys Farnsworth. "Thank you anyway, Your Honor." He turned his chair around and headed for the door.

"Robert."

Turning his head to the side, the detective stopped the forward movement of his chair.

"I would have given it to you if you had more. Please don't think you have to go to Herman all the time. I believe in the justice system. If I feel you have enough for what you're asking, you will get it."

Ironside nodded and wheeled out of the room.

If he couldn't check into her bank accounts, he could certainly check into her activities as a council member. He wheeled his chair to the elevator. Next stop, the records room.