“That’s correct, ma’am.”

“It is possible that Mr. Jennings was actually nodding, as in agreeing?”

“Well, technically, yes …”

“And the other man did shove Mr. Jennings after the nodding?”

“He did, but it looked like he was trying to keep Mr. Jennings back.”

“But you don’t know that was his intention, correct?”

“Well, no.”

“You also didn’t overhear the conversation between Mr. Jennings and the driver of the car that stopped. Right?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“So, again, he could have been agreeing with something the driver said, correct?”

“I suppose it’s possible, but it looked like …”

“Thank you. No further questions.”

“Redirect?”

“No, Your Honor. The Commonwealth rests but Mr. Robbins, the man from the sidewalk and Mr. Thomas, the driver would both be available to testify at trial.”

“Okay, Ms. Ginsburg, I assume you don’t have any evidence to present.”

“Wait a minute!” my client stood up and announced in a very loud voice. Oh Jesus Christ no! We had discussed this. I had explained the difference between a preliminary hearing like this one and a trial. I had also explained what a bad choice it would be to testify. I tried to talk to him but he wasn’t listening. “I have a right to be heard!” he boomed in an exceedingly dramatic manner. Shit.

“Ms. Ginsburg,” Judge Channing said with a warning tone. What did he want me to do, wrestle Tweety Bird to the ground? I tried threatening and pleading with my client to no avail. Why did nobody ever listen to me?

“I wish to testify!” he cried as if he were making a declaration of war.

“I’m sure that Ms. Ginsburg informed you that it would not be in your interest to testify, Mr. Jennings,” the judge announced in a scathing tone, “However, if you insist then take the stand. Swear him in, Wayne.”

I had a feeling that Braden was going to see me drunk for a second time soon. I got up to do my duty.

“Mr. Jennings, would you please briefly explain what happened on the day in question,” I asked resignedly.

“Well, first of all, hello, I’m Lance Jennings and I’m an actor,” he explained to the judge, sounding like he was doing a public service announcement. “I was hired to do promotional work for the Bucket O’ Chicken restaurant. I was not informed that I might be verbally abused and attacked in the street!”

“Objection. Nonresponsive,” Braden interrupted.

“Get to the point, Mr. Jennings!” Judge Channing admonished.

“I was simply playing my role out on the sidewalk when a cretin with dreadlocks began calling me a murderer. Like I killed the damned chickens myself! I don’t even like chicken!”

“He called you a ‘murderer’. Did he threaten you in any way?” I asked with a glimmer of hope. Maybe I could at least build a record to support a defense for trial.

“Yes! He asked me how I would like it if someone lopped off my leg and served it with gravy! I was in fear for my life!” There went the glimmer. The chicken was a ham.

“Did he make any aggressive moves?” I tried another tactic. Maybe Orville had missed something. His glasses were about six inches thick, after all.

“Objection! Calls for interpretation,” Braden said.

“Overruled. You can answer,” the judge replied.

“He jabbed me!” He said it like someone would say “I’m hit!”

“He jabbed you?”

“With his finger!” He looked traumatized.

“Did that place you in fear?”

“Objection! Leading in effect if not in form. She’s telling him what to say, Your Honor,” Braden correctly pointed out.

“Sustained,” Judge Channing ruled. “Don’t answer that, Mr. Jennings.”

“How did it make you feel?” I tried again.

“I was in fear of course! God only knows where that finger had been! He looked like he hadn’t bathed in about a decade. I’ll probably get a disease!”

Curiosity got the better of me then and I glanced at Braden, who, as I suspected, was biting his own finger trying desperately not to laugh. He looked away so that he wouldn’t lose it.

“So what happened then?”

“I defended myself by the only means available to me! I pecked him!” Braden suddenly had a coughing fit behind me.

“So the pecking was a defensive move?”

“Yes!”

“Why did you chase after him?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head and looking like he was searching for an answer in the very depths of his very soul. “I can only assume that it was temporary insanity brought on by emotional anguish.” Oh, wasn’t that special? Now the chicken was a lawyer too.

“And what happened with the driver of the car?”

“He tried to kill me! That vehicle was a deadly weapon in his hands and then he got out of it and yelled at me very rudely! I knew that someone that uncivilized had to be violent. I did what I had to do.”

“No further questions.” I sat down and thanked the good Lord for creating vodka.

“Mr. Pierce?” Judge Channing asked in a falsely cheerful voice. Braden stood up and approached Mr. Jennings cautiously. I didn’t blame him. Mr. Jennings did seem like kind of a volatile guy even peckerless like today.

“Just to be clear here, Mr. Jennings, you were not actually nodding in agreement with either the man on the sidewalk or the driver of the car at any time. Correct?”

“Agreement?! With those Philistines?! No!”

“You freely admit that you did, in fact, peck the man on the sidewalk and attempt to peck the driver of the car?”

“And I would do it again,” he said in a dramatically hushed tone. I half expected him to stand up and do a sweeping bow.

“No further questions,” Braden said.

“Defense rests.”

“Argument?” Judge Channing was being so calm that I got a little worried. I cleared my throat, stood, and with as much dignity as I could muster did my best to make a professional-sounding legal argument. Or at least one that was less asinine than my client’s testimony.

“Your Honor, my client, Mr. Jennings, has testified that he was in fear for his safety,and not thinking clearly due to the … emotional anguish … he was suffering. I would argue that he lacked the necessary intent to commit simple assault.”

“Mr. Pierce?” the judge asked with a smile. I was getting really worried now.

“Your Honor, I’m pretty sure that he just confessed to assault under oath.”

“That would be my interpretation as well, Mr. Pierce,” Judge Channing said. “Mr. Jennings, from now on I would seriously consider listening to your attorney. I’m going to advise the Commonwealth to add the charges of reckless endangerment and aggravated assault. I’m holding all of the other charges for trial. Schedule it, Wayne! Court adjourned!” He banged his gavel so hard I thought he might break it and then he got up and stalked off the bench.

“This is a miscarriage of justice!” Mr. Jennings cried as the deputy led him away. Wow, what an exit. I turned slowly to face Braden who was sitting at the prosecution table. I saw Adam and Jess approaching from opposite sides of the courtroom.

“Go ahead,” I said to Braden.

“Oh, baby, I just don’t even know what to say.” He was trying really hard not to laugh.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” I said to Adam.

“Too easy,” he said, also obviously trying to contain his mirth. Hey, at least I had cheered him up!

“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.

“Just what I said. Too easy, and too easy is getting boring.”

“Gabrielle, honey, that was just bizarre,” Jess said sympathetically.

“I told that pecker not to testify,” I said through gritted teeth and Braden snorted with laughter and covered his face with his hands, trying not to completely lose it.

Adam started humming the Foghorn Leghorn song, filling in the “doo-dah, doo-dah,” and Braden almost choked.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

We had all left work a bit early that day and met in the parking garage of Braden’s building. I had insisted that we rent a minivan. If there was one thing I remembered from the hellish experience of Girl Scout camp (other than the fact that mosquitoes the size of small poodles existed on Earth), it was that out in the woods it was best to do everything in groups. I might add we needed a large vehicle anyway since we had brought enough alcohol to guarantee that we would all being seeing UFOs by the end of the weekend. Adam thought that the image of Braden driving a Dodge Grand Caravan was extremely amusing, though.

“Dude, six months ago if I had suggested you would be driving this fine piece of machinery you would have told me to go f**k myself,” Adam said, laughing. I might add that Braden normally drove a BMW M6 convertible.

“Go f**k yourself,” Braden answered.

“I feel like we should be dropping somebody’s kids off at soccer practice,” Jess said.

“Or transporting a soccer league,” Lily added. Adam had seemed to take Lily’s presence in stride. In fact, I almost thought that he might have secretly been happy she was going. I was pretty sure that Adam really was getting bored with things that were too easy.

The trip would only take about forty-five minutes so we would be there in plenty of time for the opening get-together of the UFO gathering that I had also booked us into. I brought along plenty of information to supplement that fine documentary Jess had made us watch the other night. I wanted us to sound like well-informed conspiracy theorists, as I felt it was important to blend. God knows, we didn’t want to seem odd.

Bruno was being doggie-sat this weekend by Aunt Beth and Grandma and Grandpa Pierce. Beth had just taken him with her (along with a few thousand dollars’ worth of doggie accessories and gourmet kibble) after an emotional goodbye. I thought Braden might actually cry. We both came from very close families. Cam and Jess climbed into the rear seats and Adam and Lily took the middle. I, of course, rode shotgun.

“Now I want you kids to behave back there. No fighting or kicking the seats,” I joked.

“Yeah, don’t make me turn this minivan around,” Braden added.

About fifteen minutes later we had made it out of the city and we were on the open road headed for rural Bucks County, PA with Lily, Jess and I belting out the lyrics to Southern Cross along with Crosby, Stills, & Nash. It was getting darker earlier now and by the time we were close to our destination the atmosphere had definitely changed.

“Nice location,” Cam called out from the back. “Very Blair Witch Project.”

“You know if I were driving a spaceship I’m not sure I’d want to land here,” Lily said, peering out the window.

“It’s better than the Ozarks, or the Mojave desert or any other places that they land. I mean at least they have hot tubs and a bar here,” I noted.

“It’s probably really pretty in the daytime,” Jess said optimistically.

“Maybe tomorrow when it’s light out they’ll plan a fall foliage nature hike and dead alien recon mission,” Adam added.

We arrived about fifteen minutes later. We pulled into a long drive bordered by trees and at the end I saw a large historic-looking white building that was actually quite lovely. Ha! The main lodge was in the center and two other wings connected to it on each side. The drive continued on around a small lake to the rear of the hotel and I could see the lights of cabins along the perimeter nestled amongst the trees and backed by forest.

“Hey!” Jess called out. “Are you sure you’re in the right place?”

“This is it. Overbrook Lodge,” Braden called back. “Must be for a better class of UFO hunters and conspiracy theorists.”

We parked the van and went into the main lodge where a huge stone fireplace formed the centerpiece and the hardwood floors gleamed. A bellman directed us to the antique-looking front desk where we checked in and got the lay of the land. There was a restaurant, saloon and gift shop, along with conference rooms, located in one wing and there were bedrooms and suites in the other. The front desk clerk gave us a schedule for the UFO conference, the keys to our luxury cabin, and instructions on how to get there. The restaurant did deliver to the cabins so we grabbed menus, placed an order, and left to go settle in.

The cabin was really nice too. We went in and quickly looked around. The floor plan was similar to that of the main building, as there was a central stone fireplace. A big screen TV was fixed to the wall behind it in lieu of artwork and it was surrounded by comfy-looking sofas. A tall bookshelf filled with novels, magazines and board games stood to one side. Behind the central fireplace area there was a modern kitchen, a small bar, and a table that seated eight. Sliding doors at the back led out to a deck that, as promised, housed a hot tub. To each side of the central area there were two bedrooms, and every bedroom had its own small private bathroom. Even though it was rather spacious, it had a cozy atmosphere. It also smelled like spiced cider, which, combined with the rust and gold décor created an autumn-like feel.

“This is pretty!” Lily said, sounding surprised.

“How much did you pay for this, baby?” Braden asked me suspiciously.

“Um, two or three thousand?”

“Two or three thousand?” Cam laughed. He was a former financial planner, by the way.

“For two nights?!” Jess asked. She was just a person who had a better grasp of money matters than I did. I was never good at that stuff.