Jeap’s Holler — Chapter III

sun rays of woman's face

A silver Hummer vehicle, sparkling and impressive, sat parked at the far end of the wide pavement in front of the mansion.  The Hummer’s windows were tinted black.  But the back of it was all that could be seen from the limo as the limo crossed the pavement towards the mansion.  Suddenly the intercom beeped and immediately Her Honor’s voice issued forth in her usual bored tone.

“This is far enough.  Stop here,” she said.

“But ma’am—” said the driver.

“I said, stop here!”

The driver brought the vehicle to a quick halt still some fifteen yards away from the front of the mansion and at least thirty-five yards from the silver Hummer, parked a distance beyond.

“Thank you.”  Her voice was pinched and cynical.

“Trev, I need a minute.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the bodyguard.

The driver watched his boss through the rearview mirror.

“What’s she doing?” asked the bodyguard.

“Texting, I think.  Or unfriending some more of her crew.”

“Dumbass!” said the bodyguard then smiled to himself.

The driver continued watching.

“She just threw the phone in her purse.  Okay, here we go,” said the driver.  “I hope she let’s me out this time.”

“You were let out the last time, remember?”

“I don’t know about you but I’m starved.”

“This won’t take long, Poindexter.  Whatever it is she’s up to won’t take long because she hates fresh air.”

The intercom beeped again.

“Okay Trev, I’m ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The bodyguard rocked forward and was about to pull the door lever but Her Honor had not finished giving instructions.

“But Trev, listen.  I don’t need an escort this time.  I’m going alone.  So just let me out; then wait here.  I’ll be fifteen minutes.  Okay, now be a gentleman.”

The light on the intercom turned off.

“Goddamnit!  Shit!” swore the bodyguard.  “She’s trying to fuck me up, isn’t she.  Why even have protocol if you never follow it?  I guarantee you this, Poindexter: if anything goes down, you’d better believe I’m calling you to testify on my behalf.  You got that?”

The muscular bodyguard snatched his sunglasses from his breast pocket as he pushed the door open with his foot then stepped from the limousine into the park-like setting.  But once out of the vehicle, his professionalism returned and he showed no emotion whatsoever.  He brushed his suit jacket smooth with his hands while making an assessment of his surroundings, then strode stone-faced around the end of the car to the door where the judge waited to be let out.

He opened her door.  She stood up with a heavy sigh then looked around while clutching her purse.  In that moment she seemed small, even vulnerable, to the bodyguard.

“Thank you, Trev.  I won’t be long.  It’s okay; I know the person I’m seeing,” she reassured him.

“I feel better knowing that, ma’am.  Thank you,” he replied.

“When we’re done here, what do you say we have a good ole greasy-spoon burger back in town.  I’m pretty hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am.”

“Good.  I’ll be right back.”

She reached up and patted the bodyguard’s shoulder, an unusual display of affection for the judge, which prompted a sudden, uneasy knot in the pit of his stomach.

Then she started towards the silver Hummer, favoring her right side a bit as she went.

The judge plodded her way to the passenger side of the tall silver vehicle and tapped her knuckles on the rear door window.  Robotically the window opened.  The judge was greeted by the smiling face of a young woman seated in the cockpit of the vehicle who looked back through the space between the two, tall bucket seats.

“Hi, I’m up here,” she said, “Why don’t you join me?”

“Sure,” said the judge.

Robotically the doors unlocked and the front passenger door popped open like the hatch of a spaceship.  With a bit of effort the judge hoisted herself into the silver ship and closed the door.  The doors automatically relocked themselves.

“You must be Jane Smith,” said the judge out of breath.

“Yes, and you must be Cordelia, the blunt but honest daughter.”

“You know your Shakespeare.”

“A good lawyer would.  May I call you ‘Your Honor’?”

The judge shrugged.  “That’s fine,” she said.

“Would you like a tour of the grounds, first?”

“No, not today, thank you,” replied the judge.

The judge turned her head looking out the window to her right at the Bridewell mansion.  She began smiling and shanking her head in consternation not making eye contact with the beautiful young Jane who sat in the driver’s seat beside her.

“Is there something on your mind, Your Honor?”

“Yeah, there is,” said the judge.  “I’ve come all this way and you seem—awfully—”  The judge sniggered.

“Pretty? Young?” said Jane.

“I was going to say junior but, yes, both.  This is a very serious business you’re in; I guess I just expected someone more seasoned is all.  I’m sure you understand the risks involved for someone like myself?”

“Yes, Your Honor, I do.  And that is why they sent me.  I’m the best they have.  And I’ve done this more times that you’d believe.  In fact, this is all I’ve ever done over the course of my career.  But if you’re uncomfortable, I’m sure other arrangements—”

“No, it’s not that,” interrupted the judge.  “I’m sorry.  I’m nervous, I think.  I’m perfectly comfortable with you, Jane.  I promise I’ll do precisely what you ask me to.  I trust you.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“All right. Let’s get started, then.”

The young woman opened a soft leather attaché which rested on her lap and pulled from it a manilla envelope.  The envelope was sealed and had no markings on the outside.

“First things first,” said Jane still holding the envelope.  She looked directly into the judges’s eyes.

“Are you sure?” she asked, “because once we start down this path, that’s it.  No turning back.  So I need to know right here and now, Your Honor:  Is there any shred of doubt in your mind?”


The judge’s voice was resolute.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.  I can assure you I’ve given this a great deal of thought—probably more than it needed—and I know that this is exactly what I want.  I want a new life—desperately.”

“Then we’re good,” said Jane.  “Here.”

She handed the judge the envelope.

“For your eyes only.  Keep it in a safe place until you can peruse it without interruption.  You don’t want any copies of this floating around on the internet, I assure you.  That is why I needed to give it to you in person.  But it’s only your head start on the transitional stuff while you’re in Zurich.”

“I understand,” said the judge.

2 replies on “Jeap’s Holler — Chapter III”

  1. Wow ! You’ve written a lot ! I must catch up on all that I’ve missed. Good to see you in such a productive state.

  2. Thank you! These chapters (from Jeap’s Holler) were work I did in around 2017 but I did edit them a little before posting them here. They are relatively short chapters — around 1000 words each — and I have a few more I can post, and will probably. I continue re-editing and preparing “Wanderer Come Home” for print. I’m doing the “fine toothed comb” copy edit and ironing out any passages which don’t read as smoothly as they should. I’m about 2/3 of the way finished with that project but should complete it before too long.

    It’s always good to hear from you, Lopamudra. Hope your second novel is doing well. Dale

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