ejected from this courtroom.”
“Shhh, Billy,” the defense attorney murmured. “This is not helping.”
“All right,” the judge said. “Mr. Spurlock, you may continue.”
The assistant DA nodded and turned back to Jane. “What happened after you knocked on the door to two-E?”
“There was no answer. But we could still hear the screaming. The banging. We made the joint decision that a life was in danger, and that we needed to enter the apartment with or without consent.”
“And did you enter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“They kicked my fucking door down!” said Rollo.
“Silence, Mr. Rollo!” the judge snapped, and the defendant slouched back in his chair, his gaze burning on Jane.
Stare at me all you want, jerk. You think you scare me?
“Detective Rizzoli,” said Spurlock, “what did you see inside that apartment?”
Jane turned her attention back to the assistant DA. “We saw a man and a woman. The woman was lying on her back. Her face was severely bruised, and her lip was bleeding. The man was crouched over her. He had both his hands around her neck.”
“Is that man now sitting in this courtroom?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please point him out.”
She pointed to Billy Wayne Rollo.
“What happened then?”
“Detective Frost and I pulled Mr. Rollo off the woman. She was still conscious. Mr. Rollo resisted us, and in the scuffle, Detective Frost received a heavy blow to the abdomen. Mr. Rollo then fled the apartment. I gave chase and followed him into the stairwell. There I was able to apprehend him.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes, sir.” She paused. Added, without any attempt at humor: “After he fell down the stairs. He appeared to be quite intoxicated.”
“She fucking
pushed
me!” said Rollo.
The judge slammed down his gavel. “I have heard
enough
out of you! Bailiff, please remove the defendant.”
“Your honor.” The defense attorney rose. “I will keep him under control.”
“You haven’t done a very good job of it so far, Ms. Quinlan.”
“He’ll be quiet now.” She looked at her client. “
Won’t
you?”
Rollo gave a resentful grunt.
Spurlock said: “No further questions, your honor,” and sat down.
The judge looked at the defense attorney. “Ms. Quinlan?”
Victoria Quinlan rose for the cross-examination. Jane had never before dealt with this particular attorney, and she was not sure what to expect. As Quinlan approached the witness stand, Jane thought: You’re young, blond, and gorgeous. What are you doing defending this creep? The woman moved like a fashion model on a catwalk, long legs emphasized by a short skirt and pointy high heels. It made Jane’s feet hurt just to look at those shoes. A woman like Quinlan had probably always been the center of attention, and she was milking it now as she strolled to the witness stand, clearly aware that every man sitting in that jury box was probably staring at her firm little ass.
“Good morning, Detective,” said Quinlan. Sweetly. Too sweetly. Any second now this blonde was going to sprout fangs.
“Good morning, ma’am,” said Jane, utterly neutral.
“You said that you are currently assigned to the homicide unit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And what new cases are you actively investigating right now?”
“At the moment, I have no new cases. But I continue to follow up on—”
“Yet you are a Boston PD detective. And at this moment, are there no murder cases that require vigorous investigation?”
“I’m on maternity leave.”
“Oh. You’re on
leave.
So you’re not currently with the unit.”
“I’m performing administrative duties.”
“But let’s be clear on this. You’re not an
active
detective.” Quinlan smiled. “At the moment.”
Jane felt her face flush. “As I said, I’m on maternity leave. Even cops have babies,” she added with a note of sarcasm, and immediately regretted it.
Don’t play her game. Keep your cool.
That was easier said than done in this oven of a courtroom.