He wrote down the word bedtime in clear, careful handwriting. He wrote down the time. Ulisses asked the court for permission to call a foundational witness. Sinclair objected.
“Foundational to what, Your Honor? There is nothing here to establish.” Ulisses did not look at Sinclair. He looked directly at Wakefield.
He spoke softly with the deliberate clarity of a child who had practiced this exact sentence 38 times into the dark. “Foundational, Your Honor, to whether opposing counsel has just perjured himself in this courtroom.” The room went still. Wakefield's smile vanished for the first time that morning. He sat back.
He sat the gavel down. Witness is allowed. At the plaintiff's table, Bradford Sinclair leaned over and whispered something to his lead associate. The associate's face went the color of paper.
Sinclair reached for his gold cufflink, twisted it once, twisted it again. The cufflink popped loose. It rolled silently across the table and stopped against the edge of his briefing book. Sinclair did not pick it up.
Walter Ashbury rose from the gallery. Mr. Ashbury, please come forward and be sworn. The bailiff swore him in.
Walter Ashbury, 50 years a county records archivist, gray beard, sea blue eyes, the uniform of an honest man, laid one hand on the Bible and the other on the rail. When he gave his name for the record, he turned his head slightly, very slightly, and looked directly at Judge Harrison Wakefield. Wakefield looked down at his desk. Ulisses began his five minutes, but the court would not hear them.
Not yet, because at exactly that moment, Wakefield slammed his palm on the bench. “This court will recess for thirty minutes. Counsel, both of you, chambers, now.” The hallway outside courtroom B smelled of floor wax and old paper. Ulisses stepped out first.
Eleanor was waiting on the wooden bench by the window, her hands folded around her purse, her shoulders very small. He did not get to her. Bradford Sinclair came through the doors three steps behind him and cornered him against the wall beside the water fountain. There was no one else in the hall but a janitor pushing a cart at the far end.