“It means you’d sit in a jail cell until trial.”
Her face paled.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered back. “It’s not going to happen.”
I rose from my chair. “Judge, that’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. Fiona O’Shea is a pillar of this community. She’s opening a new shop this Saturday, and she has family all over town. She’s not going anywhere.”
Brad’s jaw tightened. “The defendant has lucrative financial holdings and could flee. She’s charged with recklessly poisoning food, and she could have killed someone.”
“With my lotion?” Nana said, aghast. “That wouldn’t kill anybody. You could eat that stuff, it’s so natural.”
“Nana,” I said under my breath. “Don’t talk.”
“I didn’t do it, Judge,” she added quickly. “I thought I should make that clear.”
The judge rubbed his temple. “Thank you, Mrs. O’Shea. Please let your attorney speak for you.”
“Oh. Sorry, Judge.” Nana clasped her hands together.
I took a deep breath. “Your Honor, my client isn’t going anywhere. She’s ready to fight these ridiculous charges and has every intention of staying in town.”
The judge looked down at his notes, sighed, and finally said, “The defendant will be released on her own recognizance.”
“What does that mean?” Nana whispered.
“It means you get to go home,” I said quietly.
Her delight returned immediately. “That’s a relief. Let’s get this over with.”
The judge nodded. “We’ll need a preliminary hearing for probable cause. What’s everyone’s schedule?”
“As soon as possible, Judge,” I said.
“Fair enough. June first,” he said.
Brad flipped through his planner. “I’m busy that day, Judge. That whole week, actually.”
“Too bad,” Judge Wallowby said. “That’s when it’s set. If you can’t make it, send someone else from your office.”
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. The judge didn’t like this circus any more than I did, and that gave me some hope, even if we somehow ended up in trial.
“That’s it for today.” The judge slammed the gavel and stood. “If there are any preliminary matters, file them. Otherwise, we’re done.” He stormed out, his bailiff trailing close behind.
Brad gathered his papers with a stiff smile and walked over to me. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Pretty sure,” I said flatly.
“Good,” he replied, handing me a folded sheet of paper. “I haven’t filed this yet, but here’s your copy.”
I unfolded it and scanned the first line. “What is this?”
“It’s a motion to move the venue. I want this case out of Silverville,” he said.
My stomach sank, and I couldn’t even blame him. “You want to move the venue to Timber City?”
“Oh, hell no,” Brad said, smug as ever. “I want to move it to Boise.”
“Boise?” Nana hissed. “All the way down south?”
