Theodore Boone - The Accomplice Page 7

  Theo could not comprehend Woody being referred to as a “criminal.” He took a deep breath, uncertain about what to say next. “Is it possible to write the bond for less than ten percent?”

  Sparky grunted his disapproval and waved a hand at the windows. “Not here, but feel free to go next door or across the street. But it’s a waste of time. Nobody can get your friend out quicker than me. I guarantee it.”

  Theo hesitated and tried to look as pitiful as possible. Sparky glared at him as if they were wasting their time. Theo asked, “So, if I bring you two thousand dollars in cash, how long will it take to get them out?”

  “About an hour.” Sparky stood as if he suddenly had better things to do. “Now beat it, kid.”

  “Thanks,” Theo said and walked to the door.

  At the jail, Officer Randolph examined the note from Mrs. Gladwell and told Theo to follow him. They went to a small windowless room that was barely wide enough for a narrow table and two folding chairs. Theo took a seat and unpacked his textbooks. He waited nervously, jumping at every sound in the hallway. Finally, Woody walked in and Officer Randolph closed the door behind him. It locked loudly.

  Woody’s left eye was swollen shut and he had a fresh cut on his forehead. He sat across from Theo and said, “You gotta get me out of here, Theo.”

  “What happened? You look awful.”

  “Got in a fight. Last night they put this guy Jock in our cell and he was serious trouble.”

  “What happened, Woody?”

  Woody placed his hands on the table. Both were shaking. His right eye watered, and it was obvious he was a wreck. He began. “Jock is a jerk, a real bully, and a tough guy. Tony and I tried to stay away from him but the cell is not big enough. About an hour ago, when they finally brought us lunch, Jock said he wanted half of my sandwich. I said no, and I guess that was the wrong thing to say. He grabbed for the sandwich, dumped my tray, and that started it all. He was just begging for a fight. He punched me in the face, Tony jumped on his back, and Jock basically beat the crap out of us. Before the guards could get there he had us both on the floor and was kicking away. You should see Tony’s face. Everybody was yelling, and when the guards grabbed Jock he yelled about how we jumped him and started it all. Two against one ain’t fair and stuff like that. They took him away to another cell and the guards cussed us for starting the fight, said we’d have to spend more time in jail for fighting.”

  Theo was stunned. He asked, “Is Tony okay?”

  “I think so. An EMT looked at him, said nothing was broken, put some ice on his face. Jock is one mean dude. You gotta help us, Theo. We’re in jail for doing nothing and this place is awful.”

  “I’m trying, okay? I just met with your mom and then with a bail bondsman. I also met with your lawyer, who is not that nice of a guy.”

  “We didn’t like him at all. He started off by telling us how busy he is, how he’s got fifty cases right now, all in Youth Court, and so he can’t spend much time with us. We told him what happened and got the impression he didn’t believe us. We need another lawyer, Theo.”

  “We’ll worry about that later. Right now we’re trying to raise bail money.”

  “What’s that?” Woody said, nodding at the textbooks.

  “Your homework. Mrs. Gladwell and Mr. Mount have decided that I need to tutor you so you won’t get behind.”

  “I’m already behind and you can take those books back where they came from. If I wasn’t doing homework at home, what makes you think I’ll do it here?”

  Which was a very good question and one Theo had been contemplating. Woody grimaced and pressed both hands against the sides of his head. “I don’t know how many times he kicked me but my head is killing me. It’s throbbing and my ears are ringing.”

  “Listen. We’ve got seven hundred dollars already. If we get a thousand then we can bail you out and go to work on Tony’s bail.”

  “No. I’m not leaving here without him. It’s both of us or nothing.”

  “Come on, Woody. You’re thirteen, he’s sixteen. He can survive here longer than you.”

  “Oh really? You should see him now, see how well he’s surviving. I’m not leaving without Tony.”

  Theo shook his head. “Okay, okay.”

  Nothing was said for a long minute. Woody gently massaged his temples as he frowned and closed his eyes. Theo felt like crying, but not here. This was jail and everybody played the tough guy.

  “What’s everybody saying about me?” Woody asked. “I’m sure the whole school knows I’m in jail.”

  “I haven’t talked to the whole school. Our gang knows what’s going on and everyone is on your side. You’ve done nothing wrong and all your buddies are trying to get you out. Mr. Mount is concerned and wants to help. Mrs. Gladwell has talked to the judge. We’re with you, Woody.”

  Woody took a deep breath and managed a smile, as if relieved.

  Theo said, “Don’t worry about everybody else, Woody. Only your friends matter and we’re all on your side.”

  “That stupid kid Garth. I wish Jock could go a round or two with him.”

  Theo slowly put the textbooks into his backpack. “You’re not leaving, are you?” Woody asked. “What’s the hurry?”

  “No. I won’t leave until they make me.”

  They chatted for almost an hour and Theo managed to get a couple of laughs out of his friend. Officer Randolph tapped on the door and said time was up.

  At the front desk, Theo picked up his cell phone and checked his messages. Mr. Mount texted that he had two hundred dollars for the cause. Chase was calling a meeting of the gang at Guff’s Yogurt for four thirty.

  Theo hopped on his bike and raced to the shabby old office where his uncle Ike worked occasionally. Ike was the older brother of Woods Boone and had once been a prominent lawyer in town. But he encountered some sort of vague “trouble” and was forced to leave the profession. He spent a few months in jail, long before Theo was born. Ike never talked about what happened, nor did Theo’s parents.

  His office was on the second floor of an old building owned by a Greek family that ran a deli downstairs. Theo hustled up the stairs, barged into the office, and found Ike at his desk, buried in paperwork, sipping a late afternoon beer, and listening to the Grateful Dead on the stereo. “What’s this?” he growled. He adored his only nephew but didn’t like the surprise intrusion.

  Theo stopped by every Monday afternoon for a required visit, but never on Thursdays. He blurted, “Ike, I need to borrow some money.”

  “I don’t have any money, Theo. What’s going on?”

  “Okay, I’ll be brief. One of my good friends is in jail and I’m trying to bail him out. His family has no money for bail and I’m trying to round up two thousand dollars. I’m putting up all of my savings, all four hundred dollars.”

  “Must be a real good friend. Why was he arrested?”

  “Armed robbery. It’s a long story but he’s not guilty.”

  “Don’t they all say that? A kid charged with armed robbery?”

  “Look, Ike, I’ll explain it all later. Right now I need some money. I’ve never asked you before and I’ll never ask you again. And it’s a loan. I promise I’ll pay it back. One day. Somehow.”

  Ike scratched his beard and pulled at his gray ponytail. “Pretty serious aren’t you?”

  “Dead serious, Ike.”

  “How do you plan to pay it back? You’re not exactly employed yet.”

  “I’ll think of something. Trust me.”

  Ike studied him for a long time and began to smile. Slowly, he reached into a drawer, removed a three-ring checkbook, and scribbled something. He tore out the check and handed it over. “Two hundred dollars. It’s the best I can do. And it’s a loan, not a gift.”

  Theo snatched the check, said, “You’re the greatest, Ike,” and took off.

  As Theo climbed onto his bike, his phone buzzed. It was a text from Daisy. Woody’s father had somehow found $100. Their effort was now at
$1,200, enough to spring Woody.

  Theo texted Elsa at the office and explained that he was helping Woody with his homework and would be running by the office. He was expected to stop there every afternoon, check in with Elsa and his parents, and hit the homework. At thirteen, he was growing tired of this ritual and longed for a bit of freedom. Next year he would enter the ninth grade, and high school, and he often wondered how his routine might change. Surely his parents would relax a little and give him some space.

  But on the other hand, Theo loved being thirteen and an eighth grader. He and his buddies were the big dudes on campus and the younger students looked up to them. He had heard stories of ninth-grade boys and how they were ignored in high school, especially by the ninth-grade girls who became infatuated with older guys.

  He pondered these things as he headed downtown. He also continued the debate about asking his parents for a loan. He knew they would freak out when he told them he was handing over his savings for Woody’s bail. That would be an ugly fight but he was determined to follow through. Once that discussion was over, he doubted they would be willing to contribute more. Though he admired his mother for showing up in court that morning, last night’s family argument was still fresh. He was right and they were wrong, but he didn’t have the stomach for more fighting.

  Of Theo’s inner circle of friends, Chase Whipple was the kid who spent more time online than anyone else and could perform magic with a computer. For fun, he often wrote his own software and seemed able to find anything on the Internet in a matter of seconds. His parents were affluent and bought him the latest devices and gadgets and he was always one step ahead of the others in the high-tech race.

  The gang—Chase, Aaron, Brian, Edward, and Joey—were in the rear of Guff’s Frozen Yogurt huddled around a table. Theo got a small vanilla with cookie dough and joined them. “What’s the latest?” Chase asked.

  “We’re at twelve hundred dollars,” Theo reported. “Four hundred from me, three hundred from Woody’s mother, one hundred from his father, two hundred from Mr. Mount, and I just got a check for two hundred from Ike, a loan.”

  “You’re putting up four hundred dollars?” Aaron asked in disbelief.

  “Yep, all my savings.”

  “That’s awesome, Theo.”

  “Wish I had more. I just spent an hour with Woody and he got beat up today. Big black eye, a cut. Some dude jumped him in jail. We gotta work fast, guys.”

  “I have a hundred in savings,” Aaron said.

  “Me too,” said Joey.

  “I’m still looking,” said Brian.

  “That’s great. Fourteen hundred.”

  “Isn’t that enough to get him out?” asked Brian.

  Theo said, “Yes, but that’s not the deal, remember? Woody won’t leave without Tony, so we need two thousand dollars, like I said.”

  “I’m broke,” Chase said, “but here’s the plan. Ever hear of MobMoney?”

  “No,” Theo replied. The others shook their heads.

  Chase had the floor and said, “MobMoney is one of the latest crowdfunding schemes, but it’s primarily for kids. I found it this afternoon and I’ve been working on it. Take a look.” He opened his laptop and the boys squeezed behind him.

  “Sounds like the Mafia or something,” Edward said.

  “That’s because you watch too many old movies,” Chase said. “This has nothing to do with crime and is strictly legit. It works like this.” He pecked a few keys and a photo of Woody was on the screen. Below it was the caption: “Woody Lambert, Age 13, In jail for a crime he didn’t commit.” Below the caption was a drawing of a kid sitting on a bunk in a jail cell with his hands cuffed, head hanging low. Below was the narrative:

  Imagine being arrested and falsely charged with a serious crime, armed robbery, and not having enough money to post bail and get out to prove your innocence. That’s what’s happening to Woody Lambert, age 13, of Strattenburg. He sits in jail, another victim of a system in serious need of bail reform. We, his friends, urge you to pledge any amount to FREE WOODY.

  “This looks awesome, Chase,” Brian said. “How does it work?”

  “It’s simple. If you guys approve, I click here at the bottom, and this page is instantly posted on the MobMoney website. If all goes well, the cash starts pouring in from all over the country.”

  “You really think we can raise enough?” Joey asked.

  “I have no idea but there’s nothing to lose,” Chase said. “MobMoney gets ten percent, same as the other crowdfunding sites, and it sends the rest to us.”

  “Let’s do it,” Aaron said.

  Chase looked at Theo and asked, “Should we run it by Woody, or maybe his mother?”

  Without hesitating, Theo said, “No. Right now they’ll do anything to get him out. I say we go for it.”

  The others agreed, and Chase clicked on Submit. “Done. We’re in business. You can go to the website at any time and monitor the donations. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He closed the laptop and took a bite of yogurt.

  The boys relaxed around the table.

  “Tell us about the fight, Theo,” Brian said.

  Theo relayed the details as given by Woody, without embellishment, and ended with, “There might be some more trouble. Woody said one of the deputies, when they broke up the fight, blamed Woody and Tony for starting it, and said they would have to spend more time in jail.”

  “Can they do that?” Joey asked.

  “I’m not sure. Let’s worry about that later.”

  Woody’s new cell was a damp, dark little pit with barely enough heat to knock off the chill and a small yellowish bulb hanging from the ceiling to create shadows. There was a cot with one thin, dirty blanket, a chair, a commode, and a sink. There was no cell mate because there was not enough room for one. The walls were all cinder block, painted what appeared to be a dull dark gray, and no windows. The door was metal with a small window. He was alone, with no idea where Tony had been taken, no idea who was next door or across the hall. He could hear nothing but the distant hum of some type of motor or engine.

  After an hour in solitary confinement, he started thinking of how nice it would be if Theo had left behind those dreaded textbooks, along with a pen and something to write on.

  The cot squeaked when he stretched out and stared at the yellow lightbulb above, too far to reach. Sleep would be a welcome relief. Sleep would take him away from this mess and perhaps a dream would take him to a beach or the mountains. He had seen news stories of innocent men released from prison after serving decades, but he had never really stopped to feel sorry for them. He figured they must have done something wrong. And here he was, stuck in a jail as the hours and days crept by, a thoroughly innocent kid wasting time behind bars. Did anybody feel sorry for him? He was comforted to know that Theo and his friends were scrambling around trying to raise bail money, but two thousand dollars seemed impossible.

  He thought of his father, a man who’d had a hard life and had made bad decisions that only compounded his problems. Where was he while two of his sons were in jail? And his stepfather? Why couldn’t he do something bold for a change and help the family?

  Woody swore revenge against both men.

  He rubbed the sore knots on his scalp and thought about Jock. Surely these idiot deputies had thrown that little thug into solitary as well. He provoked the fight then screamed like the victim. He worried about Tony, whose face was a mess. Surely they had taken him to see a doctor. He thought about his poor mother out there frantically trying to raise money.

  And he thought about the future. The shock of being accused and arrested was wearing off, and a grim and frightening reality was settling in. At first Woody assumed that the misunderstanding would be cleared up in a matter of hours and he would go home. The system would deal with Garth, the guilty one. But as time was passing behind bars, Woody was beginning to fear the system. If they could convict an innocent man of murder and lock him away for thirty years, then they could just as easil
y send Woody and Tony away for a few months. Their lawyer, Mr. Rodney Wall, did not inspire a lot of confidence. He seemed to doubt their stories.

  A hard knock on the door jolted him. It opened in and a deputy stepped in and handed him dinner on a plastic tray. Another deputy stood guard at the door, as if Woody might jump the first one, grab his gun, and start a jailbreak.

  When they were gone, Woody sat on the cot with the tray balanced on his knees. A peanut butter sandwich on stale white bread, some sad little chunks of fruit in a cup, an apple, two slices of cheddar cheese, and a small carton of mango juice. He picked up the carton and stared at it. Mango juice? He was almost certain that he had never tasted such a beverage.

  He choked it all down because he was hungry, and because there was nothing else to do. When he finished, he placed the tray on the floor and stretched out on the cot. He stared at the yellow bulb until he fell asleep.

  A half a mile away, Theo was at his desk in the rear of Boone & Boone, with his dog at his feet and his homework spread before him, but he wasn’t studying. He and Chase and the others had agreed to hit social media hard and drum up support for Woody. They passed along to everyone they knew the scheme of flooding MobMoney with donations, but things were off to a slow start. By seven p.m. Thursday, only forty-one dollars had been raised.

  Because Mrs. Boone was a busy woman who didn’t like to cook, the family dined out almost every night. And they had their rituals. Thursday dinner was always roasted chicken at a Turkish deli, with spicy hummus and pita bread. Theo biked over and met his parents, who came from the office.

  The situation was still a bit tense, and it didn’t improve when Theo informed his parents that he was pledging his entire savings to spring Woody from jail. They didn’t like it, but at the same time they grudgingly admired his loyalty. The deli was busy so they spoke in low voices.

  “It has taken you a long time to save that money,” his father said with a frown. Theo knew that. After all, he was the one who had saved the money. Why did adults always say things that were so obvious?