12th of Never

the witness, and you’re entitled to cross-examine the witness—”
    “I’m turning state’s evidence,” Meserve shouted. “I’ll testify that Lynnette Lagrande was behind everything. Judge, I haven’t perjured myself. I didn’t kill anyone. Lynnette wanted Keith dead, that’s true, and I was seeing her, but that’s not important because I did nothing wrong—”
    Meserve’s speech was cut off by the word “Liar,” screamed from the back row of the courtroom. Lynnette Lagrande was on her feet, shouting at Meserve, “You liar. You bastard. You weak, lying murderer!”
    It was as if someone had shouted “Fire” inside a circus tent.
    Yuki saw Jacobi stand up in the back of the gallery. He edged out to the aisle, then walked rapidly toward Lynnette Lagrande. He said her name and she whipped her head around, her face still twisted in anger.
    “Ms. Lagrande, we’re gonna hold you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder. You, too, Lieutenant Meserve,” Jacobi said loudly. “We’re going to have some questions for both of you.”
    The judge looked stunned. His eyes darted around the court-room as outbursts flared like fireworks going off on all sides. People in the gallery panicked and rushed for the aisle and the exit even as police poured through the courtroom doors.
    Kinsela stood at the defense table with his client and shouted, “Judge Nussbaum, I move to dismiss. There is no case against my client. Lily Herman is alive. There is no evidence tying Keith Herman to the death of Jennifer Herman. Lynnette Lagrande is the responsible party—”
    Lynnette Lagrande had become a wild woman. She screamed at Jacobi, “Get away from me,” and lashed out at him with her nails. Jacobi was almost thirty years older and weighed a hundred pounds more.
    He put his hand on her shoulder so that she couldn’t touch him, then said in a booming voice, “Now you’re also under arrest for assaulting a police officer. Put your hands behind your back.”
    Kinsela shouted to the judge, “Your Honor, I strongly urge you to dismiss the charges and release Mr. Herman—”
    A juror sitting in the front row of the jury box, a woman in her sixties named Nina Tancho, stood up abruptly and shouted, “I can’t take this anymore. You people are all insane.”
    The judge slammed down his gavel again,
bam, bam, bam.
    “Everyone freeze.”
    There was a moment of relative silence into which Judge Nussbaum said, “I’m declaring a mistrial. Mr. Herman, you will be returned to your cell for now. Bailiff, please take the jury back to their room. Sheriff Calhoun, clear the court-room.
    “Mr. Kinsela, Ms. Castellano, please stay where you are.”
    Cops pushed and pulled a handcuffed Lynnette Lagrande toward the exit. Her pretty face was unrecognizable as she screamed, “I did nothing wrong. This is slander. I’m going to sue you, Mr. Kinsela. I’m going to sue—everyone. I’m
innocent
.”
    Floyd Meserve called out to Kinsela, “I need representation, Mr. Kinsela. I need you right now.”
    Kinsela said, “You can’t afford me, Mr. Meserve. But here’s some free advice. Shut the hell up.”
    The golden-haired little girl who had been sitting in the courtroom beside Lynnette Lagrande darted through the crowd and ran to her father. She was bawling as she grabbed him around his waist and cried out, “Daddy, let’s go home.”
    Nicky Gaines went to the little girl and peeled her away from Keith Herman. “Lily, you’ll see your dad again soon. You just have to stay with your grandma for another few days.”
    Yuki stood in one place and stared inward.
    What had just happened?
    Had Lynnette Lagrande, the beautiful and prim school-teacher, just sprouted hair on her palms? Was Floyd Meserve, the good cop, a simpleminded dick who had in fact killed Jennifer Herman because he loved Lynnette Lagrande? Who had kidnapped the child—and why? And what did Keith Herman have to do with all of the above?
    All that Yuki knew for sure was that if the judge hadn’t declared a mistrial, Keith Herman would have gotten off. Because reasonable doubt of this magnitude hadn’t been seen in San Francisco in the last fifty years.

Chapter 73
    RICH CONKLIN WAS shaving in the men’s room when Brenda, the squad assistant, pushed open the door and stuck her face in.
    “Hey. Could you knock, maybe?” Conklin said. He pulled paper towels out of the collar of his shirt, dried his face.
    “Here you go,” Brenda said. She knocked on the open