Crash Course In Homicide

By Ellie Oberth

During jury selection, drama in the courtroom leaves rookie defense attorney, Jazz Kincaid, as lead counsel for a man accused of hit and run.
As the charges mount against her client, Jazz’s only allies are her firm’s paralegal and private detective. The partners of Kline, Evans and Strombinski are involved in office politics, and Jazz is convinced that the two minority partners are trying to sabotage the case.
Her client’s refusal for a continuance pits Jazz against a hardcore prosecuting attorney. Does the rookie have what it takes to run with the big boys and win her first major trial?
'Crash Course In Homicide' is a light-hearted, fast-paced romp through a courtroom procedure.
The word count is 18,910. Updated with a new cover.
Extras are included at the end of the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ellie Oberth
• Release date: Dec 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310306150

Ellie Oberth

A Chicago resident, Ellie Oberth’s love of mysteries began at an early age with an introduction to the works of Agatha Christie.She’s a life-long member of Sisters-In-Crime National and also a member of the Chicagoland Chapter where she served as Secretary in 2009 and served as Treasurer from 2010-2011 and 2017-2019..These days, when she’s not busy writing, she’s travelling. Ellie pops up in the most unusual places. She’s been known to scour the beach at midnight with a flashlight, looking for a place to bury the body or tramping through the deserted woods with the same goal in mind or...For more current activities, visit her blog at www.ellieoberth.blogspot.com

Book preview

CRASH COURSE IN HOMICIDE

A Jazz Kincaid Legal Drama

By Ellie Oberth

Copyright 2013 by Ellie Oberth

Smashwords Edition

http://www.ellieoberth.blogspot.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

* * * * *

Dedication

* * * * *

To my sister, Sue who loves a good courtroom drama.

This one's for you!

* * * * *

Acknowledgements

* * * * *

Special thanks to Michael Steadman and Daniel Starr;

two great lawyers who shared their expertise with me.

Any legal mistakes are mine.

* * * * *

Edited by Diane Piron-Gelman of Word Nerd Editorial Services

Cover Photo by Peter Skadberg

Cover Design by Ellie Oberth

* * * * *

Excerpts are included at the end of the book, so please factor them into the page count.

CRASH COURSE IN HOMICIDE

I watched in horrid fascination as my boss keeled over in the courtroom. We hadn't gotten very far in the jury selection process. Outside, the Windy City lived up to its name on this dark and gloomy October Thursday morning. Inside, Big Bill was questioning a prospective juror's ability to keep an open mind throughout the trial.

William Big Bill Kline was a large man. One moment he was making an impassioned plea—pacing back and forth with strident voice and flailing arms—the next moment he collapsed before the judge's bench. His voice still echoed throughout the courtroom as five stunned seconds ticked by. The judge's pounding gavel broke the spell and the bailiff sprang into action. While he knelt beside the prone figure, I heard a disembodied voice call for an ambulance. Peering in that direction, I spotted the investigating officer in the case talking on his cell phone. Seated next to him, Assistant State's Attorney Peg Sherman sat calmly observing the bailiff's CPR efforts. The men and women in the jury box watched in disbelief while I fidgeted helplessly as my mentor struggled to breathe.

Three hours later, the doctor walked over to where I sat in the hospital waiting room offering comfort to Big Bill's wife. She shredded a tissue in her lap listening to those dreaded words—heart attack. The doctor assured her that Big Bill now rested comfortably. The fast-acting bailiff had done a world of good. Yes, Big Bill lay in intensive care, but the doctor was cautiously optimistic.

My name is Jasmine Kincaid. Everyone calls me Jazz. It's not the most powerful, commanding name that a 5'2" female defense attorney needs to play with the big boys, but the childhood nickname followed me into my adult life. Big Bill Kline was the founding father of Kline, Strombinski & Evans. We were a small firm, big on criminal work. Kline had made a name for himself and subsequently hired me fresh out of law school as a favor to my father. Now he lay in critical care in the same hospital as the woman our defendant was accused of injuring.

I entered the office and immediately became the center of attention.

Jazz, Pete Evans called. We have to talk strategy about the Mazwell case.

I changed direction to enter his office, but Joe Strombinski intercepted me. My office. Now, he commanded.

Great. Big Bill was out of commission less than a day and already his two partners were in a power struggle. Too tired to fight, I made an instant decision and swept into my own office, Strombinski and Evans hot on my heels.

I'm not sure what to do, Evans complained to his partner. I'm in the middle of a capital murder case and you just started that high-profile rape case.

They sank into the two cushy client chairs that were in front of my desk and talked to each other, leaving me out of the conversation. I felt like a stranger in my own office.

The judge will have to grant a continuance, Joe Strombinski said. Alex and Dennis are defending a couple of possession charges. Besides, I don't trust either one of them to lead a defense for this major of a trial.

Alex Ferrone, Dennis Jasper and I were the three associates currently employed at the firm.

Pete Evans shifted uncomfortably in my client's chair. Yeah, I agree. That only leaves Jazz here and no way could she take over the case.

As a four-month rookie, I definitely didn't think I could do a proper job either, but that was beside the point. His matter-of-fact dismissal of my ability rankled. But before I could respond, my intercom crackled to life.

Judge Carr wants you in court in thirty.

Which you? I asked. Pete or Joe?

Our paralegal's voice hid a smirk as she replied. You, Jazz. Thirty minutes.

The intercom fell silent as I gathered my briefcase and jacket.

Since today happened to be a heightened security day at the Leighton Criminal Court Building, I joined the women's line and crossed through the metal detectors . Joe and Pete were subjected to the same treatment across the hall in the men's line. Their respective cases were both being tried here. To my surprise, they followed me into Judge Carr's courtroom. Peg Sherman sat placidly at the prosecutor's table and didn't even acknowledge our arrival. Already seated at the bench, the judge looked up and frowned at us. Ignoring my two partners, Judge Carr focused on me.

Due to the circumstances, I am granting a short continuance in the Mazwell case. I expect jury selection to continue next Monday morning. He dismissed us with a nod and returned his attention to the papers he had been studying when