Chapter 66: Lunchtime!

by Kathy R.

Martha felt sweat breaking out on her forehead and under her arms. Worse yet, she felt her crotch dry up. She stared blankly ahead, all that the blindfold permitted her to do -- and to see. She fought hard to keep her panic under control. This sudden turn of events, this demand to point out the accused while blindfolded was completely insane. Then, she heard an odd noise. It was a small noise, like it was meant not to be heard. She thought about it, but put it out of her mind for now. It was only confusing her in her present state of mind.

As her initial panic abated, she found her thought process return. She knew she couldn't just point out Tommy. That was obviously impossible and besides, she might accidentally point out an innocent bystander, instead of Tommy. Then again, it'd be fun to point in the direction of the judge. That's shock everyone, including herself.

No. She had to approach this problem with tact, grace and intelligence. Think... Think... Mentally, she recalled what all, and who all, were present in the courtroom. Several spectators, all a blur in their seating area. The hidden, and presumably gagged and blindfolded Mrs. Fielding. The accused and his father. Her host and friend, Mr. Browning and last and most important the court personnel. There were pictures on the walls, ornate wood work, a few oversized windows along the wall on her left-hand side and two doors, one each at the front and back of the room. No statues, no unnecessary furniture. Tables for the prosecutor and defendant and the benches behind each table for witnesses. That's where Martha sat alone, kept separated from the other witness, Mrs. Fielding.

Again, the odd noise, this time closer and almost directly in front of her.

She cleared her mind of all thought, recalling only the details of the room, it's contents and the people currently populating it. She was glad she was intelligent and had an astute memory, for it helped her to recall many things -- including the positioning of furniture.

"Will the witness please answer the question." Came the voice of the judge, seeming to come from afar.

Martha didn't respond, instead she wondered why a lawyer hadn't asked that question -- ask her to point out the accused. From what little she knew of the workings of the law, she thought that the judge remained silent throughout the proceedings, or most of it. Something was wrong here...

She continued to think fast and furious, wanting to be sure she did the right thing and to make sure she avoided embarrassing anyone. 'Work brain, work.' She chanted mentally. She cleared her mind, envisioning, behind the blindfold, each table. Each chair. Each person.

The noise was to her right side now. Now, she couldn't ignore it. It was so small, it demanded attention. 'What, ' she asked herself, 'would be a reason for making such noises?' To avoid distraction or notice? That could be... some noises aren't meant to be heard -- like the dominant men screaming in agony, at least not heard by any females.

To remain hidden. Something... ?

Martha thought about each noise as she heard it. Each was indistinguishable. Each was in a different place in the room. In her mind, she tracked each noise...

"Miss Agdogna, we are waiting." Announced the judge off to Martha's left side.

No. Right side, she corrected herself. After all, that's where his desk was, she knew that... she could reach out with her right hand and touch it.

The desk. The desk was to her right. His voice was definitely to her left. 'But why?' She wondered. Again, she pictured the people in the room, those that mattered.

Then, the judges voice again, this time from her right side again, but not quite so close. "For the last time. I order you to point out the accused." And now, Martha had it...

She raised her right arm slowly, her finger already extended. She moved slowly, semi-confidentially and prayed that she had guessed right. She was nervous, but pretty confident. So nervous, the sweat started to soak her blindfold. She continued to raise her finger, brought it around the courtroom and stopped the motion when she figured her finger was accurately pointed up at the top of the judges table to her right side.

An audible gasp echoed around the room. Martha refused to drop her extended arm. She had to remain firm in her belief that Tommy Fielding was relocated to the judge's desk.

Gagged, she waited until someone, anyone, spoke up. She stubbornly refused to do anything else -- except to allow her nervousness to show itself in the form of her shaking arm. She was glad that she was gagged, for it meant that she didn't have to worry about blurting out anything inappropriate.

The lawyer for Mr. Fielding, at least Martha thought that's who it was, started to applaud. Then, slowly, the sound echoed as more hands took up the applause. Martha, for the first time in a longtime, felt happy to be alive.

A loud bang and a burst of angry words broke out from her right. Tommy was reacting, finally to the finger pointed at him. He rose, bellowed something about lying black bitches and dove for Martha. He didn't make it though, for the bailiffs were ready for such an attack and immediately pounced upon Tommy, knocking him away from Martha, forcing him to make contact with the wall behind him, rather than with Martha.