Chapter Forty-ThreeLOS ANGELES HALL OF JUSTICE, JUDGE DORAN’S COURTROOM,
January 17, 1931
“Order! Order!” Judge Doran commanded. He banged the gavel over and over until the room finally quieted down. He called a recess until Monday.
Nathan met me in the visiting room, and we tried to hammer out some new strategy. “We should call a press conference this weekend,” he said. “One where you can take center stage. Clara won’t be there to take the limelight off you. Wear something becoming.”
Sully was so satisfied with the new coat of Cherry Blossom No. 6 I’d given her for her latest manicure that she agreed right away to the press conference. She accompanied Nathan and me to the eighth floor. “Knock ’em dead,” she said and handed me off to the bailiff as the elevator doors slid back closed.
