Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. I got nada but my imagination. Characters: Crew, omc, ofc. Warning: PG for graphic violence, profanity and other grownup things. Setting: In the town of Silverton, on Santo, immediately prior to “The Train Job”. Words: 2,070

A/N: Thanks to all of you who’ve read and commented on my little “Firefly/CSI” experiment. It’s been fun and I genuinely appreciate your support.

X - posted from my LiveJournal.

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Presumption of Guilt Chapter 13

Darriel Book smiled reassuringly up at Jayne Cobb. The mercenary sat at the witness stand, looking warily out at the courtroom. With the rape charge against Jayne having been dismissed, there remained the question of who had actually taken the life of Nellie Murchison.

Against a background of whispers and the rustling of the restless crowd, Justice Howery asked, “Does the Defense have any further questions for the defendant?”

“Not at this time, Your Honor.” Book folded his hands before his chest, his strong, dark fingers interlaced in a prayerful gesture that was both unconscious and familiar.

“Then let the defendant be seated,” the judge declared. “You may call your next witness, sir.”

Jayne returned to his seat, surprised to realize he was trembling. He felt the warm, firm touch of Zoe’s hand upon his shoulder and was calmed. This whole awful business couldn’t be over too soon, far as he was concerned.

With his client seated, the Shepherd turned on his heel and stopped in front of the table where Max Garvey sat in the role of Prosecutor. For the briefest second the men’s eyes met and then Book turned to the bench and announced, “If it please the Court, I would like to call Mr. Ambrose Murchison to the stand.”

* * *

Upon hearing himself called as a witness, Murchison immediately tensed. His straining heart began to pound painfully and his brain jabbered frantically at him. He wondered if the note and Dwight’s body had been found. Avoiding any eye contact with the family members seated all around him, he made his way to the bench, to be sworn in. He was panting when he took his seat, his face glossy with perspiration and flushed. Once again, he blotted his face with his handkerchief before tucking it away in his waistcoat pocket.

Book nodded in polite greeting to the banker. “Will you please state your full name for the record?”

“Ambrose Elias Murchison.”

“And you were first the guardian and later the husband of the late Nellie Powers Murchison?”

“I was.”

Tenting his fingertips together, Book waited as the tension built in the courtroom. At last he asked, “Did you kill or arrange for the killing of your wife, Nellie Murchison?”

“How dare you…!” the banker sputtered in fury, half rising from his seat.

Justice Howery rapped once with his gavel, looked sharply at the witness and asserted, “Just answer the question, sir, recalling that you are under oath.”

“I most assuredly did not!” Murchison snapped.

“If I might, Your Honor…” Book reached for the plastic envelope that enclosed the bloody handprint taken from the murder scene. “Please raise your left hand, Mr. Murchison, so that the Court can compare it with the print found at the crime scene.”

The banker slowly raised his hand as Book had directed. The Shepherd held up the print. Side by side, it was immediately apparent that Murchison’s hand was larger than that of the killer and that the scar he bore on his palm ran at a different angle than the one so prominent in the handprint. Book returned the handprint to the bench and announced, “May the Court note that the left hand of Ambrose Murchison does not match the print from the crime scene.” He smiled at the witness. It was a very disconcerting smile.

“Be it so noted,” said the judge.

“I have no further questions for the witness, Your Honor.”

“Very well,” Howery replied. “You may step down, Mr. Murchison.”

Heart pounding and hands trembling, the banker returned to his seat, pointedly ignoring the efforts of his family to speak to him as he did so.

Shepherd Book surveyed the crowded courtroom, his dark eyes casting back and forth. “I should now like to call as my next witness Mr. Dwight Thomas Powers.”

Justice Howery leaned back in his chair and prompted the bailiff, “Please call and swear the witness.”

“Will Mr. Dwight Thomas Powers please come forward to be sworn?” The bailiff’s words hung in the tense silence for a long moment before Sheriff Garvey stood and addressed Justice Howery.

“Your Honor, Mr. Powers will be unable to appear before the Court. When he failed to attend his sister’s memorial last night, I was concerned and stopped by his home to check in on him…”

Hearing the sheriff’s words, Murchison began to glance about, looking for the fastest route to a door and his escape. He wondered how he might get his important papers from his house and decided he would also make a quick stop by the bank to pick up a supply of cash.

Garvey continued, “At shortly after 9:30 last night, I discovered Dwight Powers lying dead on his bedroom floor!”

Murchison lurched to his feet, prepared to bolt. An older woman near him began to sob as the courtroom was filled with a cacophony of voices. Up on the bench, Justice Howery pounded his gavel, commanding the court to come to order.

With a few short steps, Max Garvey blocked the end of the row of seats behind the rail and confronted the fleeing killer. “Ambrose Murchison, I place you under arrest for the murder of Dwight Powers.” He waved his deputy over. “Take him into custody, Kenny.”

Kenny Thorn stepped forward to fasten handcuffs around Murchison’s wrists, acutely aware as he did so that he was losing his primary source of income.

“How… how did you…?” the banker stammered over his shoulder at the sheriff.

Garvey’s smile was thin and sardonic, and if the truth be told, a little smug. “I see you’re not wearing those fine gold and diamond cufflinks, today, Ambrose.”

The courtroom roiled with shouting, struggling people and the pounding of Justice Howery’s gavel upon the bench as he futilely struggled to regain order. Rage flared unnoticed in Jayne’s face with everyone’s attention trained on Murchison’s arrest. “You lousy gorramn sumbitch!” he spat, lunging at the banker.

It was fortunate for Murchison that Book grabbed the big man with remarkable strength, giving Mal and Zoe time to jump the rail and latch on to Jayne. “He’s not worth it, son,” Book advised. “Let the law have him.”

“Whoa, there, Jayne,” Mal ordered. “Hold, damn you!”

When Murchison was quickly shuffled away through the side door of the courtroom, Jayne furiously shook them off, glaring after him. “I shouldda broke his gorramned neck,” he growled.

* * *

In the chaotic aftermath of the trial, Max Garvey stood with Mal and his shipmates as the noisy crowd slowly cleared the courtroom. When the hall was emptied, he turned to Jayne and stuck out his hand. “I hope there are no hard feelings, Cobb. Sometimes these things just have to play themselves out.” His former prisoner stared at him for a long minute and then, to Mal’s surprise, shook the sheriff’s hand.

Garvey smiled. “You can stop by the office and pick up your pistol and gear. I’m afraid I’ll have to retain the knife, ‘though, bein’ as it’s evidence in a murder.”

“Damn.” Jayne shook his head, the right side of his mouth knotted in annoyance. “An’ I liked that knife, too. Kept a good edge.”

Garvey shook hands with Zoe and then with Book. “I haven’t seen you in action in your ministerial capacity, Shepherd, but I’d say you may have missed your true calling. You make one helluva detective and attorney.”

“You’re very kind, Sheriff, but I think I’ll continue with the Lord’s work,” Book chuckled warmly. “Got me a boat full of heathens in need of guidance.”

Turning to Serenity’s captain, Garvey apologized. “Mal, I sure wish I could invite you all down to Sullivan’s for a round but I’ve got a prisoner to book. And for what it’s worth, it might just be in your best interest to get your tails outta here. Your man’s been found innocent, but I don’t imagine there’s an overabundance of good will toward you or your crew around this town.”

“I understand what you’re sayin’, Max, and believe me, we’re more’n ready to move on. I gotta find some work so I can feed these folks.” He glanced at Jayne and Zoe, his handsome face curved in a rakish grin.

“To Justice, then.” The sheriff firmly clasped his fellow browncoat’s hand.

“To Justice,” Mal agreed.

* * *

“Hey everybody, they’re back!” Kaylee shouted over the ship’s comm before racing down the cargo ramp to throw her arms around Jayne’s neck.

“Damn,” he laughed. “I just might go to gettin’ myself arrested more often if I get this kind of welcome back on board.”

“I don’t think that’s especially advisable and I’d appreciate it if you’d put my mechanic down.” Mal used his sternest captain-y voice, then rolled his eyes in an aside to Zoe.

“Look at you, all clean-shaven!” Kaylee chortled and pretended to punch Jayne’s chin.

The merc snickered. “Don’t go gettin’ used to it ’cause ain't no way I’m shavin’ every day.”

“Well, well, if it isn’t the prodigal mercenary come home.” Wash poked his head over the catwalk railing. “No feast, though, ‘cause we’re down to peanut butter and flour and protein powder and oatmeal.”

“And peaches!” River announced from Simon’s side as they entered the far end of the hold from the stairs.

“How does she know that?” Mal asked.

“Actually, Inara helped entertain her by letting her sort all the canned goods into alphabetical order,” Simon explained.

“Short list,” said River and everyone laughed.

Inara joined Wash on the catwalk. “Well, now, we’ve got two reasons to celebrate,” she noted.

“The other one bein’ just what?” Mal asked.

Wash grinned and flipped a slip of paper between his fingers. “Actually, Inara got us a lead on a job. There’s a contact for us in a bar up in Zenith.”

“Well, boys and girls, best we make ourselves ready for a little hop north to see what our Ambassador has scared up through her remarkable social network,” Mal announced as he headed up the stairs toward the bridge. “Wash, soon as you and Kaylee have the boat ready and we’re cleared to go, Zenith it is.”

Wash stepped around Inara and returned to the bridge just as Mal dipped in to rest his hip and elbow against the railing next to the lovely Companion. “I can’t guarantee anything about the nature of the job, Mal,” she explained, “other than there’s someone who’s interested in hiring you and they said you’ll get the specifics at the Nimbus tavern.”

“Fine enough.” He studied her face. “Since when did you take on lining up jobs for us, anyway?”

She laughed prettily. “When you couldn’t find them on your own.”

* * *

Kaylee scampered off to the engine room and Simon and River headed back toward the med bay with Book following behind them.

“Shepherd?” Jayne called out before he’d gone too far.

Book turned. “Yes, son?”

The big merc ambled across the cargo bay and stuck out his hand. “You an’ the Cap’n saved my ass back there. I owe you big time.”

Book gripped Jayne’s hand firmly. “My pleasure, son.”

* * *

The Nimbus tavern, although small and seedy, clearly did a brisk business. Given the crowd in the place, Mal was surprised when he, Zoe and Jayne managed to find an unoccupied table in the back corner. The threesome ordered a round of drinks and he and Zoe set up the Chinese checkers board that sat in the middle of the table and began to play a game. Jayne, true to form, sprawled in the corner, one big booted foot intermittently propped on the table.

As their play began, a shapely belly dancer undulated through the crowd and slipped a folded note discretely into Mal’s hand before shimmying away. The captain tucked the note quickly into his pocket, shooting Zoe a loaded glance.

Annoyed with Mal’s leisurely style of play, Jayne prompted him, “Your move.”

Mal picked up a marble and hopped it across the board to his side.

Zoe smiled, her arched eyebrow confirming her amusement. ”That’s a bold move.”

Mal took a sip from his glass. “I live on the edge,” he stated confidently, only to have Zoe follow with a move that solidly trounced him.

Jayne snickered. “Nice work, dumbass.”

Mal shook his head. “I’ve given some thought to moving off the edge…”

Yeah – when hell freezes over, Jayne thought and laughed.

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End