CHAPTER 58

“Josh,” I say softly, leaning casually against the witness stand, “do you know the difference between telling the truth and telling a lie?”

The courtroom is empty except for Maddox, Judge Maxa, Erin, Josh and myself, for this, a hearing to determine the competency of Josh Leffler as a witness in the case of State versus Erin Simms.

Josh peeks behind me at Maddox, who stands with his arms folded, trying no doubt to intimidate the little guy.

“Yes,” Josh says tentatively.

“What is truth?” I say.

Again the kid hesitates. I assure him everything is all right.

“That’s when you give test-money and tell what really happened.”

“And what is a lie, Josh?”

“That’s when you make stuff up. Like the police do sometimes.”

I try not to flinch even though that last sentence could lose me my one and only witness. Maddox is already pointing at Josh as if to say, See? The kid’s an idiot. But Maxa nods her head, takes down a note, and tells me to continue.

“If you give testimony in this case, Josh,” I say, “will you tell the truth about what really happened the night of the fire, and about anything else Mr. Maddox, the judge, and I might ask you?”

“I have to,” Josh says, a solemn expression spreading across his face. “I have to and I will.”

*   *   *

With the jury seated but the gallery cleared, I ask the judge once again if I may approach the witness and she agrees.

“Now, Josh,” I say gently, “do you remember the night of the fire?”

“Of course,” he says. “That’s when my grandma died.”

Slowly, cautiously, I take Josh back to the sixteenth floor of the Liholiho Tower. I have him describe the location of his room, ask him if he remembers a light blue band on the door knob to his neighbor’s suite. He does. He also remembers Grandma going to sleep after taking her Am-beans and how thirsty he was but there was nothing in the room to drink.

“The sink didn’t work,” he says. “And Grandma’s soda tasted all oogie.”

So he grabbed a dollar bill and stepped out into the hall in search of the vending machine he’d spotted earlier. He wanted a Dr Pepper. “Because it’s delicious,” he says.

“What happened when you found the vending machine?” I ask him.

“The red light was lit. That meant no more Dr Pepper.”

“So what did you do?”

He twists a lock of brown hair around his finger. “Nothing.”

I swallow and remind myself to be patient; he’s just a kid. “Well, then, what happened next?”

“You showed up,” he says. “Naked.”

“Well,” I say, my face flushing, “not naked, right?”

“No, you had Underoos on.”

I don’t press the issue. Since the video and stills of Erin and me in the hot tub on her lanai surfaced, I have very little dignity left to protect.

“What happened next?” I say.

“We went downstairs.”

“To another vending machine?”

“Yeah. That one had Dr Pepper in it.”

“So you bought one?”

“You bought half for me.”

“What do you mean by that, Josh?”

“I only had one dollar and Dr Pepper is two dollars where people speak English.”

“You had no change?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Grandma gave me all her coins downstairs so that I could make wishes.”

“Every coin she had?”

“Yeah. When I asked for more, she showed me her empty purse.”

“And you threw these coins your grandmother gave you into the fountain downstairs in the resort’s lobby?”

“Yeah, and I made wishes.”

“One wish over and over? Or many wishes?” I ask.

“Many wishes.”

“And what was your most important wish, Josh?”

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true.”

“Fair enough,” I say, smiling over at the jury.

I take Josh through the rest of the night, from the trip back upstairs to being locked out of his room, to the alarm shrieking while he sat alone in the stairwell, peeing his pants. He tells the jury about how I found him surrounded by murderous black smoke, how I lifted him onto my shoulder and carried him down “thousands” of flights of stairs, how I saved him from the fire.

“But no one saved Grandma,” he says.

In the back of the courtroom one of the double doors opens and Hoshi pokes her head in.

“I’m sorry, young lady,” Maxa says. “But this is presently a closed trial.”

“Your Honor, if I may have a moment,” I say, “that young lady is my assistant.”

“Very well, Mr. Corvelli. But please make it brief.”

I head to the rear of the courtroom, where Hoshi is holding a small manila envelope. She hands it to me. I open it, take a glimpse at the photograph inside, and nod my head.

“One more thing,” I whisper to Hoshi. “Head back to Ms. Raffa’s office and tell her I said, ‘Mahalo.’ And tell her … Tell her that I’m glad we’re friends again.”

Hoshi nods and then she’s swiftly out the door again.

“Josh,” I say when I return to the witness stand after placing the envelope inside my suit jacket, “will you please tell us what you were doing at the Kupulupulu Beach Resort on the night of the fire? What was your purpose for being there with your grandmother?”

“Grandma was going to take me away from the island,” he says.

“To the mainland?”

He nods. I remind him he has to speak up for the court reporter. “Yes,” he says way too loudly into the microphone. A court officer steps over to adjust the mike and to demonstrate to Josh how he should use it.

“Why was Grandma taking you to the mainland?” I ask once the court officer steps away again.

“To live with her.”

“Why were you going to live with your grandmother?”

In a small voice, he says, “Because my mommy died.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “When did your mommy die?”

“The night before the fourth of July.”

“Where? Where did your mommy die, Josh?”

“In the ocean.”

“In the ocean, where?”

Fighting tears, he says softly, “Behind my house.”

“Up North Shore?”

“Yeah.”

“By Ke Iki Beach?”

“Yeah.”

“How? How did your mommy die, Josh?”

Maddox leaps to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Relevance?”

“Can we not talk about this?” Josh asks me.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” I tell him, “but we have to. Just for a little while.” I turn to the judge. “Your Honor, if you’ll allow me just some leeway, I’ll establish the relevancy within the next few questions.”

“Overruled,” Maxa says. “But don’t stray too far, Mr. Corvelli.”

Josh sets his gaze on Maddox and his lower lip begins to tremble. I take a deliberate step to my right blocking Josh’s view of the prosecutor.

“How did your mommy die?” I say again.

“She drownded,” Josh says, eyes tearing up.

“Drowned?”

“Yeah.”

I picture the kid as we stood alone in his room, gazing out his window. I see him holding his binoculars to his eyes, watching for the horizon.

“Did you see your mommy die?” I say.

“Objection!”

Josh heads into a full-on cry.

“Counselor?” Maxa says to me. “Is this really necessary?”

“It is, Your Honor.” I say again to Josh, this time a little firmer: “Did you see your mommy die, Josh?”

Josh is shaking his head, wiping tears as they come.

“Remember what we talked about, Josh,” I say. “Remember what happens if you don’t tell the truth.”

He looks up at me from between his tiny fingers.

When he does, I motion with my eyes to Judge Maxa and grimace theatrically.

“Did you see your mommy die?” I repeat.

The kid breaks, holds his head in his hands.

Maddox says: “This is awful, Your Honor. At the very minimum, I suggest we take a recess.”

“No, Your Honor,” I say. “We’re almost done here. Did you see your mommy die, Josh?” I say again. “The truth. Did you see your mommy die?”

“Yes!” he finally cries out.

“With your binoculars?”

“Yes!”

“From your bedroom window, Josh?”

“Yes!”

“And did she die from an accident like the police told you?”

“No!”

“Objection, Your Honor! This is getting—”

“Shut up!” I scream back at him.

Maxa is rapping her gavel, yelling at both of us.

“Was she alone when she died, Josh?” I say urgently.

More hysterics, crying, shaking of the body, shaking of the head. I want to reach out and grab the kid, lift him in my arms, and carry him out of here, just as I did on the night of the fire. But someone else in this courtroom needs saving today and someone else needs to get burned.

“Was she alone when she died?” I repeat.

“No!” Josh cries out. “She wasn’t alone!”

“Who was with your mommy when she died, Josh? A man or a woman?”

“A man! A man! A man!”

“A man was with your mommy?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“And what did you see that man do, Josh?”

Sobbing so hard, Josh nearly falls off his chair on the witness stand. Maxa rises to her feet but I hold up a hand.

I lean in to the witness stand. “We need to hear your secrets,” I tell the kid softly. “You have to tell us your secrets.”

Josh shakes his head, says something inaudible before crying out, “Then they wouldn’t be secrets anymore, would they, Kevin?”

Using my own words against me. I lean in again, whisper, “Tell me your secrets, Josh, and I’ll tell you mine. We’ll trade.”

“No,” he shouts. “No, no, no, no, no!”

“Your Honor,” Maddox says, “please!”

“Okay. Mr. Corvelli, I have no choice…”

I lean into the witness stand one last time, take Josh’s head in my hands, and whisper in his ear. “Please, Josh. If you don’t want to do this for me, then do it for your mommy.”

“Okay,” Josh cries, turning to the judge. “I saw him hit her. He pushed her into the ocean!”

I take a step back, raise my voice again. “So it wasn’t an accident? Your mother was murdered, wasn’t she, Josh?”

“Y-yes! Yes! He killed her! Drownded her right in front of me!”

I step to my left so that I’m no longer obstructing Josh’s view of the prosecutor. “Do you know this man?” I say, pointing at Luke.

Josh nods, tears flying off his face. “Yes!”

“How do you know him, Josh?”

“Objection!”

“He was dating my mommy when she died.”

You’re a defense lawyer, Kevin, I remind myself. All you have to do is place someone—anyone—in that empty chair just long enough to win an acquittal.

“And he was there, wasn’t he?” I say urgently. “Luke Maddox was at your house on the night your mommy was murdered, wasn’t he, Josh?”

“Yes!” Josh shrieks. “But—”

“It’s all right, Josh,” I shout as Maddox jumps out of his seat again. “Not another word! You’ve told us everything we need to know.”

“OBJECTION!” Maddox shouts as he moves past the podium in the direction of the bench.

I stand, my back to the witness, taking deep breaths, clenching my fists, prepared to take on Maddox if he comes at the kid.

Standing, slapping the gavel with all her might, Maxa howls, “Both lawyers! In my chambers! Right NOW!” She turns to her court officer. “And call security to my chambers. One of these lawyers—and I’m not yet sure which—is spending the night in jail.”