CHAPTER 10

The Ride Home

The drive home was long and depressing. Before the police arrived, Stitch had taken pictures of the body and scoured the cabin for other evidence.

It had taken several hours for the police to check Stitch out and clear him. They weren’t used to execution-style murders in Parsons. There were lots of anxious phone calls and scurrying around. It was pretty clear no one knew exactly what to do. They walked all over the crime scene destroying potential evidence. Stitch was glad he’d been over it first. They also grilled Stitch. He was their only lead and they were reluctant to let him go.

Stitch told them what he could about Maxwell. He told them he was working for Maxwell’s wife. They were quite interested when he explained how he had tracked Maxwell to the cabin.

The first thing Stitch did when he got on the road was what he dreaded most: He called Molly Maxwell. At first she was shocked. She asked over and over for details of the killing. Then she started to sob. She cried and sniffled on the phone for several minutes.

Then she moved to feeling guilty. If it wasn’t for her hiring Stitch, her husband would probably still be alive. It was all her fault. She should have left him alone.

Stitch had waited patiently. When she had finished, he asked her a simple question. “Molly,” he said gently. “Are you the one who agreed to switch your vote for $100,000?”

There was a pause at other end. Then a loud sniffle. “No,” she said at last.

“And are you the one who found a lover and ran out on the family?”

“No,” she said again, this time a little stronger.

“No, you’re not, Molly. You acted out of love and concern. You are the one who acted responsibly. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Stitch could hear her short, ragged breathing.

“Bob was a big boy. He made some really awful decisions. And they caught up with him,” Stitch said quietly. “You did not make those decisions. He did. Right?”

“I, I guess so,” Molly replied uncertainly. “But why did he do it, Stitch? Was it my fault? Wasn’t I a good enough lover? A good enough wife?”

“Molly, I don’t know anything about your relationship. That’s not my department. But I do know this. No relationship succeeds or fails without help from both sides. I know. I’ve managed to screw up lots of them. It’s easy to blame the other person. It’s a lot harder to be honest with yourself. I think that’s what Bob was doing. Putting all the blame on you.”

There was silence at the other end. “How did it feel for you these last months?” Stitch asked.

Molly sighed. “Yes. It wasn’t working. I tried to talk with him. But Bob didn’t want to see anyone. He was a very emotionally closed man. He told me to see someone myself. I was the one who had the problem.”

“Which made it easy for him to justify what he did. Listen, Molly. You are going to need some support. Are you interested in seeing a really good counsellor?”

“I… Well, I guess so. I’ve never seen a shrink before.”

Stitch shook his head in the car. Why are people so afraid of seeing a counsellor? he wondered. If they broke a bone, they’d be at hospital in a flash. But if they have a broken heart, it’s not important enough to get help. There’s nothing that can be done. Seeing someone who helps people heal emotionally shows weakness.

“I’ve come to know several good people in our area,” Stitch said. “Melanie Brooks is super. She is gentle and caring. But she also gets you to figure things out for yourself. I think you’d like her. Would you like her number?”

There was another short pause. “Yes. Yes, Mr. Robinson,” Molly said forcefully. “I would like her number. Maybe it’s time I start taking control of my life.”

Stitch grinned. “That’s my girl. Give Erin a call. She’s my secretary. Tell her you need Dr. Brooks’ number. And Molly?”

“Yes, Stitch?”

“You’ve got a whole life ahead of you. A great life. For you and your kids. I know what a mess all of this has been for you. But it will pass.”

“Promise?” Molly asked in a tremulous voice. She sounded like a little girl. She started to cry again.

“Promise,” Stitch said confidently.

There was a long pause at the other end. “Will you come see me when you get back?”

Stitch briefly squeezed his eyelids shut. What was he getting himself into? “Of course I will.”

“Tonight?” Molly asked more softly.

Stitch sighed. “I won’t be in until late.”

Molly seemed to sniffle. “I don’t care, Stitch. I just need you here right now. Please?”

Stitch hesitated. “OK. I’ll come right to your house.”

“Promise?” Molly asked.

“Promise.”

Afterwards he drove in silence. He wasn’t in the mood for music. The car drifted on cruise control around the gentle curves of the expressway. His mind too was on cruise control.

Stitch shook his head. Time to get back to work. He gave the Bluetooth lady instructions to call Daffy.

Daffy answered on the second ring. It was as if he were sitting by the phone waiting. “Yeah, Stitch. What do you have?”

“Ain’t good, Daffy. I went out to Maxwell’s cabin this morning. He’d been shot.”

Daffy groaned on the other end. “Is he dead?”

“Oh, yeah. Real dead.”

There was a pause. “Dead is good.”

Stitch almost ran off the road. “Dead is good?”

“No, no,” Daffy said hurriedly. “I know it’s sad for his wife. His kids. But as far as the injunction goes, it’s not that bad. The best thing would have been for him to be here and to have testified.”

“Yeah,” Stitch grunted. “Whoever wanted him dead must have come to the same conclusion.”

“But they screwed up. You have proof he’s dead?”

“Yeah, I’ve got proof!” Stitch said angrily. “I’ve got pictures of him with half his head blown off! That good enough?”

“OK, OK,” Daffy said soothingly. “Sorry. Did you find the body?”

Stitch took a breath. “Yeah.”

“OK. That was hard. And then you called Maxwell’s wife.”

“Yeah,” Stitch repeated tiredly.

“So you’re upset. I understand that. But I’m looking at this as a lawyer.”

“Coldly,” Stitch muttered.

“That’s not fair, Stitch. But he’s dead. Now I have to use that information to help my clients. Who, by the way,” Daffy added, “have blockaded the access to Farley’s Bog for the last 48 hours.”

“That’s good, I guess,” Stitch said. “So how does Maxwell’s death fit into all of this?”

“The acceptance of evidence depends on two things: necessity and reliability.”

Stitch shrugged in the car seat. “Yeah?”

“So before, we had your recorded confession, OK?”

“Yeah.”

“But that only proved that he had said he’d been bribed. Not that he actually had been bribed. He didn’t say it under oath. There wasn’t even a signed affidavit. Before he was killed, we had reliability going for us. He was testifying to being part of a crime. It could have meant jail time. He was saying something that was not in his personal interest.”

“No kidding. It got him killed.”

“Right,” Daffy agreed. “But getting an injunction to stop a project is hard. The judge has to be sure the grounds are solid. So, if we had this recorded, where was Maxwell? Why should the judge grant the stop order if Maxwell wasn’t willing to testify? If we didn’t even have a signed affidavit from him?”

Stitch nodded. “That’s where necessity comes in. It was necessary before to have him testify. Now that he’s dead, he can’t.”

“Exactly!” Daffy enthused. “That makes your taped confession incontrovertible.”

“What does that mean? That no one can say it’s a lie?”

“Right again. He’s been killed for what he said. His taped statement is now reliable and necessary. The judge has every reason to believe it. To believe that the vote change was a result of bribery and blackmail. And that he may have been murdered for his comments. We’ve got ‘em!”

“Hope so. Listen, I’ll be in late tonight. I’m going to see Molly when I get in. Can we get together first thing in the morning?” Stitch paused. “See, there’s one more thing. I don’t want to go into detail on the cell. But I think I’ve got something. A clue.”

“Clue to what?”

“To who killed Bob Maxwell. And why.”