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“CROSS, MR. LIVINGSTON?” Judge Blackwell asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. Officer Wynham, have you ever seen the defendant, Mark Barrett, do anything at all suspicious in that neighborhood?”
“No sir.”
“Have you seen him acting suspicious in any neighborhood?”
“I have not.”
“Isn’t it true you have never seen the defendant before today?”
“I’ve seen his picture in the paper, but no, I have never seen him in person.”
“So you’ve never arrested him for any reason, is that correct?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” said the DA. “The witness just said he has never seen Mr. Barrett, so how could he have arrested him?”
“Sustained.”
Livingston looked at the jury and then at the judge. “I have no further questions.”
“Mr. Davis,” the judge asked. “Redirect?”
“No, Your Honor.”
Judge Blackwell looked at his watch just as he would after each witness finished testifying during the course of the trial. “Gentlemen, let’s break for lunch before we call the next witness. Court will reconvene at one o’clock. Bailiff, you may remove the jury.” He waited until they were gone, and then banged his gavel, which signaled the bailiff to shout, “All rise.”
*
HOLLY DIDN’T GET UP, so Jackie stayed in her seat too as the jury walked out. The defendant was removed, and then the attorneys left, followed by the clerk and the court recorder. Several of the spectators seemed to be in a big hurry to get out the back door, and Jackie wasn’t eager to fight the crowd either. Even after the defendant’s parents left, Holly hadn’t made a move. “Mrs. Barrett, aren’t you hungry?”
“Please, call me Holly.”
“Only if you promise to call me Jackie.”
Holly smiled. “Jackie...I have always liked that name. I wanted to name our oldest daughter Jackie, but Mark made all the decisions. He said a wife was to obey her husband.” Holly took a forgotten breath and let it out. “I fell for that old line easily enough, but I know better now. A wife only has to obey her husband if he does good, and not evil.”
“You have become very wise. Where do you suggest we eat?”
“I saw a little hotdog stand when I walked here from the hotel this morning, but it is not going to be easy getting out of the courthouse without running into reporters.”
“I believe this place has a back door and a hotdog sounds good to me.”
“We could try it, I’m hungry. Do reporters eat hotdogs?”
“I doubt it, they have expense accounts.”
“They probably do.” Holly finally got up, followed Jackie out of the courtroom, around the corner, and then caught up as they started down a long hallway. “You’ve been here before?”
“A few times.”
“How come? Did someone you know commit a crime?”
“Not yet. I was here a few days ago hoping to find someone.”
“Any luck?”
Jackie pushed on the metal crossbar, opened the back door a little and peeked out. “The coast looks clear to me.”
The parking lot was not as clear as Jackie hoped, and as they walked down the steps to the sidewalk, a camera inside a van repeatedly took pictures. She caught just a glimmer of a flash, stopped, and leaned down as if she felt something on her leg. With her other hand, she positioned the medallion so Michael and Carl could get a description of the vehicle and a picture of the license plate number.
“Trouble?” Carl asked.
“I saw a flash,” said Michael. “Probably just a reporter, but we’ll check it out.”
“Cameras, cameras, everywhere cameras,” Carl muttered. “It’s getting harder and harder to be incognito these days.”
As soon as Jackie started walking again, Holly said, “This way.” She pointed left and half a block later, opened a door in a row of shops. Holly let Jackie go in first.
“Age before beauty?” Jackie asked.
Holly giggled. “I haven’t heard that expression in ages.”
“Will you let me buy you lunch?” Jackie asked as she got in line behind several other people. Most didn’t pay any attention to them, but there were a few that gawked at Holly in the crowded room that smelled of hotdogs and french-fries. Jackie glared at two women and made them look away.
“Really? You’re buying lunch?” Holly asked.
“I assure you, I can afford it.”
“Okay, but I probably can’t return the favor, especially if the trial lasts more than two weeks.”
“I understand. I don’t have any friends here in Portland, and it’s nice to have someone to eat lunch with.”
“Did you hear that Carl? Apparently, we are not her friends.”
“Have you forgotten? We are her employees. Friend status comes later.”
“How much later? We’ve only worked for her for what? Thirty years?”
“I had a couple of friends here once,” Holly admitted, “but they shied away after Mark got arrested.”
“Well, then, I guess we’re stuck with each other.” Jackie ordered hotdogs and soft drinks, and then followed Holly to the condiment table. As soon as they were finished doctoring their hotdogs, she said, “Let’s eat in that little park beside the courthouse?”
“Why not?” When they returned to the parking lot, the van was gone and Jackie was relieved.
The little park that apparently few knew existed was almost deserted. Thankfully, the young couple sitting on one bench seemed far more interested in each other than in them. Jackie chose a bench several yards away, sat down, and took a bite of her hotdog. The way that Holly hungrily started to eat, she wondered if the poor girl had any money at all.
“One thing I’ll say about Portland,” Holly said after she swallowed and took a sip of her soda, “is that it has the most beautiful scenery in the world. Salt Lake has parks, but not like these.” She peeled the wrapping down and took another bite of her hotdog.
“I agree; it is very beautiful here.”
“I think it’s awesome that you own your own business. What kind of company do you own?”
“The kind with slave labor,” Michael muttered.
“Come to think of it, you look abused,” Carl shot back.
Jackie nibbled at her hotdog and let her new friend eat more before she answered. “I have a confession to make.”
Holly suspiciously eyed Jackie. “Uh oh, here it comes.”
Jackie laughed. “It’s not what you think.”
“What is it then?”
“Well, I own a detective agency.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see. We look for missing people, mostly children who simply vanished. Sometimes, we are hired right after the disappearance and sometimes not until years later. Our latest case is what brought me to Portland.”
“Is that your big confession? You look for missing people?”
“No, the confession is that I made your acquaintance intentionally, hoping I could sit with you in the front of the courtroom.” Jackie watched, but the expression on Holly’s face didn’t display annoyance. If anything, she looked even sadder than she had that morning.
“I wish I were missing.”
“I bet you do.”
“Is Mark a missing child, because if he is, it would be better not to tell his real parents?”
“No, Mark is not the subject of our search.”
“Is it someone in the courtroom then?” Holly asked.
“Maybe, we’re not sure yet.”
“Well, I know it’s not me. I look just like my mother.”
“No, it’s not you either. You’re not mad at me for deceiving you?”
“I would be, but I’ve done worse...a lot worse. People who live in glass houses, and all that, you know. I’m just relieved you’re not a reporter.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I haven’t ruined our friendship. Someone in that brown van in the parking lot took pictures of you earlier.”
“I know, I’ve seen that van before. Half of the pictures on line of me are very unkind, as though they want to cast suspicion on me. I can’t tell you how furious I am at Mark for putting me through all this. You know what bothers me more than the reporters?”
“What?”
“That I slept in the bed of murderer. I didn’t know that at the time, but I get chills just thinking about it now.”
Jackie glanced up at the clear blue sky. “I sure would like to know who hired him.” She waited while Holly took another bite of her lunch.
“So would I.”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“Nope, but I can tell you this, Mark is scared to death of him.”
“How do you know it is a man?”
“It could be a woman, I suppose. If a woman hired him to kill that precious old woman, she wouldn’t hesitate to hire someone to kill Mark.”
“That’s what I think too. Do you know if the authorities offered your husband a deal, if he turned state’s evidence?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I’ve read men can even get killed in prison. If someone wants you dead, especially if they have money, you’re dead.”
Jackie put the rest of her hotdog in her sack. “I’ve heard that too. You didn’t visit Mark in jail?”
“Once. I went to ask him how I was supposed to pay the mortgage on the house.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was sorry, but sorry doesn’t pay the bills. Three months after that, the mortgage company said I had to leave, so Mom drove up. We packed everything in a rental truck and took the girls to Salt Lake. I thought I had to get permission from the courts, but they said I didn’t, so I left. I couldn’t wait to leave Portland.” She took another bite of her hotdog and stared at the ground.
“Holly, if my questions upset you, I won’t ask any more.”
“You don’t upset me, Mark does. I loved him, but before this happened, I never realized how selfish he is. The first few days he called me collect, if you can believe it. The phone company wanted fifteen dollars for a three-minute call.” Holly’s voice began to rise. “Was I supposed to pay for that?”
“What did you do?”
“I got the house phone disconnected, bought a cheap cellphone and refused to give anyone the number. I only needed the cellphone so I could call 911 if the girls got hurt.”
“Good move. The papers said Mark had a cellphone.”
“He did, but I only saw it once. After he was arrested, I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find it. The cops didn’t find it either.”
“What did Mark tell you to do about the house payment?”
“He begged me to borrow the money to pay it. He said he needed the house to pay for his fancy lawyer, but that lawyer said there wasn’t enough equity even to begin to defend Mark in a murder trial. So, I lost the house and he got a public defender. My husband did me one favor, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, he’s such a big shot he picked out the house and put everything in his name. He said it was so I wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, but I think he thought if I ever left him, the house would be his.”
“It probably would have been community property.”
“Right, only he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. Since everything was in his name, I was able just to walk away. Mom doesn’t think it will ever show up on my credit report and so far, it hasn’t.”
“Not true. Unless Oregon law is different, the bills are community property too,” said Carl. When someone knocked, he went to the door, accepted the sandwiches he ordered earlier and came back.
“Hey, maybe we could use a little of our emergency fund to help her out,” Michael suggested. “That way, it truly won’t ever show up on Holly’s credit report.”
“Pay off a house?” Carl asked, as he unwrapped his BLT sandwich.
“Why not? Just take it out of petty cash. Better yet, take it out of that over-stuffed suitcase you don’t think I know about.”
Carl ignored the way Michael was staring at him and Jackie ignored them both. “I’m glad you have parents who can help you.”
“So am I. His parents won’t even speak to me. Like I said, they think this is my fault. Mark told them he needed the money because I demanded he buy expensive things for me.”
“Did you?”
Holly tossed the last of her hotdog in her sack and then took a sip from her drink. “Everything was always for him – his pool table in the basement, his new car, his golf clubs...his everything. He wanted to make his dad think he was successful. Half the time, the washing machine didn’t work, but that was not Mark’s problem. I got even though. I left the washing machine, the pool table, and his stupid golf clubs in the house when I moved out. I even left all his clothes there. His parents had to buy a new suit for him to wear to court and I don’t feel one bit bad about that.”
“His parents haven’t offered to help you?”
“Are you kidding? They haven’t even asked to see the girls. Mark probably told them the babies are not his. Best thing that’s happened so far today is not having to sit beside my father-in-law.” She puffed her cheeks. “Jackie, I don’t mean to unload on you.”
“I completely understand. When my husband drank himself to death, a very good man listened to me for hours. I doubt I will ever be able repay him for that.”
Carl puffed his chest. “She means me. You’re welcome, Jackie.”
“Really?” Holly asked. “He drank himself to death? How awful.”
“Well, someone took our son, you see. We already owned a detective agency that searched for other people’s missing children, but we couldn’t find our own son.” Jackie hadn’t told that to anyone in years, and felt a sudden twinge of pain. Fortunately, it didn’t last long.
“I am so sorry. I can’t imagine losing a child. Are you still looking for him?”
“Every day. I’ll keep looking for as long as I draw breath.”
Holly took one more sip and then set her soda on the bench beside her. “Good for you.”
“Tell me, if you moved away, and you are sure Mark killed Mrs. Lockhart, why did you come back for the trial?”
“I have two little girls, and someday they are going to ask me whatever happened to dear old dad. When I tell them, I want to be able to say I was there and I heard everything with my own ears.”
“Well then, I applaud you for that. Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Being my friend is all I could ever ask of anyone these days. The case is being followed in the Salt Lake papers too. It’s so embarrassing, but no one at home seems to blame me for anything. It’s just that they ask questions and I get tired of answering them over and over, especially when they are strangers.”
“You could change your name after this is over. It’s real easy to do and I doubt a judge would deny it.”
Holly giggled. “I could remarry too.”
“That would work. Just don’t rush into anything. It’s cheaper to get it done through the courts.”
“Did you marry again?”
“Not yet, but...” she forgot Michael and Carl were listening and stopped in midsentence.
“But what?” Holly asked.
Jackie shrugged. “That’s another story. We better go back in.” She stood up, took Holly’s lunch bag, added it to hers, and dropped them both in the can beside the door. She took one last sip of her drink and dropped it in too.
“Carl,” Michael said, “you know what she’s talking about? What story?”
Jackie could hear Carl’s far off voice say, “I don’t know, why you don’t ask her when she gets home?”
“I think I will.”
Getting back inside the courtroom meant they had to walk around to the front of the building, climb the steps, and make their way through shouting reporters. Just before they turned the corner, Jackie pulled Holly aside. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
“Okay, I’ll save you a place.” Bravely, Holly put her head down and went around the corner.
“Smart move, Jackie,” said Carl. “We don’t want our client to see your picture on TV or in the newspapers. She would know where we are and probably catch the next flight here.”
Jackie turned her back to the crowd and brought her medallion up to her lips. “We need to find a better way in and out. I need to be close to the front and Holly can do that for us.”
“I’m on it,” said Carl. “But I remind you it is a courthouse with high security.”
Michael stroked the side of his cheek. “I know, we’ll drop you on the roof from a helicopter.”
Jackie would have said something about that, but several people were approaching. She turned back around, skirted the side of the press, and walked up the steps unnoticed.
Once again, the courtroom was filled to capacity, although there were different faces. The important members of the court came back in, the jury was reassembled, and the DA called his next witness.
*
“THE PEOPLE CALL MRS. Norma Childers.”
“Oh goodie, I’ve been waiting for her to testify,” said Michael. “Miss Childers has given several interviews to the press and she doesn’t hold back.” He laced his hands behind his head and scooted down a little, although there was nothing uncomfortable about the sofa he sat on, even with a computer on his lap.
As she promised, Holly saved a seat in the front for her. Jackie turned to watch when the door in the back of the courtroom opened, and a woman who looked to be in her fifties walked in. She had obviously dyed her hair dark recently, which accented her blue eyes. The bailiff directed Norma Childers to the witness chair, the clerk swore her in, and she took a seat. The moment she was settled, she made a point of glaring at each of Mrs. Lockhart’s four children.
DA Davis gathered his notes and took a position at the lectern. “Please state your name and occupation for the record.”
“My name is Norma Childers and I used to be a housekeeper.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Childers. Before her murder, did you work for Mrs. Amelia Lockhart?”
“I did.”
“And do you recognize the woman in the portrait?”
The housekeeper took a deep breath. “Yes, sir, that’s poor Mrs. Amelia Lockhart.”
“Do you know how long ago this portrait was painted?”
“About five years ago. She was delighted with the way it turned out, and had it hung above the fireplace in her library.”
Michael gasped. “Five years ago and her children looked like they had never seen it? How is that possible?”
“Did Mrs. Lockhart reside at 4415 Redwood Blvd?” the DA asked.
“That’s right.”
“How long have you worked for the Lockharts?”
“Well, let me see. I got hired on not long after I came to Portland, and that’s been twenty-five years this July.” Davis dropped a paper on the floor and she watched him pick it up, but she didn’t wait for him to ask the next question. “One of those bratty kids of hers killed her.”
Davis was not pleased. “Mrs. Childers...”
“Miss.”
“Very well, Miss Childers, please just answer the questions. Mrs. Lockhart’s children are not on trial here.”
She raised her voice. “Well, they should be. It’s been ten years since a one of them came to see her on Mother’s Day and the like. All they ever came for was money.”
“Jackie, the public defender is grinning,” said Carl.
Davis looked pleadingly at the judge, but the judge said nothing, so he turned his attention back to the witness. “Again,” the DA continued, “I ask that you please confine your answers to my questions. Now, at the time of her murder, did you have a set of keys to Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“Yes, sir.”
“To your knowledge, does anyone else have a key?”
“Not that I know of, although she might have given a key to Melissa so she could escape her rotten husband. Mrs. Lockhart got the lock changed a couple of years ago. She sure wouldn’t have given keys to any of her other children, not that they ever called or came by to see how she was getting on. Selfish brats.”
Davis ignored that outburst. “Miss Childers, was Friday, June 12th one of your usual cleaning days?”
“It was.”
“On the morning of June 12th, did you let yourself into Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“Mrs. Lockhart’s children look a little uneasy for some reason,” said Michael, “but I can see why. I heard somewhere that housekeepers know everything. Maybe this one knows who hired Mark Barrett.”
Norma frowned. “I didn’t have to unlock it, the door was already unlocked.”
“About what time was that?”
“Promptly at 9:00 a.m., just like always.”
“Do you normally enter through the front door?”
“I do. I park on the street and go to the front door. It’s the only door I have a key to.”
“Did Mrs. Lockhart often leave her door unlocked?”
“No, sir, not once in twenty-five years that I know of. Even when she went out early to get the paper, she locked the door when she went back inside. She was careful that way.”
“When you entered the house, did you notice anything out of place?”
“Everything was just the way she liked it to be – only the house smelled something awful and the heat was turned up full blast again. Mrs. Lockhart was on blood thinners, so she was usually cold and kept the house hot, at least too hot for me.”
“You said the house smelled awful that morning?”
Norma Childers hung her head. “It smelled like death. I’ve smelled death before and I figured she was gone, but I thought she passed in her sleep, peaceful like. Come to find out, she died that Tuesday night and lay in her own blood for three full days.” Norma sneered at the four Lockhart children. “How you must have suffered...having to wait three whole days to hear she was finally dead.”
“Miss Childers,” said Davis, “I truly prefer that you answer yes or no to my questions.”
Norma narrowed her eyes. “That won’t stop me.” She paid no attention to the chuckles in the courtroom. Instead, she turned her glare on the man she recognized from his picture in the paper – Mark Barrett.
“I don’t suppose it will stop you,” a frustrated Davis mumbled. “Your Honor, I...”
“Yes,” the judge agreed. “Miss Childers, please confine your remarks to the questions asked.” He raised an eyebrow when she shot him a look of contempt too.
Davis took a sip of water and composed himself a little before he continued. “What did you do when you suspected Mrs. Lockhart was dead?”
“Well, I felt bad that she died alone, and thought the least I could do was to make certain she was covered up when they came to take her away.”
“What did you do then?”
“I covered my mouth with a dishtowel, went upstairs and called out to her. I knew she wouldn’t answer, but it was the polite thing to do. Her bedroom door was wide open and it didn’t take long to see what had happened. Poor Mrs. Lockhart, what an awful way to die. I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my mind.”
“What did you do next?” Davis asked.
“Well, I watch those cop shows like everybody else, so I knew not to touch anything. I went back out the front door and called 911 on my cellphone. Then I waited until the police arrived.”
“I see. What did you do after the police arrived?”
“You mean after I stopped crying?”
“Yes,” Davis answered.
“Well, I stayed outside mostly, and let them do their work. After they took her away, they asked me to come inside and see if anything was missing.”
“Did you have occasion to look in her jewelry box?”
“I did.”
“Did you notice if some of her jewels were missing?”
“I couldn’t tell. I had no reason to check what she had in her box on a regular basis, but I knew everything was insured. Mrs. Lockhart took pictures and kept a list of valuables in a desk drawer in her office. Funny thing, there was a Ming Dynasty vase on a table in the library, and it wasn’t taken. I guess the killer wasn’t up on his treasures. That vase must be worth...”
This time, it was the defense attorney who objected. “Your Honor, we have not yet established whether the perpetrator was a man or a woman.”
“My money is on one of her sons,” Norma Childers, muttered.
“Objection,” said the DA. “Your Honor, the witness is voicing an opinion.”
The judge sighed. “Mr. Livingston, your objection is sustained. Miss Childers, again, please confine your remarks to the questions asked.”
The witness turned up her nose, ignored the judge, and used the opportunity to glare at her employer’s eldest son again.
Michael chuckled. “He may look like a stern judge, but I think he is enjoying this. I bet he doesn’t run into a lot of witnesses who refuse to even to look at him.”
“Like I was saying,” Miss Childers continued anyway, “that vase is worth tens of thousands. I looked it up and some Ming Dynasty vases sell for as much as a million dollars. Of course, that is just one of the treasures she kept around the house.”
“Wait, wouldn’t her children have known that?” Michael asked. “Maybe not. They didn’t know about the portrait. I’ve been watching Mark Barrett. He raised his eyebrow when he heard how much the vase was worth. I heard somewhere defendants are told not to react, but I guess he couldn’t help himself. I was hoping he would look at one of Mrs. Lockhart’s children, but he hasn’t yet.”
“Maybe he feels guilty for killing their mother,” said Carl.
“Or he’s scared to look for fear he might give away which one hired him.”
“Let’s continue,” the DA said. “Miss Childers, how many times a week did you do Mrs. Lockhart’s housekeeping?”
“Twice a week. Once on Tuesday and again on Friday.”
“What were your normal duties?”
“The usual. I took out the trash, ran the vacuum, dusted, and did the laundry. Sometimes there were dishes in the sink to do, but Mrs. Lockhart liked feeling independent and usually turned on the dishwasher herself. On the days she left dishes for me to do, it was a sure sign she wasn’t feeling well.”
“How old was she?”
“We had just celebrated her sixty-seventh birthday. I brought over a little cake and we each had a slice. Her bratty children didn’t even send a card.”
Davis briefly frowned, and then moved on. “Without telling us what she said, were you asked to live with her?”
“Yes sir. She was having a little trouble keeping her balance, and wanted someone to be there in case she fell. I was supposed to move some of my things in that next weekend.”
“Would that have been Saturday, June 13th and 14th?”
“Yes. I thank the good Lord I wasn’t there that night or I would be dead too.”
“Miss Childers, did you tell anyone about your plans to move in?”
“Just my neighbor, so she could watch my place, and the postman, so my mail wouldn’t pile up. I already had the newspaper delivery stopped and I had a devil of a time getting that fixed back up.”
“To your knowledge, did Mrs. Lockhart tell anyone you were moving in?”
“She might have, but I didn’t hear her tell anyone.”
“Now,” Davis asked, “did you notice any strangers in the neighborhood that week?”
“Only that one over there.” She nodded toward the defendant.
“Miss Childers, would you be so kind as to point out the man you saw for the Jury?”
She pointed, and then said, “I saw that one over there, but I doubt he killed her without help from her bratty kids.”
“Miss Childers,” said Judge Blackwell, “I caution you once again to keep your opinions to yourself. This is a court of law and there are rules that must be followed.”
Norma finally looked him in the eye. “I could say I don’t give a hang about your rules, Judge, but being as how you asked politely, I’ll try.”
“Thank you, Miss Childers. You may proceed, Counselor.”
Davis nodded his appreciation to the judge. “Let the record reflect that the witness pointed to the defendant, Mr. Mark Barrett. Miss Childers, how many times did you see him that week?”
“Twice, that I recall. Once, he was in the alley and I thought he might be going through our trash looking for Mrs. Lockhart’s personal identification, you know, to steal her identity. Mrs. Lockhart was careful about that though and it wouldn’t have done him any good. She shredded all her bank statements, telephone records – everything that came in the mail got shredded.”
“And the second time you saw Mr. Barrett?” Davis asked.
“He was just walking down the street looking at things. He looked Mrs. Lockhart’s house over real close that day, but I never thought he would shoot her. Mrs. Lockhart never hurt a fly. She...”
“Miss Childers, I have just one more question. Before that time, had you ever seen Mr. Barrett?”
“I might have, but I never met him formal like. If I had, I would remember. He’s a handsome man, but then, I’m sure everyone knows that. Too bad he’s taking the fall for this instead of the real killers.”
“Thank you, Miss Childers. I have no more questions at this time.”
Michael chuckled. “Davis looks relieved to have that over with. Livingston looks like a cat that ate the canary. I can’t think of a better defense than to have someone else to blame, and he’s got four other suspects to choose from.”
*
LIVINGSTON SLOWLY STOOD up and cleared his throat. He didn’t bother to go to the lectern, not just yet anyway. “Miss Childers, do you know of anyone who might have had a reason to kill Mrs. Lockhart?”
She mocked, “Only her four beloved children.”
“I object,” said the DA.
“Of course you do,” The defense attorney returned.
“Overruled,” said the judge. Davis looked astounded, but the judge ignored him.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” said Livingston. “At this time, I would like to reserve the right to call this witness later when the defense presents its case.”
“Granted,” said Judge Blackwell.
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Livingstone sat back down.
“Any redirect, Mr. Davis?”
“Not at this time, but the state also reserves the right to recall this witness at a later time.”
“Granted,” said the judge. “Mrs. Childers, you are excused. The court will notify you when we want you to come back.”
She nodded, got up, and held her head high. When she got to the bannister between the attorneys and the spectators, she refused to look at the four children. She opened the little gate, let it slam behind her, and walked back down the aisle. The Bailiff opened the back door for her, watched her go, and then softly closed it.
“What a pistol,” said Carl. “I can’t wait to hear what else she has to say. The children look relieved to see her go, but the jury loves her. Half of them are still smiling.”
“Mr. Davis,” said Judge Blackwell, “call your next witness.”
“The People call Deputy Samuel James Musgrave to the stand.”
Michael took his legs off the coffee table and sat up straight. “Sam Musgrave is a local hero. He saved three little kids from burning to death in the backseat of a car last year. He couldn’t save the mother, though. The fire got too hot and she was unconscious in the front seat. The autopsy showed no alcohol or drugs in her system, but she had a nasty contusion on her head, probably from the accident.”
The DA waited until the deputy was sworn in and then walked to the lectern. “Deputy Musgrave, how long have you worked for the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office?”
“Six years.” The deputy was a tall man, wore his dark blue uniform proudly and had a deep dimple in his chin.
“Before that, where did you work?”
“In the Sheriff’s Department, Ward 4 in Washington, DC.”
“In your career as an officer, about how many murder cases would you say you have helped investigate?”
“Over a hundred or so. I never actually counted.”
“Would you say you are relatively familiar with murder investigations?”
“I am not an official investigator, but I would say that, yes.”
Davis briefly looked directly at juror number eight, a woman, while he asked the next question. “Okay. On the morning of June 12th, were you dispatched to 4415 Redwood Blvd.?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was that the residence of Mrs. Amelia Lockhart?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Deputy Musgrave, do you recall at what time you arrived at Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“I got there shortly after 9:00 a.m., about three minutes after we got the 911 call.”
“Tell us what you saw and did.”
“I saw the housekeeper, Miss Childers, first. She was outside and pretty shaken up. I asked if she needed medical attention and she said no. By then, the neighbor lady came to take care of her, so I went inside.”
“Did it appear that someone had broken in through the front door?”
“No, sir, I saw no sign of forced entry.”
“Did you later check the other doors and windows, and if so, what did you find?”
“I checked them all, but there was no evidence to suggest someone had broken into the house.”
“Did you take pictures of all the outside doors and windows?” Davis asked.
“I believe Detective Heffran took pictures, but I did not.”
“Thank you. Deputy Musgrave, what did you observe when you went inside?”
“I saw nothing unusual downstairs.”
“Had you ever been in Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“No, sir.”
“By unusual, do you mean you didn’t find anything turned over or knocked down?”
“That’s right. The room was tidy.”
“Did you think the killer might still be inside?”
“Not really, but just in case, I drew my gun before I went any farther.”
“Did you smell anything...foul when you entered the house?”
“I did. It was pretty obvious Mrs. Lockhart had been dead for a while.”
“Objection, calls for a conclusion,” said Livingston.
Davis quickly said, “I’ll withdraw the question.” He paused to look at his notes, turned a page, and then turned a second page. “Deputy Musgrave, what did you do after you first entered the house?”
“I walked through the downstairs to make certain no one was there, and then went upstairs to Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom.”
The DA went to the evidence table and selected the top 8 x10 photograph. He showed it to the defense attorney and then said, “Exhibit B, Your Honor.”
Judge Blackwell nodded. “So noted.”
“Permission to approach the witness?”
“Granted,” said the judge.
Davis went to the witness stand and handed the photograph to Musgrave. “Deputy, do you recognize this photograph?”
“I do.”
“Could you tell the jury what that picture is of?”
“It is a picture of Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom after her body was removed?”
“Would you agree that this is an actual depiction of how the bedroom looked when the picture was taken?”
“Yes.”
“Is that Mrs. Lockhart’s blood on the bed, the headboard, and the wall in her bedroom?”
Livingston stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. The deputy is not a blood expert.”
“I’ll withdraw the question,” said Davis. “Permission to approach the jury?”
“Permission granted,” said the judge.
Davis handed the photo to the first of the twelve jurors and watched as it was passed down.
“That’s interesting,” said Michael. “Looks like he’s not going to make the jury look at her body. Two of the men flinched, and the women can’t seem to pass it down fast enough.”
“Jackie,” said Carl, “that van belongs to a local true crime website. I’m monitoring it to see if your picture shows up. If it does, our friend Michael, will know how to permanently delete it.”
In the seat next to Jackie, Holly had her head bowed and was toying with a fold in her plaid skirt. On the other side of Jackie, Mark’s father whispered something to his wife, but his wife had no response. Across the aisle, the victim’s four children watched the jury’s reaction to the photo, but still didn’t display any emotion of their own.
Jackie turned her attention to Livingston, who appeared to be jotting more questions on his notepad, and then she looked at the judge. Interestingly, Judge Blackwell was watching her, so Jackie held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. The bailiffs in the front, the court clerk and the court recorder looked bored.
When the last member of the jury finished looking at the photo, Davis took it to the Court Clerk, and then went back to the lectern. “By the way, Deputy Musgrave, could Mrs. Lockhart have shot herself?”
“I don’t see how – we didn’t find a gun,” the officer answered.
“What happened after you confirmed that there had been a murder?”
“I called it in.”
“What did you do then?”
“It was stifling in there, so I found the thermostat and turned the heat off. Then I checked the rooms upstairs, used a cloth and opened two of the second floor windows.”
“Weren’t you worried you might disturb some of the evidence?”
“No, it would have been impossible for anyone to enter or exit through those windows. They were both still locked on the inside.”
“Did you touch anything else?”
“No sir.”
“What happened next?”
The deputy took a long breath. “The Sheriff, along with several police officers came. They sealed the place off with crime tape to keep everyone out.”
“While you were there that morning, did anyone try to get inside?”
“Just a couple of reporters and a cameraman. They arrived not long after the sheriff showed up.”
“Do you know how the press found out about the murder so quickly?”
“Sure, they have scanners. We try to keep the lid on things, but it usually doesn’t take long for them to find out. Heck, they even have scanners on the internet that people can listen to these days.”
“Were the reporters able to get inside?”
“No, sir, we didn’t let anyone inside except the investigator and his team. As far as I know, no one has been in there since we finished our investigation either.”
“So to your knowledge, no one has been inside to clean up?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Deputy Musgrave answered. “The museum put twenty-four hour guards around the place to protect the valuables inside, but I haven’t heard of them going inside. Most people wouldn’t want to.”
“To your knowledge, were there any witnesses to Mrs. Lockhart’s murder?”
“None that I know of.”
“Did you or the other officers canvas the neighborhood?”
“We did, but none of the neighbors saw or heard anything that night.”
Davis paused to refer to his notes again. “After Mrs. Lockhart’s body was removed, did you try to take the housekeeper’s statement?”
“I did, but Miss Childers was pretty upset, so I only asked if she saw who did it. She said she didn’t see anyone inside or outside of the house when she arrived.”
“Deputy Musgrave, did you disturb anything in Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom before or after the other officers arrived?”
“No sir.”
“Did you check to see if Mrs. Lockhart was still alive?”
“No sir, it was obvious she was not.”
“You didn’t lean over the bed or touch her body for any reason?”
“That is correct.”
“So, help me make certain I understand you correctly. You found no forced entry, no gun, and no one entered the premises except officers, is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
“One moment please, Your Honor.” Davis appeared to be looking for a missing sheet of paper, but couldn’t find it. He wrinkled his brow, and then continued without it, “Deputy Musgrave, that morning, did you ascertain if any of Mrs. Lockhart’s belongings were missing?”
“Well, once Miss Childers calmed down a little more, we asked her to take a look around. Miss Childers didn’t want to go back inside the house. She said Mrs. Lockhart often gave things to the museum, so she wouldn’t know what was missing and what wasn’t.”
“By ‘we’, do you mean yourself and Detective Paul Heffran?”
“Yes.”
“Did Miss Childers tell you about a list?”
“She did. She told us where to find a list of valuables Mrs. Lockhart carried insurance on.”
“Where did she say the list was?”
“In the top, right hand drawer in Mrs. Lockhart’s office desk.”
“I see,” said Davis. He remembered what was on the missing page and said, “Let me back up a little. After the sheriff and the officers arrived to seal the crime scene, what did you do?”
“I waited for the homicide detective to get there.”
“Homicide Detective, Paul Heffran?”
“That is correct.”
“How long did that take?”
“About forty minutes.”
“During that time, did anyone else enter Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”
“The sheriff went inside to have a look, but no one else was allowed inside.”
“To your knowledge, did he touch anything?”
“No, sir, he was very careful not to touch anything.”
“Thank you.” Again, Davis paused to review his notes. “Did you stay there while Detective Heffran investigated?”
“I did. I like watching him work. He is very good at his job.”
“Objection. Calls for an opinion,” the defense complained.
“Sustained,” said Judge Blackwell. “The jury shall disregard and the court reporter will strike the words, ‘he is very good at his job’.”
“Deputy Musgrave, later that day, did you and Detective Heffran find the list of insured valuables in Mrs. Lockhart’s office?”
“We did.”
“What did you do with that list?”
“We went around the house and checked to see if anything was missing?”
“Was anything missing?”
“We found everything except four items of expensive jewelry.”
Davis lowered his gaze for a moment to let the jury absorb that fact. “Did it appear to you that someone had searched the desk drawers in Mrs. Lockhart’s office?”
“No.”
“Did it appear to you that someone had searched any of the drawers in the house?”
“No, it did not. Mrs. Lockhart’s drawers were very neatly arranged and looked undisturbed.”
“You mean the killer didn’t go through her belongings looking for money?”
“It didn’t look like it to me?”
Davis had an incredulous look on his face that he intentionally let the jury see. “Did you find any money in her drawers?”
“We found a rare coin collection in a drawer in her bedroom.”
“Were the coins hidden under clothing?”
The officer tried not to, but he smirked a little. “No, sir, it was on top of some night clothes.”
“How were the coins housed?”
“They were in an ordinary green coin book, with pages of coin holders inside.”
“In your opinion, if someone had looked through her drawers, would they have easily found the coin collection?”
“I don’t see how they could have missed it.”
Davis moved to the side of the lectern, again rested his arm on it and clasped his hands. “So is it your testimony that nothing on the list was missing except some jewelry?”
“That’s right. We were able to account for everything else.”
“Where was the jewelry box?”
“On the top of her tallest dresser.”
“In plain sight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What did you do next?”
“Well, after we finished, I went to notify the family.”
Davis immediately knew he had made a mistake. He didn’t want the defense to know the deputy notified the family, but there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was hope that Livingston didn’t catch it.
