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AS SOON AS JACKIE RETURNED to the hotel, she slipped out of her heels and went to change her clothes. A few minutes later, she came back wearing jeans and a t-shirt, went to the refrigerator, got a bottle of water and downed half. “Gentlemen, what do you have for me?” She curled up in the chair opposite the sofa.
“Well, as you know, the court reporter goes by the name of Natalie Kirkwood,” Carl answered. “I found some information on her from the court reporter pool she works with. She is single with no children. Take a look at these.” Carl turned his laptop so Jackie could see the first image. Carl moved the transparent photo of the eyes until it covered the age-enhanced picture of a missing child.
“I remember her,” said Jackie. “Gosh, we have been looking for little Marilynn for what, ten years?”
“It’s not a perfect match,” said Carl. “See how Marilynn’s eyes tip slightly upward in the outer corners. This one is better.” He changed the slide, and the transparent eyes fit perfectly.
Jackie grinned. “Charlotte Foreman, there you are.”
“She either had an accident or got a nose job,” said Michael. “That’s why we didn’t recognize her sooner. And she’s the right age.”
“Her father is going to be thrilled,” said Jackie. “I wonder where he is these days.”
“India,” Michael answered. “He is now an ambassador for the British government.”
“I’m excited. Let’s go talk to her,” said Michael.
“Not yet,” Jackie cautioned. “Not until the trial is over. I don’t want her to recognize me and close the door in my face.”
“I don’t get it,” said Carl. “We know who killed Mrs. Lockhart and have a pretty good idea who hired Barrett. What good is it to hang around the courtroom any longer? We are not going to be able to get close to our subject until...”
“Until the trial is over, so why not stay?” Jackie asked. “Have you forgotten Holly? Somebody needs to see her through this.”
“Jackie, you’re such a softy,” said Michael. “I’ve always suspected that about you.”
“I would also like to know for sure who hired Mark. Wouldn’t you?” Jackie asked.
At the knock on the door, Carl let the waiter bring in their tray of food and set it on the table. He gave the waiter a tip, and then closed the door behind him. “All four of the children hired him,” said Carl. “Melissa called from Kaydence’s unknown phone number, the one Kaydence used so her husband wouldn’t find out, and Mrs. Lockhart left the door unlocked. Slone paid Barrett, naturally, but Atticus is the smart one. He provided the cellphone, the gun, and then he got rid of everything after the murder. Don’t forget, he wasn’t in bed with his wife that night.”
“And the money in the backyard?” Michael asked.
“You know, that was kind of clever of Atticus. Instead of a face-to-face handoff of the money, he just left it in the backyard. He was probably going to call to let Barrett know, but the cops got there first.”
“You can’t prove any of that,” Jackie said.
Carl shrugged. “True.”
“Kaydence needed the money most,” said Jackie. “With eight children and two in college, she has a lot of bills to pay, and she’s the one with a hot temper.”
“I don’t know,” said Michael. “Melissa seemed stone-cold when she testified. Those stone-cold types scare me more than the hot-tempered ones.”
“My ex-wife was stone-cold too,” Carl added, “and she is still alive last I heard.”
“Michael, have Charlotte’s file sent here overnight so we can have a look at it. Carl, see what you can find out about Atticus’ wife. I can understand why Slone’s wife would want to be at the trial, but why isn’t Atticus’ wife there?”
“Good question. I’m on it,” said Carl. He popped the fingers of both hands and then started typing on his laptop keyboard.
Jackie got up from the table. “Good, I’m going to take a shower.”
“Last chance for a backrub,” Michael said as she disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door.
Carl smirked. “You’re getting a little slow these days.”
“That woman wears me out.”
*
WHEN COURT RECONVENED the next morning, and before the jury was brought back in, the judge invited both attorneys to the bench, and let them read Mrs. Lockhart’s letter. It appeared that neither attorney wished to argue a point of law, and soon they both returned to their tables. The jury came in, the witness was called and the trial began for a third day.
“Again, Miss Childers, you are under oath,” said the judge as he handed the letter back to her without comment. “Mr. Livingston, do you have any more questions for this witness.”
“Just one, Your Honor.”
“Do you know for a fact that Mrs. Lockhart’s children are contesting the will?”
“I got a letter from her attorney to that effect.”
“Is Mrs. Lockhart’s attorney executor of the will?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, I have nothing further.
Michael chuckled. “Have you ever noticed how one final question turns into two or three?”
Davis had more questions too. “Miss Childers, do you know how Mark Barrett’s fingerprint got on Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom door?”
“I have no idea.”
“To your knowledge, has he ever visited Mrs. Lockhart?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“I have nothing further.”
The judge waited, but when Livingston did not stand up again, he said, “You are excused, Miss Childers,” said the judge.
“For sure this time?” she asked.
Judge Blackwell smiled. “I promise.”
“Good, I’m plumb wore out coming here.”
Michael moaned, “Yes, but she is so entertaining. I’m going to miss her.”
*
“THE DEFENSE RECALLS Detective Heffran.” Livingston waited until the witness was seated and then asked, “Detective, do you recognize any of the people sitting in the row directly behind the District Attorney?”
“Relevance, Your Honor?” Davis asked.
“Mr. Livingston?” asked the judge.
“Your Honor, if I am allowed, the relevance will become perfectly clear in a moment.”
“You may proceed, but be very careful,” the judge cautioned.
“Thank you, Your Honor. Detective?”
“I recognize Slone Lockhart.”
“From where do you know him?”
“I went with Deputy Musgrave to his office to notify Mr. Lockhart of his mother’s death?”
“How did he react?”
“He looked stunned.”
“Did he cry?” Livingston asked.
“Not while I was there.”
“Did he agree to notify the rest of the family?”
“He did.”
“Is he the only one you recognize as a member of Mrs. Lockhart’s family?”
“Yes, sir,” the detective answered.
“In the days, between the time the body was discovered and Mr. Barrett was arrested, did any of Mrs. Lockhart’s children call to see how the investigation was going?”
“No one called me.”
“Have any of her children called you since?”
“No, they have not.”
“To your knowledge, did any of them call anyone else involved in the case?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Did you find that odd?” Livingston asked.
“It is unusual. Most people have questions about the murder of a loved one.”
“Between the time the body was discovered and you learned Mrs. Lockhart’s necklace had been found, did you contact each of Mrs. Lockhart’s children?”
“I did.”
“For what reason?”
The detective answered, “I asked them to come to the station for questioning.”
“And did they come?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Each of them said the same thing. They had nothing to say.”
“Did you think their response unusual?” Livingston asked.
“Very unusual.”
“Are you aware Mrs. Lockhart’s children refused to be fingerprinted?”
“I read that in the fingerprint expert’s report, yes.”
“And isn’t it true no one checked to see if any of the children owned guns?”
“It is.”
“Thank you.” Livingston once more sat down.
Davis wasted no time standing up. “Detective Heffran, according to the laws of this state, can anyone connected with the investigation force a member of the family to give a statement or fingerprints to the police?”
“Not unless they are arrested. Even then, we can take their fingerprints, but we can’t force anyone to talk to us.”
“Thank you. I have no further questions.”
“Redirect, Mr. Livingston?”
“No, Your honor.”
“Call your next witness.”
“The Defense calls Mrs. Helen Barrett to the stand.”
While Mark beamed, Holly slumped. “He can’t be serious,” she whispered.
Mark’s mother made her way down the row, past Jackie and then past her daughter-in-law. She walked through the little gate Livingston held open for her and she was sworn in.
“Please state your name and your occupation.”
“I am Helen Marjory Barrett and I am a teacher.”
“Mrs. Barrett, is the defendant, Mark Barrett your son?”
“He is.”
“Do you recall having a phone conversation with your son early in the morning of June 9th, 2012?” Livingston asked.
“I do.”
“Did you recognize the number he was calling from?”
“I did, it was his home phone.”
“Approximately how long did this conversation last?”
“A couple of hours, maybe three,” she answered.
“Was it unusual for him to call at that time of day?”
“Not at all. He usually called after he had another fight with his wife, Holly.”
“On June ninth, do you recall what he wanted to talk about?”
“I do. Holly wanted a new washing machine. She was complaining about not having enough money again, and he tried so hard to please her.”
Holly couldn’t help but roll her eyes, and some members of the jury were watching her.
“Don’t say anything,” Jackie whispered, “It would be grounds for a mistrial.”
“Okay,” said Holly. “I just want this over with.”
Livingston reached for his glass and took a sip of water. “So, you know for a fact that your son was home the night Mrs. Lockhart was murdered.”
“I do, for a fact.”
“Thank you, I have no further questions.”
Davis looked amazed. “Mrs. Barrett, do you know the exact time your son called?”
“I do. The phone bill said it was exactly a quarter past two in the morning.”
“Did you happen to give that phone bill to the police?”
“I didn’t realize it was important.”
“You didn’t think it was important...not even after he was arrested?”
“I have been very upset and not thinking clearly.”
“I see. Mrs. Barrett, would you lie for your son?”
“Of course not, I don’t need to. Mark is a good boy. He wouldn’t hurt anyone. I raised him better than that. If you ask me, Holly did it. Where was she that night?”
Jackie quickly put her hand over Holly’s.
“Your son didn’t say where she was?” Davis asked.
“No...not that I recall, and I didn’t ask.”
“You don’t like your daughter-in-law very much, do you?”
“Not very much. She’s too greedy.”
“Does your son own a gun?” Davis asked.
“Not that I know of. We never had guns around the house and I doubt he even knows how to shoot one.”
Michael laughed and then in his best John Wayne impression, he said, “You just put your finger on the trigger and pull, Pilgrim.”
“I have no further questions of this witness.”
“Wait,” said Carl. “Mark’s home phone records would have shown that call too. What’s the deal? Davis could have easily impeached Mark’s mother...oh, that’s right, impeaching the pitiful mother of a man who might end up in the electric chair would make the jury sympathetic. Smart man that Davis.”
“No one believes her anyway,” said Michael.
“Redirect, Mr. Livingston?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“You may step down, Mrs. Barrett. Call your next witness,” said the judge.
“At this time,” said Livingston, “the defense rests.”
Judge Blackwell raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Barrett, have you been advised of your right to testify on your own behalf?”
Mark slowly stood up. “I have, Your Honor.”
“Has anyone pressured or coerced you into choosing not testifying?”
“No, sir.”
The judge paused just to give the defendant a moment to change his mind. “You may be seated, Mr. Barrett. Mr. Davis, do you wish to present any rebuttal witnesses?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Very well. Gentlemen, we shall meet back here at 1:00 for closing arguments. Bailiff, you may remove the jury.”
“All rise.”
As the judge walked out, the bailiff opened the door, let the jury leave, and then helped take the defendant away. Mark turned to mouth the words ‘thank you’ to his mother and was still grinning, as though she had just saved him.
