Annie drove the ten miles into Yakima, assuming she would have no problem finding a room. But she soon discovered that Cavanaugh’s, the Red Lion, and the Rio Mirada, all of the quality business-class hotels in town, were completely full thanks to—of all things—the state bar association convention. The desk clerk at Cavanaugh’s was kind enough to call around in search of a room, and when one was located at a place called the Cherry Court Motel a few blocks away, Annie took it sight unseen.
She followed the desk clerk’s directions, and her heart sank when she saw it. She had stayed in her share of cheap motels, but not when she was traveling on business. Located on a residential street next to a drug rehabilitation facility, the Cherry Court was a two-story motel with a tiny kidney-shaped pool in the parking lot. A few screaming children were risking their health wading in the stagnant green water, while two surly-looking men in a corner of the parking lot were conducting some kind of transaction that Annie didn’t want to know about.
She picked up her key at the desk. At least her room was on the second story, at the farthest corner from the noise of the pool. She probably would have been able to describe the decor without ever setting foot inside—chocolate-brown shag carpet, a faded bedspread in shades of burnt orange and harvest gold, a “starving artist” oil painting bolted to the wall. She sat on the edge of the bed, and the mattress sagged with a spongysoftness.
Spreading the contents of her briefcase out on the small round table by the window, Annie began making lists of the things she needed to do. Despite Gerald’s comments, she felt that the battered-woman’s defense was still Taylor’s best hope, mainly because there was nothing else to go on. That afternoon, Annie would call on the local hospitals and clinics with the signed medical release in search of Taylor’s records. Looking through Taylor’s address book—the one the nurse had not let Annie leave at the hospital—she found the names of several potential witnesses to interview. Unfortunately, two of them were in Spokane, a couple of hundred miles east near the Idaho border. Annie called Horizon Air for their schedule of commuter flights, and discovered that she could fly over, talk to her witnesses, and fly back all in the same day. She booked a nine a.m. flight for the next morning.
Before making any more calls, Annie dialed the office to let her secretary know where she could be reached. She also needed the moral support of the one person she could count on to give her a straight evaluation of her case. Val O’Hara had always had an uncanny ability to predict what a jury would do with practically any set of facts.
The phone was picked up on the fourth ring, with the sound of raucous, high-pitched shrieking in the background. At first, Annie thought she had gotten a wrong number, until she heard Val O’Hara’s, “Hold on, honey,” shouted into the phone. “Let me see if I can control the volume a little bit. All right, kids, that’s enough of ‘dinosaur game.’ I can’t have Tyrannosaurus rexes playing in the reception area. Take your crayons into the conference room and draw pictures, like your daddy told you to. That’s right, sweeties.” The shrieking didn’t stop, but Annie could tell the kids had moved into the next room. When she came back on the line, Val sighed. “Criminy, as if I don’t get enough of the grandma business at home. Joel and his wife are at the bank signing loan papers, and asked if I’d watch the kids for an hour. They’ve been gone almost an hour and a half and I’m going out of my mind. If my hair wasn’t already gray, this surely would do it. Now I know why I couldn’t stay ‘retired’ for more than two weeks—I don’t have the stamina. So how is it on your end, honey?”
Annie filled her secretary in on the events of the last couple of days, including Harry Braithwaite’s fabricated confession, and ending with her abrupt move to the Cherry Court Motel. For some reason, she relayed everything except what Galen had told her about his past indiscretions.
“Well, if that doesn’t take all. You know what I think? I wouldn’t trust that artist brother as far as I could throw him. I bet he thinks his sister is going to jail for a very long time, and he’s already making plans for what he’ll do with her business. Hmph. You said he hated his teaching job, didn’t you? Blood is thicker than water, unless there’s money involved, that’s what I always say. Then it’s every relative for himself. I’d check out the daughter, too. She may be seventeen, but she sounds like she’s old enough to know what she wants.”
“But Val, the State’s going to prove that Taylor was found at the crime scene, holding the weapon. How am I going to prove that someone else killed Steve?”
“I don’t know, hon, but I think you’d better work on it. Right now, you don’t have a leg to stand on with that battered-woman theory.”
“You don’t think I could convince a jury that Taylor killed Steve out of fear for her life?”
“If you’re going to get Taylor off the hook, you’re going to need a whole lot more than you’ve got right now. Unless, of course, she’s just plain guilty, and you’d be better off working on a plea bargain.”
Annie sighed, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t know, Val. I’ll admit that part of me wants Taylor to be innocent, but it’s more than that. I know her, and she’s not a murderer. I just can’t believe she would have killed Steve, unless it was to defend herself.”
“You know what Agatha Christie said. Every murderer is probably somebody’s old friend.”
“I know, and thanks for the objective viewpoint. I shouldn’t let myself get so close to this case that I can’t see the facts.”
“Is there anything I can help you with from this end?”
“I don’t think so. I just wish I could clone myself to be in two places at once. I’m going to see Taylor at the hospital this evening, and if I go talk to these witnesses tomorrow in Spokane, I’ll have to wait till Monday before I can get around to checking the police and court files for reports of domestic violence, and I’d really like to do some background checking on Steven Vick, and what type of business dealings he had in the works. Any ideas?”
Annie could hear Val chuckling. “One or two. What time are you catching your plane tomorrow?”
“Nine. The airport’s close to town, so I’ll probably be here till eight-fifteen or so.”
“I’ll call you in the morning. I might have an idea of how you could get some help.”
“So, how is everything going at the office? Is Jed still distracted by his personal ad?”
Val laughed. “It was interesting around here, to put it mildly. Jed seemed to think that he had to meet every single lady that responded the first week—before they got taken by someone else, I guess. But things have quieted down now that he’s narrowed the field to one.”
“One! I’ve never known Jed to date only one woman at a time in his life. This must be someone special.”
Val laughed knowingly. “Oh, it is.”
“Can you tell me more?”
Val paused, and Annie could almost see her smiling. “I think I’ll have to let him fill you in. But I can say this. I’m positive that you’ll like her.”
***
Annie went alone to see Taylor. The halls of St. Elizabeth’s were quiet, and felt cold to Annie. She had never been comfortable visiting hospitals. No matter how healthy a person might be, in a hospital bed hooked up to tubes and wires, anyone would look near death. The overhead fluorescent lights were bright but artificial, giving everything a bluish cast.
Annie had talked to Taylor’s doctor that afternoon and gotten his permission for a short visit. Dr. Butterick also agreed to speak with her afterwards and update her on Taylor’s condition.
With some trepidation, she approached Taylor’s room. The bed closest to the door was still unoccupied. She tapped on the open door, then walked toward Taylor s side of the room. Even though she’d tried to mentally prepare for anything, the sight of her friend lying listlessly and staring out the window was disconcerting. Her blond hair was limp and unwashed. The bruises on her face had turned from dark purple to reddish-brown. Taylor turned her head when Annie softly called her name.
“I feel like I should have brought flowers.”
“Not necessary,” Taylor said lethargically.
“Are you feeling any better?”
A slight shrug. “The doctor says so. Take my advice. If you ever try to overdose, don’t use aspirin or codeine. Big mistake.”
Annie pulled a chair next to the bed and tried to think of small talk. She told Taylor how much she enjoyed the tour of the winery Galen had given, and said that Gerald was doing a good job of looking after things. She wanted to be careful in her questions. She needed information from Taylor, but didn’t want to add to her depression. After a few minutes of chatting, Annie said, “Taylor, can I ask you some questions about Tuesday night?”
She closed her eyes. “You can try.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
She moved her head slightly. “No. The last thing I remember is getting to the party, and going to talk to Galen about the display. The next thing I remember, I was waking up in the hospital.”
“Do you know what happened to Steve?”
“The doctor didn’t want to tell me, but I guessed. He’s dead, isn’t he?”
“Yes.”
Taylor looked for a moment like she was going to cry. “Did I?”
Annie debated how much she should say. “No one saw it happen. He was hit in the back of the head with a wine bottle. You were found near the body, and your fingerprints were on the bottle.’’
Taylor bit her lip. “No,” she said softly, her eyes welling up. “No, I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have…. Do the police think?”
“I’ve spoken to the homicide detective from the sheriff’s department. He’s indicated that he wants to issue a warrant for your arrest. But the fingerprints aren’t a lot to go on. I want to make it very clear that he’s not to talk to you without an attorney present.”
“Are you representing me?”
“If you still want me to.”
She gave a small, bitter laugh. “I guess I need you, if I’m going to be branded a murderer.” Under her breath, she said, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Annie had to broach another difficult topic. “I’ve talked to some of your friends, Taylor. Harry Braithwaite, Edna down at the cafe, Seth Longacre. They told me some suspicions they had about you and Steve.” She didn’t know the right way to ask. “This might be important to your defense, Taylor. I need to know if Steve ever hit you.”
Eyes still tightly shut, Taylor nodded slightly.
“And did this go on after you asked him to move out of the house? Did he come back from time to time?”
She sniffed slightly, and barely inclined her head.
“Can you tell me about it?”
A shake of the head. “Not right now,” Taylor said, her voice choked with tears. Annie waited, but Taylor wouldn’t say any more. “When I’m not so tired.”
“Sure, Taylor. That’s okay.” They talked a while longer, but not about the case. When Taylor looked like she wanted to sleep, Annie left.