| |
Inside the courtroom, Donovan sat at defense table. The marshals had removed his cuffs and allowed him to wear street clothes. But there were still two in the courtroom, maintaining a discreet distance but ready to jump in the second Donovan made a move.
Dan sat beside him. As soon as he did, he got a queasy feeling inside. “How do you feel?”
He looked tired and worn. “Like my whole life hinges on what happens during the next couple of hours.”
Which was entirely accurate.
“Anything you need to tell me before we get started?”
“I’m a bit peckish. Could we have that pizza delivered during the hearing? I mean, just in case we aren’t celebrating later?”
“In the courtroom? No.”
“Could you get me a better cell? The one I’m in now sucks.”
“Maybe you should rent an Airbnb.”
Dan watched his face carefully. Donovan’s only reaction was confusion. “I don’t think the prison guards will allow that.”
“Anything else I can do for you?”
Donovan gave him a raised eyebrow. “Win.”
“That is always my intention.” And it still was. Sort of. He hoped. If he wasn’t representing a big fat liar who was manipulating him to get out of jail...
* * *
Dan watched as Judge Durant re-entered the courtroom. After a few preliminaries, Dan called Mitch Theroux to the witness stand. Mitch looked nervous, but almost everyone did when they were called to testify. He’d shaved, but not all the way, leaving a veneer of stubble. Which still looked better than the scruffy ungroomed look that seemed to predominate on college campuses these days.
Hard to imagine this guy stealing a book from the library, much less murdering someone. Dan had his work cut out for him.
He ripped through the introductory questions. He knew the judge didn’t care about Mitch’s life story. He needed to move to the part involving fraud or newly discovered evidence as quickly as possible.
“So you lived two doors down from the victim, Claudia Wells. And you exchanged texts with her.”
“That was our primary means of communication.”
“Your room was ten feet away from hers. Why not talk face-to-face?”
Mitch shrugged. “Ok, Boomer. Whatever.”
Dan’s teeth ground together. Mitch was truly obnoxious. And come on, he wasn’t nearly old enough to be a Boomer. Gen Y maybe. “You liked Claudia, didn’t you?”
“Of course. As far as I know, everyone did.”
Well, there was one person who didn’t. “Yes, lots of people liked her...but you especially liked her, didn’t you?”
“I’ve already said that.”
“Would you say you loved her?”
“You and the police. Always trying to invent facts when you don’t have any real ones. Yes, in fact I did love her. But not in a romantic way. We were close friends who cared about one another.”
“One of the texts makes reference to ‘what happened last night.’”
“So of course, you assume that meant sex. In fact, we’d both been to a party the night before. We drank way too much and had spotty memories the next morning. We got together later and swapped notes. But we did not swap bodily fluids.”
“She wrote, ‘That was a one-off. It should never happen again.’”
“The same words spoken by anyone who ever woke with a hangover.”
“So you claim you weren’t pining for her.”
He shifted around in his seat. “I was perfectly happy with our relationship the way it was.”
“And you weren’t at all jealous about her relationship with David Donovan.”
“Why would I be? I don’t think she cared that much about him. He was just...convenient.”
“What does that mean?”
“She didn’t want a long-term relationship. But she liked sex. So she used him. But I don’t think she liked him that much.”
“Maybe that’s what you wanted to think. Because you were jealous. You had visions of you and Claudia playing together with that priceless violin, following a sensual performance in bed—”
“You are so far off the mark.” Mitch moved past irritation into anger. “I don’t know why I should be subjected to questioning by someone who so clearly knows nothing about her. Newsflash, dude. Not that it’s any of your business. I’m gay.”
Dan took a moment. Okay. Hadn’t seen that coming.
Since Dan didn’t immediately ask another question, Mitch continued. “Haven’t you heard? Women feel safe around gay guys. They can be friends without worrying about secret agendas or sublimated passion. Lots of coeds have gay best buddies. Including Claudia.”
The fact that he said it didn’t make it so. But it would be futile to dispute the point. Prove you’re gay? That wasn’t going to happen. He’d probably get canceled if he tried. “Are you in a relationship now? I mean, with a man?”
“Yes. Not serious. But I am seeing someone.”
“Who?”
ADA Chee rose, but Mitch beat her to the punch. “That is totally none of your business.”
“So you’re seeing someone male, but you also spent a great deal of time in Claudia’s room.”
“Not all that much time in her room. We usually went out. Not dissing her in any way, but Claudia tended to be...untidy. I have OCD issues. I can’t stand messy, cluttered environments.”
“Let’s talk about violins.”
“I play keyboards. Never played a violin in my life.”
“But you knew Claudia kept a valuable violin in her dorm room.”
“Lots of people knew. She played it on campus, in class.”
“She kept it in a safe?”
“Right. And how many people have safes in their dorm room? Anyone who entered her room would know there must be something valuable there.”
He took his best shot. “You knew the safe combination, didn’t you?”
Chee shot to her feet. “Objection. Leading.”
“Permission to treat the witness as hostile.” Which meant he could ask leading questions, among other things. “I thought that was understood.”
Judge Durant nodded. “It was. Your request is granted and the objection is overruled. The witness will answer.”
Mitch drew himself up. “You know what? I’m tired of hiding. I did know the combination, but not because I wanted the violin. Because she trusted me with it. Because we were close. She probably thought someone else should know the combination in case she forgot it. She was afraid to write it down, except maybe in code. And she knew I didn’t want the violin. So she gave me the combination.”
Dan took a moment to think. So far, he hadn’t laid a glove on this witness. He needed to push harder. “You’ve admitted to having opportunity, and I think you had motive. Even if you personally did not want the violin, could you sell it?”
“I suppose I could try. But I didn’t. The police would’ve caught me if I had.” He fell silent, then before Dan could resume, added more. “I’m not going to leave it at that. Because the fact is, I didn’t want the violin, I couldn’t play it, and I didn’t need money. But you know who did? Your client.”
Dan ignored the last part. “Please tell the—”
“Plus, in my own way, I loved Claudia and she loved me. But your client would’ve killed his grandmother to get that violin.”
“Objection!’ Dan said.
The judge nodded. “Sustained.” But that didn’t mean Durant didn’t hear it.
Dan continued. “I think you loved Claudia and hated my client. You decided that if you couldn’t have Claudia, no one would. And after you killed her, you stole that violin—not for money but because you wanted to incriminate Donovan. Which worked. The police bought it hook, line, and sinker. And here we are today. Because you stole a violin you couldn’t play.”
“Total fabrication. Didn’t happen. I loved her.”
“Did you still love her after you read her diary?”
Mitch’s lips tightened. “I would never read her diary without her permission.”
“You’re telling me your haven’t read the portions the police released? They’ve been published all over the media. Do you have a Twitter account, Millennial?”
A slight smile. “I did read those. Since Claudia was gone, I didn’t see the harm.”
“In one diary entry she wrote, ‘Mitch is starting to be a problem.’ Did you see that one?”
“I did. I can’t remember what that was about. She probably thought I was drinking too much at parties.”
“The complete quote was, ‘Mitch is starting to be a problem...I may need to switch to a different dorm.’”
“Those were two different thoughts. Two different sentences on different pages that you’ve combined to create an unintended meaning.”
“That’s not how it reads to me.”
“The so-called ‘problem with Mitch’ was that although I had done her homework on many occasions, I wouldn’t take her online final in Music History. She was planning to switch to a more expensive dorm because she thought there was too much riffraff in her current one. She was probably worried about the violin. But she wasn’t worried about me.”
“And what’s your spin on the entry dated March 6? She wrote, ‘Mitch can be helpful, but needs to learn to keep his hands to himself.’ Can you explain that away?”
“Yes. She was HSP.”
“Excuse me?”
“Stands for Highly Sensitive Person.”
“That sounds made up.”
“It’s a clinical diagnosis. She was more sensitive to physical, mental, and social stimuli. Some people don’t like loud sudden noises. Awkward phone calls. Cringey situations. And typically, they don’t like to be touched. Even a harmless fist bump or high five. Once I knew her issues, I stopped. And that was long before she was murdered.”
One last thrust and then it was quitting time. “You know, the crime scene was wiped clean. All that cleaning would take a long time. Who do you think did it?”
“The murderer, obviously. Donovan.”
“And he stayed in her room for hours, cleaning up the mess?”
“Apparently.”
“But you were only two doors down. And you knew her habits. And you knew the combination to the safe. Did you have a key to her door?”
“No.”
“And why would David need to spend hours cleaning up the mess? Sure, his prints were all over the room but since they were dating, that’s not particularly incriminating.” Dan leaned in closer. “Who would do all that cleaning? Someone who wasn’t dating her, and thus shouldn’t be leaving prints around her desk. Or her bed. Or her safe. Maybe someone who can’t bear to leave a mess behind. Like someone with OCD. Which you just confessed to having.”