Chapter 8
Doomsayer
Several weeks went by without much activity on the Sarah Winters case. I used that idle time to continue my investigation of Bobby Wiggins's death. I wanted to question each one of our mutual clients, particularly Rob Parker, to see if they might know something that might help.
Parker, a bald headed man with a redish complexion, didn't look pleased to see me when I showed up at his office. I had decided to come without an appointment so he wouldn't have time to contemplate the purpose of my visit.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.
"Is that any way to greet the man who saved your ass?"
"That was your job and you were well paid."
"True, but why the hostility?"
"Haven't you ever heard of making an appointment?" he said.
"I'm sorry, perhaps I should have, but I was in your neighborhood and thought I'd just stop by. I'm looking into Bobby's death."
"What are you moonlighting as a cop?"
"No, as you might have heard I've been sued for negligence."
He laughed. "How ironic. The lawyer gets a taste of his own medicine."
"Thanks for your concern," I said.
He took a deep breath. The smile disappeared. "Okay, so how in the hell can I help you?"
"I just need to ask you a few questions.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Did Bobby ever mention a medical problem to you?"
"No, we didn't get into personal stuff."
"Did you ever hear that he had a medical condition?"
"No, ‘fraid not."
"Okay, on the night of the party, did you see anything unusual?"
"Yeah, I saw my accountant sprawled out on the sidewalk cause his attorney was too lazy to throw a little sand on it. Hell that could’a been me."
"Too bad it wasn't," I said under my breath.
"What did you say?"
"Too bad you didn't see him fall. Nobody actually saw him slip. It's just conjecture that he slipped on the ice."
"Huh. Pretty safe bet I would say."
"So you didn't see anything else unusual before the lights went out?"
"No, nothing."
"Where were you when the . . . when the lights went out?"
"In the dark."
"Seriously, where were you?"
"Shit, I don't know. Talking to someone, I guess."
"Who?"
"How the hell should I know. I talked to a lot of people that night."
“Before the party, how often did you see him?”
“Not too often.”
“He’s still your accountant, isn’t he?"
"So, I sent him my bank statements every month and he sent me a big bill. I hardly ever talked to the man."
“What do you mean? What about your chapter 11?”
“What about it?”
“You must have spent a lot of time with him doing financial projections and monthly operating reports.”
“We had a couple meetings.”
"Did he ever discuss a discrepancy between your tax returns and your bankruptcy schedules?"
Parker stiffened. “What do you mean, discrepancy?”
“The fact that you appear to have suddenly picked up some new assets since your case was confirmed. Did he discuss that with you?”
“No, I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I’m talking about filing fraudulent bankruptcy schedules. Where did you get the money to buy all that new equipment?”
Parker looked around and took a deep breath. “Is this confidential?”
“I’m still your attorney.”
“Well, you know, I wasn’t sure the Chapter 11 would be successful. You told me yourself most of them fail, right?”
“Right.”
“So, I put a little something away just in case things didn’t go well.”
“Did Bobby find out?”
“He never mentioned it.”
I shook my head. “I can’t believe you did something so stupid.”
He shrugged. “So now what?”
“Now, you find yourself another attorney. I can’t represent you anymore.”
“You gonna tell?”
“No, I can’t disclose what I know, but I can’t continue to represent you unless you want to come clean.”
“Shit!” he said looking away.
“You wanna come clean?”
He laughed. “No way, you think I’m nuts?”
“Okay, I’ll close your file and send you a final bill.”
“Thanks a lot.”
It was 10:45 a.m. when I got back to the office and told Jodie about Parker. She didn’t seem surprised. While Jodie went to get me some coffee, I flipped open my Day Timer and noted it was Wednesday, April 1. The calendar was clear the rest of the day so I figured I'd get a lot done.
As I was going through my mail, I noticed a large envelope addressed with cutout letters from a magazine. How weird I thought. Jodie set a cup of coffee in front of me.
"What is this?" I said as I ripped it open. She shrugged.
The message was also written in cutout letters just like the envelope. The message read:
“YE DEFENDERS OF THE DEVIL BEWARE! DEATH WILL BE YOUR ONLY REWARD. REPENT BEFORE YOU FACE ETERNAL DAMNATION. TIME IS SHORT UNTIL THE LIVING WILL AVENGE THE DEAD. DOOMSAYER."
"Look at this," I said.
Jodie walked around my desk and looked at the message.
"What the hell?" she said.
"Maybe it’s an April Fools joke," I said.
"I don't think so."
"It's a Bible quotation, I guess."
"What do you think it means?" Jodie asked.
"I don't know. It could have something to do with Sarah Winters, I suppose."
"Is it a death threat?" she asked.
I took a deep breath and replied, "No, I don't think so."
"Shouldn't you report it to the police?"
"I don't know. It’s probably just some crackpot."
"You better not take any chances," Jodie said.
"What are they going to do?" I laughed. "The guy obviously was very careful not to leave anything that could be traced back to him."
"I don't know. I’m sure they can do something."
"It probably doesn't mean anything. Don't mention this to Rebekah. I don't want her to worry about it."
"Okay, but I think you're making a big mistake," Jodie said. "You can't ignore something like this. There are too many crackpots out there today."
I thought for a moment and then said, “Ah, just forget it."
As we were talking, I noticed Jodie looked like she was putting on a little weight. I wasn't going to say anything but she apparently sensed my feelings.
"What?" She said. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Oh, nothing. For a minute there I thought you were getting a little belly."
Jodie gave me a cold stare that made me feel quite uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry that wasn't a very nice thing to say, forgive me," I said.
"No, it's true. I’m actually glad you brought it up."
"Huh?"
"I'm not getting fat from eating too much, I'm, . . . well actually, I'm pregnant."
"Really, you and Rodney actually stopped fighting long enough to make love?"
"That's the problem, making love is the only thing we do well. We fight about everything else."
"So is Rodney excited about being a father?"
"I haven't told him, he'd probably leave me if he found out."
"Oh, come on, he loves you, he wouldn't do that," I said.
"You don't know him like I do, he'll croak if I tell him I'm pregnant. He'll blame me for forgetting to take my pills. I'm really scared to tell him."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I don't have any choice."
"What do you mean?"
"I've
got to get an abortion."
A chill darted down my spine. I didn't know what to say. I'd never really thought much about abortion. I knew I was against them but I had never had to deal with one before. A sick feeling came over me.
"An abortion! No, . . . you're not going to do that, are you?"
"I have to. This isn't a good time for me to be pregnant. Rodney will leave me and then I'll be a single parent trying to raise a child and work at the same time. What kind of a mother would I be if I left my child at day care all day and then at night was too tired to give it the attention it deserved?"
I got up and walked to the window overlooking downtown Dallas. I thought about Jodie's baby, alive and healthy inside her womb, and wondered if it could sense the danger it was facing. Then I thought of Sarah's baby, lying in a coffin six feet under the ground. What was this world coming to when the life of innocent children meant so little?
"I know it's none of my business and the Supreme Court says you can have an abortion if you want one, but why not just give the child up to someone who wants it?"
"Rodney would find out I was pregnant if I did that," Jodie said. "I couldn't bear to lose him."
"Is he worth keeping if he couldn't love you and the baby?"
"It wouldn't work. Anyway, my mind is made up. The only reason I told you about it was that I'll need next week off to have the abortion."
"How far along are you?"
"Twenty-two weeks."
"You kind of waited a long time to do this, haven't you?"
"Don't think this has been easy for me. I've spent many an hour agonizing over this decision. I've felt this life within me and in many ways I want this baby. But it just won't work, I know Rodney too well. We could never have children. Rodney couldn't share me with anyone, even his own child."
I stood silently and stared at Jodie. Tears were running down her cheeks. I went over to my credenza, pulled out a box of Kleenex and handed it to her.
"Okay, take the week off. Do what you think is best."
"Thanks," Jodie said. "I know it's the best thing."
"Since you're going to be gone all week I think I'll spend the time out of the office interviewing witnesses and suspects in the Wiggins and Winter's cases. I shouldn't need much secretarial help for that. I've got to do it sooner or later anyway so it should work out well."
"That's a good idea, but you could get a temp’ if you wanted."
"Nah, you've got me spoiled. I'd just waste a bunch of time trying to train her."
"Maybe I won't have to be out an entire week."
"Ah, don't worry about it, I'll be all right. Take whatever time you need."
That night I left early and drove home. It was a long, slow ride due to rush hour traffic and a gentle rain that had just rolled in with a cold front. When I arrived home, everyone was sitting down to dinner. It was Rebekah's practice to wait until about six to have supper, but if I wasn't home by then she would start dinner without me and warm mine up later. She liked it when the family ate together so she was glad to see me home early.
"Well, you just made it in the nick of time," Rebekah noted.
"Yeah, I didn't feel like working late tonight."
"It's a good thing. This weather is miserable. Did you know we're under a flash flood warning?"
"Really?"
"Hi Daddy," Reggie said.
"Hi, bum. How was school today?"
"Okay."
"Don't forget soccer starts next week," I said.
"Oh, yeah. Would you put some air in my soccer ball so I can start practicing?"
"Do we have a needle?"
"Yeah, in the garage."
"Okay, after supper."
As I started to eat, I couldn't keep my mind off Jodie. Rebekah watched me twisting my spaghetti around and around and not eating.
"What are you doing Stan? Is something wrong with the spaghetti?"
I looked up at her and tried to smile. "No, I was just thinking about Jodie."
"Jodie?"
"Uh huh, she's getting an abortion. She'll be out all week."
"I didn't even know she was pregnant," Rebekah said.
"What's an abortion?" Reggie asked.
I looked at Rebekah. She shrugged and got up to go to the refrigerator. Thanks a lot.
"Ah. Well, it's when a baby dies before it's born."
"Oh," Reggi said as he picked up a meatball with his fork and began nibbling on it. He frowned. “Why would it die before it was alive?” I didn’t feel comfortable telling a nine-year-old the truth about abortion so I used my legal skills to dance around the question.
“Ah, . . . sometimes they get sick inside the womb, . . . or they have a defect, you know.”
“Oh.”
I continued talking to Rebekah. "I keep thinking of poor Sarah who could have had an abortion a few weeks earlier. Jodie's going to be gone a week and then her life will be, more or less, back to normal. Sarah, on the other hand, may well spend a substantial portion of her life in prison. The whole thing stinks."
"I think they both should go to prison," Rebekah said.
"Maybe so, but abortions are legal so you can't send Jodie to prison and I don't see why Sarah should go either, assuming she's guilty, since what she did, in reality, was no worse than Jodie," I said.
The following Monday, I made appointments with Greg Peterson and Richard Stein. I figured both of Sarah's boyfriends had to be my primary suspects. Each had good reason to kill Sarah's baby. The only question was how could I find out if one of them, in fact, was the killer. I figured a low keyed, non accusatory approach would be best. Perhaps the killer would make a mistake and reveal himself. I met with Richard Stein first on the ASU campus in a library study room. He was sweaty, unshaven and donned a yellowed T-shirt, torn jeans and sandals.
"How's Sarah?" Stein asked.
"Oh, she's fine now, she had a rough time there for a while but now she's doing all right," I replied.
"I'd go visit her but her parents would have a mule if I showed up at their door."
"They don't like you I take it?"
"You got that right," Stein said.
"Why do you think that is?"
"They know how I'm financing my education, you know, and how I make a living."
"How did Sarah feel about your drug dealing?"
"She didn't like it, you know, but she tolerated it. She's had a lot of practice with that kind of thing, you know, cause her old man was a drug addict and a drunk."
"Was she on drugs?"
"Now and then, I made sure she didn't get hooked though. I didn't want no junkie for my woman," Stein said.
"I take it you don't use drugs yourself then?"
"I take a snort once and a while, but I need to stay sober to do my business."
"I see. Did you know Sarah was pregnant?"
He shrugged. "Not really, she was getting a little pudgy but the way she was eating that didn’t surprise me."
“That’s not what she said.”
Stein frowned. "What did she tell you?"
"She said you had arranged for an adoption."
"She's crazy."
"You didn't have an attorney looking for a home for the baby?"
"No. She must be confused. I told her I'd take her to a clinic to have an abortion, but I don't know anything about any adoption."
“But you said you didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“Not until she told me. . . . You know. . . . Then I told her to get an abortion.”
"Did you all use birth control?"
"I didn't, I assume she did."
"Do you know for sure?"
"No, I think she was taking the pill, at least that's what she told me."
"I won't beat around the bush about this, weren't you the baby's father?"
"I'd like to deny it, but what's the use. Sarah was a one-guy woman. She wouldn't of cheated on me. It's a simple mathematical equation, seven months before she killed her baby, she and I were together."
"You think she killed her baby?"
"Of course, who else would have done it?"
"You think she is capable of murder?"
"Killing a baby is not exactly murder, you know, she had a right to do it. It was her baby."
"Not according to the law. It was too late for an abortion."
"That's just legal mumbo jumbo. What in the hell difference could a few weeks make?"
"Six weeks," I said. Stein shrugged. "Aside from the legalities, you knew her pretty well, was she capable of killing her baby?"
"Listen, she's not as pristine as she pretends to be. She usually has a handle on what's happening and will do what has to be done. She got what she wanted."
"When was the last time you saw her?"
"Oh, a week or two before the murder. We have a class in the same building at the same time so we run into each other from time to time."
"Did you say anything to her then?"
"Yeah, I asked her how she was."
"What did she tell you?"
"Not much, but I could tell she wasn't happy."
"How could you tell that?"
"She had that look in her eyes like she wanted to spill her guts to me, you know, but was afraid. I tried to reassure her, but she wouldn't open up to me. When we were together, she would get that look from time to time and after a while she'd unload on me. But not any more."
"What happened to you two?"
"I had a little too much to drink one night and I knocked her around a bit. She never forgave me. I guess I don't blame her."
I sat silently for a moment, staring at Richard and wondering what next to ask him. Obviously he wasn't going to volunteer anything important. I wondered what I could say to trip him up.
"So, that was it then?" I asked.
"That was it. She didn't speak to me at all for several weeks. When she did finally talk to me, it was clear our relationship was over. She said she could put up with about anything but physical abuse."
"It sounds like you still have feelings for her."
"I do, but that's life. Sometimes you got to move on, if you know what I mean."
"When did you hear about the murder?"
"Not ‘til the next day when I read about it in the newspaper."
"Where are you living now?"
"I've got an apartment not too far from Sarah's place–about a half mile away."
"Were you home that night?"
"The night of the murder? . . . Ah, well, maybe part of the evening."
"Did you see any of the police cars or the police search parties?"
"No."
"Do you live alone?"
"No, I've got a roommate. She’s a senior accounting major."
"Was she with you that night?"
"No, she got home late, after midnight."
"Do you remember when you were home and when you were out?"
"I was home all night except for a delivery I made about eleven p.m."
"You didn't see anything when you went out at eleven?"
"No, nothing unusual."
"How do you feel about your baby being killed?"
"I feel nothing. I didn't even know she was pregnant. How could I have any feelings for a child I never even saw?"
"What if you had seen it?"
"It wouldn't make any difference. I wouldn't consider it my child."
"But what if the baby had lived and you had to pay child support?"
"That wouldn't be right," he said.
"In your mind, it may not be right, but it's the law isn't it? You were the father."
"I suppose."
"How much do you make as a drug dealer?" I asked.
"Maybe a hundred grand or so but no one could prove it."
"Suppose they did and you had to pay $25,000 a year in child support?"
"No way, it wouldn't happen."
"I don't suppose you pay taxes?"
"Taxes? Are you kidding? What do you think, I'm nuts? I'm not giving my money to those lunatics who run this country."
"If suddenly Sarah got a lawyer and she pressed you for child support and in the process the IRS found out you weren't paying taxes, you could end up losing damn near half of your income–not to mention going to jail for tax evasion."
"They couldn't prove shit."
"I know, but it's an interesting thought," I said.
"A fucking nightmare is more like it!"
"Well, thank you, Richard. I appreciate you talking to me, I know you didn't have to."
"No problem man, hope Sarah gets off the hook."
"We'll do all we can."
I got up, shook hands with Richard and left the library. I didn't know what to think of the interview. Somebody was lying obviously. I hoped it was Richard and not Sarah. Richard didn't act guilty, but he certainly had the motive and opportunity to kill Sarah's baby. Before I left town I interviewed Sarah's roommate, Michelle, talked to several of the other tenants in the apartment complex as well as my niece, Alice.
"So you took Sarah's case?" Alice said.
"Yes, I did."
"I told Mr. Winters I wasn't sure if you would but, if not, you would refer him to someone."
"I don't know what you told him, but he was convinced he had to have me and only me on the case. After you graduate how about you come handle my marketing for me?"
Alice laughed. "Okay, I could do that."
"So, how well did you know Sarah?"
"Not that well. We went to a few parties together and I saw her around the apartment complex on occasion. We weren't close friends or anything like that."
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
"We suspected it, but she denied it when we brought it up."
"Did you see her the night of the murder?"
"No, Michelle stopped by to use the phone to call her parents but I never actually saw Sarah that night."
"Did you hear anything?"
"No, not until the police showed up."
"Have you heard anything from your friends about what happened?"
"Just that someone called the police and told them where to find the dead fetus."
"You're kidding? Where did you hear that?"
"One of the dispatchers is a friend of the leasing agent. She told her that someone called the police that night and told them to look in the dumpster behind Sack'N Save."
"Was it a man or a woman?"
"A man."
"Huh. That means somebody either saw Sarah dump the baby or someone else is involved in the murder," I said.
“I guess,”
"Well, I'm glad I stopped by to see you. If you hear anything else, let me know."
"Oh, the District Attorney called me. He said I might have to be a witness."
"Did he say why?"
"Yes, he said he wanted me to testify that I was home all night and if Sarah had wanted any help she could have easily come and got me. He thinks the fact that I didn't hear anything and Sarah delivered her baby without asking for any help is clear evidence that she planned to kill her baby all along."
"That's a good point. I hope there's an explanation for that. Our only hope is that Sarah's memory comes back."
"I sure hope it does."
The following morning I had to go to bankruptcy court for discharge hearings and then I planned to meet with Greg Peterson for lunch. I did a lot of bankruptcies due to the excessive amount of credit that financial institutions were extending to almost anybody who had a pulse. One of these cases this particular morning had boggled my mind. A man of Arab descent had come to my office to file bankruptcy. He had fifteen credit cards, all American Express Cards, two Platinums, three Golds, eight Greens and two Optimas with a combined balance of nearly $200,000. I warned the client to expect a dischargeability complaint from American Express, however, he never heard from them and the deadline for objecting to the bankruptcy had passed. When I entered the courtroom, I saw Mo sitting quietly in the back of the room. Several other of my clients were scat
tered around the courtroom. I took them one by and one and explained to them what to expect during the course of the hearings. Finally, the door to the Judge's chamber opened and the Judge appeared. The bailiff commanded everyone to rise.
"Be seated," the Judge said. "Good morning, I'm judge Baldwin. This is your bankruptcy discharge and reaffirmation hearing. Congress has mandated that if a debtor reaffirms any debts that such reaffirmation be approved by the Court. As your attorney no doubt explained to you, a reaffirmation is a new promise to pay a debt that has been discharged in bankruptcy. When I call your name, please come forward with your attorney and he will ask the appropriate questions concerning your reaffirmations. We're mainly concerned that these reaffirmations are necessary and that they will not be a hardship on you. Okay, I'm going to call the ten o'clock docket now."
For the next hour I paraded several of my clients before the judge. It was quite monotonous. “Mr. Burns has a Chevrolet Malibu he’d like to reaffirm with GMAC. The payments are $312 a month and he used the Malibu as his primary transportation to and from work,” I said to the judge.”
“Will this be hardship on you? Mr. Burns,” the judge asked.
“No, sir. I can handle it.”
The judge nodded and said, “Then the reaffirmation will be approved.”
At the end of the docket the clerk passed out everyone's discharge papers. When it was over, I shook hands with all of my clients and wished them well. As I was leaving, Mo joined me in the elevator.
"Well Mo, you are one lucky guy not to get an objection on all those Amex cards, I still can't believe it."
"You know, I didn't want to tell you this earlier, but I was referred to you by the Company."
"What Company? I thought you were self employed?"
"Well, I haven't been totally honest with you, Stan."
"What do you mean?"
"You're still my attorney, even though the bankruptcy is over, right?"
"Yeah, until your case is closed."
"Everything I tell you is still confidential, isn’t it?"
"Yes,” I said, curious as to what little bombshell he was about to lay on me.
"Actually I work for the CIA."
"Huh, the CIA?"
"They got me all these credit cards and when I was having trouble paying them, they said go see Stan Turner and file bankruptcy."
"You've got to be kidding. I don't know anyone at the CIA."
Mo smiled and said, "They know you obviously."
The elevator door opened and Mo stepped out. It all made sense now, somebody intervened to make sure there wouldn't be an objection to Mo's bankruptcy. That made me mad. I hated being someone's pawn, particularly in a game I didn't even know existed. Why did the CIA pick me anyway? Was it because they thought I was a good citizen and would turn my head if I figured out what they were doing? Would this happen again? Was Mo just the first of many to follow? Totally fascinated by Mo’s revelation, I couldn’t wait to tell Rebekah.
The meeting with Greg Peterson was to be at La Madeline at Forest Lane and Preston Road in Dallas. Greg was a student at the University of Texas also majoring in journalism. I pulled into a parking space across from the restaurant at 11:45. I saw Greg sitting on a chair near the entrance. I got out of my car and walked up to him. We shook hands, entered the restaurant and got in the line that was forming for lunch.
"How's Sarah?" I asked.
"She's doing better. I spent the evening with her last night. She won't talk about the baby though. I was hoping she would open up to me and tell me what really happened."
"So you don't believe her loss of memory story?"
"I'd like to, but how could you forget something like that. She must know what happened. She's just afraid to tell. I think she's afraid that I'll leave her."
I said, "Next week we're going to have Dr. Gerhardt talk to her. He's a good shrink. Maybe she'll open up to him or at least prescribe some sort of treatment for her."
Greg and I finally got to the front of the line and gave the cashier our order, then we took a tray, got something to drink and found a table."Listen Greg. I’ve got to ask you some questions. Please don't be offended if I ask something indelicate. I don't mean it maliciously. It’s just my job to learn all of the facts."
"I understand," Greg replied.
"How long have you and Sarah been going out together?"
"Three or four months."
"I assume your relationship has been intimate."
"Yes, we've talked about getting married someday after we both graduate."
"That's great. Did you know her before you started going out?"
"No, I couldn't have been the father if that’s what you are getting at. Lt. Meadows asked me the same question."
"Oh, he’s already talked to you?"
"Yeah."
"So he must have asked you where you were on the night of the murder, right?"
"Yeah."
"So, what was your answer?"
"I was studying at the UTD library."
"With a study group, I hope," I laughed.
"No, alone."
"Hmm, did anyone see you?"
"No."
"Did you check out a book, make a phone call or do anything that would prove you were in Dallas on the night of the murder?"
"I'm afraid not, but I did get a call on my answering machine from Sarah."
"Is that right?"
"Yes."
"When did you receive it?"
"Well, I got home about 9:45 p.m. and when I checked my recorder there was a message from Sarah. She asked me to call her."
"Did you?"
"Yes, but nobody answered."
"Really?" I said. "Did you know Sarah was pregnant?"
"Of course, she couldn't hide it from me. She was getting fat."
"So what did she say about it?"
"She said she was going to give the baby up for adoption. She couldn't keep a baby right now."
"How did you feel about it?"
"I thought that was the right thing to do."
"That was pretty noble of you to hang in there with her even though she was pregnant by another man?"
"I love her. She got pregnant before she knew me."
"Do you think she killed her baby?" I asked.
"No. She couldn't have done it," Greg said. "She wanted children someday, but later in her life when things were more stable and she was married. She often said when she had kids she’d smother them with love and spoil them rotten. She didn’t want them to have a hellish childhood like hers."
"What time was it when you called her back?"
"Probably 9:55 p.m."
"So, she may have had the baby before 9:55 and then passed out. I wonder if there is a telephone record somewhere of your call to her?"
"There should be."
"How long does it take to get to Sarah's apartment?"
"About an hour and fifteen minutes," Greg said.
"So, you're not totally off the hook, you could have driven up there."
"I could have got there by 11:30 probably, had I known Sarah was in trouble."
"When did you first learn she was in the hospital?"
"When Michelle called me about 2:15 a.m."
"2:15 huh?"
"Yeah."
"You had time to go to Sherman, kill the baby and return to your apartment. I’m not saying you did, but just talking possibilities."
"But I didn't know she was in labor."
"To be honest with you, that's hard for me to believe. You’d be the first person she’d call, don’t you think."
"Yes, except she didn't want me to be there when she delivered. She told me that. She didn't want me to go through that until we had our own children."
"Do you have any idea who was going to adopt the child?"
"No, I asked her but she wouldn't tell me."
"How about the lawyer–did she ever talk about a lawyer handling the adoption?"
"No. No lawyers."
"Okay. Just a few more questions and then I'll let you finish your lunch."
"How did you feel when you heard that Sarah had delivered Ricky's baby?"
He grimaced. "Sick . . . but relieved the nightmare was almost over. Ricky was evil personified. The thought of Sarah being with him was appalling to me. How she had been attracted to him was difficult to fathom. Do you know that son of a bitch beat her up?! That's why they broke up. Sarah wouldn't put up with that shit. If I'd of seen Ricky that night I might have killed him, but not an innocent baby."
"Even for Sarah?"
"I don't know. But luckily she never asked me to do that. Besides, if she hadn't cared about the baby, she would have had an abortion a lot earlier."
"It's too bad for her she didn't do that."
"I know, I tried to convince her to have an abortion but she wouldn't hear of it."
Greg's eyes turned red as he struggled to hold back his tears. A couple of the people eating around us looked over and gave Greg a disapproving look.
"I'm sorry Greg, I know all this must be very difficult for you."
"You don't know the half of it. Can I ask you some questions?"
"Sure, that's only fair."
"Is Sarah going to go to jail?"
"Realistically, she could be convicted. The DA has a lot of evidence, a lot of it's circumstantial, but it is still enough to convict her unless we can prove someone else actually killed her baby."
"How long will she be in prison if she is convicted?"
"It all depends on the exact charge on which she is convicted. If it's murder, it could be five years to life in prison. If it's voluntary or involuntary manslaughter, it could be six months to twenty years. So, it's premature to really speculate on her punishment right now, assuming she was guilty."
"When is her trial going to be set?"
"I'd imagine it will be in a couple of months. The judge will probably set a date in the next few weeks."
Greg wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "You've got to get her off, Mr. Turner, she told me what happened to her when she was in jail for just twenty minutes. She'd never survive any length of time in there. You can't let them convict her!"
When I got back to the office it seemed like a mausoleum. It was so quiet without Jodie there. On the way in I had picked up the mail. I dumped the stack of envelopes and advertisements in the middle of my desk. As I was going through it, I noticed a letter with my business card used as the address. The sender had cut out my address and telephone number and taped it to an envelope. There was no return address. I opened it cautiously. On a single sheet of typing paper the following message in cutout letters appeared.
"REPENT SINNER, BEFORE THE DEVIL SUCKS YOU INTO THE PITS OF HELL. REBUKE THE KILLER OF THE INNOCENT SO SHE MAY STAND BEFORE GOD AND RECEIVE ETERNAL DAMNATION. JUSTICE IS IMPATIENT! DOOMSAYER."
I studied the message for a few minutes and then decided to call and talk to Snake about it.
"Hi, what's going on?"
I sighed. "You won't believe this. It’s so bizarre really, but recently I've been getting some strange letters.”
“What kind of letters?"
I described the two messages I had received.
"Damn, apparently someone's trying to scare you. Shake you up to make you less effective or maybe they think you'll just drop the case."
"I just wonder if it's anything to worry about."
"I doubt it. It’s probably just a prankster. But you probably should tell Meadows about it anyway. He may want to do something about it."
"Okay, I'll put a call into him and see what he wants to do."
"It's probably nothing to worry about, but it doesn't hurt to be cautious," Snake said. "So, how did your interviews go?"
I gave Snake a complete rundown on my conversations with Richard Stein and Greg Peterson.
"Unfortunately I wasn't able to eliminate either Ricky or Greg as a suspect. Either one could have done it. They both certainly had a good motive."
“Figures. When do you want me to line up Dr. Gerhardt?"
"Next week I think," I said. "Sarah needs treatment as soon as possible. Her mind is still repressing the whole incident. We've got to find out what really happened."
"Dr. Gerhardt will open her up," Snake said. "He's very good."
"I hope so. If he doesn’t, we're in deep trouble."
Second Chair, A Stan Turner Mystery, Vol.4 Page 11
