The Witness

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, Ebby was driving too fast on the twisty road to his family home, finally coming to a screeching stop near the trailer, sending gravel flying. Elodie, probably disturbed by the racket, came flying out of the house, brandishing a rolling pin like a weapon.

  When she realized the aggressive intruder was Ebby, she shouted at him. “What the devil is the matter with you?” She stepped off her porch and hurried toward his car, her anger morphing into worry. “What’s happened? Have you remembered?”

  “This isn’t about what I witnessed, not about the fact that I’m in all likelihood going to go on trial for my mother’s murder. This is about Felicity. I know about Felicity, that she’s my half-sister. Have you known all along?”

  Elodie’s face registered shock, followed by dismay. “Oh, Ebby, honey,” Elodie said. “Come in. I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

  “You have known. I can tell by the look in your eyes,” Ebby said. “This can’t be cured with a cup of coffee, Elodie. Are there any other secrets being kept from me? Any other half-siblings tucked away in apartments? I am so tired of the way everyone in this family treats me. I am realizing that I can’t force you to respect me. How you feel about me, or how you think about me is your problem, not mine. But I’m so tired of being treated like I am unable to cope. You had no right to keep that from me, Elodie.”

  “Felicity’s parentage and her position in her family are not for me to discuss. You’ve every right to be angry, but you’ve no business directing your anger at me. I was your guardian. In the process of executing those duties, I discovered the truth about Felicity. And I would thank you not to accuse me of treating you with disrespect.” Her voice broke with emotion. “I love you more than anything and would defend you with my last breath.”

  Ebby shrunk with guilt. God, she was right.

  “Come in,” Elodie said. “Let’s talk. I’ll tell you what I can. You look like you could use some comfort food. When did you last eat? If you don’t mind me saying so, you look a little peaked.”

  Ten minutes later, Ebby was digging into a grilled cheese sandwich, his childhood comfort food.

  “The police came and searched the main house yesterday. They were there all day. Mark was none too pleased,” Elodie said as she buzzed around the kitchen, salting the iron skillet that she used to make the sandwich and wiping it clean with a paper towel. The minute Ebby finished eating, Elodie cleared away his dishes and washed them. He knew she was buying time. When she finally sat down across from him, she looked at him with worried eyes and said, “I won’t tell you Felicity’s story, but I will tell you about your father.”

  “I can’t believe he cheated on Mom,” Ebby said. “And I can’t believe my mother didn’t raise holy hell when she found out. And Allegra – it’s all too much to take in.”

  “Don’t judge too harshly, Ebby. It wasn’t like that. Relationships can be complicated. Your father and Cynthia fell out of love. It happens sometimes.”

  “Why did they stay together? If my dad loved Allegra so much, why didn’t he marry her?”

  “Because he was devoted to his family, to you kids, and in some ways, he was devoted to Cynthia as well. Cynthia had a lover, too, just so you know. And she did know about Elliot and Allegra’s relationship. She wasn’t happy when Felicity came along, but they managed to work things out so they could peacefully co-exist. They were careful to keep their complicated triangle away from you kids.”

  “Very forward-thinking of them.” Despite Elodie’s explanation, Ebby couldn’t fathom his seemingly staunch parents in a love triangle with Allegra. He thought back to his childhood, surprised that he couldn’t remember his parents ever fighting. Not once. As far as he could tell, they had a happy marriage and were devoted to each other. And Allegra had loved Ebby and Mark, of that he was certain. Casting his mind back, he tried to remember his father with Felicity, tried to remember if he had ever witnessed the paternal tenderness of a father and daughter.

  “Will you be okay, Ebby?”

  The concern in his aunt’s eyes nearly broke Ebby’s heart. He reached out and grabbed her wrinkled hand. “There’s really nothing to be done about it, is there? I’ll be fine. Thank you for being honest with me.”

  “I’ll always be honest with you, Ebby. You can be sure of that.”

  He stood. “I need to go talk to Felicity.”

  “Can’t you wait and talk to her tonight? When she’s not at work? This is going to be a huge conversation, Ebby. You need to not get angry with Felicity.”

  “I know. I guess I should be happy,” Ebby said. “I now have one sibling who I actually get along with.”

  Elodie swatted him with a kitchen towel.

  “I should go,” Ebby said. “Thanks for lunch.”

  “Come back and see me soon?” Elodie said with a smile.

  “I will,” he said, zipping his coat as he stepped into the frigid January day.

  Chapter 22

  Brian

  Friday, January 9

  Brian and Olivia had decided the best way forward was to go over the original investigation and re-interview any witnesses that could be tracked down. To that end, Brian finished his morning to-go cup of coffee just as he pulled to a stop in front of the large house high atop one of the many hills in Tiburon, knowing full well the interview he was about to have was probably a colossal waste of time.

  During his tenure as a police officer, Brian had seen some horrific things. He’d quickly learned to compartmentalize, stuffing away the ugliness he saw at work so he could live a normal life at home and in his marriage. But the situation with Leanne had unnerved him. He’d been played and now he was struggling mightily to stuff his fury into that metaphorical box.

  He reminded himself that he was a professional. He had a job to do, working a tragic case resulting from a bogus arrest. He’d asked around about Seth Woodson and had discovered the ADA was an ambitious young man, who was making enemies in the DA’s office quicker than he was making friends. Brian didn’t need a law degree to know that there was no probable cause to arrest Ebby Engstrom, and he couldn’t help but think that Olivia had stepped right into a witch hunt.

  Brian got out of the car and took a moment to take in the spectacular view of Richardson Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge, as wisps of morning fog hung snaked over the water, propelled by the coastal breeze. The January sun would burn away the fog by noon. He stopped for a moment and sucked in a huge lungful of fresh air.

  Brian’s background check had revealed that at the time of Cynthia Engstrom’s murder, Eleanor Benedict had been the girlfriend of David Wiseman, a long-time friend of Mark Engstrom’s. She and David had married, but had divorced in 1999, at which time Eleanor had received a generous property settlement, including this spectacular house. Since that time, Mrs. Wiseman hadn’t remarried and seemed to have led a quiet and uneventful life. The interview would be a quick one. Once Brian verified that Mark Engstrom had indeed been at the cabin in the mountains at the time of the murder, he could get back to the office and continue reviewing the piles of documents Fiona Engstrom had given them.

  Brian was just about to knock on the front door, when it was opened by a physically fit fifty-something woman with shoulder-length gray hair. “Mr. Vickery?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Brian said.

  She smiled at him. “Do come in.”

  Brian followed Mrs. Wiseman into a sweeping flagstone entry hall, which ran parallel to a large living room. The wall facing the bay was all glass from floor to ceiling. This, plus the thick white carpet, gave the room an inviting spaciousness. Two large fireplaces graced each side of the room; both had comfortable overstuffed couches arranged before them. One of the fireplaces was lit.

  “Stunning view,” Brian said.

  “Isn’t it just? I’ve lived in this house for decades and I’m still not tired of it.” She led him over to the fireplace at the far end of the room. “We’ll sit here. I’ve got tea for you and ap
ple pie fresh out of the oven.”

  Under normal circumstances Brian wouldn’t dream of taking food from a potential witness, but his stomach rumbled at the mention of apple pie. Hunger forced him to capitulate.

  “I read in the paper that they arrested Ebby for the murder. That’s ridiculous. Ebby was, what, thirteen years old at the time? I probably don’t have anything new to tell you, Mr. Vickery.”

  “That’s okay. Would you mind just telling me what you remember about the Engstroms during that period of time? Anything you want to share.”

  After she gave him tea in a china cup and a huge slice of apple pie, Eleanor Wiseman made herself comfortable and started talking.

  “In the summer of 1984, my then boyfriend, now ex-husband, David, myself, Mark Engstrom, his wife Melinda, and four other friends were a pretty tight group. Two of the friends died, the other two moved away. Mark, Melinda, David and I are the only ones still around. Earlier that year Mark Engstrom talked all of us into looting our college savings accounts and investing it with him. He told us that he got a hot tip from his father and that he could triple our money, guaranteed. He suggested we could pocket the profits and put the funds back in our college accounts with our parents none the wiser. Of course, being the gullible kids we were, we believed him and gladly turned over our money. You can imagine what happened. Mark claimed the market took an unexpected dip. He said he was sorry, but the money was gone. Personally, I think he put it in his pocket. He was always a greedy, spoiled little bastard. Pardon me for being crass, but he really was.

  “All of our parents were furious. I was grounded for months and my parents took my car away. Mr. and Mrs. Engstrom paid all of us back. Elliot, Mark’s father, died that summer. It was a terrible year. Anyway, after the money was lost, our group of friends disbanded. We were all in such trouble. My parents were glad that I wasn’t hanging around Mark Engstrom anymore. Then out of the blue, Mark approached us with the offer of a ski weekend over the Christmas break. He offered the trip as an apology, footed the bill, rented us a house, ordered in catered dinners, the whole works. Probably paid for it using the money we gave him. That’s where we were when we got the news of Cynthia’s murder.” Eleanor stared off into the distance. “Mark was pretty devastated.”

  Brian set his plate down and picked up his tea.

  “What about Melinda? Wasn’t she there?” Brian racked his brains. He knew that Mark Engstrom and Melinda were high school sweethearts. Did he read something in the police report about Melinda not being on the ski trip?

  “Melinda couldn’t come. She had to work. I don’t how to say this without sounding snobby, but Melinda’s family wasn’t like our families. Her father was a welder, and her mother was a homemaker. They were nice enough people, but they lived a completely different lifestyle than we did.”

  “I’m surprised Mark Engstrom would date someone like Melinda.”

  “We were surprised too. I’m sure you’ve figured out that Mark’s a first-rate jerk, but he and Melinda loved each other. They always have. There’s something else. I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but Cynthia Engstrom was not a nice woman. She was ruthless. My parents didn’t like her. My mother called her a tough broad. She came from humble circumstances, too. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. My mother used to say that Cynthia North Engstrom did a brilliant job of remaking herself. My parents both respected her business acumen, but they had reservations about her personally.” Mrs. Wiseman stared out the window. Her voice became wistful. “Mr. Engstrom, Elliot, was a dear man. Always had a kind word, always had time for us kids. Our ideas and attitudes were so different back then. Mr. Engstrom wanted to know what our lives were like, if that makes sense.”

  “You didn’t like Melinda?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “Because Melinda and my husband were screwing each other like rabbits every chance they got. I caught them red-handed. David was embarrassed, but Melinda was furious at me. Can you imagine that? She was furious at me because she got caught with my boyfriend? We never really liked each other, but that little scenario ended whatever semblance of polite friendship existed between us.” Mrs. Wiseman stopped speaking. “You know, I just remembered something, which may nor may not be relevant. Cynthia was so tired of Mark’s behavior that she was threatening to rewrite the terms of the Engstrom Trust in such a way that Mark wouldn’t have such unfettered access to his inheritance from his father. He was telling us about it that weekend in Tahoe. I remember him saying, ‘This may be our last hurrah.’”

  “Did Mark ever find out about Melinda’s relationship with David?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mrs. Wiseman. “And between you and me, I don’t think David was the only one. My belief is that Melinda was an opportunist. She was looking to marry money. She loved Mark, don’t get me wrong, but I always had a sense that Melinda would hitch her wagon to the first available wealthy man who asked for her hand.”

  Brian finished his tea and set the cup and saucer down on the table before he stood. Mrs. Wiseman walked him to the door. Before he stepped outside, he turned back to Mrs. Wiseman. “Do you think Mark Engstrom killed his mother?”

  Mrs. Wiseman shook her head. “Mark Engstrom always struck me as a coward. And there’s no way he could have snuck home from our weekend. We would have noticed. I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

  Chapter 23

  Olivia

  Friday, January 9

  Olivia had never met, nor had she appeared before, the judge who had been assigned Ebby’s case. Judge Renaldo Gaston had a reputation as a stickler for procedure. He never allowed cameras in his courtroom and was very quick to sequester a jury. Judge Gaston rarely heard motions on Fridays but had made an exception in this instance because he had a trial starting the following week and didn’t want his docket to get backlogged.

  As Olivia parked her car and headed up to the courthouse, she was glad that she could get this obstacle out of the way before the weekend. Once she knew where she stood with her evidence, she could move forward with a trial strategy.

  Seth was already at the defense table when Olivia stepped into the courtroom. He nodded at the bailiff who went to get the judge.

  “All rise.”

  Olivia and Seth stood as Judge Gaston came into the courtroom. “Be seated. Good morning, everyone,” the judge said. “Let’s go on the record. Case 15-00654, the People versus Edward Engstrom. We’re here this morning on the defendant’s motion to suppress the confession of murder by the defendant.”

  “Mrs. Sinclair?”

  Olivia stood. “This is a very simple issue, Your Honor. My client was never Mirandized when he confessed to murdering his mother. More importantly, at the time he was arrested, Mr. Engstrom was non compos mentis in that he was extremely dehydrated and delusional, to such an extent that he was immediately transported to the hospital. There is no way Mr. Engstrom could have knowingly and intelligently conversed with any policeman whatsoever during his time in the hospital. During this time, the police heard a bogus confession to a murder that took place over thirty years ago, when my client was thirteen years old.”

  “When Mr. Engstrom confessed, did the officers know he was non compos mentis?”

  When Seth Woodson opened his mouth to speak, Olivia interrupted. “They spoke to him while he was in the emergency room for symptoms of dehydration and exhaustion.”

  Seth shot Olivia a look before he spoke. “My officers responded to the report of a confession to murder. They arrived at the hospital after Mr. Engstrom had been unloaded from the ambulance. Mr. Engstrom’s confession was given voluntarily, in front of a party of one hundred people, then again in the ambulance, and again in the emergency room. Over and over. At the time, Mr. Engstrom was not in physical custody by the police. The defendant was never in police custody when the confession was made. In fact, at the time he made the confession, he could have left the hospital at any time.”
>
  “Mr. Engstrom doesn’t even remember confessing,” Olivia said. “Moreover, I must reiterate, he’s confessing to a murder that was investigated over thirty years ago, when he was thirteen years old.”

  “It’s the People’s position the confession should stay in, Your Honor, and that the veracity of the statement and Mr. Engstrom’s state of mind when he confessed – voluntarily and many times – to murdering his mother, should be decided by a jury.”

  “I’ve heard enough. I’m siding with the People on this issue. The confession is in. Counsel will reach out to my clerk to discuss scheduling. We’re off the record.”

  Seth Woodson jammed his paperwork in his briefcase and hurried out of chambers, Olivia hot on his heels.

  “Seth, wait,” she called.

  He stopped and slowly turned to face her. “I never invited you to call me by my first name. It’s Mr. Woodson to you.”

  “Very well, Mr. Woodson. When can I expect discovery? I want the old investigation file.”

  “It’s being delivered to your office as we speak.” He turned to walk away.

  “Wait a second. I’d like to speak to you about the case, off the record. You’re making a mistake by prosecuting Edward. He didn’t do it. You know he didn’t do it.”

  Seth looked around to make sure no one was listening. “I don’t meet with people off the record, especially old bitches like you with an axe to grind. I know you’re on some feminazi crusade. I couldn’t care less. You should be ashamed of what you did to your husband. Women like you have no place in the legal field.” Seth stepped close to Olivia, in an aggressive violation of her space. “I’m coming for you, Mrs. Sinclair. I don’t give a shit whether or not your client is innocent.”

  Seth Woodson turned and walked away.

  ***

  Once she was in her car, Olivia pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, wondering what she’d done to make Seth Woodson hate her so, and – even more importantly – what she could do to fix the situation. Seth Woodson wasn’t the first arrogant attorney she’d come across, but his personal vendetta gave Olivia pause and made her nervous. There was something suspicious about his attitude toward her and the case against Ebby. Olivia had never lodged a complaint against another lawyer in her life. Lawyers were by nature egotistical and loved to hear the sound of their own voice. But Seth had threatened her, said he was coming for her. What had he meant?