Unintended Witness

by D. L. Wood

  “Of course,” Chloe acquiesced, standing. “Come on, guys. Let’s let him sleep.” She gently touched his arm before rounding the bed, headed towards the door. “We’ll be back later. And I’ll bring Tyler by.”

  “Dad,” Emma started as Chloe passed her, “I’ll be back. I’ll…I’ll see you soon.” Reese’s breathing had already smoothed and slowed, a sign that he was likely in the process of slipping back into sleep. He didn’t respond.

  The trio moved into the hallway with Holt bringing up the rear. He was about to close the door behind him when a muffled noise, something like an incomprehensible “wfff,” sounded from inside the room.

  Holt turned, perplexed, and stepped back inside the room. “What is it, Reese?” he said, moving to his partner’s bedside and bending low over him, despite Carol the nurse’s disapproving stare. “What was that again?”

  “Wfff. Talk to…Donner…wife.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  After sending Emma on her way back to school, Holt and Chloe headed downtown to meet Cecilia Tucker for lunch. They spent the ride tossing around ideas about why Reese would have pointed them in the direction of Donner’s wife.

  “Honestly,” Holt started, as he pulled in the parking garage just off Main Street, “going to the wife is a pretty standard route of inquiry. It may just be that and nothing more.”

  “Maybe,” Chloe said, as Holt got lucky and found a spot on the first level, “but he seemed so intent on getting that out before he fell asleep again. Seems like it was important.”

  “I’ll definitely try to get a meeting with Donner’s wife, but it’s gonna be tough. Aside from the fact that we represent the man accused of killing her husband, Sims was also suing their company for a whole lot of money. I doubt she’ll be very chatty.”

  They exited the cool shadows of the garage, stepping onto the sidewalk and into the bright sun of midday. Even so, the temperature was mild and the air breezy, and Chloe wondered if outside seating was possible. Holt pointed across the street to a bright red door covered by a black awning emblazoned with the name “Puckett’s.” “That’s it,” he said, taking her arm and pulling her with him as he jaywalked across the street.

  To the left of the front door hung an old-fashioned metal sign suspended from iron scrollwork that further elaborated “Puckett’s Gro. & Restaurant - Groceries, Eatery, Live Music.” Holt pulled the door open and they were immediately enveloped by a vibrant hum of noise. Dozens of tables surrounded by ladder-back chairs filled the room, and nearly every seat was taken. Rustic paneling covered the walls, while strings of lights, dark now but probably cheerfully blazing in the evenings, stretched in rows across the exposed ceiling. To their left was a small, raised stage, the wall behind it decorated with multiple guitars and old, framed photos of musicians. A poster declared the live entertainment schedule for the rest of the month, including a guitar and fiddle duo called The Bellinghams. Tall white shelves formed a perimeter against the walls, displaying cans, jars, and jugs of food-stuffs like an old-fashioned general store. A large painted sign heralding “GROCERY” was propped on the top of the middle shelf. The scent of barbecue, rich and smoky-sweet, settled thickly on Chloe as they scanned the room.

  Holt’s gaze landed on a woman with strawberry blonde hair and glasses seated at one of the polished wooden tables in a corner across from where they stood. Her attention was consumed by a thick legal file she had spread out on the table, rendering her oblivious to what was happening around her.

  “What exactly are you going to say?” Chloe prodded uncertainly.

  “Just come on,” Holt urged, before wading into the throng.

  No one paid them any mind as they navigated the buzzing room. Half the diners were dressed in business attire, and Chloe presumed that given its proximity to the courthouse, Cecilia Tucker wasn’t the only lawyer who frequented the place for lunch. Her nose remained solidly buried in the file as they sidled up to her table.

  “Cecilia,” Holt quipped, “fancy meeting you here.”

  Cecilia Tucker looked up, and a smile broke out on her face. “Hey Holt,” she said, pushing back slightly and straightening.

  “Thanks for waiting for us. I’m sorry we had to push it back.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m thrilled Reese woke up. Is he all right?”

  “He’s in and out. But on the mend.”

  “Well, here, sit,” she said, waving a hand at the open seats. She flipped her file shut and swept it into the briefcase beside her chair, then extended a hand to Chloe. “So you must be Reese’s daughter.”

  “Yes, Chloe,” she said, nodding and shaking Cecilia’s hand as they sat.

  “Trip told me he met you at Emma’s house,” Cecilia explained. “I didn’t realize Emma had an older sister.”

  “Well, Reese hasn’t—” she paused abruptly, fumbling for an explanation that wouldn’t cast Reese in a bad light. “Well, we haven’t seen much of each other in recent years.”

  “Oh. You know, I think a lot of Reese. He’s an excellent lawyer. And a good person. He’s always been wonderful to Trip, and Emma has been a good friend to him too.”

  “I’m glad,” Chloe replied, slightly wrong-footed by someone so fervently praising her father. It was odd to let the comments go without offering a different, more negative opinion.

  Cecilia Tucker was petite and favored light makeup that did not hide the fact that she was somewhere in her mid-forties. She was well-dressed in a navy pantsuit and cream silk blouse adorned with a fashionable long gold necklace with a large pendant of white and gray crystals that tapped the table as she leaned forward.

  “I would have ordered for you, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” Cecilia said.

  “It’s fine,” Holt replied, turning to the approaching waitress. “Hey, Haley,” he said, “we’ll have the same as Ms. Tucker here. And two half-and-half teas?”

  “Sure,” she said, smiling a little too widely.

  “You’re a gem,” he said, winking at her.

  “And you’re ridiculous,” Cecilia told him, smirking as she turned to Chloe. “It was the same way when he worked for me. Had the clerk’s office wrapped around his little finger.”

  Holt shrugged, feigning humility. “I can’t help it if people find me irresistible.”

  Chloe’s brow furrowed. “Did you say he worked for you?”

  Holt clarified. “Cecilia was one of the attorneys I clerked for in the summer between my first and second year of law school.”

  “Reese hired him before I could make an offer,” Cecilia said regretfully.

  “You snooze, you lose,” Holt teased.

  “Uh-huh. Chloe, watch out for this one,” Cecilia warned wryly. “He’ll break your heart.”

  So,” Holt said, changing the subject, “we’ve been seeing a good bit of Trip around.”

  “He’s even more joined at the hip to Jacob than usual with everything that’s going on,” Cecilia said, then sipped her water. “He’s worried about him.”

  “We all are,” Holt agreed. “The other night he mentioned that Keeley’s recording again.”

  Cecilia smiled. “Yeah. She is. It’s going really well. D.B. thinks this might finally be the right time.”

  Holt leaned over to Chloe. “D.B. is Cecilia’s husband. He’s a music producer—his studio is just a few blocks from here. Keeley’s her daughter. And the next big teen in country music.”

  “If you listen to D.B., anyway,” Cecilia hedged.

  “Oh, come on. Have a little faith,” Holt chided.

  “Well, she loves it. So as long as it makes her happy, I’m good.”

  They chatted briefly about Keeley’s prospects, D.B.’s music production, and the other studios in Franklin until Haley returned with their orders, which turned out to be fried green tomato BLTs on wheat berry bread, with hickory smoked bacon and chipotle bacon ranch sauce. A mound of fries covered the little bit of the plate not taken up with the sandwich.

  “This looks amazing,” C
hloe said.

  “Chloe works for a travel magazine. She’s doing an article on Franklin,” Holt explained, before taking a bite. He swallowed roughly. “I’ve got a feeling Puckett’s might make it into the story.”

  Chloe nodded silently, her mouth full.

  Between bites, the conversation covered anecdotes from Holt’s time as Cecilia’s law clerk, including one story where he came to the office on Halloween dressed as Tom Cruise from Risky Business. “Someone from the clerk’s office had bet him he wouldn’t do it. Apparently,” Cecilia said, cutting her eyes at him, “they didn’t know him very well.”

  “I figured she’d make me change as soon as I got there—”

  “But instead I made him go to court wearing the whole getup, sunglasses and all. Of course, I gave the General Sessions Judge a heads up, but still…” Cecilia trailed off, grinning.

  “Guess I didn’t know you very well, either,” Holt remarked, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  Cecilia pushed her plate away slightly and leaned back in her chair. “So you said you wanted to talk to me about something in the murder case.”

  “Yeah,” he said, putting down his napkin. “I need to know if you can think of anyone, anyone at all, with an axe to grind against Donner or his project or Sims.”

  “I mean, not right off the top of my head. Other than that they obviously had axes to grind with each other.” Cecilia’s nose wrinkled. “Have you decided to stick with the case after all? I thought you were turning it over to a PD.”

  Holt waggled his head back and forth. “Right now we’re still only filling in until he gets a public defender. But we’re hoping to flesh out the case as much as we can before passing it on.”

  “Well, you know if there had been a glaring alternative suspect I would have told you right off. What about the discovery documents? Have you gotten through those?”

  “We’re working on it. It’s a lot.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m counting on you sharing information with me once you get through it.”

  “Are you sure there isn’t something else? Has anybody ever mentioned, or even hinted at, any ill will that someone other than Sims might have had for Donner?”

  “No. There’s nothing.” She eyed him quizzically. “Why do I get the sense that this is more than you just being thorough?”

  Holt sighed. “Like I said, we’ve been going through the discovery you lent us. We found some names—people and businesses—but no information about their connection to Donner Properties. So, we decided to run them down, just to see if they knew anything helpful.”

  “Sounds smart,” Cecilia offered.

  “Yeah. I thought so. One of the names we came across was Vettner-Drake, Incorporated.”

  Cecilia shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s some kind of private real estate management firm. Anyway, we—”

  “Wait, who’s this ‘we’?” Cecilia noted, raising her eyebrows as she cut her eyes at Chloe.

  “Yeah, well, with Reese out, work is piling up. Chloe offered to help out, and I thought it would be good for her to get an insider’s view of what Reese does. She’s now an official, unpaid intern.”

  Cecilia seemed to consider this for a few seconds, then continued. “So what about Vettner-Drake?”

  “This morning we spoke to Eli Drake, Vettner-Drake’s agent for service, and who knows what else.”

  “And?”

  “And, he says his firm isn’t involved in the project. But he was very unhappy about us being there and pretty belligerent.”

  “Ahh, finally someone you couldn’t charm,” she said, tossing him a satisfied smile.

  “Very funny. But the thing is, when I threatened to drown him in paperwork and depositions, he caved and said that the one thing he could tell us is that we should talk to you.”

  His words hung there, poised in the air above them, begging for a reaction. Cecilia sniffed, straightened a bit in her chair, and shifted her weight.

  “Kept that to yourself long enough,” she drawled, the temperature of her voice notably cooler.

  “What do you think he meant by it?”

  “I think he meant to give you a reason to get off his doorstep, which is exactly what you did.”

  “Come on, Cecilia. Maybe there’s something there—maybe something you forgot or didn’t realize you knew—”

  “Oh, my gosh. You’re right. Now that you mention it there was this guy who came in my office the day before Donner was killed, waving a gun around and threatening to take him out.”

  “Okay, look—”

  “No, Holt. I’m feeling ambushed here. What did you think I was going to say? If I knew something don’t you think I would have told you? This guy—Drake—wanted to get rid of you and he succeeded. He must know that I’m representing Sims in his civil case. He baited you and you bit.”

  “Is it possible,” he said, pressing harder, “that you’ve overlooked something? Can you think of anything, maybe something that doesn’t even seem related at first glance, that might be worth a second look when it comes to Sims and Donner?”

  Cecilia responded wordlessly with a disgruntled grimace.

  “I wouldn’t keep asking, Cecilia, but whoever attacked Reese isn’t done. They’ve made threats and they’re saying the kids are next. It’s important we find out the names of anyone—”

  “What do you mean, ‘the kids are next’?” she interrupted, her grimace melting into genuine concern.

  Holt breathed heavily. “Whoever attacked Reese is delivering messages saying that if we don’t back off, they will come after Emma and Tyler next.”

  “Back off of what?”

  “Exactly. We don’t know. At least we aren’t certain. From the standpoint of timing, it seems likely that it’s all related to Sims and Donner and our involvement in Sims’s representation. The perpetrator has been very cryptic for whatever reason, probably not wanting to leave anything specific enough to solidly link him or her to the acts. Without knowing more, all we can do is ask ourselves, ‘who wouldn’t want us to help defend Sims?’ The only answers that make sense right now are someone with a grudge against Sims, or—”

  “Or the person who actually did kill Donner and doesn’t want to be found out,” Cecilia finished for him.

  “Right,” Holt agreed, “and that means finding anybody else with a possible motive to murder Donner.”

  “From what I’ve been told, Donner could be very difficult. The list of people that didn’t like him may be very long.”

  “Probably. But we had to start somewhere. We decided to start with the discovery and it led us to Vettner-Drake. And then to you.”

  Cecilia’s visage tightened, an undertone of worry peeking through. “I had no idea Reese’s family was being threatened.” She put a hand on Holt’s arm. “You know I would do anything to help. If I had information that I thought would lead to something, I would share it.” Holt nodded as Haley approached to refill their glasses. “But I don’t know anything about the relationship between Sims and Donner other than what Sims has told me,” Cecilia asserted, clearing her throat and taking a sip from her refilled glass. “I’ve only ever met Donner once in person, in court during the temporary injunction hearing.”

  Holt’s eyes pinched, and he waited to speak until the waitress had moved away. “Okay. But will you just give it some thought? Just in case there’s something you’ve overlooked?”

  Cecilia sighed and nodded. “Of course,” she said, rising from the table, a loud grinding coming from the chair as she pushed it back. “I’ve got to get back. I’ve got a deposition this afternoon. It was so nice to meet you, Chloe,” she said, shaking Chloe’s hand. “Please give Reese my best.”

  “I will,” Chloe echoed, and they watched her go.

  “She’s lying,” Holt announced quietly, his eyes following Cecilia as she disappeared out the front door.

  “What?” Chloe asked.

  “The throat clearing thing. It’s her t
ell.” He swiveled his attention back to Chloe. “One of the things I learned while working for Cecilia was that she has a definite tell. Whenever she made any statement that was less than one hundred percent truthful, she would do that throat clearing thing she just did.”

  When Chloe looked bemused, he clarified. “Okay, for example, her home life wasn’t the model of happiness she wanted everyone to believe it was. I don’t know the specifics, but I do know that her husband, D.B., is apparently hard to live with. One minute she would be using me for a sympathetic ear, complaining about how awful her Saturday with him had been, and in the next, she would be telling someone else how great her family’s weekend was, all the while doing that throat clearing thing. That’s when I first picked up on it. Eventually I started noticing her doing it in all kinds of conversations.”

  “So you think she does know something about Donner? Something she’s not telling?”

  “Maybe. ”

  “Like what?”

  He huffed. “I wish I knew.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  Cecilia Tucker slipped quickly inside the door to her office and shut it behind her. Leaning against it she put a hand to her chest to steady her pounding heart. Panic swelled within, and even her hands had become shaky since leaving Holt and Chloe at Puckett’s.

  Deep breaths, she told herself, forcing her diaphragm to extend, then contract, expelling a heavy hiss of air. “Get yourself together,” she grunted.

  Who is Eli Drake and how had he known about her? she wondered, her pulse quickening again. Weakness threatened her knees and she sank into her black leather desk chair for support.

  No one knew. No one but Donner. And he certainly wasn’t telling anyone now. But what if…what if he had told someone. As insurance, just in case. She tried to breathe deeply again. No. He had sworn that he had kept it to himself. It was the whole reason—

  A knock on the door sounded.

  “Come in,” answered Cecilia.

  The door swung open, and Cecilia’s assistant stepped inside. “You’ve got about twenty minutes—” She hesitated, concern crossing her face as she eyed Cecilia. “Are you all right? You look really pale.”