by A R Kennedy
It was the first time she’d talked about Joey since his death and she was able to smile. She got up and got them Mountain Dews. She handed a can to Holden. “He hated Mountain Dew too,” she told him.
“No!” Holden responded.
“Herbal teas and water only. Nothing with caffeine,” she explained, shaking her head.
Holden sipped his soda. “I don’t think I could make it a day without caffeine.”
“Me neither!” Cecilia agreed between sips.
They returned to the kitchen island and drank their sodas, watching Ferris run around the kitchen with a tennis ball in his mouth. Holden tried to get it from so they could play fetch, but Ferris wouldn’t give it up.
When they finished their drinks, Holden stood to leave. Cecilia walked him to the patio door and said goodnight. “Thank you, Holden. You do put people at ease, you know.” As he stepped outside, they both looked at the patio chairs.
“You want me to get rid of them?” he asked.
She looked at the chairs and then back to Holden. “You wouldn’t be stealth lugging those with you.”
“I’d find a way,” he assured her.
“I’m sure you would,” she agreed. “But, no, it’s my job now. I’ll take care of them.”
CHAPTER 30
The lawyers and their assistants sat outside Judge Lowe’s office. They maintained the same spots they had last time. They remained quiet until the judge signaled the two lawyers in.
“Juvenile record proceedings are confidential, Your Honor,” Briscoe started. “Mind you, I’m not saying he has one,” he added, turning to Sewell.
“You’re kidding me, right, Briscoe?” Judge Lowe asked. “I couldn’t count how many times I’ve seen that kid in my courtroom.”
“Your Honor!” Briscoe snapped.
The judge ignored Briscoe and looked to Sewell. “You know I can’t release the juvenile record.”
“Your Honor, it will provide Robert Gabbert’s history of criminal behavior.”
“It’s not relevant, Your Honor.” Briscoe said. “Robert Gabbert is not on trial here.”
“But he’ll be on full display during the trial. I’m sure Mr. Briscoe here will paint Mr. Gabbert like he did during the press conference. As a good kid and ‘with no criminal record.’ I want the jurors to have the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” Sewell told the judge.
Judge Lowe turned to Briscoe for a response. “It’s sealed for a reason, Your Honor. Robert Gabbert has his right to privacy.”
“A dead man has no rights to privacy, Judge,” Sewell retorted.
“It’s inflammatory, Your Honor,” Briscoe snapped.
“I tend to agree,” Judge Lowe said. “No juvenile record release.” Briscoe’s smile of victory was short-lived. The judge continued, “But I won’t let you tell the jury he doesn’t have a criminal record either.”
Sewell assumed there was a juvenile record after the press conference. It was confirmed by Judge Lowe once he arrived in the office. But now he knew it must be good.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Briscoe said. Feeling victorious, Briscoe strutted out of the office.
“You didn’t really think you’d win, did you?” he asked Sewell.
“Juvenile record release? Doubted it. Always good to see the judge, though.” Sewell put his briefcase down on the bench and put his overcoat on. Fall was in the air today. “What could I do with it anyway?” Briscoe didn’t understand. “No lawyer is going to bash a victim, would they?” Briscoe shook his head no but couldn’t figure out Sewell’s end game. “No one’s arguing she wasn’t viciously attacked on her own property, are they?” Briscoe shook his head no. “I just would like to know what kind of man would do that to a young widow.”
Briscoe had ordered Marcy to compile a file on Wyatt Sewell. He wanted to know everything he could on his opponent. As much as he didn’t like to admit it, Sewell was a worthy adversary.
The pretrial proceedings, and the trial itself, was like a game of chess to Briscoe. This move made Briscoe scratch his head. No longer feeling victorious, he followed Sewell to the exit. Their assistants trailed behind.
Sewell paused at the door, after peeking out. “Oh the media. They just follow us everywhere, don’t they?”
Briscoe seethed, finally understanding the move. The media was the pawn. Briscoe started to blame Sewell for the setup but thought better of it.
The proceedings were a matter of public record. Anyone seeing him and Sewell arrive at the courthouse could have made a call. He doubted Sewell would be forced to call them himself.
“I bet they’ll find out, if Gabbert had a juvenile record.” Before Briscoe could argue, Sewell continued, “The town doesn’t like to talk to outsiders, right? I doubt they’d tell anyone on my staff the real truth about Gabbert. But I bet if there was a camera and a possibility of being on television, they’d talk.” Sewell held the door open for the ladies to exit. “I even bet they’d tell the truth.”
Cecilia was beginning to look forward to Holden’s visits. She often found herself listening for the gentle knocking announcing his arrival.
She noticed Ferris did too. His ears perked at any noise that could be Holden. He probably missed people more than she did.
Ferris heard something and ran to the patio door. Cecilia followed but she was disappointed. More disappointed than she thought she should be.
Drenched in the last rays of sunlight stood a middle-aged woman in the middle of her yard. Cecilia stepped out, pushing Ferris back to keep him in the house. “Hello. Can I help you?” When the woman turned, Cecilia recognized her. “Mrs. Gabbert…I don’t think you should be here.”
“And where should I be?” she asked. Cecilia shrugged. She didn’t know, but she knew she shouldn’t be here. “I needed to see where my boy died.”
Cecilia could understand that. She’d needed to do the same. But in the end, it didn’t help.
Mrs. Gabbert turned to face Cecilia. “Where you killed him.”
Cecilia didn’t look away from the woman’s glare. She wondered if it was easier to have someone to blame. Cecilia had heard the platitudes—“accidents happen” or “When it’s your time, it’s your time.” She decided it didn’t matter. Grief was pain, regardless who was to blame.
Cecilia searched the yard in hopes of seeing Holden. But it was too early. It wasn’t dark enough for his stealth arrival. Regardless, his arrival would be hard to explain to the grieving mother.
“Please, Mrs. Gabbert, you need to leave.”
“He’s in a cold grave and you’re in this nice big house. Plenty warm, I’m sure.”
“Mrs. Gabbert, you’re trespassing. I don’t want to call the police.” Cecilia took her cell phone out of her pocket.
“That’s all my boy was doing. Trespassing.”
“That’s not…” Cecilia started to explain but thought better of it. “You need to go.”
“Why don’t you shoot me?” Mrs. Gabbert asked. She stepped toward Cecilia.
“Why don’t you shoot me? I’d be better off.”
Cecilia wanted to disagree with her but couldn’t. She understood the grief. A young woman shouldn’t bury a husband. A mother shouldn’t bury a child. Before Cecilia could ask one final time for her to leave, Mrs. Gabbert conceded. “It’s getting dark. I better head home.”
From the patio, Cecilia watched the grieving mother leave the yard and walk down the driveway. She got in her car and drove away. Searching for a distraction, Cecilia and Ferris went into the office. She opened her laptop and stared at emails. She felt the pictures, the framed ones on the desk, staring back at her. She looked at Joey. “I should have left,” Cecilia conceded. “I should have given Brittany and Jeremiah the business, the house, everything.” Ferris barked. She looked down at him and patted him on his head. “No, not you. I wouldn’t have given them you.” Looking back at Joey, she admitted, “I stayed for you. Just to stay close to you. But you’re nowhere close.”
She
stared at Joey’s photo until she heard the three light taps on the glass. “That’s our buddy, this time, right?” she asked Ferris. He took off to the kitchen. Ferris beat her to the door.
Holden smiled as Ferris lumbered to the door, smacking his face against the glass, trying to reach him. Cecilia followed close behind. With her body now healed from the attack, her litheness had returned.
Cecilia unlocked it and let Holden in. “No alarm set?” he asked.
She’d taken to not setting the alarm until they were headed to bed, in the hopes Holden would stop by.
He handed her a case of Mountain Dew. “Figured you must be getting low.”
“Must have made your stealth dash here harder,” she said, as she opened the case.
“No, but you might not want to open one of those just yet. They may have gotten a little jostled.” He mimicked an explosion and Cecilia laughed. She placed the full case into the refrigerator.
Ferris tapped Holden’s leg. He patted him on his head and went over to his biscuit jar. Ferris sat, took a treat from him, and ran to his bed.
Holden sat at the kitchen island. Cecilia slid him a soda.
“Cheers,” he said, holding his can up until she did the same. “It must be hard living here.”
It was, for many reasons. But Cecilia wouldn’t admit that. “I really don’t have a choice,” she answered, pointing to the ankle monitor.
“No, I meant before the attack, living in this town, Joe’s town, after he died. It’s hard to be an outsider here.”
She laughed. “And what would you know about that?”
“I haven’t always lived here,” he answered, surprised she didn’t know. “It’s been…ten years. Moved here after college.”
Cecilia wondered if that’s why they connected. Two outsiders in a small town. Their mutual love of Mountain Dew could not be their only bond.
“Where would I go?” she asked.
“Anywhere. You work from home. You could live anywhere and still make a living.”
Cecilia nodded agreement. “But…this is where we lived. This is where I lived.” She took a sip of soda and stared at the can. “I don’t remember life before him. I…I don’t know how to live without him.”
“So you stay here?” Holden asked.
“Yep.” She stared at her half empty soda. “But I’m going to have to find a way to live without him. Because he’s not coming back.”
“When this is all over, do you think you’ll stay?” he asked.
Cecilia was struggling to make it through each day after Joey’s death. It had been worse since the attack and subsequent arrest. She couldn’t think about tomorrow, never mind what happened after the trial. It was one day at a time while under house arrest.
“It might not be my choice whether I stay or go.” Smiling, Holden looked up at her, mistaking her meaning. “A conviction would force me to stay here or wherever you imprison someone.”
“Oh, right.” He shook his head. “They can’t convict you.”
Cecilia wanted to agree with him but couldn’t. “Did you think it would get this far?”
He hadn’t. All of this had gone much further than he expected.
“Why are you asking if I’ll stay?” she asked.
“Because…I hope you do.”
CHAPTER 31
Most people are habitual. In a small town, a good police officer can easily figure out a resident’s habits. The time they usually leave for work, where they get gas, where they get coffee. It took Vinnie only a day to figure out Clayton Hindel’s.
Vinnie arrived at Glinton’s convenience store five minutes before Clayton arrived. Vinnie was pouring milk into his coffee when Clayton reached for the jumbo cup to pour himself a coffee.
“How are you, sir?” Vinnie asked.
Not a morning person, Clayton mumbled “fine.”
Vinnie leaned in and asked, “You still working on the Chandler murder trial?”
This perked Clayton up. His association with Cecilia made him a popular figure in town. “Oh no, that’s all Sewell.”
“Oh,” Vinnie replied. He stirred his coffee. “Got your hands full with Chandler Construction, right?”
“No more than any of my other clients,” Clayton answered, while adding sugar to his coffee.
Vinnie leaned against the counter and sipped his coffee. “I’m surprised Mrs. Chandler still runs it. You’d think someone in Mr. Chandler’s family would take over. Isn’t there anyone else? A sister or a brother?”
“Joey had one sister, Brittany. She married a man from Covington.” He added milk and stirred his morning caffeine boost.
“Oh, the big guy, right? I saw them at the funeral. He looks like a bully.”
Finished with fixing his coffee, Clayton looked at Vinnie. “Ha, that’s for sure. He tried to get rid of her after Joey died. That woman can hold her own.”
Vinnie laughed. “I think the whole world knows that now.” Clayton didn’t join in and Vinnie stopped laughing. “Anything recent from Jeremiah? You’d think he’d try a hostile takeover now?”
He nodded agreement. “Cecilia was just saying that. But we’ve been fortunate. He’s been real quiet.”
They walked up to the counter and Vinnie paid for the lawyer’s coffee. They parted and Vinnie knew his next stop.
Guilt was the only motive to keep a man like Jeremiah quiet.
After a quick Facebook check, he headed a county over and was waiting for Jeremiah when he left work.
“Mr. Coleman?” Vinnie asked. Jeremiah nodded. “We have a few questions for you.”
“Me? Why?” Jeremiah’s eyes darted to look anywhere but at Pugliese.
“It’s about the murder of Robert Gabbert,” he explained.
“Me?” he asked again, looking around and checking to see if any of his co-workers could hear. “Why do you want to talk to me?”
“We’re interviewing anyone who knows Cecilia Chandler, in preparation for the trial.”
Relieved, he took a deep breath. “Oh, sure.”
“Just follow me to the station. Won’t take long.”
Vinnie smiled as he watched Jeremiah, at ease, go to his car and follow Vinnie to the station. Part of him would have liked to have Jeremiah sweat it out in the patrol car’s backseat in the twenty-minute ride, worrying about what they knew about him and Gabbert. But he could refuse to cooperate. Vinnie had no leverage. Better for Vinnie to hit him with his relationship with Gabbert when he wasn’t expecting it.
If Vinnie was right.
Pugliese escorted Jeremiah into an interview room. He put a file on the desk and pointed Jeremiah to a chair. He signaled another officer from the doorway. “Monty, can you get the Chief? Ask him to go into the viewing room.”
She peeked into the room. “Who’s that? What’s going on?”
“Just go get the Chief,” he ordered. He had no seniority over her and he was surprised she went.
Pugliese left the interview room door open. He wanted Jeremiah to feel free to leave. “Thanks again for coming in. So you’re married to Joe Chandler’s sister?”
“Yes. I still don’t understand why I’m here.”
“We don’t want any surprises at trial. We want to know all we can about Mrs. Chandler.”
Jeremiah nodded. Vinnie leaned in and asked, “You think if she goes to jail you’ll get the business?”
“Really?” he asked. He smiled at the prospect of getting what he wanted.
“I’m surprised you haven’t tried to get the business already,” Pugliese commented.
“We’ve been trying to keep our distance from her,” Jeremiah explained. “We don’t want people to know we’re related.”
Owens entered the observation room with the female officer. “What is Pugliese doing?”
Monty shook her head, not taking her eyes off the interrogation.
In an effort to build more trust, Pugliese agreed. “Understandable that you’d want to keep your distance from Mrs. Chandler.”
Pugliese opened the folder and readied his pen over the blank paper. “How well did you know Bobby?” Pugliese asked.
“What?” Jeremiah responded.
Both officers noticed he didn’t ask who. The news referred to him as Robert Gabbert. Only people who knew him called him Bobby.
“Bobby Gabbert,” Pugliese clarified. “The man who was murdered. How well did you know him?”
“I never said I knew him.” Jeremiah glanced at the open door.
“That’s funny.” Pugliese took a page from deeper in the file. He looked at the second page and dragged his finger halfway down the page. “Because your name is in his contact list on his cell phone.”
Jeremiah slammed his hands on the desk. “Son of a—”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the Chief mumbled. How could the bluff have worked?
“Look, I never told the kid to hurt her.” He ran his hands over his shaved head. “Jeez, I only wanted him to scare her.”
Pugliese turned to the two-way mirror and looked at where he expected Owens would be. He winked.
Jeremiah held his head in his hands. “Brittany’s going to kill me. She told me not to do it.”
“So your wife was in on the plan too?” Pugliese asked.
“No, it wasn’t a plan. I thought if she got scared living in that house by herself she’d want to go back to the city. She’d leave. Like she should have done months ago.”
Pugliese slid him a legal pad and told him to write down his story.
“What am I going to be charged with?” Jeremiah asked.
“I don’t know. But you’ve seen the prosecutor on the news. He does like to go for the max, doesn’t he?” Pugliese answered, before leaving the room.
He strutted into the observation room. “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” he asked Owens.
“For what?” Owens answered. “Why are you doing this? Do you think Briscoe is going to drop the charges?”
“Oh no. Huh…I didn’t think about that. I still think she’s guilty.” Eyebrows furrowed, he was deep in thought, until he remembered his motivation, which had nothing to do with Cecilia. “I wanted to prove I’m right. She wasn’t his typical victim. Never thought about the effect on the case.”
