Courting Danger

by Carol Stephenson

  Hilary looked at me. “Don’t you think we tried to find out what happened? We hired an investigator at great cost. He found evidence of recent deposits into Jonathan’s campaign account. Large deposits. The investigation was hurting, not helping, to clear my brother’s name. We let it drop.”

  I had only heard the rumors that my grandfather was on the take but never knew the evidence concerned bank deposits. Given the extent of the Rochelle fortune, this didn’t ring right to me. If my grandfather had any connection to the Mob, it would be for reasons other than financial.

  Gabe’s phone rang. “Excuse me.” He grabbed it and walked out of the room.

  I crossed to my aunt and bent down. I did something I’d rarely done my entire life. I took her hand. Incredibly, she didn’t pull away. Although I could feel in her grip the strength of years of keeping in shape, I could also feel the frailty of age setting in.

  A sense of urgency settled in me. Hilary and Colin were getting old. I owed them at least some peace of mind.

  “Trust me. Believe in me. I will find out what happened thirty-five years ago and clear Granddad’s name once and for all.”

  I expected at least relief in Hilary’s eyes. I didn’t expect resignation. However, she squeezed my hands. “I know you will, Katherine. If anyone can solve Jonathan’s case, it would be you.”

  Stunned by the praise, I sat back on my heels. Hilary’s compliment wasn’t a kissy-huggy moment, at least not with her, but it was momentous, none the less.

  In the end, my throat tight with suppressed emotions, I simply said, “Thank you, Aunt Hilary.”

  “That’s why we dropped by, Katherine,” said Colin from behind us. “We wanted to wish you best of luck with the trial.”

  Releasing Hilary’s hands, I rose. Colin was a different matter when it came to expressing emotion. I flung my arms around his neck. “Thanks, Uncle Colin.”

  He patted my back. “You’re a good attorney, Katherine. You care, and that’s what makes you different. You’re the kind of attorney that I dreamed of being but never accomplished.”

  Surprised, I drew back. “Uncle Colin, never say that. You’ve been my role model my entire life. I went to law school because of you, of the way you served the people as attorney general.”

  Colin’s eyes misted. “Thank you, my dear.” He kissed my cheek. “Sometimes those years seem like a different lifetime.”

  I gave him a fierce hug. “I’ll just have to keep reminding you.”

  “No, sweetheart. I want you to blaze your own trail.”

  Over Colin’s shoulder, I saw Gabe walk in with a satisfied look on his face. I stepped toward him. “Good news?”

  “Bowie got Dumb and Dumber, and they’re talking.”

  Tension that I hadn’t been aware of drained away. I didn’t know how many of the attempts against me had been due to those two men, but not having to look over my shoulder every second was going to be nice.

  I also knew how important this was to Gabe. I crossed over to him. When he opened his arms, I stepped into them and pressed my cheek against his chest.

  “Is this the break against the Castillos that you’ve been looking for?”

  His arms tightened around me. “Yes. Marcos Castillo isn’t going to walk away from this one.”

  “Castillo!”

  I twisted slightly. Astounded, I saw the usually mild Colin rigid with his fists clenched. “Castillo is involved in this?” He gestured toward me. “He’s responsible for the attempts on Katherine’s life?”

  “Yes.”

  Colin’s throat worked, but before he could speak, Hilary rose and placed her hand on Colin’s arm. “Come, dear. We should be going.”

  “But, Hilary, Katherine’s in danger.”

  “Was in danger.” She gave Gabe a long glance. “I think the very capable Mr. Chavez here will make sure no further harm comes to her, isn’t that correct, sir?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  A ghost of a smile touched Hilary’s lips. “To be sure. After all, you are a Rochelle.”

  She turned to Colin. “We must be off. Everything will be all right. With the trial, all this disruption will end.”

  Strangely deflated, Colin simply nodded. He came to me and kissed my forehead. “Love you, sweetheart.”

  Touched, I blinked back tears. “Love you, too.”

  He followed Hilary out the door. Moments later I heard the Mercedes pull out of the driveway.

  Gabe drew me closer. “I take it that highly charged emotional scene was a breakthrough moment in the Rochelle household?”

  Drawing comfort from his solid strength, I sighed. “Yes. Touchy feelings aren’t expressed.”

  “So a guy shouldn’t expect you to break out in declarations of love very often.”

  I stilled, took a deep breath. “No, but that doesn’t mean the guy shouldn’t break out in a love poem or two.”

  “How about flowers?”

  I grinned against his shirt. “That would work as well.”

  “Mind if I ask a question?”

  This was it. He was going to say something about our relationship. “Not at all.” I raised my head as I wanted to see his face. Instead of having the expression of a man in love, Gabe wore his cop face.

  “Why was your uncle so upset at the mention of the Castillo family? What’s his connection to them?”

  “Connection? None that I know of.” Stunned, I took a step back. Gabe was right. For years now Colin’s emotions had been submerged in his afternoon bourbons. His outburst a few minutes ago was so uncharacteristic.

  The Castillos had tried to bribe Lopez and had succeeded with Winewski. But how many others had they tried to turn? Did it take more than one to throw a trial?

  I crossed my arms. In the search for the truth about my grandfather, could I hurt the man who had served as my father?

  Gabe stared at me. “There’s something else Mrs. Lopez mentioned that you should know about.”

  “The State will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the deceased Grace Roberts was in love with the defendant Lloyd Silber.” Jared Manning paused in his opening statement, turned around at the podium to point at my client where he sat. Like a well-oiled machine, the jury members likewise pivoted in their chairs to stare.

  “When he refused to divorce his wife, the victim threatened to disclose their affair. Late one night, he snuck back into the courthouse—” the prosecutor curled his thumb as if he was firing a gun “—and in cold blood he killed her with one shot to the head.

  “Grace Roberts, a lovely young woman taken all too early from this life, has only one chance at justice. The State will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Lloyd Silber took that life. Thank you.”

  Jared took his chair and adjusted his jacket sleeves.

  “Ms. Rochelle. Opening for the defense?” Judge Rodriguez asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” I took a deep breath and rose. Twelve pairs of eyes watched me as I approached the podium.

  Jury selection hadn’t gone well. Since it was the beginning of the week, the jury pool was fresh, but this batch from the venire list of driver’s licenses clearly had been plucked from a nearby retirement community. While this might have been a dream pool for a personal-injury action, for a murder trial, not so good.

  I had tried to use my challenges to create a panel of mainly women, figuring that they would be sympathetic to my client and unsympathetic to the victim, but one too many people had believed in the death penalty. During the voir dire when both attorneys got to question the prospective panel, one man had said, “Fry the murdering scum’s balls off.” I hadn’t even bothered to point out that Florida’s death penalty was by injection. Since the man had smugly insisted he could be fair and impartial, I’d had to use a precious peremptory challenge.

  While the court allowed unlimited number of challenges for cause, due to a juror’s obvious bias to serve, we only received
ten peremptory challenges to eliminate those we simply sensed would be a rotten egg on the panel.

  Consequently, eight men and five women—one an alternate—most over the age of fifty, comprised our jury. Great.

  My hand inched toward my pocket for my antacid roll. Instead I gripped the sides of the podium.

  “May it please the Court, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I have the privilege and honor of representing Lloyd Silber. You have listened to the State paint quite a pretty picture of Grace Roberts. But like a digital photograph can be manipulated for a desired image, the truth has been altered in this case.”

  Slow down, I warn myself. You’re talking too fast. I kept my breathing steady.

  “The evidence will show that Grace Roberts was an ambitious woman, and her ambition led to her death. She was an opportunist, a user and a social climber. Whether it was men…”

  Good thing the rule had been invoked and no witnesses would be permitted inside until they had testified. I wouldn’t have relished seeing the fiancé Charles Taylor Chase’s face at this moment.

  I took another breath and continued, “…jobs or blackmail, Grace used whatever she could to obtain money, power and position. She lied, cheated and stole.”

  I gazed at each juror. “My client Lloyd Silber was only one of those victims.” I had to tread carefully here. By acknowledging he was a victim, I was also ascribing a motive. But I had to humanize him since I had no intention of letting him testify.

  The judge didn’t permit attorneys to approach the jury without permission, but I could walk to my client. I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Lloyd Silber’s a devoted married man, a longtime resident of this county, reputable, and an organizational genius. If there was a community project, Lloyd was the person to direct it to a successful conclusion. Because of his reputation, Lloyd was hired to put the courthouse restoration back on track.

  “However, taking on this daunting task also brought him into a collision course with the enterprising Grace Roberts.” I squeezed Lloyd’s shoulder before returning to the podium.

  “Over the next few days you will hear a lot about motive, means and opportunity. The evidence will not only show that many others had a motive purportedly greater than my client’s, but also they had the equal means and opportunity to kill Grace Roberts.

  “If others equally could have killed the victim, then my client is not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.” I smiled. “On behalf of my client and myself, I thank you for your time and attention over the next few days.” I returned to the defense table, which was closest to the jury box, and sat down.

  “All right, Mr. Manning, you may call your first witness.”

  Jared Manning proceeded with a scripted but logical sequence of witnesses. First up, the lead police investigator who described the crime scene and with a diagram showed the jury where the body had been found. Not much I could do here and I limited my cross-examination to help clarify the location of various items in the room.

  Next up was the medical examiner to establish the time and manner of death. “Any cross, Ms. Rochelle?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” I rose. “Dr. Wang, would you agree with me that your testimony regarding the victim’s time of death was not exact?”

  The coroner gave me the condescending smile that all experts bestow on attorneys. “I don’t.”

  “In fact, you gave a range, did you not?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Unlike the mystery genre books or movies, here there was neither a broken watch nor a clock frozen in time to give you a precise time.”

  This time the examiner’s smile was natural. He chuckled. “I would agree. I had no X marks the time of death. Based on the morbidity of the body, it appeared the victim was killed between eight and ten at night. The responding officers found nothing unusual with the room’s temperature that may have impacted on the decomposition.”

  Perfect. A two-hour range would allow me to poke holes into others’ alibis. “Thank you, Dr. Wang. I have no further questions.”

  I lined up my pens as I studied my notes, expecting a ballistic expert to be called next.

  “Your Honor, I call Cindy Overbeck.”

  I frowned slightly as the bailiff led Lloyd’s secretary to the witness stand. After she was sworn in, she perched nervously on the edge of the chair, facing away from the jury. Jared stood to the jury side of podium side, one arm propped carelessly on top. He flashed a smile. “Good afternoon, Ms. Overbeck.”

  Cindy turned slightly to face him. “Hello, Mr. Manning.”

  Nice unobtrusive move, I thought, to bring the witness to face the jury members. I’ll have to remember that technique.

  Jared led Cindy through her job and how she knew both the victim and the defendant. I had pre-marked her phone pad to be identified as an exhibit so I prepared to lead her through a few short questions.

  “Now Ms. Overbeck, when did you last see Grace Roberts alive?”

  “The night she was murdered.”

  What? According to my interview, Cindy had last seen Grace that morning. Wearing an attorney’s version of a poker face, I studied her as she licked her lips. Why was she so nervous?

  “Tell us what happened.”

  “Well, I had pottery class that night, but I forgot my dictation notes. Mr. Silber—” Cindy barely whispered his name “—had dictated a letter to me last thing. He said I could type it up the next morning. However, I knew it involved an important contributor, so I planned to do it on my home computer after class. When I entered the outer office, I heard Grace in Lloyd’s office yelling at him.”

  I wrote a question mark on a pad and pushed it to Lloyd. He shook his head slightly and wrote the words “no, not true” underneath.

  “Did you hear what she was saying?”

  “Not really. Something about how he would pay. She was mad. I could tell from the tone of her voice. I didn’t want her to see me, so I grabbed my notepad and left.”

  “What time was this?”

  “I’d say about seven-thirty.”

  “Thank you. I have no further questions.”

  Gathering my thoughts, I slowly walked to the same spot where Jared had stood. I wanted the jury to see her expression.

  “Ms. Overbeck, do you remember speaking with me on a few occasions?”

  “Yes, Ms. Rochelle.”

  “Why didn’t you ever mention that you were in the office that night?”

  She licked her lips. “I didn’t want to get Lloyd…Mr. Silber in trouble.”

  “You like Mr. Silber, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You care about him.”

  “Yes, of course. He’s my boss.”

  “You also care for him as a man, don’t you?”

  Her hand crept to her throat. “That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Because he’s married?”

  “Yes.”

  “It may not be proper, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling, does it?”

  She looked down at her hands. I continued, “While the staff has cubicles with partitions, Mr. Silber has an actual office?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course he does. He’s the director.”

  “When you returned that night, wasn’t the door closed?” The cross-examiner’s wisdom is to never ask a question you didn’t know an answer to, but given this twist in Cindy’s testimony, I had to take a risk. However, I asked the question in the negative, inviting her to agree with me. My tactic worked.

  “Yes, it was closed.”

  “And you heard only Grace, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Okay, I had her in a pattern of agreeing with me. “You never heard the other person’s voice, did you?”

  “No, I wanted to get out before—”

  “Grace saw you?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s because she was always mean to you.”

  “Yes,” Cindy said in a voice barely audible. Some jury member
s leaned closer to hear her. Perfect.

  “She made fun of you, degraded you in front of others.”

  “Yes.” A tear slowly slipped down her cheek.

  “Mr. Silber stood up for you, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t like Grace Roberts, did you?”

  “No.”

  “Sometimes you could almost hate her, couldn’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “You don’t drive, do you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s why you go to the pottery place on Clematis, because it’s within short walking distance of work.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then someone in the class gives you a lift home?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been doing this long enough that at times you finish ahead of others and have to wait?”

  She shrugged. “At times.”

  “Can you explain why, on the night of the murder, when Trish Lyons tried to find you to take you home at eight-forty-five, you were nowhere to be found within the store?”

  Cindy’s face turned ghost-white.

  “No answer, Ms. Overbeck?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I turned and walked away. “No further questions.”

  Chapter 18

  That evening as I stepped inside my house, I breathed a sigh of relief. What I needed to ease the tension was a good swim.

  Right. What I really wanted was Gabe to massage my neck, but after dropping me off at the court this morning, he had mysteriously headed off. Lieutenant Bowie had called him first thing so I assumed the Castillo family had been the hot topic.

  No matter. After a swim I needed to focus on my preparation. The prosecutor had nearly thrown me for a loop by breaking the State’s traditional sequence of witnesses and calling Cindy Overbeck to the stand. He wouldn’t catch me by surprise again. I was going to assume a worst-case scenario and be ready.

  I dropped my bag by the sofa, but it landed on its side, spilling the contents. I knelt, but as I began to replace my cell phone, I noticed that I had never turned it on after court. I pressed the switch and when the screen lit up, I checked for any messages. I listened to voice mail encouragement from both Carling and Nicole. I should call them and bring them up to speed on the trial.