Blind Spot (Blind Justice Book 1)

by Adam Zorzi

  Now, he wanted coffee.

  “You want coffee, too? A latte, maybe? Pastries? Bagels? I'm not a barista. You're not here for brunch.”

  Nevertheless, she spoke into an intercom, “Three black coffees, Seth.”

  “Which of you is Judge Meacham's friend?” When Rob said he was, she nodded. “Good judge. Fair. Pro-Defense. Smart. Puts him three steps ahead of most of the judges in Virginia.”

  Seth, dressed in a shirt and tie even on a Sunday, walked in with a tray, served three black coffees, and left. He didn't say anything.

  “Let's go,” she directed Dan.

  Dan spit out the story as fast as he could.

  “So, they pushed you until you lost your temper to see just how short your fuse is and now you need me,” she summarized. “Twenty minutes? Fifteen?”

  “Less. Plus the five days before,” he added.

  “Elba and Winston. Good cops. Winston's the lead. Virginia Bureau of Criminal Investigation covers the park. Also keeps city of Fredericksburg and Spotsylvania County out of it. Doesn't act like it. Let's Elba be the front man.”

  That surprised him.

  “So, you think they've got nothing. Probably not. They've got you, your lover, and the victim's hypothetical lover or drug dealer.

  “You've got access to the murder weapon morphine, no alibi, and three of the top ten stressors—parent's death, job loss, and marital problems. All circumstantial, but you look good to them. You inherit?”

  “Everything's already joint. My daughter is the beneficiary of Jill's life insurance.”

  “Pour over trust, no doubt. With you as trustee. Access to the money.”

  Dumbstruck. She was lightning fast. Dan nodded yes, he'd control Katie's money until she turned eighteen.

  “You're the prime suspect. Your lover is a close second. They're going to poke around your lover's movements and the victim's love life. Follow up on gossip. Talk to some known dealers. If they come up short, they'll arrest you.”

  “What? They can't do that. I didn't kill my wife. I loved her.”

  She looked at him sharply. “Why are you here, then?”

  “I need someone to answer the questions that keep coming. I need interference.”

  “I'm not a football player, Mr. Ramsay. The cops aren't playing indefinite word games with you. You're their prime suspect. Get on board.”

  Dan was so stunned, he started to cry.

  Lombardi whipped out two tissues from a box on her desk and handed them to him.

  “Settle down. Listen to my fees. I'll leave you two alone for a few minutes afterward and then you can retain me. Or not.”

  ***

  “I can't believe what just happened,” Dan said to Rob after they'd were headed south on the highway. “She's a nightmare.”

  “But she's your nightmare now.”

  “A lien on the house, guardianship for Katie, $10,000 money transfer tomorrow. I feel like she took the last of what I had left.”

  “She made sense. I remember OJ signed over his house to Shapiro.”

  Dan gave Rob a hard stare. “I'm not OJ Simpson,” he snapped.

  “The point is, I don't think it's that unusual for defense lawyers to have collateral to make sure they get paid. You're unemployed. How else would she get paid?”

  “Okay.” Unemployed. Zero chance of employment now.

  “It also makes sense for Kaitlyn. Jill's will stipulates that in the event you and she were to die simultaneously, Suzanne and I would become her legal guardians. If you're arrested, she'd have the motion ready to go so Kaitlyn wouldn't have to go through some custody hearing unless things go downhill. She said Jill's parents or sisters would want custody. You know they would.”

  “And the cash?”

  “Money to open a case file, do a little research, and speak to the cops for you.”

  “This is a nightmare. I keep saying that, but I can't think of another word. I feel like I'm under water or on an acid trip. I want to wake up and this to all have been a bad dream.”

  “I'm sorry, Dan. You're going to have to deal with the facts. I think you should ask Mom if she can stay with you for a while. If they arrest you, we don't want a last minute scramble. Kaitlyn needs continuity.”

  Dan couldn't put arrest and himself in the same sentence. Yes, he'd broken his marriage vows with Bella, but that's the worst thing he'd ever done. Now, Katie might face a custodial hearing because her mother was dead and her father was in jail.

  “Do you think she'll stay?”

  “Of course, she will. Mom loves you and Kaitlyn. She's got no reason to rush back to Florida with Dad gone.”

  “Why does Lombardi want my medical records?”

  “To see if there's anything she can use. You have chronic depression. You attempted suicide. You've been hospitalized for it. She might be interested in that.”

  “Great. She'll think I'm a murderer and crazy.”

  “Dan, it doesn't matter what she thinks. If you're arrested, it's what twelve jurors think. For now, see your doctor tomorrow. Don't talk to the press. Don't talk to the cops. They have to go through Lombardi, now. Lay low. Don't piss anybody off.”

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Elizabeth was back in less than a week. Her excuse was Grandparents' Day at St. Margaret's School. She was an alumna herself, along with her three daughters, and the third generation, Kaitlyn, was a current student. By making her presence known as only she could, Elizabeth might be helpful to Katie with the faculty and staff. He didn't know how it would affect the behavior of other girls near Katie's age. Mean Girls existed everywhere.

  Elizabeth arrived at six o'clock Thursday to pick up Katie for dinner. “You haven't cleaned the living room yet?” were the first words out of her mouth.

  “No, I haven't thought about it.” They walked through the empty living room, past the dining room, and into the den.

  “Well, what are you waiting for? Kaitlyn needs a home. A place where she can bring friends. She can't have a bare living room with patches on the wall where Grandmother Charlotte's artwork hung.” She harangued him until she sat on the edge of the sofa cushion, back straight, legs to the side, ankles crossed.

  Dan shrugged. He had no excuse. He had no interest. He didn't care.

  “Do you want me to hire a decorator?”

  Dan sat in his comfortable club chair. “No, thanks, Elizabeth. That's very generous, but I'll do something. My mother can help.”

  “How can she help from Florida?”

  “She's living here now.”

  “Your mother lives in this house with you and Kaitlyn?” Her eyes got wider with every question she asked.

  “Yes, for now. She can drive Kaitlyn to and from school without attracting attention. I'm lying low.”

  “The press is still interested in you?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Nothing has come along that's more sensational.”

  “You sound as though you want someone else to be murdered.”

  Dan ignored her and stood. “Would you like a gin and tonic?”

  “Yes, please. With a slice of lime.”

  He went to the kitchen just off the den and mixed her drink. He poured himself a glass of orange juice. After seeing Dr. Spellman, he was more serious about staying away from alcohol while on antidepressants. He also didn't want to drink before his nightly run.

  Every weeknight at nine o'clock, Rob picked him up and drove him to a high school in neighboring Hanover County where he ran three to four miles. Rob wore binoculars around his neck and sat in the bleachers. Rob had emerged not only as his champion, but the family patriarch. Dan was lucky to have him.

  “Is that why are the drapes are closed?” she asked when he handed her a drink with a cocktail napkin. He wasn't the complete barbarian Elizabeth assumed he was. Jill had probably had a supply or his mother had bought some.

  “Yes,” he said as he sat. “There are still photographers who slip into the community with their long lense
s.”

  “Are Kaitlyn's curtains drawn, too?”

  “Yes, to be safe. My mother had the car windows tinted so no one can see inside. She drives Kaitlyn directly to St. Margaret's gate. As you know, St. Margaret's has had children of public figures enrolled over the years, so they're equipped to keep photographers away.”

  She sighed just a bit and shook her head.

  He knew she was thinking she'd never expected anyone from her family to be considered a public figure and newsworthy.

  “I'll drive Kaitlyn to school tomorrow. Surely, no one will be looking at my rental car departing from the Hyatt House. In fact, why doesn't Kaitlyn spend the night with me? I have two queen beds. It would be a treat for both of us.”

  “I think Kaitlyn would like that. Why don't you ask her and help her pack an overnight bag along with her school supplies?”

  Before she left the room, he said “Elizabeth, there's a small Japanese restaurant near your hotel. Jill and Kaitlyn both like it. You might want to have dinner there.”

  “Japanese?” She asked as though she'd never heard of a restaurant that served such food.

  “Only if it works for you. I just thought I'd mention it.”

  She left, careful to go along the inner hallway to avoid the empty living room. “Kaitlyn, it's Grandmother Elizabeth.”

  “Grandmother,” he heard Kaitlyn's delighted cry from the top of the staircase.

  ***

  In the four days she'd been back at school, Katie said it was fine. She did her homework, which Dan checked every night, and hadn't come home in tears. He could only guess that she was as good as she could be. She played on the softball team. Her art teacher seemed to have given her attention and a special project. At least one of her trio of friends—Jada, Sophia, Josie—came by after school each day. His mother drove Katie to and from school so his presence wouldn't attract attention or reflect badly on Katie. She slept with Mr. Rabbit every night and said she wanted Abbie to come home.

  Abbie wasn't coming home, but Dan still called the animal shelter every day. A physical exam showed he was physically sound. His blood pressure was a little high and his weight was down. The doctor asked about the large bruise on his thigh and he told him about falling out of the single bed. At least there was confidentiality there. Not like when Orlo had asked that day at the health club in the era before he knew Jill was dead.

  Dr. Spellman might be as bored as he was in their sessions. They went through the same checklists, discussion of medications, and his insatiable craving for sleep every week. Spellman quizzed him on where he was on the suicide scale and didn't like the response. Dan claimed he was a ten. He'd kill himself in a heartbeat if he didn't consider what that would do to Katie. On his worst days, he wondered if Katie wouldn't be better off without him. It was the thought of what surely would be a nasty custody battle between Elizabeth and Rob that kept him earthbound.

  When asked how he felt, the responses never varied—his brain felt like cotton, he couldn't follow conversations, and. every day became more surreal. He didn't tell Spellman he believed this was a nightmare from which he eventually had to wake.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-EIGHT

  “The jewelry's gone,” announced Lombardi as she stood behind her desk.

  She'd called the night before and asked Dan to be at her office at noon. Once again, Rob drove. He didn't know what Rob was doing about his patients and didn't ask.

  “That's impossible,” said Dan. He'd been jittery on the drive. Now he was on the verge of panic.

  “Search warrant on the safe deposit box inventory.” She handed a photocopy of the VBCI form listing everything found in the safe deposit box rented by Mr. and Mrs. Daniel Ramsay.

  Dan scanned the document—Batman figurines, Redskin game ticket, infant photograph, 45 rpm record, certificates, trading cards, and small filigree ring. He handed it to Rob who blanched.

  “The gold,” said Rob. “There were seventy-five gold coins in the box. They're not listed.”

  “Then jewelry and gold are missing. You left out some information during our meeting.”

  Dan didn't know what she was talking about. He wished she would sit.

  “Bank visits. Records show you went to the safe deposit vault in September, November, and December of year before last and December last year. Mrs. Ramsay went once in February. Tell me.”

  He couldn't speak. He couldn't keep up. Mørk seemed determined to put him behind bars because he couldn't defend himself. He couldn't understand the questions. “Speak.” She rapped the knuckles of her right hand on her desk.

  He stammered through an explanation. “I went in September a year ago after I cleaned out my childhood bedroom at my parents' house. It was being sold and I had some things I wanted to keep. That November was right after I'd seen Bella and I sent her a pair of my grandmother's earrings. Rubies.”

  Rob made some sort of guttural noise.

  “She sent them back. She had a no gift policy because I was married. I returned them to the vault as soon as I received them in early December. I went December last year after Jill found out about Bella to make sure I hadn't kept anything from Bella.”

  “You didn't know?”

  “I was confused. I was stressed. I wanted to be sure.”

  “And Mrs. Ramsay?”

  “I didn't know she went.”

  “Anything else missing? Weapons? Drugs? No lies. I don't care about possession. I can't help you if you lie.”

  “No drugs. I stopped doing coke when I met Jill.”

  Another noise from Rob.

  “Limited access to the box. You and the victim, right? Where'd you keep the key? The safe deposit box key?”

  “In a magnetic box in the garage.”

  “Good. That's good. Open access.”

  He'd thought it was clever.

  “Which one of you took the jewelry and coins?”

  “I didn't.”

  Jill wouldn't take anything that belonged to his family. Not his great-grandmother's jewelry and not his father's gold coins.

  “Do we know this jewelry existed? Coins?”

  “Yes,” said Rob. “I have pictures of the jewelry my father took for insurance purposes. Everything has a Russian mark for gold. When we each graduated high school, my father gave us seventy-five gold coins for a rainy day. I passed mine on to my sons when they graduated, but I knew Dan still had his.”

  “Get me those pictures to circulate.”

  Where? Where was Lombardi going to circulate pictures? Why? Lombardi was talking to him again. “Winston likes you for the murder.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You're suspect number one.”

  “Is he going to arrest me?”

  “Not yet. No rush. When he's satisfied, he'll call me and I'll take you in.”

  Dan felt sick. He thought he might vomit on her desk. He started gagging.

  “Will I have to spend the night in jail?”

  “Lamb, the question is whether I can get you out on bail. This is a capital case. You're facing the death penalty.”

  He vomited.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-NINE

  “Come,” she said and walked briskly out of her office into Seth’s. “Call maintenance, Seth. I need your office. Amelia's out taking a deposition. Use hers.” She closed the door, but Dan could still smell the contents of his stomach on the floor of Lombardi's office.

  “Your brother shouldn't be here. If he is, anything we say today isn't confidential. Are you waiving privilege?

  He needed Rob. “Yes, I waive privilege.”

  Once he and Rob were re-seated, she continued as she paced the room.

  “What've you got, asset wise?”

  “House, car.”

  “Cash, Lamb, cash. Can you do $500,000?”

  “Yes, it might take a few days.”

  “Get it together now. That'll be good for up to $5 million. More than that, no bail. I'll do a speedy trial motion.
That's probably 90 to 120 days before trial.”

  His stomach retched, but it was empty.

  She crossed her arms in front of her while she walked.

  “Your alibi. It's got to be better.”

  How he wished she'd sit. She was whippet thin. In a black suit with a black asymmetrical haircut, she looked like the hand of a clock ticking. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “I can't make it better. I told the truth about how I spent my day.”

  “Tell me again.” A command not a request.

  “I intended to spend the day working on my résumé and looking at online job sites, but the weather was so nice I didn't want to be inside. Jill was away; Katie was away. I was on my own. I felt pretty beat up after four months of sleeping in the guest room, begging to stay married, and keeping all of it from Katie. Bella had been really tough on me, too.”

  “In one phone call?”

  “That, and the email to Jill.”

  “Go on.”

  “I got out of town. I drove to Virginia Beach.”

  “How?”

  “Directly. I-64.”

  “Stops? Speeding tickets?”

  “None.”

  “GPS?”

  “No.” He hadn't thought that was a necessary option when buying a car. “I parked on Eight-first or Eighty-second Street near where Shore Drive and Atlantic Avenue intersect. It's residential. Free parking. I parked at the end of the street under a tree. There's no sidewalk. Just grass, gravel, and sand. I walked on the decking to the beach and ran to about Thirty-Eight Street or Fortieth Street where the tourist area starts. It's three miles. It took about forty-five minutes. Running in sand is hard. I sat on the beach and rested for about fifteen minutes. Drank from my Thermos. Watched a couple of guys in wet suits trying to surf. Ran back to the car.”

  “Bathroom?”