“Perfect, Clarissa. I think you’re ready to pass the bar!”
They both laugh out loud and Clarissa thanks Charlotte for her help in explaining the terms to her. As Clarissa is pouring another cup of tea for Charlotte, their grandmother appears in the kitchen, dressed in her robe and asks if she can join them in a cup of tea.
“What’s the matter Nana, couldn’t you sleep?” Clarissa asks.
“No, there are a few legal eagles squawking down here and the walls are thin in this old house.”
“Oh Nana, I’m sorry, we’ll go out to my room.”
“No dear, I’m just kidding. I love hearing you both talking. It brings back the memories of the times we used to have in this house. This kitchen is loaded with memories and I like having happy voices in it again.”
More tea is poured and the three talk until the wee hours of the morning bringing laughter and happiness back to the old kitchen.
Chapter 10
Clarissa takes the transcript of her father’s trial with her to Charleston. She browses through them during her downtime from all the tours that her grandmother has booked for them. Clarissa just loves this town. All the peach trees are blossoming with pink flowers and there is a wonderful scent of Tea Olive bushes everywhere.
She says to her grandmother, “We should buy some of those bushes when we go home.”
Her Nana says, “This is the sweetest smelling city I’ve ever been to. Don’t you just love the homes with all of their antiques? I wish I could afford to furnish my house like that.”
“I like your house better, Nana. These houses don’t look lived in. They’re like museums where you can’t touch anything. Your house is warm and cozy.”
“That’s sweet of you to say, honey.”
Her grandmother finally slows down from all their whirlwind sightseeing and says, “Let’s go back to our hotel room so I can take a little nap.”
When Clarissa has her grandmother all settled in and softly snoring, she goes to the hotel’s vending machine to buy a soda. When she comes back to her room, she begins reading the transcript. She flips through some of the pages and comes to the testimony of the first witness.
The Prosecution tells the judge, “Your honor, the People call Dr. Stevens.” The Doctor comes forward, puts his hand on the Bible and solemnly swears “to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God.” Wow! Clarissa thinks. They really do say that. This is just like on TV.
The Doctor is asked where he went to school and goes into a long speech about where he went and how many years he’s been working as a forensic pathologist. He says he’s been working at this job for 20 years. He says he’s also performed autopsies dealing with trauma to the head caused by blunt force.
Here we go, Clarissa thinks. Am I going to have the stomach to keep reading this when it goes into detail about how Dad’s head was hit with a hammer?
She takes a deep breath and continues reading. The prosecution points to several different photographs being used as evidence. I’m so glad that I don’t have to see them, Clarissa thinks.
The Prosecution tells him, “Now, Doctor, could you describe for the record the color photograph, People’s Number 2.”
The Doctor’s responded that it is a picture of the victim’s skull after the scalp has been retracted.
Ewww.
The Prosecution says, “Would this injury be consistent with a hard metal object?”
The Defense interrupts saying, “Objection. Speculation.”
I wonder why? Clarissa asks herself. I have a lot to learn.
The Judge tells the attorneys, “Sustained.”
The Prosecution later tried to bring up the hard metal object again. He asked the doctor two more times if the skull injury could have been caused by a hammer and each time, the Judge ruled against him.
Alright, alright; Clarissa thinks: it’s a hammer already! Get on with it!
Losing interest in the legalese of the transcript, Clarissa decides that she’s going to take a break and picks up the classified section of the local newspaper. A favorite hobby of hers is looking up jobs, places to rent, and cars to buy. She likes to build imaginary lives for herself. She finds it fun to imagine living in another city, like Charleston.
After she finishes dreaming of her future, she decides to pay a visit to the library in Charleston to take a look at the Periodical Indexes and see if there are any articles about Ivan Romanov. The library might have some microfilm from old issues of the LA Times. She knows that she’ll probably find a lot more information in the Tustin Library, but doesn’t want to wait until she goes home. She’s “hot on the trail” and wants to know more about her father’s killer. She throws on an oversized sweater which is stained with coffee and ketchup and pulls on some leggings to go with it.
Her Grandmother wakes up from her nap and says, “Where are you going honey?”
“Ah, Nana. I’m just going for a walk.”
“I don’t want you getting lost.”
“I won’t go far.”
“Okay. Be careful.”
Chapter 11
She speaks to the hotel concierge on her way out and finds that the library is just around the corner and up one block. The library is housed in an old 18th-century brick building once used as an armory. The library, which is the main Charleston branch, has a vast collection of newspapers on file. She speaks to a bespectacled librarian at the Reference Desk. The librarian helps her find some microfilm of the LA Times that has articles about Ivan Romanov. Wow! Look at all this. This guy is notorious. She learns that he was convicted of the death of his ex-girlfriend’s husband. He used a hammer on the husband’s head and shot him several times. His girlfriend tried to stop him and he pistol-whipped her and left her brain-dead.
Good grief, Clarissa thinks. Ivan also made the newspapers when he broke out of the Orange County jail. “No way!” Clarissa says aloud. Several patrons turn to look at Clarissa. She whispers, “sorry”, to them and continues reading. She reads that when Ivan was on the jail’s 4th story roof recreation area for exercise, he, along with another inmate, overpowered a guard and locked him up with his own handcuffs. He used a metal bar to pry open the security fencing, rappelled down the side of the jail with tied-together sheets, then stole a car from a nearby parking structure. Didn’t anybody see this? Clarissa wonders. The jail is right next to the law library and the parking lot where the jurors park. I’ve just been down there and the place is crawling with people. Somebody must have noticed something. Did some homeless person see it, scratch his head and wonder if he might be hallucinating? Mr. Romanov was on the lam for a month before he was caught. Is this the same guy who killed my Dad? Are these people for real? Clarissa asks.
And what does this have to do with Dad? This gives me plenty to digest. I’m think I’ll go for a stroll in this beautiful Southern city and try to work off all of the adrenaline buzzing through my veins right now.
Chapter 12
Clarissa really enjoys her stroll back to the hotel. She reads in a brochure that Charleston has been famous for three centuries as “a city set in a garden”. This is a gardener’s paradise. No wonder Nana wanted to come here, she thinks. The brochure also mentions that it has been named “one of the 10 most friendly and courteous cities in America.” I wonder if the African Americans here would agree? Are any of them descendants of slaves? When I saw the old slave market downtown, I felt like saying to them, “I’m sorry; it wasn’t my people. We’re from California.”
As the sun is setting, she walks down a street known as “Rainbow Row.” It’s named for its series of colorful houses. Very pretty, Clarissa thinks. This place has a whole different look at night. I’m glad the historical buildings are lit up. I’m going have to come back later with my camera; but right now it’s time to get back to Nana before she starts worrying.
Her grandmother is “up and at ‘em” by the time that Clarissa returns. “Did you have a nice stroll, honey?”
“Yes. I did! A guy on the street was handing out these flyers for a soul food restaurant. Doesn’t this sound good: fried chicken, greens, grits, and sweet potato pie.”
“That sounds great,” her Nana says. “Let me put on some lipstick and grab my sweater.”
Chapter 13
After dinner, Clarissa climbs into the inn’s four poster bed and reads more of the transcript from her father’s trial.
The next witness is a Forensic Investigator, Anthony Romano, who works at the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. After he was sworn in and took his seat, the Prosecutor asked him about the physical evidence that was found in Ivan Romanov’s car.
“On March 10, 1976, you examined evidence found in the car that the defendant was driving. What kind of evidence did you find?”
“I found fingerprints, blood splatters, and hair samples.”
“Were you able to find a match with the fingerprints?”
“Yes. They matched Ivan Romanov’s prints.”
“Did you examine the blood and hair samples?”
“Yes. They matched Steve Rogers’.”
“What happened to the car the defendant was driving?”
“It is impounded in the Orange County Sheriff’s lot.”
“Can you think of any reason why these samples may have been in the defendant’s car?”
The Defense attorney said, “Objection; your Honor. Calls for speculation.”
“Sustained.”
“Investigator Romano,” the Prosecutor said, “where were these samples taken in order to be identified.”
“They were analyzed at the Orange County Crime Lab.”
“How many people had access to these samples?”
Only the Crime Lab and our Forensics department. They are kept securely locked up.
“No further questions, your Honor.”
Chapter 14
Okay, Clarissa thinks. Let’s hear the cross-examination. I love this part.
Time for that lady Public Defender, Iris Wallace, to grill the witness. You go, girl!
“Investigator Romano,” she begins. “Are you aware that when the defendant was arrested he was driving a stolen car?”
“Yes, we knew it was stolen when our officers ran the plates.
“So the car could have belonged to anybody?”
“Leading the witness, your Honor,” the prosecutor said. “Motion to strike this entire line of questioning from the record.”
“Overruled.”
The Public Defender said, “Would you agree that there is a chance that Mr. Rogers may have been killed in the car before the defendant stole it?”
The Prosecutor said, “Objection, your Honor. Calls for speculation.”
“Sustained.”
The Public Defender continued, “Is it unusual to find blood and hair samples of the deceased in the car, but none of his fingerprints?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Calls for speculation.”
“Overruled.”
“Is it unusual to find no fingerprints to match hair and blood samples?”
“It is unusual, but the defendant may have wiped the car of prints.”
“Why would he have done that?”
“Objection. Calls for speculation.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
Hmmm….Clarissa thinks, there’s something fishy about this case.
Chapter 15
Clarissa is glad when she’s back home in Tustin. Charleston was beautiful, but she’s missed all her old familiar haunts. She’s missed her local Starbucks. They’ve sure got me hooked, she thinks.
Ever since she’d read the transcript of her father’s murder trial, she’s been thinking about Ivan Romanov. I sure wish I could talk to him about my dad. After some searching, she finds out that he’s serving his time in Calipatria, which is some God-forsaken place in the desert. I don’t think I want to drive all the way there. It would scare me to death being anywhere near a state penitentiary. She decides that she’ll write to him instead. She has a lot of questions about her Dad. In her letter, she tells him that she is Steve Rogers’ daughter.
She writes, “I’ve been reading the transcripts from my Dad’s murder trial, and I’d like to ask you a few questions. I’ve read that you’d claimed that you never would’ve murdered Dad because you’d considered him to be your closest and only friend. Who would want to pin his murder on you? What did you and Dad fight about when you were both working at The Register? Who was the woman you were fighting over? Do you ever hear from her? When was the last time you saw her? The reason I’m asking you is because I’ve never known who my mother is. My Dad never told me; I don’t know why. I guess he was mad at her for deserting us. Was she ever pregnant, to your knowledge? And by the way, I’m not totally convinced that you murdered my Dad. I’m enclosing a self-addressed stamped envelope that you can use if you write back to me. Thank you very much.”
Chapter 16
After three weeks, Clarissa finally gets a letter back from Ivan. She is so excited that her hands are shaking. I can’t wait to tell my cousin about this! Ivan’s letter begins:
“Hello, Clarissa. I can hardly believe that you even thought to contact me. Nobody ever writes to me anymore. I’ve been in this hellhole of a place for sixteen years. They’ll never let me out of here and I’m sure I deserve it. I’m glad that you think I’m innocent of your Dad’s murder. You’re the only one. I don’t deny that I killed my girlfriend’s husband--and I’m not proud of that--but I would never kill Steve. He was my best friend. You have to believe that. We spent many nights drinking pink champagne at your Dad’s apartment after our graveyard shifts at The Register. We had some heavy talks and told each other our deepest secrets. I always thought that Steve was the only person who ever understood me.
“You asked me what we were fighting about. We both liked a girl we worked with and I’d get insanely jealous if anybody even talked to her. I’ve always had a problem with being jealous. I’ve never been able to control it. Now look where it’s got me. The three of us were very close, then. We used to all hang out together. She and Steve were trying to get a proposition on the ballot to stop construction of nuclear plants, so all three of us used to go to rallies. She even got arrested for chaining herself to a fence at San Onofre. I did hear later that she got pregnant. Steve told me that the child was you, Clarissa.
Your mother told Steve that she didn’t want to raise a child. She wanted to finish college and travel. She wanted to change the world. A kid would only get in the way. As far as I know, she never even asked Steve how you were doing. He was very bitter towards her. That is why he never told you who your mother was. It sounds like she never contacted you, has she? Even after Steve’s death? That’s so typical of her. All she ever thought about was herself.”
While Clarissa is reading this she’s thinking: So, what’s her name, already?
Ivan writes: “So anyway, I’ve totally lost track of your Mom; I’m sure she found some sucker to marry her; and knowing her, she’s probably left him too by now. Her name when I knew her was Christine Staley. That’s all I know about her. I hope this information helps gives you some closure. Feel free to contact me anytime. I’d love to get more of your letters. I’m not going anywhere soon.”
Chapter 17
Clarissa is unable to find Christine Staley’s name in the telephone directory. Maybe it’s unlisted, she thinks. So close, but yet so far. Ever since she’s graduated from high school, she’s had more time to go through boxes in the attic of her grandparents’ home, hoping to find clues about her father’s life. She’s been able to find his High School letterman’s jacket and some flyers that say “Nukes, no! Solar, yes!” She has also found some information about a ballot initiative which would’ve banned construction of nuclear power plants. How cool of Dad to try to get an initiative on the California ballot. Too bad that the San Onofre plant is still operating. Something bad is going to happen there someday, I just know it. In one box she
finds a newspaper article about protestors at San Onofre which shows a picture of her Dad and some young woman chained to the fence. Wow! Dad really had a lot of convictions. I can’t see myself doing something like that. Cool picture, though. “Dad, the Radical”. She loves looking at his high school yearbook and reading his friends’ comments: “Too cool to be forgotten”. “Have a bitchin’ summer.” Funny stuff like that.
A few mornings later, Clarissa climbs out of bed, goes outside to scoop up the newspaper from the curb, and reads it while she’s eating her cereal. As she’s thumbing through the pages, she sees a picture of a woman at a charity event for disadvantaged children. Wow, Clarissa thinks. She looks really familiar. Then, it hits her that she looks like the same woman who chained herself to the fence with her Dad at San Onofre. She goes up to the attic and tries to find the picture in the newspaper.
Her Nana says, “Stop running. You practically knocked me over!”
“Look at these two pictures, Nana. Don’t they look like the same person?
“Yes. They do. Why do you ask?”
“Have you ever seen her hanging around with Dad? Did you ever hear Dad talking about her? Did she ever come over to the house?”
“No. Who is she?”
“Wow. It says that she’s the wife of the former District Attorney.”
“You’re kidding. Sounds like she got a lot more conservative when she grew up. Does she have a name?”
“Let’s see. Yes. It’s Christine McAndrews. Oh my God. Maybe that’s my mom! Maybe that’s my Mom’s married name!”
“Now, sweetheart. Don’t you go jumping to conclusions. Just because your Dad may have gone to protest rallies with her doesn’t mean that she’s your mother. I don’t want you getting your hopes up and then getting hurt.”
The Tustin Chronicles: A Detective Santy Mystery Page 12
