by Dave Daren
“Not guilty,” she said just above a whisper.
“You’re going to have to repeat that,” Judge Rose squinted in her direction after she couldn’t make out her words.
Harmony shifted in her seat. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t back out and change her mind.
“Not guilty,” she repeated, this time firmly.
Toby sagged in defeat. I breathed what was the beginning of a sigh of relief. Just the beginning though. There was still work to be done.
Court was dismissed, and Harmony’s defense counsel, which I considered myself unofficially a part of, was given two weeks to prepare a defense before we had to turn over our discovery to the prosecution. The court adjourned, and people began to shuffle out.
“We just condemned your sister to life in prison,” Toby said to me as he stood.
Harmony was sitting right next to him still. Her face fell when she heard his insensitive dig.
“Could you be tactful for two seconds, Toby?” I gestured in Harmony’s direction.
“That’s not what I’m paid for,” he grumbled. He snatched up the discovery requests Vicki had prepared and walked them over to the prosecutor. I watched Toby’s interaction with Chet, the prosecutor. Chet seemed surprised to see him, but remained charismatic and polite as Toby chatted with him. If this thing made it to trial, a jury would love him.
Harmony watched Toby walk off with the threat of life in prison still looming over her.
“Should we beat him up in the parking lot?” Vicki suggested.
“That would be rude,” I humored her. “Could you give us a second, though?”
“Sure.” Vicki looked to Harmony’s distressed expression and nodded before she exited.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said as I hugged my sister.
“What if you weren’t my brother?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked, even though I knew what she meant.
“If you weren’t my brother, and you were just a really good lawyer who heard my case, would you have wanted me to plead guilty?” she asked.
“Harmony, it’s pointless to--”
“Just answer the question.” She meant it as a statement, probably almost as a demand, but it still came out as a question in a small and hopeful voice.
I thought for a moment.
“It’s not a hindrance to be your brother,” I told her.
“That’s wasn’t what I asked,” she shook her head.
“I know,” I acknowledged gently. “Let me finish.”
She hugged her arms to her chest and stayed quiet.
“If someone came up to me with your case who I’d never met, and they were offered the plea deal that Toby claims you were offered, I probably would have recommended they take it,” I admitted.
Tears began to well up in Harmony’s eyes as the weight of what a huge mistake she might have just made fell upon her.
“But here’s the thing,” I spoke over her frustration. “All I would have known about this hypothetical person is the police and prosecutor’s side of the story. A defense lawyer is supposed to look at all aspects of the case before accepting or rejecting a plea deal. Even if I wasn’t your brother, I would make sure the evidence against you was solid before I decided on a defense strategy. Plus, as your brother, I know way more about you than just the evidence compiled against you. I know that you’ve been a vegetarian since you were five because the thought of eating dead animals made you cry, that you get sick to your stomach when you watch horror movies with blood, and that you’re the only one in our family to not hold a grudge against me for leaving for law school. None of that holds up in court, but it means something to me. I know you’re innocent, Harmony. There’s no question.”
“But just because you believe all that very sincerely doesn’t mean I’ll look any better to the jury,” she pointed out.
“It means a lot to have someone in your corner, as you put it,” I explained. “You didn’t do it, and I am willing to find any evidence that proves it. And since you didn’t, I have every confidence that the evidence will be there to prove it.”
“How can you know that?” she asked.
“Because that’s just how things work,” I shrugged. “If you didn’t do it, then the evidence will show that you didn’t. If someone framed you somehow, the evidence will show it, and I can prove it to the jury.”
“But if I get life in prison…” she trailed off sadly.
“Harmony, stop,” I said. “Don’t go home and look up prison survival tips or anything like that. I don’t want you to even entertain the notion. This is going to turn around for you.”
“Toby doesn’t believe that,” she pointed out. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m going to pass the Arizona bar,” I finally revealed to her, more confident in the decision than before. “And I’m going to be your lawyer.”
Chapter 8
After leaving the courthouse, I tried to text both Vicki and AJ at the same time. Apparently, this created what AJ and Vicki knew to be a “Group Chat” which they took way too much pleasure in trying to decide a name for.
Their messages in the group chat set my phone off enough to test my patience thoroughly.
Vicki: Justice Squad? I like Justice Squad.
AJ: No, that sounds like a band of superheroes.
Vicki: I think that properly exhibits the standard we strive for.
AJ: What about HAV? Like our initials.
Vicki: Ooh, and when we show up places, we can be like, HAV you been expecting us???
Vicki: Or something better than that.
Vicki: Also, I hate it.
AJ: WHAT? Why?
Vicki: Because I’m last. I shouldn’t be last. You should be last because you’re newest.
AJ: …
Vicki: You new person, you.
AJ: I was working on Harmony’s case before you got here. That makes you newest.
Henry: CAN YOU TWO PLEASE STOP???
When Vicki arrived at the art gallery, she brought her discontent with my cyber-etiquette before even saying hello to me.
“You didn’t have to yell,” she critiqued me.
“I wasn’t yelling,” I responded. “I was typing. Hard. So you two would stop messing around.”
“We weren’t messing around. I only engage in tasteful shenanigans.” Vicki threw her purse down onto one of the flatter art displays, which was probably not an okay thing to do.
AJ burst into the room shortly thereafter.
“HAV there been a murder?” she proclaimed with entirely too much gusto.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Vicki criticized. “Aren’t you a writer? Shouldn’t you know grammar?”
“It’s for effect,” AJ maintained her enthusiasm.
“Yeah, and the effect is awfulness,” Vicki retorted.
“What about, ‘HAV there been murders,’” AJ tried instead.
“You guys, we actually have things to get done,” I pointed out.
“Oh, HAV we?” AJ made one final push, and we erupted into laughter.
After the giggles subsided, we got down to business. The prosecutor had sent Toby the evidence that we requested, and he’d forwarded the email to me. I wondered whether he’d even opened it to review the evidence himself. Vicki, AJ, and I gathered around a table I supposed was used for cutting up big art pieces of paper to review the security footage from the night of the murder. I set my laptop on top of it and played the footage at ten times speed.
“If the murder didn’t happen until 2:04 AM on May 1st, why are we watching stuff from two whole weeks earlier,” Vicki asked.
“The detective only reviewed the footage around the time of the crime,” I explained. “If someone set something up beforehand, he might have missed it.”
I began at the footage of the art critic, Bradford Jules’s, original visit to the gallery. He was an older, bespectacled hipster kind of guy, and he squinted with disdain at each piece he saw. He sc
rutinized each and every painting, so no matter the unhelpful and mean-spirited nature of his review, at least it was well-informed.
The critic came and went, but there was still two weeks of footage between then and the night in question.
And so, Vicki, AJ, and I squinted at mundane security footage for hours and hours, watching gallery guests stand in front of paintings and trying to look thoughtful, and then watching Harmony clean up and paint for another couple hours.
“We can fast-forward this, right?” AJ suggested.
“We’re already watching it at fast speed, and if we go faster we might miss something,” I said.
“We might miss something if our eyes glaze over and we fall asleep, also,” Vicki noted.
I sighed deeply but obliged. I reached forward to my laptop and tapped a couple keys, and the footage sped forward. Gallery guests darted back and forth and Harmony flitted rapidly through the scene as she tidied up the place after hours.
Vicki perched on the arm of the chair I had pulled up. I tried to move over some to make more room for her, but it wasn’t like there was a ton of chair space, so she leaned against me slightly for balance as she bent forward to watch the footage.
At last, the footage reached the night of the murder, and we slowed it back down a bit.
“Oh, I’m so glad we watched a whole two weeks of tape first,” Vicki groaned.
“Shush,” I urged her.
We watched the guests amble through, pointing out pieces and moving on to the next one.
“You know what I just noticed?” AJ began.
“Anything you’ve noticed will be the most excited thing I’ve heard in a few hours,” Vicki said.
“It’s just, there’s not very many of them, are there?” AJ said. “Not compared to two weeks ago.”
I looked back to the screen. Only one or two people at a time came through the gallery now, and hours separated the visitors.
“The critic’s article would’ve been out by now,” I said.
“That’s quite the customer drop-off,” Vicki noted.
“Yeah, that would happen after a scathing review, but it doesn’t help us,” I noted. “It just helps make Harmony look guilty.”
“I don’t mean to be the devil’s advocate or anything,” AJ began, hesitant and careful with her word choice, “but everything that’s turned up on the case implies that Harmony definitely did it…”
“Well, she didn’t,” I said. “And we need everyone to HAV the same opinion.”
“You used HAV,” AJ said as her eyes opened wide with joy.
“Don’t get all weird,” I replied.
“I’m on the team,” the young woman said as she nodded. “I know she didn’t do it, and we’ll prove it.”
We turned back to the video and watched the handful of customers idle in the gallery for a while longer. Eventually, the gallery closed for the night, but the sparse crowds made it difficult to even notice. Harmony emerged back onto the screen, tidying up and working on new pieces.
“Finally, the good stuff,” Vicki joked. “I thought I’d gotten stuck in a time loop.”
We watched Harmony dart in and out of view of the security camera, carrying easels and pastels and paint brushes.
“She certainly doesn’t carry herself like she’s about to stab someone,” AJ observed. “She’s super chill. Kinda slouchy.”
“The suspect’s posture isn’t really something that holds up in court, unfortunately,” Vicki retorted.
The footage moved forward to 2:15, shortly after the murder happened, and Harmony emerged back into the frame with paint on her hands. In the black-and-white image, it’s difficult to determine its color, but I can see enough.
“There’s no way that’s blood,” I determined. “It’s too thick.”
“It could be,” AJ suggested. “It just depends how much of it got on her.”
“It definitely looks more like not-blood than blood, though,” Vicki noted and put a hand on my shoulder.
Harmony darted through the screen again. She looked a bit puzzled, turning back and forth without really seeming to know which way she was going.
“This won’t help our case,” Vicki exhaled quietly as she watched.
She was right. Harmony running around confused with the substance all over her would definitely be interpreted as her acting distraught and suspicious after partaking in something distressing and suspicious.
Harmony’s image stopped suddenly, spotting something on the ground. She calmed immediately, and then approaching the object with a smile of relief on her face.
“What’s that?” AJ leaned in closer.
I squint for a better look. It looked to be a rectangular sort of container with rounded edges nestled amongst a pile of painting supplies.
“It’s paint thinner,” I realized.
Harmony twisted open the container of paint thinner. She poured a bit of it out onto her stained hands and massaged some into parts of her clothing.
“That’s why she was confused and running around,” I proclaimed. “She’s got a bunch of paint on her and she couldn’t find her paint thinner. This doesn’t make sense if she had blood on her hands. She would just wash her hands.”
Vicki thought this over.
“You’re right that that doesn’t make a ton of sense,” she agreed. “It’s hard to use any of this as evidence, though, when we already know that forensics determined it was the critic’s blood.”
“We’ll see what our forensic specialist says about that,” I said defiantly. “Make a note to call Benny’s office tomorrow and find out which forensic specialist he uses, hire him, and then have the prosecutor send the supposedly bloody clothes to him for analysis.”
“You got it, boss,” Vicki replied. When she first arrived I didn’t think it was a great idea for her to be here, but she was a brilliant paralegal, and her help has been invaluable so far.
“You three again?” a new, but familiar, voice chimed in which startled all of us.
The three of us turned toward the entrance. Gerard Chamberlin, the gallery owner, stood in the doorway and fixed us with a petulant pout.
“Is that a problem?” I asked kindly.
“Yeah, it’s not like you have actual customers to worry about,” Vicki added less kindly.
“I don’t suppose Harmony is going to pay rent for the coming month,” Gerard said. “I don’t know that you all have much of a right to set up an office space.”
“I can take care of the remainder of Harmony’s lease,” I assured him.
“Well, you better, or I’ll have to rent this place out to a new tenant or board it on up,” he replied.
“I’ll pay,” I said. “And we’ll use the space. Now, can I help you with anything?”
Gerard sauntered over to one of Harmony’s painting’s on the wall, the one that was a woman’s jawline that I didn’t completely understand. Then he gripped it carefully by the sides and lifted it off the wall.
“What are you doing?” I shot up from my seat. “That’s my sister’s.”
“Your sister hasn’t done much in the way of courting sales,” Gerard replied, his voice muffled as the painting titled and leaned across his face. “If someone offers to buy one of her pieces, we should all be happy about that. We both need our share of the commission, I’m sure.”
“Who’s the buyer?” AJ asked curiously.
“I have no idea,” Gerard responded, his cheek still smushed against the piece as he tried to carry in towards the exit. “It was a buyer who wanted to remain anonymous. I was just given an address and the name of a broker.”
“Why would a guy buying a painting need to hide his identity?” Vicki wondered aloud.
“Art collectors have been known to send out liaisons to find and purchase fine art for them,” Gerard swerved back and forth as he tried to speak and carry the painting at the same time.
“Why even bother, though?” AJ watched him struggle. “I mean, it’s not like Harmony’s P
icasso or anything. Selling her stuff won’t cover her rent amount or the complete lack of customers she’s brought it.”
“Oh, that might have been true once, but Harmony’s a murderer now,” he said with a shrug. “What’s more interesting to you? A painting by a quiet, simple, small-town painter, or a painting by a tortured, complicated, small-town murderer?”
“Good point,” AJ chimed in. “I’d totally want to look at the murderers’ art.”
“Shhhh,” I hissed at her as I stepped after the gallery owner.
Gerard finally reached the entrance and shoved the glass door open, and the painting teetered in his hand. I managed to push the handle open all the way, and he gave me a nod before he walked out into the street. I closed behind him, and he walked off into the afternoon daylight that was coming in through the front windows now.
“Well, at least someone’s getting to see the bright side of this whole situation,” Vicki said.
“I wonder who the buyer is...” AJ trailed off.
“Could someone frame Harmony to increase the price of her art?” I frowned as I thought about what AJ had admitted a few moments ago. “Is that crazy?”
“It’s crazy,” Vicki confirmed, “but not impossible.”
“Doesn’t that still make Harmony look bad?” AJ asked. “She’s the one with the most to gain from her art being worth a lot more.”
“Money won’t do her a lot of good in jail,” I answered.
“I can check her filed sales records to see if she has any regular customers,” Vicki suggested as she gestured to the back office. “If someone invested in her work, they could see a pretty huge opportunity right now.”
“That’s crazy,” AJ reiterated, “but worth looking into. I can blog about all of this, right?”
“Not yet,” I told her.
“Can I HAV book rights once we figure out who did it?” she asked as she wiggled her eyebrows.
“We can negotiate that after Harmony’s acquittal, I’m an entertainment contract lawyer after all,” I answered with a wink.
“Yeah yeah yeah, we have to prove who did the murder first,” AJ said with a hint of defeat in her voice.
“It’s not our job to prove who did it,” Vicki replied. “It’s just our job to prove that Harmony didn’t.”
