Defending Turquoise (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 5)

by John Ellsworth

  “After nine years you still don’t know enough not to make yourself a witness in your cases?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  The little jurist’s eyes narrowed. “Well, try the truth. The truth always works well in here.”

  “I—it—suddenly there were questions and she was answering.”

  “Hold it. Why were you even there in the jail visiting this girl?”

  “I—I—”

  “Prosecutors know better than to have conversations with arrestees. For this exact reason!”

  “I’m sorry, Judge.” She hung her head sadly. She doodled on her yellow pad. Thaddeus looked over to see what she had written. There, in all caps, was one word: SHIT.

  “Judge, will the state seek to proceed, knowing that the DA is now a witness?”

  Wrasslin sniffed. “We certainly will. At the next opportunity.”

  Judge Trautman pushed himself up to where his mid-section touched his desk. He slammed his fist against his calendar. “Counsel, my calendar is made up three months in advance. It will be at least three months before we’re available.”

  He flung himself back and sat smoldering, eyes burning at DA Russell then shifting to Thaddeus. Back and forth they played, like a cat readying itself to pounce. Except there was no pounce left. He had made his threats and landed his blows and even succeeded in disbarring Thaddeus for a full year, but that was all past now. The young lawyer had taken him on and turned aside his best forward charge. It was at an end. Even Judge Kampbell was silent, pursuing imaginary lint on his sleeve. He was probably being paid for this nonsense, Thaddeus realized. Paid to keep tabs on me.

  Which prompted Thaddeus to ask, “Judge, as appointed counsel, will I be paid for a full trial day today?”

  “Out, both of you,” the judge hissed. “Before I say or do something I regret.”

  The two attorneys clambered out of the office.

  “Sorry,” Thaddeus whispered to Wrasslin once they were in the hallway and heading back into the courtroom.

  “Screw off, Thaddeus,” she said.

  “Well,” he said mildly, “you just lost my vote come election time.”

  43

  That evening, he drove slowly home and studied the pine shadows in the early twilight, how they lay eastward in great, black silhouettes that reminded him of spirits in a jury box. Try as he might, he just couldn’t shake the trial, the difficulties with Trautman, and whether he was going to set Turquoise free. He shook his head and punched the volume button on the stereo. REO Speedwagon came on the ’Eighties station and he abruptly turned it back off. He turned down the gravel road toward his house and slowed way down so as not to kick up dust. The neighbors appreciated as much, as did Katy.

  He remembered that he had Angelina Steinmar’s trial starting soon, decided he would start noodling it later tonight after everyone was in bed, then thought better of it. He would let it pass for the night, and just try to spend time with Katy, Turquoise, and Sarai.

  He smiled when he thought of them and turned off at his own driveway. Coconino and Charlie were munching hay and swatting flies with their long tails. Neither bothered to look his way and, truth be told, the feeling was mutual. Ignorance is bliss, in the truest sense of “ignore.” He stepped up on the huge deck that led to the front entrance and turned one last time to observe the San Francisco Peaks two miles north. He admired how steady, how grand they were, never changing but never seeking to avoid the changes nature planted on their face. He decided he would try to be more like them, steady and patient with external change.

  He entered the mudroom and kicked out of his shoes. His fleecy moccasins felt good on his feet and told him he was safely home. He opened the front door and found Turquoise and Sarai watching a video. Ice Age. He knew the voices by heart. Who wouldn’t, after the ten millionth play?

  “Hey, girls,” he said on his way to the kitchen.

  Something smelled good and was especially welcome after the long, hard day.

  Katy was cutting up onions for salad, a wooden match held between her teeth—to stop the tears, she claimed. He had tried it once before and thought it belonged in someone else’s magic show, as it hadn’t worked for him.

  He came up behind and encircled her with his arms.

  “Hey,” he said in her ear.

  “Hey, back,” she said. She stood immobile and allowed him to embrace her. When he nibbled her ear she removed the matchstick and turned her face to kiss him. It was a long, warm kiss, lips slightly parted, a hearty welcome home.

  “What’s cooking? Smells fantastic.”

  “I made a pot roast. Just like you and Sarai like, onions, potatoes, and carrots. Plus my special gravy.”

  “I could eat a horse.”

  “How about cow instead?”

  He shot a quick glance back at the door. They were still alone.

  “How about you, instead?” he said.

  “Maybe later.”

  It was said with a smile and girlish dip at the counter.

  “You’re a total chick.”

  “Glad you think so.”

  “You make me glad to be home.”

  She turned to the sink and washed onion from her hands. “You know what? You make me glad to be here. I was so proud of you today for how you stood up for Turquoise. To be honest, I didn’t know you had that kind of fight in you. My bad.”

  “Hey, I can depend on my inner guy when the chips are down. He can come out pretty damn tough.”

  They were gathered together at the family room dining table, Turquoise telling Katy about her weaving hobby and Sarai mesmerized in her new “big sister,” as she now referred to Turquoise.

  Turquoise used her hands to talk.

  “First you prepare the loom. Use the fine-spun yard for the verticals. It has to be tightly wound so be careful on the wheel.”

  “Wheel?” Katy asked.

  “Spinning wheel. Make a tight yarn but make it fine.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “Then you thread the wefts horizontally.”

  “They go over and under the warp?”

  “Exactly. Your weft isn’t as tightly spun. It’s looser. I think of it as the fluffy yarn. But it isn’t really fluffy. Just fluffier.”

  “Got it. So what if we get a loom?”

  “I’ll make you a loom. Just some two-by-fours and one-by-fours. Plus a batten and comb. It’s pretty simple. The secret ingredient for weaving is patience. One rug takes months.”

  “Well, it’s not like we’re setting the world on fire around here with projects. Let’s hit the lumber yard tomorrow and pick up some things. We’ll make two looms and we can sit and weave.”

  “And talk.”

  “Yakkety-yak. Two Navajo girls with lots of catching up to do.”

  “I’m loving it,” said Turquoise. “For a long time I’ve been wanting to make a rug.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Turquoise shot a look at Sarai and rolled her eyes that direction. “You can guess?”

  Katy nodded. “Got it.”

  “You couldn’t do anything around there.”

  Thaddeus explained the day’s events with H. Ivan the Terrible. He described the back-and-forth, the in-fighting, and the final take-down by getting the continuance. He had some new ideas about the case, he said, in case anyone was paying attention. There were no takers, so he kept the new ideas to himself. Katy and Turquoise got lost in a conversation about relatives they might have in common on the reservation and Thaddeus had a two-way with Sarai. What letter did you learn on Sesame Street today? Dad, I’m five. I’m too old for that stuff. That’s right, I forgot. Your bad, Dad.

  After the news they went up to bed. Turquoise told them all good night and had tears in her eyes when Katy gave her a hug and said, “Welcome to the family, Biscuit.”

  “I’m so glad you let me stay here,” the girl said. “It’s been so long since I could just sleep.”

  “I understand w
hat you’re saying.”

  “He was horrible.”

  “Well, that’s over now. Thad and I will protect you. Won’t we, honey?”

  “We’ve got it under control,” Thaddeus reassured her. “I will get you out of your mess downtown and Katy will help you with everything else.”

  “Can Tommy come this weekend? Just for the day?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure.”

  “Oh, thank you!”

  They said their goodnights and everyone disappeared for the night.

  Undressing, Katy asked, “So, you had a big fight with H. Ivan?”

  “Knockdown drag-out. He’s such an asshole.”

  “From what I hear, he seems to be. He’s like a demigod in court.”

  “Oh, make no mistake. He owns that room, not the taxpayers. It’s his personal property.”

  “I got that distinct impression.”

  She turned her back to him. “Unsnap, please.”

  He released the bra strap. She didn’t move.

  He circled his hands around to her breasts and slowly played across her flesh. She came erect and he was immediately turned on. He pulled her backwards down on to his lap. He lay back and pulled her with him. His hands slid down her belly and found her labia. He toyed with her, kissing her neck, whispering in her ears, telling her how much he loved her. Then they separated while she turned over and she immediately mounted him. She rode him and they moaned softly, aware that they had an adult visitor who they didn’t want to disturb with their love-making.

  Later they cuddled and he told her how much he had missed her and how sorry he was that he’d made a mess of their lives.

  She said she was sorry for her lack of patience with him and that she was mortified she had gone with other men while he was away. “Don’t tell me any more than that, please,” he said, and she relented. Details weren’t necessary. It was enough just to refer to the dark nights and alcohol mists and how they’d lost each other during that regrettable part of their marriage.

  They renewed their vows. He promised he would never touch another woman and she returned the vow, never another man. They kissed and Katy turned her back to him and scrunched her buttocks into his mid-section. He felt himself grow tumescent and she found him with her hand. She spread herself to him and that’s how they finally slept, coupled then slowly drifting apart as they tumbled through their dreams.

  When he awoke it was pre-dawn and he kissed her. “Sleep,” he said.

  He went downstairs to his office and flipped on his computer.

  Time to think about Angelina Steinmar and the amazing dead mouth of her husband, the snapping corpse.

  He chased the lame attempt at humor from his mind and went into the kitchen and ran a K-cup through the coffee maker.

  With a long sigh, he took up the mouse at his computer and began tracking down evidence and law.

  He was back.

  Fully. Back.

  44

  Thaddeus and Christine and Angelina rehearsed her story a dozen times in the weeks before trial.

  What exactly happened?

  Answer: I shot him.

  Were you shooting to kill him?

  Answer: I don’t know. I just wanted him to stop hurting me and he wouldn’t.

  Why did you have the gun?

  Answer: He chased me from upstairs. I went for the gun to frighten him.

  So why did you shoot him with it? What changed?

  Answer: I brandished the gun. That didn’t even slow him. He just kept coming.

  What made you finally pull the trigger? Tell us what happened at that second.

  Answer: He was trying to sexually assault me. He was biting me between the legs. It was excruciating pain. I begged him to stop and he wouldn’t stop.

  So you pulled the trigger?

  Answer: Without even thinking, I pulled the trigger.

  So it was more of a reflex than a planned act?

  Answer: I was hurting and suddenly it was excruciating. So I pulled the trigger out of pain.

  Then what happened?

  Answer: He stopped biting. The pain stopped. His head jerked and he fell face down on the carpet.

  What did you do?

  Answer: I remember he was partially on top of me. I scooted backwards on my rear end to get disentangled from him.

  Did he moan or make any sound?

  Answer: Of course not. He was shot in the head.

  So there was no indication he needed an ambulance?

  Answer: I immediately knew I had killed him. He stopped biting and never moved again.

  So you went up and took a shower?

  Answer: I was afraid of infection from his mouth so my instinct was to clean off his saliva. I don’t know why. I had heard something, I guess, about the mouth and germs.

  So what did you do next?

  Answer: I started to use a washcloth, but that wasn’t enough. So I turned on the shower and got in. I know I was in shock at this time because I really don’t remember the shower or cleaning up at all.

  Now, your daughter had been assaulted as well?

  Answer: She committed suicide after he assaulted her.

  How do you know that was why she committed suicide?

  Answer: She left a note blaming him. Turns out he had been assaulting her for some time. So she killed herself.

  How did she kill herself?

  Answer: She hung herself from her closet door. Left a note.

  Did the death result in criminal charges?

  Answer: They appointed a special prosecutor at my request. The grand jury said it didn’t clearly implicate John.

  If Mr. Moroney says you shot your husband because he had sexually assaulted your daughter, what would you say?”

  Answer: He was a bad man. A very bad man. I was going to divorce him, that was my plan. My plan didn’t involve shooting him, not at all.

  Thaddeus took his measure of her testimony. It had to come across as a spur-of-the-moment act. There couldn’t be even a hint of premeditation. And so far, so good. He had to admit, Shep had tutored the witness to where it sounded like self-defense. He was hurting her, she was fearful of great bodily harm or even death, so she reacted. Self-defense and then some.

  They continued talking about what happened and why. They returned to her house. She showed them into the family room where the shooting occurred. She reenacted the struggle, the reach for the gun, the relative distances when the shot was fired that killed her husband.

  “Don’t come across as defensive when you testify,” they cautioned her.

  “I won’t. I played Blanche DuBois in Streetcar, remember?”

  Christine looked at Thaddeus. He shrugged. “It’s a play. She was in a play.”

  “So she’s an actress?”

  “What do you think?”

  The meeting broke up and Thaddeus and Christine drove back to the office. They stopped along the way and bought burgers and fries to eat at the office. It was Friday and the trial began Monday with jury selection.

  * * *

  Thaddeus met with Assistant Attorney General Jimmy Moroney in his new digs in the Bank of America building. The office was sprawled across one end of the floor two up from Thaddeus’ office. Thaddeus was impressed with the setup. Receptionist, staff coming and going, a sense of great business and focus in the quiet but busy place.

  The AG turned over the report from the Coconino County Medical Examiner. The doctor’s name was Dr. Neal Gordonet, the CME. The report began with some preliminary background commentary: In criminal investigations, properly scaled photographs are indispensable in the evaluation and interpretation of bite mark impressions. The location, relative position, appearance, physical size, and depth can be illustrated using correct photographic protocols. Along with photographic preservation, the collection of properly collected blood, saliva samples, and impressions of any three-dimensional aspects of the injury may also produce additional evidence, which can result in the successful resolution
of an investigation. This evidence should be collected as soon as possible.

  “Which Shep Aberdeen had done at the hospital,” Thaddeus said.

  The AG laughed. “Problem was, she’d already showered and cleaned up. So there was no saliva, no DNA.”

  “But the bite marks leave no doubt according to this report. It was definitely John Steinmar’s teeth that left the bite marks on her genitals and breast.”

  “No doubt of that, it’s true.”

  “So what does this tell you? It tells me we’ve got a simple case of self-defense. The case should really be dismissed, in all fairness.”

  The AG spun the report on his desk. He looked out the window at the Peaks. Thaddeus knew there was little chance of any dismissal. Too political, too much public outcry, too much opportunity for a misstep at trial that just might result in a conviction.

  “It’s definitely not a slam-dunk for you,” Thaddeus commented.

  “It’s not. But neither is it for you. Your client could pay the maximum price for the shooting.”

  “Only if you can prove premeditation and malice and lack of self-defense.”

  Moroney twisted in his chair. “Wrong. You have to prove the presence of self-defense. I don’t have to prove the absence of self-defense. It’s an affirmative defense in Arizona courts. The burden of proof is on you.”

  “Well, for the record, that’s my defense. I think the jury will laugh this case right out of court.”

  “I think it was an execution of a bad man for the sexual assault of his daughter. I think the jury will see right through your self-defense claim.”

  “Well then how do you explain the bite marks? That was just a minor thing? Are you kidding me? He damn near chewed her labia off with that one bite. It’s very clear in the photographs.”

  “Could be, but maybe not. Maybe the bite marks came after he was already dead. Have you thought of that?”

  Thaddeus felt a cold chill race down his spine. Yes, he’d thought of that. In fact, he knew from his conversation with Shep that that was exactly what had happened. She had used his mouth to cause the bite marks after he was dead. Which brought Thaddeus back to the extremely uncomfortable role of an attorney who is about to knowingly introduce perjured testimony into the trial. He could not only lose his license if he got caught, he could also be prosecuted and sent to prison.