“If we let him out now,” Dave sighed, “he’ll disappear for sure.”
“I suggest we work out a plea bargain and offer it to him,” James said. “If this goes before a jury, all they’re going to do is let him off. There is too much reasonable doubt.”
“This man hit Tuttle in the head with a blunt object and strangled him until he was dead,” Dave said. “Now you want to charge him with manslaughter and plea bargain that down to what? Assault? You might as well slap his wrist and send him home.”
“Bring me the blunt object,” James said. “Find me a weapon or something to put Bolder at the scene at the time of Tuttle’s death. I’ve got nothing to work with here.”
“Tuttle was going to the cabin where Bolder was staying,” Dave argued. “Tuttle ends up dead with Bolder’s fingerprint on his credit card. What more proof do you need?”
“I need proof Tuttle made it to the cabin before he was killed,” James said. “I need proof that the two men could not have had contact prior to that night. That there is no other way Bolder’s fingerprint could have gotten on that card. I need something I can show a jury and say ‘This is why you should put him away’. You don’t have that. The probability the two men met at the cabin that night is the only reason I’m willing to go manslaughter.”
“How long before you have to charge him?” Dave asked.
“What do you mean?” James said.
“If he isn’t charged we have to let him walk,” Dave said. “How long before we have to let him go?”
“Two hours or so. Why?” James asked.
“Because I’m going to get you the proof there was no chance they met before that night,” Dave said. “Allan Tuttle was in Chicago the week of his death. He came home that day. The only way Bolder's print is the last print on that card is if he touched it that day. All I need to prove is that Bolder was not in Chicago to touch that card.”
“You get me that proof,” James said, “and I will give you murder one.”
“If Bolder was there he had to have a hotel room,” Dave said. “And the guy doesn’t drive so he would have taken a plane or a bus. There will have to be a record of his travels.”
“You only have two hours to check them all,” James said. “You think you can do that?”
“I can do it in an hour,” Dave said with confidence. He left the District Attorney’s office and started making calls from his cell phone as soon as he stepped through the door. He had Philip and two other detectives on the phones by the time he arrived at his office.
After more than an hour and a half they had managed to call the bus station, the train station and every airline with a flights to Chicago. No one by the name Jack Bolder purchased a ticket to or from the windy city the week leading up to Tuttle’s death. They also called as many hotels and motels as time allowed to confirm no room was checked out in his name. Nothing. They had him.
Returning to District Attorney Trout’s office just under the deadline, Dave and Philip presented their case again. This time the D.A. listened and nodded in all the right places.
“This is better,” James said. “I would still prefer a weapon. At least this gives little doubt about the time the two men were in contact with one another. With this I think we have a good chance of proving our case. Good work detectives.”
“I told you we would get him,” Dave said. “The man is guilty. There is no doubt in my mind.”
“I’ll get these papers filed and get a time for the hearing,” James said. “Meanwhile, if there is any chance of recovering the weapon that would be helpful.”
“Not much chance of that,” Dave said. “The cabin where Bolder was staying burned to the ground. He doesn’t own a car. And Tuttle wasn’t killed where we found him. There was no weapon at the scene.”
“So, Tuttle was moved after he was killed?” James furrowed his brow.
“Yeah,” Dave said. “That was in the report.”
“I know,” James said. “I read the report. That isn’t what I have a problem with.”
Dave’s shoulders sagged. He did not like the District Attorney. One of the reasons was because he kept changing his mind on cases. It took forever to get charges filed sometimes. “What do you have a problem with?”
“Well,” James said. “Bolder doesn’t own a car. Apparently he has no license at all. Yet, he killed Tuttle and moved the body. How did he get to the body dump? Without a car and all? It would be quite a walk, especially carrying a dead body. Not to mention the number of people who would have seen him.”
“He must have . . . ,” Dave turned to Philip who only shrugged.
“You have no answer for that one?” James asked. “When the defense asks me that same question, how am I going to answer it?”
“We suspected an accomplice,” Dave said.
“I haven’t read anything about an accomplice,” James said.
“We weren’t sure,” Dave explained. “It just came up recently during the investigation of Birdie Login’s murder. If there is an accomplice they could have used the second man’s vehicle to move Tuttle.”
“It’s a good theory,” James said. “Without proof that’s all it is. I need you to identify this accomplice and get me enough to put Tuttle in the guy’s car the night of the murder.”
“Don’t worry, James,” Dave said. “We are already looking into it for the Login case. We’ll get you what you need.”
“You better,” James said. “Because if I file these charges and you come back with nothing, this case is going down the drain fast. I don’t like losing cases, detective. I don’t like it at all.”
Chapter 60
(The Hearing)
Allan was in a state of shock from the news he was being charged with first-degree murder. If he was found guilty he could spend the rest of his life behind bars. He had only been in jail for a short time and he was already sure he could never survive prison life. Every sound he heard made him jump. He was convinced someone was going to try to kill him in his sleep. In prison, he knew he would be a victim of any hard line criminal he came across.
Sitting in the courtroom waiting for his turn before the judge, Allan was surrounded by dangerous looking men. They were waiting their turns as well. Most looked like they had probably been there before and, if given the chance, would be there again. A group of lawyers clustered together speaking in hushed voices. A few more sat alone with their clients discussing what they should expect, what they should say. Having spoken with Allan in holding just before the guard came to escort the prisoners to the courtroom, Ben sat in the back of the room isolated and silent.
“All rise,” the bailiff called out. “Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Joyce Werner presiding.”
The judge walked into the room and climbed the steps leading to her bench. As she approached her seat she scanned the faces in the courtroom. Her eyes locked on Allan for a moment before moving on. She stepped up to her chair and said, “Be seated.”
She sat also and started sorting through the papers on her desk. Everyone in the courtroom remained quiet while they waited for the judge to get organized.
“Call the first case,” she said, still looking down.
The first case was a man accused of assault and battery. The judge was short with the man and his lawyer. Allan cringed at each exchange between them. He was convinced the judge was an unsympathetic woman on a mission to prove herself. Allan had images of himself sitting behind bars on his ninetieth birthday. A young woman was called up before the judge.
“Michelle Walden,” the judge said. “This is your second time before me, isn’t it?”
“Yes ma’am,” the woman said, meekly.
“Didn’t you learn anything last time you were here?” the judge asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman answered.
“I don’t think you did,” the judge countered. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I guess,” the woman said.
&n
bsp; “You guess?” the judge stared hard at the girl. “Let me tell you something young lady. I know you didn’t learn anything last time. And I know you are going to try harder to learn something this time. Do you understand me?”
“I just . . . “
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good,” the judge said. “You’re going to spend thirty days in lockup. And I want you to seek treatment when you get out. I don’t want to see you back here again.”
“But, I . . .”
“I heard everything you had to say last time,” the judge snapped. “You told me everything you thought I wanted to hear. You lied. So now we’re doing it my way. Bailiff take her out of here.”
The bailiff took the woman out a door next to the judge’s bench. Allan watched with wide-eyes. He was going away for a long time and he knew it. Everything Ben told him was lost. The only thing Allan could see was the judge telling him to go with the bailiff.
“Jack Bolder come forward.”
It took Allan a second to register it was him they were calling. He stood and walked up to the podium the others had stood at. Ben met him there and he took a stack of note cards out of his pocket. He patted Allan on the back gave him an assuring smile.
“Your client is being charged with first degree murder, Mr. Hunter,” the judge said. “How does he plead?”
“He is pleading not guilty, Your Honor,” Ben said.
“Mr. District Attorney?” the judge looked at the prosecutor.
“Yes, your honor,” James Trout stood.
“Are you ready to present your case?”
“I am,” the man said moving to the podium. “We are prepared to show proof the accused had motive and opportunity to kill the victim. We are also prepared to show at the time of the victim’s death the accused was with the victim.”
“And what do you say, Mr. Hunter?”
“I am prepared to show that my client not only did not have a motive but also didn’t even know the victim,” Ben said. “I am also going to show that my client could not have killed Allan Tuttle because my client is Allan Tuttle.”
A silence spread through the courtroom like a wave until there was not a sound to be heard. Everyone turned to the front of the court, looking at the judge to see what would happen next.
“Excuse me?” the judge said.
“I said my client is Allan Tuttle, Your Honor,” Ben said.
“The victim?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ben said. “Although as you can see he is not the victim. At least not the murder victim.”
District Attorney Trout stood suddenly, “This is an outrage, Your Honor. This man is not Allan Tuttle. Allan Tuttle is in the morgue with his head split open. The victim’s wife identified the body.”
A murmur among lawyers in the audience grew into shouts and laughter among the prisoners in the room. Joyce grabbed her gavel and began pounding the desk until calm was restored.
“Gentlemen, approach the bench,” she said between clenched teeth. The two lawyers walked up to her desk and started a heated, though hushed argument that was quickly shut down by the judge. The judge looked sternly at the men. Turning to Ben, she said, “Are you trying to make a mockery of my court?”
“No, ma’am,” Ben said. “My client claims to be Allan Tuttle. I hired an investigator to check into it.”
“You’re telling me your investigator found proof your client is Allan Tuttle?”
“Not exactly,” Ben said.
“Not exactly?” Joyce said. “What is not exactly?”
“My investigator can't prove my client is Allan Tuttle,” Ben said. “But he can't find any proof he isn’t. And he can’t find anything that proves he is Jack Bolder. According to city records there is no Jack Bolder.”
“Judge, this is ridiculous,” James said. “The victim’s wife identified the body.”
“We have reason to believe she lied,” Ben said.
“Are you kidding me?” James said. “Why would she lie?”
“Why would she lie, counsel?” The judge asked.
“Money,” Ben said. “Why everyone lies.”
“Insurance fraud?” the judge asked.
“That’s only the tip of it,” Ben said. “We have reason to believe there’s more to it than that but we can’t say what it is.”
“If he is using an argument,” James said, “I have a right to know what it is so I can prepare a rebuttal.”
“Let’s hear it, Ben,” Joyce said.
“I can’t,” Ben said. “I can’t use it in the case. But it’s enough for me to doubt his guilt.”
“Why can’t you use it in court?” the judge asked.
“Because of the way I got my information,” Ben said.
“Let’s hear it,” the judge repeated.
“I can’t,” Ben repeated.
The judge leaned back and looked at the two men. She looked at Allan where he sat watching intently. Eye contact with the judge made him nervous and he looked away. Looking back again, the judge was gazing upon the lawyers.
“In my chambers,” she snapped and rose to leave the room. She said something to the bailiff as she left the courtroom with the two lawyers on her heals. The bailiff nodded and turned to the guards. A moment later the courtroom was being cleared and Allan was being led to back to his cell.
Chapter 61
(Regroup)
Sarah sat in the back of the courtroom with her head low. The announcement by Allan’s lawyer that his client was ‘Allan Tuttle’ had shaken her. She didn’t know why. What name did she expect him to give the man? Again, her mind was filled with thoughts of what would happen if Allan managed to prove who he was
She wished she knew what was being said by the lawyers at the judge’s bench. She had watched the judge’s facial expressions. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell very much from that. The judge glanced toward Allan from time to time, otherwise focusing on the lawyers.
Allan looked different, older than Sarah remembered. He also looked tan which surprised her because the man never stepped out of the house unless he had to. She was curious how he looked from the front. Not curious enough to risk being seen by him, she hid behind the large man sitting in front of her any time Allan appeared to glance in her direction.
Almost immediately after the judge rose and left the court with the two lawyers trailing behind, the guards began taking the prisoners away and everyone else began filtering out. Sarah fell into step behind a tall older man dressed in a nice suit. She stared into his back as she walked through the open doors leading into the hallway. The man turned sharply to one side and Sarah found herself face to face with Detective Dave Parker.
“Ms. Tuttle?” he said.
“Detective,” she responded.
“You here to watch the hearing?” he asked.
“I was,” she said. “But it seems to have ended suddenly.”
“I know,” Dave said. “I was standing in the back. Bolder’s lawyer is up to something. Pulling that crap. Sorry.”
“No,” she smiled. “Don’t be sorry. It is definitely crap.”
Dave smiled at her.
“What happens now?” Sarah asked.
“Well, when the judge gets through with them the D. A. will come find me and tell me what’s going on,” Dave said. “Then I will have to go find the evidence to fight whatever the defense is trying to pull.”
“So, you’ll know what’s going on?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dave said. “James will be all over me if there’s a problem.”
“James?”
“The D. A.”
“So, you could let me know?” she asked. “I mean can you tell me what’s happening?”
“Sure,” Dave said. “I’ll give you a call later. If I can tell you, I will. If not, I’ll at least let you know if I see it as a real problem or not.”
“I would appreciate that,” she said. “It’s hard not knowing what’s going on.”
&n
bsp; “I know,” Dave sympathized. “I’m sure you’re eager to get this all behind you so you can move on with your life. Have some closure and all.”
“I am ready to move on,” she agreed. “Do you think that’s bad? I mean so soon after Allan’s death?”
“I think everyone has to deal with the tragedies of life,” Dave said. “And everyone has their way of doing it. There’s no right way. There’s no wrong way.”
“I never thought about that,” she said.
“Why would you?” Dave said. “You don’t lose a husband every day.”
“True,” she said.
“Well, I need to get to the D. A.’s office,” Dave pointed toward a tall brick building. “Gotta hear what he has to say. I’ll call you.”
“Thanks,” she smiled.
Sarah watched the detective move through the crowd, very comfortable making a path through the crowd. He didn’t push and shove, people simply cleared the way for the big man. Sarah figured that was the way he lived his life, moving through obstacles in his path, on to where he wanted to be, to get what he wanted. She wondered if she could ever be that confident.
She turned to leave the courthouse and saw Detective Philip Smalls walking by in pursuit of Dave. He did not notice her and she did not make her presence known. Watching his retreat, she saw another man she recognized. She slowed, trying to remember where she might have seen him. He was talking to a man who stood with his back to her.
The memory hit her hard and she turned and walked briskly for the exit. The man was not someone she knew, rather someone she had seen and only from a distance. She was sure it was the same man though. He was one of the men parked out on her street for several days watching her every move. She wondered if he was still following her or if seeing him here was just a coincidence. She resisted looking over her shoulder as she went out, not wanting to draw his attention. Instead, she walked briskly down the steps following the sidewalk to her car. Starting the engine she sat back in the seat watching the door to see if the man would emerge. Satisfied he was not following, she let out a long sigh and pulled away from the curb.
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