Deception Trail: A Maggie McFarlin Mystery

by Charisse Peeler

  The space behind reception looked like the other half of the once large entry space. There was another beautiful crystal chandelier hanging just above a grand staircase.

  “This way,” Josie said, motioning Maggie to a side corridor.

  “What’s up there?” Maggie pointed up the stairs.

  "The big boys," she said. “We are back here.” Maggie continued to follow Josie into a small hallway that led to the back. They walked past the coffee station and a giant copy machine that was noisily churning what looked like three reams of paper across five slots.

  Josie knocked on a door that didn't even have a placard before opened it, exposing a modest size office. The young man behind the desk stood in greeting.

  "Good morning, Ms. McFarlin. Please have a seat." He motioned to the chair in front of his modest desk, piled high with file folders.

  "Excuse the mess," he said, "It was a holiday weekend."

  Maggie stood for a little too long, evaluating the young man in front of her wearing jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt.

  "I promise, I'm a real lawyer," he said, understanding her hesitation. Maggie thought the words came out as if he had made this statement many times.

  Maggie sat and examined the windowless room as Trey thumbed through one of the file folders from the top of the pile.

  “I’m not trying to be rude,” Maggie said, “but how are you my sister’s attorney?”

  "Excuse my clothes," he said, looking over at her, "I honestly wasn't expecting any appointments today. I usually take all my appointments across the street at the jail."

  “I guess, I mean, again, not to be rude, but why would Liza hire you as her attorney?”

  “Aww,” Trey finally understood. “Your sister didn’t hire me; I am a court-appointed attorney. I was assigned your sister’s case.”

  "My sister's court-appointed attorney?” Maggie asked, now confused. She sat forward in the chair, holding her backpack close to her chest.

  “Your sister does not have the financial means to hire a criminal defense attorney for herself, so she got lucky and got me.” He smiled wide.

  “I had no idea,” Maggie said. “They should have plenty of money.”

  “I guess they don’t. It is possible the Prosecutor froze her assets, but I haven’t received the bank records yet.”

  “Frozen?”

  “Ms. McFarlin, I assure you that I am good at what I do. I assure you I represent my indigent clients as diligently as I would if they were paying me,” Trey said.

  “Kitsap County is mostly rural, as you might have noticed, and the county only has two full-time public defenders, so when their workload gets too heavy, they source out some of the work to the local offices. Unfortunately, that has become the norm lately. I think the county put extra funds in their budget for next year, but we get a lot of their overload until then.”

  “Your sister’s case is considered a 'big one' that will take more time and resources than they can handle, so they contract all of those cases out. The county doesn't pay much, so usually, the overflow of cases are assigned to the most junior associates, and here I am."

  He smiled and leaned back in his chair. Maggie noticed the University of Washington law degree hanging on the wall dated just two years ago. That law degree was a stark contrast to the Fender guitar leaned up in the corner behind him.

  Maggie stayed silent for too long considering the young man in front of her, so Trey added, "My father and godfather own the firm, so believe me, I get the best advice when or if I need it. Sometimes youth has its advantages. You would be glad to know that I graduated at the top of my class and turned down a very prestigious job offer in D.C. to join my father’s firm. You would be surprised at all the people who underestimate me. I often use it to my advantage, especially in the courtroom."

  The young man smiled wide. Maggie was impressed with his confidence, but her sister's life was on the line.

  "I hope you didn't take my…that I didn't have…didn't think…come on, you have to admit you look pretty young, and my sister is facing a murder charge, but I am sure she is lucky to have you."

  "I understand your concern." He was unfazed by her comment and pushed a pile of folders aside, clearing a space in front of him, "Let's go over your sister's case."

  Maggie took out a pad and paper from her backpack, where she could add notes to the ones she already had taken. Usually, she used her phone's notes app, but she knew she wouldn't be able to take her phone in when she visited her sister at the jail.

  "Here is what we know: They were hiking in the Olympic Mountains on Sunday, October 17th.” Trey looked at Maggie across the desk as she wrote. Maggie shook her head, indicating for him to continue.

  “Forensics found three sets of prints on the gun, including the victim, your sister, and an unidentified set. That will create doubt even though two witness statements clearly say your sister was holding the gun when they arrived at the scene." He paused, flipping through the pages.

  “She was holding the gun?” Maggie asked.

  “Honestly, Ms. McFarlin, the gun isn’t the worst problem to overcome,” Trey said, flipping the legal pad to the next page, “There was no evidence of GSR.”

  “GSR?”

  “Gun Shot Residue. The sheriff claims she had time to wash up, but I will argue she lacked that opportunity. The sheriff at the site allowed her to leave the scene and didn’t bag her hands, so as far as I’m concerned, that’s their problem.”

  “That still seems pretty bad.”

  “Liza is going to face a jury. We can create reasonable doubt for a lot of things. The Prosecutor only needs to prove a strong enough motive for your sister to kill her husband. If that happens, the jury will grab onto whatever physical evidence to ease their conscience in a guilty plea. I am going to be honest with you; we need to work on your sister’s likability.”

  “What do you mean?” Maggie asked.

  “Seriously?”

  Maggie shook her head, not wanting to admit her sister’s personality issues.

  “Never mind, we can address that later.” Trey focused back on his paper. “The motive we have here is money.”

  “Money?” Maggie asked, surprised.

  “There seems to be a life insurance policy with a pretty significant difference in coverage. The Prosecutor found two life insurance policies. It appears that your brother in law’s life insurance policy is for $1 million, and your sister is the beneficiary."

  "Why would that be a problem?" Maggie asked, “They are married.”

  "The other policy was $25,000 written for your sister, but the beneficiary is not her husband, but someone named Angel Larson.”

  “Is that what the Prosecutor is using as a motive?” Maggie asked.

  “Love and money are the two most powerful motives. People will commit murder for a lot less than $1 million. However, it's not uncommon for the main breadwinner to have more. That's all we have right now, but the Prosecutor has already submitted an affidavit of probable cause, and I filed an objection, but the judge has already overruled.”

  “What are the next steps?”

  “Our best defense now is to find an alternate theory. We need to find someone else that had a motive to kill Chase. You could help me by talking to the people close to him, find out if he had any enemies, look for any skeletons. It would help if we could hire a private investigator.”

  “Skeletons?” Maggie asked.

  “If Chase had any dark secrets in his past, we need to uncover those.”

  “I am on it,” Maggie said, confidently.

  Maggie felt a lump in her chest. The past cannot come out, or she might even become a suspect.

  “I will find out everything I can,” Maggie said, now glad her sister couldn’t afford a Private Detective. She would be able to filter the information to Trey without compromising the family secrets.

  “A subpoena was issued for the release of both Chase and Liza’s bank records and phone records, but honestly, aft
er speaking with your sister, I don't think either of those will turn up anything significant."

  "Is there any way of getting her released from jail?" Maggie asked.

  "Her bail hearing is tomorrow. It would be nice if you could be there. The judge will take into consideration not only community ties but family support."

  "What time do I need to be there?"

  "Court is in session promptly at 9 o'clock, but we won't know what the line-up is until we are already there. The only thing we do know is that Liza’s case will be brought up before lunch but be prepared to sit.”

  “I will be there.”

  “Here is the number of a bondsman.” Trey opened the top drawer of his desk and handed Maggie a business card, “She is pretty good to deal with, and she is just down the street from here."

  Trey then took another business card, this time from the little stand on the front of his desk and flipped it over to write a number on it before handing it to Maggie.

  "This is my contact information I put my cell phone number is on the back in case you need me for anything after hours.”

  "Thank you for taking the time to see me today," Maggie stood, prompting Trey also to stand.

  “It was nice to meet you, Ms. McFarlin.” Trey stood and held his hand out to Maggie.

  “Please call me Maggie,” she said, also standing, accepting his outstretched hand. “See you tomorrow.”

  Maggie often judged a person by their handshake, and Trey’s had a firm, solid grip, somewhat convincing Maggie at least he had confidence.

  "I will see you in court tomorrow morning," he said, sitting back down, pulling another manila folder from the pile as Maggie walked out of his office. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath, tucking both business cards into the front pocket of her backpack before exiting down the hall past the still busy copy machine and through the door. She turned and waved to Josie, who smiled and waved as Maggie walked out the front door.

  Chapter 3

  The Pacific Northwest's marine climate was in full force as Maggie walked the Mosquito Fleet Trail along Bay Street toward the courthouse. The cloud base sat low, creating a sauna-like experience of cold, wet fog with drops of moisture so small it just floated through the air, clinging to her exposed skin.

  It was only 10 a.m., but it looked as if it were early evening. The fog-like atmosphere concealed the cars driving toward her, only the dull headlights and the sound of the wet tires moving along the slick roads warning her of their presence. She endured the assault of their water spray as she climbed the steep hill leaving her car in the Law Firms small parking lot. She knew there would be limited parking in the government's lot behind the jail. Especially in the middle of the week when the courts had full dockets and potential juries were being voir-dired. Maggie arrived at the small side door specifically for visitors to the jail, now soaked from the knee where her coat tails ended. Her shoes made a squishy noise leaving a wet trail on the linoleum as she approached a tall desk.

  A large woman wearing a light tan uniform sat behind a raised platform behind a desk protected by safety glass. Her dark hair pulled behind her head in a tightly wound bun causing her deep brown eyes to pull at the corner.

  The window had a permanent sign the said Officer on Duty and then a slot where a nameplate displayed the name Beckett.

  “May I help you?” the large woman spoke into a microphone.

  “I’m here to see Liza Dawson,” Maggie said.

  “Place your ID in the tray.” The woman pushed a metal tray from a narrow slot under the window.

  Maggie placed her Florida Driver’s License in the tray, and without even looking up, the woman pulled the tray back to her side and placed the license in some sort of scanner and then returning it by sliding the tray back toward Maggie.

  “State your business.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure what to say. Was she a private investigator or Liza’s only living family?

  “Her sister?" Maggie said as a question, hesitantly feeling uncomfortable in this space.

  “You don’t sound sure about that.”

  “No, I am sure. I am Liza’s sister.”

  Beckett typed into her computer using only the two index fingers of her meaty hands. and looked up once as if she was deciding whether to trust Maggie.

  "You are authorized," Beckett said. "Lock up all your belongings in one of those lockers,” she pointed to the back wall that hung a bank of old-fashioned gym lockers, each with a large black number on the front, “including your cell phone and anything you have in your pockets. I will hold the key here until you come out.”

  "Can I bring my notebook?" Maggie dug it out of her backpack and held it up.

  Beckett shook her head and pointed to the lockers. “No.”

  Maggie followed Officer Beckett's directions and placed everything in locker number 4. She turned the key, pulled it out and deposited it into the slot in front of Beckett. The officer picked up an old-fashioned phone and spoke into it.

  Beckett pressed a button from somewhere behind her desk, creating a buzz followed by a loud click, indicating an unlocked door. "Come on in," she said, pointing to the door.

  As soon as Maggie pushed through the heavy steel door, she saw a thick red line painted on the floor with red painted letters saying STOP HERE in front of it. Maggie stopped behind the line as directed. Officer Beckett left her perch and was now standing in front of Maggie, armed with a laser thermometer, directly pointed at Maggie's forehead.

  "Ninety-six-point-seven degrees,” she nodded. “Good. Follow me.”

  Beckett led her to a metal detector and directed her to walk through. Maggie got the green light and followed the officer down the long hall and through another security door. It was a long narrow space with what looked like five individual booths.

  “Sit in booth Number 3. An officer will bring her out in soon,” Becket said, turning and shutting the door behind her. Each booth was marked with a large black number at the top of the plexiglass in each stall. Maggie walked past the first two booths looking into the empty rooms. She took a seat in a dirty white resin chair that faced a small cell with an identical chair separated by the thick plexiglass. Similar phones were hanging on both sides of the plexiglass.

  Maggie sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair, wishing she had her phone. Without it, she had no idea how long she had been waiting. She kept herself busy by examining the desk in front of her. There were initials, hearts, and a variety of profanity carved deeply into the wood. Maggie leaned back in the chair, taking in the surroundings while she waited. She wondered how someone snuck in pens, pencils, or pocket-knives to make these engravings. It had to be something that wouldn’t trigger the metal detector but strong enough to engrave the wood. She wasn't patted down and had a scrunchy holding her blonde ponytail behind her head. There was also no way to get anything to the other side because of the thick plexiglass that separated the two spaces.

  Finally, the door on the other side of the filmy Plexiglas window opened, and Maggie watched her sister enter the room. Before closing the door behind her, the officer barked, "Fifteen minutes."

  Liza was dressed in a light green pullover shirt and matching loose pants. She wore white socks and black plastic sandals. Her long dark hair neatly pulled back away from her face with a long French braid made her look young. The only sign of age was the fine lines around her big brown eyes—time had only increased the resemblance to their mother.

  "Nice fashion statement," Maggie said as her sister sat in the plastic chair across from Maggie.

  "Thanks," Liza said. It was hard to hear because of the thick transparent wall in front of them. Liza picked up the phone from the sidewall and put it to her ear. Maggie picked up the phone on her side, examining it before putting it to her ear.

  "Are you doing okay?" Maggie asked.

  "I need to get out of here," Liza said. Maggie swallowed hard. What was she expecting from Liza? Maybe I’m sorry or Thank you for coming.


  "Tomorrow is your Bail hearing," Maggie said, realizing that Liza was probably just too stressed with her current situation to acknowledge the past ten years with no contact.

  "I know, Maggie," she hung her head. “My lawyer said it was going to be at least a $1 million.”

  “That’s what he told me.”

  “I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t have any money if you want to know the truth.”

  “We are going to figure that out,” Maggie said, “I met with Trey this morning.”

  “Thank you for coming Maggie. You are the only family I have left,” Liza looked directly into Maggie’s eyes,” I know things between us are not perfect, and I’m sure it’s probably my fault, but I need you now. I promise to make up for the lost time. You are my big sister.”

  “The past is the past,” Maggie said, holding back the tears that now threatened to fall.

  “I’m so glad you said that Maggie,” Liza leaned forward, “I have something important to tell you.” Lisa paused for a few moments.

  “Okay.”

  “I’m having a baby.”

  “Your what?” Maggie sat back, a punch to her gut. She looked at her sister’s thin frame.

  Liza recognized the confusion on Maggie’s face, “Well, I’m not technically having a baby. We hired a surrogate.”

  “You hired a surrogate?” Maggie asked, even more confused. “And she is pregnant… now?”

  “That’s why I don’t have any money to pay for a real lawyer and why I’m never going to be able to afford bail.” Liza stretched her back and relaxed in her chair before continuing. “We tried everything to get pregnant.”

  “You have a surrogate right now?” Maggie asked the question again in disbelief.

  “Yes. Angel is five months pregnant. It is a donor egg and Chase's sperm. It cost over $100,000.”

  “You spent all your money on trying to get pregnant?”

  “Well, to be honest, we made a few bad investments with all the money dad left us, but most of it was the fertility treatments before we gave up and decided to use the surrogate."