‘And he’s still never replied?’
‘Never,’ said Eden.
‘Has anyone spoken to him?’
‘I don’t know. The sergeant, Mack Helber, he told me that he’d been in contact with Earl and Earl didn’t want to speak to anyone. Not to his mom. Not to me. I don’t know if that’s true.’
Kate nodded, sympathetically: ‘But if the sergeant told you, it’s probably true.’
‘I just don’t know.’
‘That’s all from me,’ said Kate. ‘I’m grateful to you, Eden, for coming here today. I know this can’t be easy.’
Eden nodded. ‘Am I excused?’ she said.
Kate looked across at Mr Weymouth and Mr Walsh. They both shook their heads, vehemently. Mack guessed that neither of them had any intention of questioning Eden in the witness box. How could it help Jesalyn to have her own daughter giving evidence for any longer than was absolutely necessary?
‘You can go,’ said Judge Cox, kindly.
Eden went to step down, then paused, and looked directly at her mother in the dock.
‘Where is he?’ she asked.
‘Where is who? Earl? I have absolutely no idea,’ Jesalyn cried. ‘Why are you asking me?’
Judge Cox banged her gavel.
‘Order!’ she said.
But Jesalyn cried out: ‘I’ve never hurt anyone, Eden. I certainly never meant to hurt you!’
* * *
Judge Cox called a brief adjournment to allow the courtroom to settle after Jesalyn’s outburst.
There remained a sense of expectation, as the public filed back in.
They’re going to play the tape, tapped Harry Prior, excitedly. I can feel it!
Mack felt the same confidence. Surely Judge Cox would allow it? And she did. A court official pulled the white screen down and locked it into place. The footage from Sol’s camera had been downloaded onto Kate Baldwin’s laptop. Her junior stood with the laptop open, tapping at the screen.
The tape began to play. Harry kept up his commentary: This is time-lapse, he wrote. I don’t know how much it’s been edited for court. What we can see at the moment is basically a room.
In a corner of the image was a green digital display, showing the time and date.
Mack looked at the jurors. Their faces were turned intently towards the screen. Kate Baldwin had already made clear that the case against the accused was circumstantial, meaning they would have to piece it together. The images that Sol had inadvertently captured on her GoPro were a key part of the puzzle.
Now they had a chance to see those images for themselves.
‘It isn’t gruesome,’ said Kate, causing one female juror to visibly exhale. ‘But it is telling.’
So, we have a room, which we’ve been told is the main room in Alden Castle, tapped Harry.
It’s empty, but we can all see the marble fireplace, which has got to be the one that Fraser Kelly fell into. Weird to think of him stuck in there when this video was done.
Harry paused. Shadows formed by the sunlight streaming through the castle windows continued to form on the walls and the floor, and move across the screen. Nothing’s happening, he complained. It’s broad daylight, and we’ve got plenty of shadows. I guess it’s pretty … no, wait. Now we have action.
Sol had placed her camera in the corner of the windowsill, facing into the room, to capture the squares of light on the floor, but the lens was angled to also capture the heavy door into the entrance hall.
The door opened. Harry resumed commentary: There’s a woman coming in. Slim. Busty. Attractive. JESALYN!
Mack had recognised Jesalyn immediately. It wasn’t the heels. It was her shape and the swing in her hips. Then a second woman came into view. When he’d first seen the video it had taken Mack much longer to accept the reality of her identity.
It was Penelope.
* * *
The conversation between the two women wasn’t difficult to hear, or even understand. It was, in the words of one court-watcher, absolutely crisp. The question for the court – for the jurors and the judge – was: could the conversation the two stony-faced women now in the dock be taken literally?
The transcript, prepared for the jury, read as follows:
Jesalyn: Why are we here?
Penelope: I want you to promise me, Jesalyn, swear on your life, that you won’t tell Eden about Earl.
Jesalyn: I told you I wouldn’t.
Penelope: Because if you tell Eden, she’ll tell Earl. And I’m not ready to tell Earl. We need to get the cheques cashed. Then I’ll tell him.
Jesalyn: I understand that. You’ve told me a thousand times.
Penelope: If he finds out before the sale goes through, he’ll want to stop it. He loves it here.
Jesalyn: Yes, yes, I get it.
Penelope: It’s obvious that they’re falling for each other.
Jesalyn: Then tell him to stay away.
Penelope: On what grounds?
Jesalyn: I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care. But you’re being ridiculous. Eden’s not interested in Earl.
Penelope: You can’t see it but I can!
The tape continued:
Jesalyn, stepping towards the window: God, I just want this to be over.
Penelope: You think I don’t?
Jesalyn: Give him his share of the deposit and send him on his way. Eden’s going back to school tomorrow anyway.
Penelope: Yes, but how long before we see the rest of the money? Because the deposit’s not going to get us far, split three ways.
Jesalyn: Owen’s so old, I don’t think he’ll live much longer.
Penelope: He’s eighty-three. He could live another ten years, at least.
Jesalyn: Well, isn’t that up to you?
Penelope: What do you mean?
Jesalyn: You’re his nurse.
Penelope: What are you saying?
Jesalyn: See him off, Penelope. Or tell me how to do it. I’m sick of the old tyrant. And I’ve been poor for too long.
Penelope: What exactly are you suggesting?
Jesalyn: Helping him along. It’s … humane. He’s old. He’s demented. He can’t enjoy living like this. And we all want to get out of here.
Penelope: Are you seriously asking me to do something about this?
Jesalyn: Of course I am.
And then the time ran out.
* * *
The two defence attorneys asked for an adjournment. Mack was not privy to their conversation but he could imagine it:
‘They’re in a hanging mood,’ Mr Weymouth would say. His pink mouth, behind the white of his Colonel Sanders beard, would be drawn down.
Mr Walsh would agree.
‘Continuing on with this trial in light of that tape being shown … I realise what you’re saying, Mrs Sidwell, that it’s innocent banter, the kind of stuff everyone says when they’ve got an old person suffering, but the jury did not look sympathetic.’
Jesalyn being Jesalyn would be defiant. ‘It’s entirely circumstantial,’ she’d say. ‘There was no evidence of murder. We didn’t kill anyone! We didn’t plot it, didn’t plan, and we’re completely innocent of it!’
Jesalyn would be well aware that Big Tony hadn’t been able to find a cause of death, and that Rex was going to testify that Penelope didn’t leave her cottage that night. ‘It’s preposterous. How are they saying we even managed it?’ she’d be arguing.
Mr Weymouth would try to be sympathetic.
‘But you saw the jury. They were gasping at that tape. Those were gasps of horror.’
But Penelope wouldn’t be able to stand it. She’d be the one to buckle and say: ‘Is the deal still on the table?’
Mack’s speculation was looking correct. It wasn’t long before a conference with Judge Cox in chambers was occurring. Mack imagined that Kate Baldwin would be feeling bullish. She had earlier offered a plea bargain – she, as well as anyone, knew the case against Jesalyn and Penelope for murder was circumstantial – but th
at was before she’d seen the jury react to the tape.
Kate later described the proceedings to him. ‘I’m inclined to push ahead,’ she’d said.
Mr Weymouth had argued for a deal.
‘No. There are risks here you don’t want to take,’ he said. ‘Let’s say the jury doesn’t convict. You’re going to regret it. Why not get them for the offence we know they’re guilty of? Jesalyn has interfered with a corpse. They both failed to report a death. There’s a possible conspiracy to kill there.’
‘They did kill him,’ Kate said.
‘You don’t know that,’ responded Mr Weymouth. ‘They say they didn’t. They’re prepared to swear to it. What we do know is they talked about it.’
Kate said: ‘The case for murder is circumstantial. I never said it wasn’t.’
Mr Walsh said: ‘Then take the deal.’
Kate waited a beat. Then one more.
‘Ten years,’ she said.
‘Five,’ said Mr Walsh.
‘Seven.’
Walsh and Weymouth took the offer.
Jesalyn protested: ‘But I didn’t conspire to kill anyone.’
‘But you did interfere with a corpse. You’ll serve four, maybe four-and-a-half,’ said Mr Weymouth.
Jesalyn said: ‘This is ridiculous!’
Mr Walsh stepped in: ‘I know it seems unfair. But think about it. What if they jury comes back with murder? You did bury him. It’s time but it’s time for a crime you did commit.’
Penelope looked up. She had been staring at the back of her old hands. They were bulging with blue veins and her wedding ring was gone.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said.
‘You weren’t even there,’ said Jesalyn.
Penelope shrugged. ‘I said I’d take it.’
It took longer to get Jesalyn over the line, but eventually, under pressure in a death-row state, she agreed. They filed back into court. Penelope glanced across the courtroom and Mack followed her gaze. She was looking at Rex, as was Harry Prior, who wrote:
We’ve just had eye contact between the adulteress and the cuckold! Meaning, the accused murderess, Penelope Sidwell, has just locked eyes on her dumb husband, Rex. All these years, he thought he had a son and Penelope was a faithful wife. Now he’s here, in the public gallery, in a navy blazer with gold buttons. A white shirt, and slacks with an iron press down the front. Freshly shaved, and looking the way old men look when they’ve just used the razor: floppy about the chin and a bit bleedy. White hair. Stony expression. The biggest fool of all!
Rex’s expression didn’t look stony to Mack. He looked stoic, like the vows he made – for better, for worse – had brought him to the courtroom door and he had no choice but to walk through it.
Judge Cox seemed frustrated, saying: ‘I would have liked to see this case go to the jury. We know they talked about getting rid of Owen. We can see the motive: a huge pot of money. I allowed the tape for a reason.’
But, with the defence offering a guilty plea to lesser offences and Kate in agreement, the jury was dismissed. Mack noted two of them showing real displeasure as they marched, single file, from the courtroom.
Judge Cox arranged some paperwork on the bench in front of her.
‘So, here we are. Each of you has pleaded guilty. You know you’re going to prison.’
Jesalyn opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it again.
‘Oh come on,’ said Judge Cox, for that was her manner. ‘You know that. That’s part of the deal you just did. You’ve admitted to something that we all find pretty repulsive, Mrs Alden-Stowe. You, too, Mrs Sidwell. You’ve also admitted that you robbed a proud American of a dignified burial, and we won’t stand for that. Whatever else the two of you cooked up … well, to my mind that’s a question that remains unanswered. But I’m here to sentence you in accordance with the deal that has been agreed to.’
* * *
The courtroom emptied. Judge, jury and accused. All were gone. So, too, the public gallery. Last to leave were the Kellys.
They’d sat in on the hearing every day, hoping for answers, even after Mack had warned them that there wouldn’t be any, not from this trial.
‘It’s strictly about Owen,’ he said. ‘Not about your boy.’
They knew that, and yet they hadn’t been able to help themselves.
‘You never know what might come out,’ Greg Kelly had said.
‘Any little thing can be a clue,’ agreed Sheridan.
Their appearance, from the first day to the last, had fascinated Harry Prior, who snapped them coming into court and posted their picture on the Monitor’s website, so everyone would know they were there.
They spent hours sitting very close together, he wrote.
And you can see why! They have part of the answer. They know where Fraser ended up! But they still don’t know why. Or how. Or who. And it’s like they’re never going to give up!
‘Of course they’ll never give up,’ Mack had said, upon reading the post. ‘What does this clown not understand about grief?’
Harry’s post continued:
Here they sit, day after day. Mrs Kelly is so skinny I don’t think she’s eaten anything since Fraser went missing, and how could you? And Mr Kelly is so big and it’s like a Jack Sprat situation. You can’t really look at their faces, and especially not into Mrs Kelly’s eyes. How they think coming to the trial, which has nothing to do with Fraser’s skeleton being in the chimney might help them, I don’t know, but as soon as I can get a minute with them, I’ll ask them and pass the answer back to you, my readers!
As it happened, Mack was right there when Harry tried to get close to the Kellys. They had left court on the day of the sentencing through a back entrance, precisely to avoid the crush of media and court-watchers, but Harry was wise to that trick. He rushed at them, microphone app on his cell phone glowing.
‘Who do you think killed Mr Alden-Stowe? Do you think they killed Fraser too? Is that why you come here every day?’ he said, as he shoved the app up under Sheridan Kelly’s face.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Greg Kelly, his face drawn. ‘We really don’t have anything to say.’
‘No, but what do you think?’ Harry persisted. ‘You must have a theory. Why not tell the readers of the Paso Monitor what you think?’
Mack knew better, but in that instant, he couldn’t help himself: having walked out behind the Kellys to shield them from exactly this, he stuck out one long leg and sent Harry tripping down the stairs.
* * *
The sale of the Alden Stowe Estate on the Chimney Rock Road to the Pinkhound Company was rescinded.
‘This action shouldn’t be taken to mean that Pinkhound concedes wrongdoing,’ the company said, in a statement. ‘Upon reflection, we have simply decided that this particular property no longer meets our needs.’
‘That sounds like bullshit,’ said Mack.
‘And it is bullshit,’ said Caroline Moyes, who had called Mack in his office to give him the news. ‘I say that as a contrite, former employee. The truth is, the sale probably isn’t valid because the people who sold the land – Fiona, for one – had no right to sell it, while the people who maybe had a veto – Earl, for example – weren’t consulted. It’s a mess.’
‘But that’s not the only reason,’ said Mack. He was sipping from his ‘World’s Best Dad’ mug, feeling pleased by the outcome.
‘No. Your mayor – Liz Patterson – has been making the lives of Pinkhound management an absolute misery. Two weeks before the trial, she hit them with a Code One enforcement agency permanent stop work, claiming that Pinkhound had breached its agreement not to remove mature oaks. Plus they didn’t have the relevant permits for emptying the cemetery. Plus they had clearly been in the process of tearing down Alden Castle in a midnight raid when Fraser Kelly’s body was found. Then she set Don Burnbank from next door on them, saying Pinkhound’s reservoirs were draining him dry.
‘Plus there’s the threat – from you, I believe – of new cha
rges related to the desecration of the bodies in the coffins they were digging up to make way for the nut farm. Plus they failed to complete the Rare Bird and Nest Survey. Plus she says there might be more trials because of the fraud behind the contract and Fiona’s boys being involved in the dodgy cremation. So everyone is bent on torturing them,’ Caroline told Mack.
‘I don’t think there’s going to be more trials,’ said Mack. ‘We got who we wanted.’
‘Sure, but Paso wants Pinkhound out, and I’ve got to tell you, I admire that Liz Patterson. Pinkhound has fought these battles before. They love a good scrap with a greenie, actually. But she’s ferocious. Too much even for them.’
‘I’m glad to see the back of them,’ agreed Mack, ‘but I am worried what it will mean for the kids.’
The kids being Eden and Earl.
‘They’re the last ones standing,’ said Mack. ‘The only true heirs. Fiona’s out, and so therefore her whole tribe is out. Jack’s dead and Jesalyn’s in prison.’
‘And you can’t profit from a crime,’ said Caroline. ‘If there’s one thing I remember from law school, I remember that. But from what I hear, Pinkhound isn’t even trying to get its money back. They paid $10 million, but it’s a billion-dollar company. It’s chicken feed.’
‘The proceeds-of-crime people are going to want Jesalyn to give her bit back,’ said Mack.
‘And Fiona?’
‘She’s fighting to hold onto her bit. As would I. She grew up there. Owen wasn’t her dad but he was married to her mom. She’s got a good chance, I think.’
‘And Eden?’
‘I’m still hoping things will work out for her. She’s had a rough time but I guess we’ll see.’
PART FOUR
Earl
Night was falling on the Alden-Stowe Estate. Earl stepped from the truck and headed towards the vineyard. He was dressed as he always was in the berms: worn jeans, T-shirt, scuffed and dusty boots.
It was winter in Paso with low clouds, cold winds and little rain. The vineyard was barren, like a battlefield. Earl had worked hard all day, laying straw and pruning by hand, developing a canopy for the next year’s fruit. He pushed back his hat, conscious of the gloaming.
The Lucky One Page 25
