Against the Law

by Jay Brandon

  ‘State?’ the judge said impatiently.

  David shook off his second chair, a young woman Edward didn’t know, and stood. ‘We will … accept Mr Simmons.’

  Edward was glad of the hesitation. So the other side wasn’t sure either. That was the best he could hope for at this point.

  So it went, day by day, juror by juror. Edward had fallen into trial mode. He’d talk to Amy at lunch, during breaks and at the end of every day, but was more or less ignoring his family. Both his families. He was spending nights back in Mike’s apartment, because Mike was still working on the case and they’d compare notes at the end of the day. Linda claimed she understood and didn’t feel rejected, but Edward sensed in her voice a hurt quality, which he interpreted to mean she thought he didn’t think she was smart enough to help in this crisis. But that wasn’t it. He needed to concentrate and Mike was actually a member of the defense team. Sometimes Amy was there fairly late into the night too, finally starting to take this prosecution seriously.

  ‘That Laura Martinelli, much as you liked her, wasn’t entirely forthright with you,’ Mike said, sitting back in his easy chair.

  ‘I never said I liked her.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess that was a different vibe I was feeling in the room when you were staring into each other’s eyes. At any rate, she said she only went out with Paul, what, half a dozen times? According to other sources, it was significantly more than that, even just counting the public occasions. In fact, a woman from the banquet organizers said Ms Martinelli was originally slated to accompany Paul to that awards dinner, until about a week beforehand when her name got crossed out and Amy’s penciled in.’

  ‘What?’ Now Amy’s stare was entirely on the former cop. ‘She was going in my place? Or I took her place, or what the fuck ever?’

  Amy swore so rarely, this one sounded like a bomb going off in the room. Her faced was deeply flushed that quickly.

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Mike answered matter-of-factly.

  ‘I guess it would make sense to take a colleague of sorts to the dinner,’ Edward said. ‘And maybe Ms Martinelli’s foundation was one of the beneficiaries of the dinner?’

  ‘Plus there’s the added benefit that you could fuck her afterwards,’ Amy said. She stood up and paced across the room and back, quickly.

  ‘You knew he had other lovers,’ Edward said. ‘And you said it didn’t bother you.’

  ‘Not until you rubbed my nose in one of them. Laura Martinelli.’ Amy made a disgusted snort.

  ‘It’s good you’re getting this out of your system now,’ Mike said. ‘Because seeing you like this right now, I’d vote guilty.’

  She sat and crossed her arms. ‘All right, so good work, Mike. But what good does it do us?’

  ‘It shows they had a closer relationship than she’d let on—’

  ‘And I love the fact she lied about it,’ Edward interjected.

  Mike nodded and continued. ‘So Ms Martinelli may have had some hopes for the future, as far as Dr Paul was concerned. Then he dumped her for you, Amy, maybe at the last minute.’

  ‘You said her name got crossed out a week earlier.’

  ‘That doesn’t tell us when Paul told her. Maybe it wasn’t until the day he was killed.’

  ‘Does she have an alibi?’ Edward asked.

  ‘Yeah, the same one as half the women in Houston on a Saturday afternoon; she claims she was shopping. Even showed me a couple of receipts, but they were from earlier in the afternoon.’

  If, instead of the cool, detached, dater-of-many-lover-of-none, Laura Martinelli had appeared for them, she had actually been a jealous lover; she could easily have followed Paul home some time, so she knew where he lived.

  ‘And if she did go over there, she was already thinking of murder,’ Edward continued, getting excited.

  ‘How do you know?’ Amy asked.

  Mike answered. ‘Because she parked her car somewhere else, where the neighbors didn’t notice it. Maybe she was even deliberately trying to frame Amy, given the timing. Laura certainly knew what time the awards banquet was going to be, what time Paul would be leaving or his date arriving.’

  Edward said to Mike, ‘But when you say it would have been natural for him to take a professional colleague to the dinner, why not his partner in the research itself? Surely Dr Fisher would have been the most natural choice. Especially since they’d, you know …’

  ‘Slept together?’ Amy said. Her arms were still crossed, but her face wasn’t so red. ‘You can say it in front of me, I’m all right now.’ Then added, to the open air, ‘Louise too? Really, Paul?’

  Edward and Mike exchanged a glance. Yeah, Amy was obviously fine.

  ‘Here’s another thought,’ Edward said quickly. ‘Maybe Louise Fisher knew Laura Martinelli was scheduled to accompany her partner then got replaced at the last minute by Amy. Then if Louise killed Paul either Laura or Amy would get blamed for it.’

  ‘And Dr Fisher would inherit the research too,’ Mike agreed. ‘She could kill three birds with one shot.’

  Amy was looking back and forth between the two of them.

  ‘Wow, it’s just like Perry Mason. You two come up with great theories. Except, oh, wait, there’s no evidence of any of this.’

  Mike smiled indulgently. Edward took his sister’s hand.

  ‘Amy, here’s something I guess I should have told you a long time ago. Perry Mason is bullshit. I’m a defense lawyer, not a detective.’ Amy looked puzzled. ‘We don’t have to solve the mystery, babe. We just need to make it look like the police didn’t solve it either. We don’t have to prove a case against any of these people. We just have to keep the prosecution from proving theirs against you.’

  Amy sat back, light dawning. ‘Oh. You’re right.’

  Mike chimed in, ‘So the more suspects we parade in front of the jury the better. Then your brother here will just say to the jury in final argument, “Reasonable doubt, reasonable doubt, reasonable doubt …”’

  ‘In slightly more clever phrasing than that, I hope,’ Edward said.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I said I got it. I get it.’ Amy looked almost happy again. ‘So you two aren’t so much detectives as you are—’

  ‘Bullshit artists,’ Mike agreed cheerfully. Edward nodded.

  Then Mike sobered. ‘But I really will start looking into these two women more.’ Turning to Edward, he added, ‘Any other links between them, people who’ve seen them. You know. And try to find out about other women the late Paul was dating, but these two look the most closely involved.’

  ‘Yes,’ Edward said deliberately.

  Amy just sat back, arms folded, not being taken in.

  Edward was happy when the long week in court ended, but he didn’t get weekends off. Not now that trial had begun. He had a nagging doubt he needed to resolve for his own satisfaction and that meant a return to Paul’s house.

  This time he made sure to have the visit approved by the watchful, gun-toting next-door neighbor.

  Valerie Linnett shrugged, standing in her doorway. It was late October, but that said nothing about the weather in Houston. It was a warm Saturday morning, with only a slight hint of coolness, and Ms Linnett was dressed accordingly: shorts and a T-shirt. She apparently liked shorts, based on his earlier meeting with her and today, and shorts liked her, too. Her hair, now fully gray – was that how it had been before? – was cut short and she wore no makeup, but her legs belied the old-lady look.

  She stood there barefoot and said, ‘Sure, what do I care?’ She turned away and he thought she was done with him, but her voice floated back. ‘Mind if I watch?’

  Edward had a key from the management company and imagined that extra was still under the barbecue grill, but what could he say?

  ‘Sure.’

  Edward did a walk-through of Paul’s house like a prospective tenant, the neighbor lady following in his wake. He wanted to engage her in conversation, but she was giving him minimal responses.

  ‘You said you saw sev
eral women coming and going here.’

  ‘Uh huh.’

  ‘Do you think you could identify any of them?’ If they could contradict Laura Martinelli’s claim that she didn’t know where Paul had lived, that would make her an even better suspect.

  But Valerie wasn’t going to help. ‘I didn’t study them. They were women. All had two legs and tits. They just passed through my peripheral vision.’

  ‘Could they have been hookers?’ Maybe that was why Paul hadn’t wanted other women coming to his house.

  ‘If they were they were damned expensive ones. Nicely dressed, with nice cars.’

  Edward heard something in her voice and turned to face her. ‘Did you ever go out with Paul?’

  Valerie stared at him. After a moment she said, ‘I don’t have to answer your questions.’

  ‘Not here,’ Edward agreed cheerfully. ‘If you’d rather wait until you’re on the witness stand under oath, with a judge ordering you to answer me, that’s fine.’

  He just kept looking at her with an open, pleasant expression on his face. This wasn’t hostile at all, but they were on his turf now, metaphorically speaking. She didn’t have her gun and he had the whole legal system behind him.

  ‘It’s embarrassing,’ Valerie finally said, ducking her head to demonstrate. ‘Yes, Paul and I went out one time. Like I told you before, we were neighborly at first, until he finally asked me out and I thought OK, what the hell. We had things in common – pharmacist, doctor – but, very early on in the evening, it became clear to me that all he cared about was getting into my pants. He ordered me a drink and a bottle of wine for us to share and just sat back in the booth staring and smiling at me, clearly imagining me naked. He couldn’t have repeated back one thing I said, I can guarantee that.’

  Edward was doing his best to look at her straightforwardly and not like a man imagining her without her clothes.

  ‘And you weren’t, uh …’

  ‘Receptive? Look, Mr Hall, this is none of your damned business and I’ll be very grateful if you won’t ask me about it in court, because it’s got nothing to do with anything, OK?’

  He nodded.

  Valerie crossed her arms, looking embarrassed.

  ‘I won’t say I’m above having sex for its own sake or just a good time, but I don’t want to be a number on a checklist. Dr I’m-Getting-Divorced clearly had an agenda. He probably hit on the waitress while I was in the ladies room. He just wanted to run up a score. I didn’t want to play. That’s why I quit trying to be neighborly after that. I’d seen all the way through him and there was nothing there except a tongue hanging out.’

  Wow, Edward very nearly said. Others had implied something like this about Paul, but no one had put it so plainly. He felt dirty and wanted to apologize for his whole gender. Would it help, he thought for a second, to say, I promise I have absolutely no desire to have sex with you?

  Before the moment could grow any more awkward, if that were possible, there was a knock at the front door and they heard it open.

  ‘I asked my sister to meet me here,’ Edward said quickly. ‘I need to ask her a couple of things about Paul’s belongings. Hi, Amy. Valerie, this is my sister Amy.’

  Valerie and Amy exchanged polite greetings, then everyone stood there awkwardly, until the neighbor realized they were waiting for her to leave. She walked stiffly out, taking care not to brush against Amy in the doorway.

  ‘Who was that?’ Amy asked.

  ‘Lady next door. She’s been watching the place since – you know. Cops told her people might try to break in. Neighborhood busybody, apparently. Told me she didn’t remember what women coming to see Paul looked like, but then described their clothes and cars. Come back here, OK?’ Edward asked, and went out the door into the short hallway to the master bedroom.

  He stood inside it for a few seconds, next to the spot where Paul had died, before Amy joined him, her feet dragging and arms still crossed.

  She seemed reluctant to cross the threshold. ‘What?’

  ‘You said you’d started keeping a few clothes here. Could you show me? I’ve looked in the closet, but—’

  ‘Oh.’ Amy seemed relieved. She turned and hurried out of the room. Edward followed in surprise. ‘Not in there,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘Paul had it pretty well packed with his stuff. Mine was in here.’

  She led him across the hall to the room that had a daybed and a desk, the home office. Amy went straight to the closet and slid its door back. She seemed glad to get out of Paul’s bedroom.

  Sure enough, a few dresses hung in the closet. Also a handful of blouses and a couple of skirts.

  ‘There’s a little built-in dresser in here with a couple of pairs of – of underwear. And so forth. An old pair of slippers and tennies. Just in case I, you know …’

  ‘Yeah.’ He walked over to the closet and looked at the dresses. A couple were simple, what might at one time have been called frocks, but another three were evening dresses. He’d learned what he wanted: Amy actually did keep clothes here at her estranged husband’s house. Giving credence to the idea they’d been in the process of reuniting.

  He pulled out a long deep blue evening dress with a slit up the side and deep cleavage.

  Amy was blushing again. ‘Yes, I got that one after we separated. Planning to wear it for a night out on the town after our reconciliation was official. But unfortunately …’ She sniffed suddenly. ‘Can we go?’

  A crying woman generally gets her way. Amy hurried out of the room.

  Edward stopped for just a few seconds at the closet door and picked out the beautiful evening dress. He held it up, close to him.

  Amy was five feet four inches. He knew exactly where she came to him, just slightly above his shoulder. Edward held the dress up and realized that he, at five feet eleven inches, could have almost worn it himself.

  Why would Amy have claimed that dress, which clearly didn’t fit her, was hers? Had she seen it in the closet before and known she wasn’t the only woman in her estranged husband’s life?

  This was a terrible thought on the eve of trial.

  FOURTEEN

  The following week, as Cynthia came striding out in her black robe, the bailiff said, ‘All rise.’ Edward wondered about her perspective as she sat and looked out at the packed courtroom, which included a television camera at the back.

  ‘Please sit,’ Cynthia said. ‘Announcements?’

  As usual, it seemed as if it had taken forever to get to this moment and as if it had come much too fast. Luckily, he was the defense. He didn’t have to have a case prepared yet, he just had to counterpunch. David Galindo let his second chair stand and announce that the State was ready for trial.

  Then Edward stood slowly and said, ‘Edward Hall for the defense, Your Honor. We’re ready.’

  That felt like a lie. He didn’t feel remotely ready to put on a defense for Amy, because he didn’t have one.

  But that wasn’t the main reason for his hesitation before making an announcement. It was because at that moment of proclaiming in the courtroom, in front of everyone, that he was representing the defendant, Edward irrevocably embarked on practicing law without a license. That crime that would get his parole revoked if nothing else. But he still felt no one else could do it better. Amy put her hand over his and smiled at him.

  The courtroom was full of dozens of people, closely packed. The jurors obviously felt intimidated by the attention, which was all to the good. Edward wanted them to take their jobs very seriously, because the State’s case, while fairly strong, had a few holes, such as no eyewitness to the shooting.

  On the other hand, the jurors probably also knew what was expected of them at the end of a trial: to come back with a guilty verdict.

  The prosecutor read the simple indictment to the jury: after entering Paul Shilling’s home without his consent, Amy Hall did intentionally cause his death by the use of a deadly weapon, i.e., a firearm.

  Then the judge asked, ‘How do you plead?
’

  Edward was standing with Amy. She looked over at the jurors and said, ‘I am not guilty.’ She sounded convincing.

  Then Cynthia lifted her neutral eyes to the prosecution table and said, ‘Does the State wish to make an opening statement?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honor,’ David said, and walked toward the jury box, buttoning his suit jacket. ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘We believe the facts will be simple. The victim, Dr Paul Shilling, a well-known Houston physician, was living alone in a house on the southwest side because he had been separated from his wife for several months. That would be the defendant, Dr Amy Hall Shilling.’

  Edward felt Amy stiffen beside him. This was that moment when all eyes turned on her and she felt suddenly she had to look the epitome of innocence. But what did that look like? A gentle smile? A look of mourning, with one teardrop slowly trickling down the cheek? Amy opted for a very serious expression and a direct stare back into the jury box, which was about all one could do.

  ‘Yes, the defendant is a doctor too,’ David continued to the jury. ‘And the defendant comes from a prominent Houston family, including her father Dr Marshall Hall, a very well-respected diagnostician, and her attorney brother Edward, who is sitting next to her there.’

  Edward didn’t like having his family brought forward to the center. In the prosecutor’s apparently laudatory introduction of the Halls, Edward heard undertones of rich, privileged, arrogant, spoiled. It showed Amy as a little rich girl who thought she could get away with anything.

  ‘Now, Dr Shilling, the deceased, appeared to be going through a very happy time of his life, in spite of his separation. Or maybe because of it. He was about to receive a major award for his research and he seemed to feel a sense of long-delayed freedom. By that I mean he was dating, more than one woman, and apparently enjoying it very much. In other words, he was moving on with his life.

  ‘But the other Dr Shilling, Amy, was not. I believe you will hear evidence that she wanted to reconcile with her husband, wanted that badly. You will also hear evidence that for Paul, what his wife considered romantic dates were just business meetings, over how to divide their property and end their marriage. Amicably, he hoped, so he didn’t let her know about the other women in his life. But we believe you can make the reasonable inference that, in her mind, she found out that her husband had just been toying with her. Yes, this trial is about jealousy and what the defendant perceived as infidelity, in a way that seemed to mock her. The usual elements of a domestic murder, in other words.’