by Jay Brandon
Two days later, Edward limped into Judge Cynthia Miles’ courtroom, using the cane Linda had bought him. He’d automatically tried to reject the idea of using it, but in fact he rather liked it. It gave him a sort of jaunty air, while at the same time adding gravitas to his persona. A man wounded in the line of duty obviously had more depth than some people might have thought.
He was wearing a black suit too, still in his lawyer’s disguise. He stopped in a back corner of the courtroom to survey the room. Cynthia was on the bench, listening to two lawyers talk at her. It didn’t appear she liked what either of them was saying. She glanced up, her gaze swept the room and passed him, then the judge did a double take at sight of Edward. He didn’t nod or wave, just stood there. Then he heard Cynthia snap something about taking it under advisement. She rose quickly and left the bench in a swirl of robe.
After she exited through the back door, Edward limped forward and through the side gate in the railing. No one glanced at him. As Edward kept walking, he remembered something a friend of his had told him when Edward left the D.A.’s office. It was an older lawyer who’d been around for quite a while.
What he’d said was, ‘Try to enjoy yourself instead of trying to do important work. Because the one thing I’ve learned, from being in this courthouse all these years, is this: no matter how important you think you are, the day after you walk out of this building for the last time, life in the courthouse will go on exactly the same as if you’d never been born.’
Edward had gotten to see actual proof of that, having been gone for a while.
He found Cynthia in her chambers, pretending to read something, pretending she hadn’t been waiting for him.
‘Hi,’ he said casually.
She gave him a flat, dark stare. ‘I’m surprised to see you here.’
‘You set my bail.’
‘That’s not what I mean.’
‘I know. Me neither.’ He went back and closed her door.
‘We should not be having an ex parte communication,’ Cynthia said stiffly. She remained sitting, but her hands were on the arms of her chair, her back straight and he knew her legs were bent under her, ready to spring up. Did she think he was going to attack her?
‘Well, those are between a judge and a lawyer,’ Edward said easily, ‘and, as you pointed out in court, I’m not a lawyer anymore.’
‘You’ll never practice law again. You’re going back to prison.’
Cynthia appeared to relax as she said that, which fit Edward’s theory that she’d known much earlier than she let on that he hadn’t regained his law license.
‘I’ve been trying to figure you out from the first time I walked into your courtroom. Once we were in trial, I kept waiting for you to shade your rulings in my favor because of the huge debt you owe me. But you didn’t. When you came down on me as hard as you could, once I was in jail – again – I figured it out. You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of me. You’re terrified of me.’
‘I’m not—’ she began, but her posture was quite otherwise.
‘I’m the one person who can expose you as a criminal, who can ruin your good life. So you needed to destroy me, specifically destroy any credibility I might have if I decided to tell our story, so that if I did no one would believe me. And ideally I’d be back in prison and no one would listen to me anyway.
‘By the way, I’m not going back to prison. You didn’t talk to anybody when you found out I was still disbarred, did you, Cynthia? You should have. You were never that good at the legal side of things, were you? You were an excellent trial lawyer and you picked up enough law to be a good judge, but practicing law without a license is a very unusual crime. It has elements you probably aren’t familiar with; that it has to be done with the intent to deceive and for remuneration. But Amy will testify that she knew I was still disbarred and that I never charged her anything for appearing with her in court. I was just her representative, not her lawyer. You should read a statute some time, Cynthia.’
‘That’s Judge Miles to you.’ She stood up now, her eyes smoldering again. ‘You need to remove yourself from my sight, now.’
‘Well, it wasn’t Judge Miles when we started, was it, Cynthia?’ Edward slowly and carefully removed a DVD in a sleeve from his suit coat pocket. ‘This is an exhibit that was prepared to be introduced at my trial and was introduced as proof of my guilt when I pled no contest. It’s a copy of the security camera footage from our night of – how shall I put it – personal examination of the evidence in the cocaine trial. But because I chose not to contest my case, nobody ever watched it to the end. They knew I was on it, leaving the court chambers, and that’s where they stopped, if anyone watched it at all. The security guard caught me dead to rights, so all they needed was his testimony. But someone took that security footage right away, the day after I got arrested, because they knew those things get erased and reused pretty quickly. So the evidence sat there and nobody reviewed it or, if they did, they didn’t see it all or they didn’t tell anybody they did.
‘Was that because you were the prosecutor, Cynthia? You told me you removed yourself from the case, but since you let me swing all by myself for our mutual crime, I don’t have much faith in your word.’
Edward had sat in one of the visitor chairs by now. Cynthia remained standing in her robe. She stood very rigidly, fists on her desk, her face darkening.
‘Well, I finally got it and watched it to the end. And made a few copies. Want to see? Oh, look, you have a television all set up for reviewing evidence.’
He stood up, turned on the flat screen and inserted his disc.
‘Don’t worry, there’s no sound. See, here I am exiting the court’s chambers. And a few seconds later, here comes the security guard, in hot pursuit. I didn’t reappear in that hallway; I led him as far away as I could. For you. Anyone would have stopped watching at this point, because there was no more drama. Just a door standing ajar.’ Then he began fast-forwarding. The counter on the screen showed ten minutes pass. Twelve. Then the door moved a little, and a woman emerged from the offices. Cynthia. Anyone who knew her would recognize the figure on the screen. She glanced both ways, tilted her head to listen, then tiptoed toward the camera and out of sight. As a prosecutor, Cynthia had probably had a key card that would let her use the stairwells and Edward knew that she had gotten out of the building without being seen. There was no telling how she’d managed her escape, but she had.
Edward turned off the television, removed the disc from its player and laid it on Cynthia’s desk. She was still standing rigidly glaring at him, but there was something behind her glare now. She seemed to have physically shrunk a little.
Folding her arms, Cynthia said, ‘Now you’re going to add blackmailing to your list of crimes?’
Edward shook his head. ‘I’m not asking you for anything. I’m not threatening you with anything. That’s what I came to tell you. You’ve always thought I was going to give you up as my partner in crime, but I never have, have I? Not when I was first arrested, not when plea bargaining for my freedom, not when I got out of prison. Not even, for God’s sake, when you had me arrested again! If I didn’t do it then, what makes you think I will? I won’t, Cynthia.’
‘And what do you want from me in exchange?’ The tone of Cynthia’s voice had changed. She may have thought it was still harsh and commanding, but to Edward’s ear a slight pleading tone had crept into it. There is no curiosity so intense as curiosity about one’s own future. Cynthia’s control was pretty tight, but her voice and now her eyes revealed her anxiety.
He stared back. ‘I just want you to give me a fair break. Judge Miles.’
Edward turned quickly and left without looking back.
David Galindo was in the outer office when Edward emerged.
‘What were you doing?’ he asked idly.
‘Ex parteing the judge. Your turn now.’
David looked at the closed door. ‘I don’t talk to her if I can help it.’
‘Goo
d. Walk with me instead.’
When they arrived at David’s office he was just finishing reading the last page of the document Edward had handed him, glanced at the heading again – Motion for New Trial – and dropped it on his desk.
‘Pretty detailed affidavit you attached. It does seem to leave out a few key details, though.’
‘Those will come out at the hearing.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ David said. ‘Has Cynthia seen your motion?’
‘I didn’t give her a copy personally. I imagine her clerks have given it to her by now, though. Why?’
‘Because you know she’ll never grant it, no matter what.’
‘No, I’m not sure of that. I think she’ll give it serious consideration.’
‘No judge ever wants to grant a new trial,’ David said. ‘And especially with a big case like this, she doesn’t want it back on her docket to be tried again. Clogs up the process.’
‘I know. Those innocent defendants who get convicted are a bitch, aren’t they?’
David turned and looked at him for what seemed the first time during this visit. ‘You really believe that?’ he said quietly.
‘I know it, David. If you could have seen that woman’s eyes, Valerie Linnett’s, you’d know she was capable of murder. Hell, she shot me.’
David shrugged, acknowledging a good point.
‘What about her finished attic? It’s obviously where Paul made that DVD. Look at it again knowing that, knowing the background. Look at how scared he was. And that dress in his closet that wouldn’t fit Laura Martinelli. It will fit Valerie Linnett, trust me. I think she left it there on purpose to try to drive any competition away. Covering the place with her own scent.’
‘What would killing him get her?’
‘I don’t understand these love triangle killings any better than you do. But that’s clearly what it was, even though Amy didn’t know it. Valerie and Paul had a relationship. They could go back and forth without anyone ever seeing a strange car in either one’s driveway. He probably thought he had a brilliant set-up there, until he decided he was quite a catch and wanted to start dating around. And that’s why Paul was so skittish about letting a woman know where he lived once he did start seeing other women. He didn’t want his extremely jealous next-door-neighbor girlfriend knowing about it.’
‘“Extremely jealous”?’
‘Remember the scratches people saw on Paul a couple of times? He was in a violent relationship. Maybe that felt fun at first, but I think he knew what Valerie was capable of.’
David considered, and kept his thoughts to himself.
TWENTY-FOUR
Two weeks later, Edward woke up with the love of his life in his arms, smiled and opened his eyes as he felt Linda’s lips.
‘Hello to you too,’ he murmured. They lingered for a while in bed, but it was a working day.
Motions for new trial were usually hopeless. Not usually: almost always. Two hours later, sitting beside Amy in court, Edward reflected on how much different this felt than sitting at counsel table at the start of a trial. Before trial began, there was always optimism that something unexpected could go right. Now it felt as if they were starting out on a trip they already knew ended in disaster.
Amy looked good. She wore a blue skirt suit that brought out her eyes. Being dressed like a normal person had also made her lose that jail flatness. Her eyes darted around as her hands clenched each other. She looked hopeful and scared. Perfect.
Judge Miles called the court to order.
‘I have read the motion for new trial with its attached affidavits,’ she announced immediately. ‘Are both sides ready to proceed?’
‘Ready, Your Honor,’ Edward said, standing.
David Galindo echoed him.
‘You are still acting as your sister’s representative, Mr Hall?’ Judge Miles asked with little evident surprise.
‘Exactly that, Your Honor. Not her lawyer, just standing by her.’
The judge addressed Amy directly. ‘And that’s what you want, Ms Hall, knowing everything you know now?’
Amy stood too. ‘I knew it all along, Your Honor. Yes, I want Edward representing me.’
The judge shrugged. ‘Then let’s begin. Call your first witness, Mr Hall.’
First Edward called Mike, whose testimony was brief. He had gotten a certified copy of a deed record showing Paul’s rent house was owned by his next-door neighbor, Valerie Linnett. Edward also introduced an affidavit that had been on file long enough to qualify as a business record. It was copies of bank records showing Paul’s rent checks going to a management company and the company’s records showing, in turn, a similar amount (minus fees) being paid to Ms Linnett. David Galindo had no questions about any of it.
The next witness was a woman who had worked at United Presbyterian Hospital for ten years. She too brought business records.
Edward, dispensing with formality, asked her, ‘What do those records show, Mrs Arbison?’
Harriett Arbison was a little shorter than average and a little heavier, with small, efficient hands. Courtroom lights glittered off her glasses as she said,
‘These are business records showing that Valerie Linnett worked as the hospital pharmacist for four years.’
‘Ending when?’
‘Not long ago, April before last.’
Only a few months before Paul had moved out of his house, into the one next door to Valerie.
‘Do you have other records?’ Edward asked blandly.
‘Yes. These concern Dr Paul Shilling.’
‘Was he also affiliated with your hospital?’
‘Yes. Dr Shilling had admitting privileges at United Presbyterian.’
He certainly had.
‘Do your records show him ordering prescriptions from your pharmacy?’
‘Yes. Quite a few over two or three years.’
‘And he would have ordered those through Valerie Linnett?’
‘Yes sir.’
Edward had fallen quickly into the ease of being a trial lawyer, sitting back in his chair as he asked questions.
‘Do you have any personal memories of seeing Dr Paul Shilling with pharmacist Valerie Linnett?’
‘Yes.’ Through her glinting glasses, he couldn’t tell if she was rolling her eyes or looking askance.
‘Could you elaborate, please?’
‘Well, I saw him consulting with her a few times, which isn’t unusual, of course. Except that a handful of those times they didn’t have a patient’s chart between them, which was a little odd. Once I walked by one of those consultations and they both stopped talking as I went by. Dr Paul smiled at me and Valerie just looked impatient, like I wasn’t passing them fast enough.’
‘Any other time?’
‘Once I saw them in the coffee shop together, just looking at each other. Staring into each other’s eyes, you might say.’
One might.
‘Do you remember when that was?’
‘I do, because it was shortly before Valerie left the hospital. She looked at me again that day and, when she quit a little later, I wondered if she left her hospital job at least partly to get away from being watched.’
‘Was Dr Paul Shilling still married at that time?’
‘Yes.’ Mrs Arbison looked surprised for the first time. ‘I thought he was married until he died, wasn’t he?’
Technically yes.
‘But on the occasion you’re talking about, when you saw him with Ms Linnett, he was still living with his wife?’
‘Oh yes. I’d see Dr Amy at the hospital sometimes too. She also had admitting privileges there.’
Another good reason Valerie Linnett would want to leave that crossroads of the medical community and go to a private pharmacy.
Edward walked to the witness and handed her a photograph, one from Valerie’s attic wall.
‘Do you recognize the person in this picture, ma’am?’
‘Yes. That’s Valerie.’
‘Is that
the way she looked on the day you saw her in the coffee shop with Dr Paul Shilling?’
‘Yes. You can tell she’s dressed to go out in this photo, but those last days when she worked at the hospital she was always pretty nicely made up too.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Arbison. I have no more questions for you.’
He handed the photo to the judge, who glanced at it and set it aside.
‘State?’ the judge asked blandly.
‘No, Your Honor,’ David said.
Edward shot a look at him. Was David letting him take a free shot? No, the prosecutor was obviously alert and there were at least a page of notes on the legal pad in front of him. There was just no apparent damage control to be done with this witness and David was a good enough lawyer not to look foolish by wasting court time with irrelevant questions.
The judge was making notes too. ‘Next?’ she said, without looking up.
‘Oliver Bennett, Your Honor.’
Who? David mouthed at Edward as the bailiff went out into the hall to call the witness.
Edward just shrugged.
‘State your name for the court, please.’
‘Oliver Bennett. People call me Ollie.’
The witness was a tall, slim African-American man with an expressive face. After his first remark he glanced at the judge and she smiled back at him.
‘What is your occupation, Mr Bennett?’
‘I’m a server at Houston’s on Westheimer.’
Houston’s was an upscale, but not over the top, restaurant not far from the neighborhood where both Paul and Valerie Linnett had lived. Paul had been cautious in some ways about his private life, but from everything that had come out lately he’d been going through a reckless time of life.
‘Mr Bennett, let me get right to it. Have you ever seen these two people?’ Edward walked to the witness stand and showed him two photographs of Paul and Valerie. The witness had already been shown similar photos days ago by Mike.
‘Yes. I was their server at least once. Maybe more than once.’
‘Is there a particular occasion you remember serving them at Houston’s?’
