“Now, what would you like to ask me about Robert?” he asked.
I didn’t quite know how to approach this subject. I didn’t want to tell him my suspicions about the poison. “I haven’t been able to see Judge Sanders’ chambers,” I said. “So I wasn’t able to ascertain if he had anything in there, as far as drinks might go.”
“Drinks,” he said carefully, as if he had no idea what I was getting at. “Like a water receptacle, that sort of thing? He did have one of those.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to know about his “water receptacle,” because there was no way the culprit could have poisoned that without risking poisoning everybody who drank from it. “No,” I said. “Did he have a liquor cabinet?”
He furrowed his brow. “No. No, he didn’t. Some of the other judges do around here, but not Robert. He didn’t drink, as far as I know. At least, he didn’t drink while he was here.” He paused and looked at me for a beat. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just a question that I needed to ask. I also wanted to ask you if Judge Sanders has expressed any concern about anybody. Has he had any criminals in front of him who has threatened him? Are there any civil cases that he was concerned about?”
Judge Johnson shook his head. “We all get criminals who threaten us. That comes with the territory, as you well know. But he hasn’t gotten any death threats. That much I can tell you. If he did, he could ask for security detail. As for civil cases, what are you asking? Are you wondering if maybe a civil defendant or plaintiff might have been involved in his murder?”
“It is something that I’m investigating,” I said.
Judge Johnson chuckled. “You’ve been watching too much television, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t be too concerned about civil defendants putting a hit on any one of us.”
“You don’t think that they would have motive? There are multi-million dollar lawsuits being filed in this court every day. Companies stand to lose that amount of money. Judge Sanders was known to be very pro-plaintiff and he routinely ruled against the large corporations. I can see a motive right there. It’s a motive that’s as old as time – greed.”
Judge Johnson made a little temple with his fingers and then his face broke out into a smile. His smile was blinding, charming and disarming. He laughed again a little bit. “I suppose you’re right, Ms. Ross, but how are you going to figure that one out? He’s had hundreds of cases and hundreds more have been filed and have drawn him as a judge. It would be a needle in a haystack, really, to try to figure out which one of those companies might have had motive to kill Robert.” He shook his head. “Good luck with that. The police aren’t investigating this any more, because they’ve got their man.”
“Yes. About that. What do you know about the relationship between Judge Sanders and Michael Reynolds? Did he talk much about that?”
Judge Johnson furrowed his brow, like he was lost in thought. “He didn’t get along with him, I don’t think. He complained that Michael wasn’t treating his daughter very well. It seemed that Michael had a taste for the ladies.”
“Did Christina know about this? That Michael was stepping out on her?”
“I get the feeling that maybe she didn’t know so much about that. But Robert did. He had him followed. He hired a private investigator to follow Michael around. That was how he found out about Michael’s affairs. He was going to present Christina with this information, but I don’t think that he got the chance to do that.”
I wrote down what he was saying. This actually sounded bad for Michael, especially if Robert and Michael had words about it. “Did Judge Sanders confront Michael with what he knew?”
“Yes he did. Three days before he died, he told Michael that he had a dossier of information about him and the affairs he was having, and he was going to go to Christina and tell her everything.”
“What was in his dossier?”
“Pictures of him and his mistress out on the town. He wasn’t very discreet about it, either.”
I cleared my throat. “Do you know who his mistress was?”
He leaned forward. “Yes. Her name is Ariel Winthrop. She’s an heiress to the Winthrop diamond fortune.”
Ariel Winthrop? I had seen her picture in the society section from time to time. She was married to another rich guy, a guy who was a trust fund baby. A playboy type who didn’t have to work. I suddenly knew that Michael Reynolds was somebody who got around quite a lot. So far, there were two mistresses that I knew about – Ariel Winthrop and Kayla Stone. I wondered if that was significant.
I didn’t know. What was significant, as far as I was concerned, was that the judge and Michael had a strained relationship and that the judge was about to turn him in to Christina. The judge was about to reveal all to his daughter about Michael’s messing around.
Might that be a reason for Michael to kill him?
I knew the answer to that – people have killed for reasons such as that, and for much, much less. I made a note of that on my pad.
“What else can you tell me about the relationship Michael had with Judge Sanders?”
“Well, I do think that Robert never did approve of Michael, even before he realized that Michael was stepping out on Christina. He generally thought that Christina could have done much better than Michael. He personally thought that Michael wasn’t smart enough or kind enough to be with Christina. I know that Michael would berate Christina in front of people, such as in family gatherings. He would say rude things to her right in front of everyone, and, if he was angry, he would yell at her in front of everybody. Robert would never stand for that, of course, so he would berate Michael for yelling at Christina, and there was much tension in that family because of that dynamic.”
I furiously made notes. “Were you present for any of this?”
“No,” he said. “I was his best friend, however, so I heard all about these quarrels.”
I nodded my head. Somehow, none of this actually surprised me. Michael obviously had poor impulse control. Anybody who would serially rape women could not boast about having excellent control over his emotions or impulses. I was slightly surprised, however, that Michael would show his crazy around his father-in-law.
“What about Christina? Why would she put up with Michael’s bad behavior?”
He shrugged. “The heart wants what it wants, I guess. I hardly think that Christina Sanders is the only woman who has fallen for a man who is beneath her in station and behavior. I doubt that she’ll be the last, either.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Would you characterize Michael as being a bad boy?”
He chuckled. “You mean like a guy who rides motorcycles, has tons of tattoos and drinks 45s while he rides through the streets?”
I laughed, too. We seemed to have the same stereotype in our heads. “Yes, something like that. Except no motorcycle and, instead of wearing a leather jacket, he wears an Armani suit. He might have tattoos, though.”
“I know. You’re talking about attitude. Did Michael have the attitude of a bad boy. That’s what you want to know, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“Then the answer is yes. And, from what Robert has expressed to me, Christina has a way of picking these types of men. Poor Robert was at his wit’s end about that. His beautiful daughter, educated at Yale, popular in her private school growing up – why she would always go for the loser, he never knew. That was how he termed these boys and men – as losers. Now, Michael isn’t exactly a loser, but his attitude made him one. I guess that some women just like men who will punish them somehow.”
“How well do you know Christina?”
“Not very well. I met her at some parties that Robert had in his house. I haven’t really spoken with her one on one, though.” He paused. “Why did you ask me earlier about the drinking thing?”
I felt like I could confide my suspicions in him. He was going to find out sooner or later anyhow, as the autopsy was going to be performed and I had a good hunch that arsenic poison was goi
ng to show up in the judge’s system. “I think that he was being poisoned,” I said. “And I’m trying to figure out the source. I figured that if the judge had a certain bottle of liquor that he didn’t share with people, that would be the perfect vehicle for the poison. Other than that, I don’t know. It would have to have been done in his food and drink at his house. Which actually would lead me right back to Michael.”
Not that this was a bad thing. I actually was hoping that the poisoning did take place at the judge’s house. That way I could build my case against Michael.
But maybe not. There was always Christina. She possibly could the one who would poison her father. Why that would be, I didn’t quite know just yet. There was something there, and I was going to have to figure that out.
The judge seemed to start thinking about my words. He was nodding his head and the expression on his face was that of somebody who was trying to access a distant memory. “You know, he does have a mini fridge in his chambers. Or he did have one. It was in a closet. He was a health nut, and he had this plastic jug in that refrigerator that he drank out of. It was some kind of green drink that he had made and brought into him fresh each week. He ordered it from the mail order and it was delivered to him. Nobody else drank that but him, mainly because nobody else liked that sort of thing. It had kale in it and broccoli and all sorts of green veggies.” He chuckled. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but that stuff tasted nasty.”
I laughed out loud and nodded my head. I knew the kind of drink he was talking about, and it was nasty. No doubt about it.
“Was that the only thing that he more or less drank exclusively?”
Judge Johnson paused, considering the question. “Yes,” he finally said. “That would be the only thing. But he also kept yogurts and cut-up vegetables and things like that in that refrigerator. He was very much a health nut.” He looked sad. “I guess that’s the irony of it all. You do all you can to make sure that you live to be a ripe old age, only to have somebody cut you down. It’s not fair.”
No, it wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair, but being murdered in your prime really wasn’t fair.
I stood up. “Thank you, Judge Johnson. I know that you have a lot of cases that you need to tend to, so I won’t take up any more of your time.”
“Thank you for coming to see me,” he said. “I appreciate knowing that you’re being diligent in finding out who might have done this. If the police won’t do this kind of investigation, I’m very happy that somebody else is. You have to bring whoever did this to justice. There’s nothing worse than having justice denied.”
I nodded my head, thinking that, if Michael somehow walked free from this case, it would be the ultimate case of justice denied. He deserved to be in prison, if not for the murder of Robert Sanders, then for the lives that he destroyed through his serial rapes and serial philandering.
He was a bad guy, and I secretly hoped that I could be instrumental in hanging him for it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After work, I met my sister Albany, because she wanted to go to my therapist with me. I hadn’t seen my therapist in quite a long time, and I knew that seeing her would probably shake me up, so Albany wanted to come with me and wait in the waiting room while I poured my guts out.
“Hey,” she said, picking me up at my house. “I wanted to give you this. For luck and strength.” She handed me a crystal and I held it in my hand. I wanted to believe that the crystal had some kind of magical powers, but I just couldn’t. My brain was always too logical to believe things like that. Nevertheless, I clutched it tightly and smiled at her.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. This crystal has been blessed by a very powerful psychic. I’ve also been lighting candles for you every night. I’m telling you, I’m worried about you, sis. Everybody is.”
I sighed and felt tears coming to my eyes. I didn’t tell Albany about representing Michael. She probably would have brained me. She didn’t know that I had been raped. I didn’t tell her or anybody else, because I didn’t want to deal with my family nagging me to go to the cops. There wasn’t any way that I was going to do that, so I just kept quiet.
“What does this crystal represent?”
“Strength and luck, just like I told you. When you hold it in your hand, your holding the power of Mischka Wilson, who is my own personal psychic. You might laugh, but she’s told me things that came true, right on the money. She’s the real deal.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You’re holding it in, I can tell.”
She was right about that. I wanted to laugh out loud, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I had to stifle it. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes you are, but that’s okay.” She reached her hand towards mine. “I’m glad you’re getting back to your therapy. I think that it did you good before. I’m a firm believer that everybody should have regular therapy if they can afford it.”
“Me too. Especially people in my profession. I admit, it takes a lot out of me.”
She nodded. “How is your new murder case going?”
I swallowed hard, wanting to tell her the truth, but holding back. “It’s going fine, I guess. I’m doing some of the preliminary investigatory work, as the cops aren’t investigating anymore. They were under a lot of pressure to make a quick arrest, so they arrested my client. I don’t believe that he did it, though.”
“Well, even if he did do it, you’re still going to go balls to walls to represent him, as you always do. No judgments, but how do you do that, sis, and look at yourself in the mirror every night?”
Good question. “No judgment? That sounds like a judgmental question to me.”
She shrugged. “It’s not meant to be, but I can never understand representing guilty people. Plead them out, get them off the streets, but don’t try to walk them.”
I looked out the window, thinking of John Robinson and Gina and the two girls. I shuddered a little. “Maybe I’ll plead this one out if I find out he did it.”
She headed to the parking lot of my therapist’s building and parked the car. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll be waiting for you in the waiting room when you get out of there. I have a feeling that you’re going to have a lot to say to your therapist. I don’t know why I have that feeling, but I do.”
We went up the elevator and we found the door to my therapist. Her name was Dr. Teresa Rosen. She was a 30ish woman who dressed modestly in sweaters and slacks, and usually wore her blonde hair up in tight bun. She was attractive and fit and extremely easy to talk to.
“Harper,” she said, coming out of her office and giving me a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long. I’m very happy that you’re back, though. I actually was thinking about you before you called for an appointment. I see your name in the papers from time to time, and I’ve always wondered how you’ve been holding up.”
I hugged her back. “Are you ready for me?” I asked her.
“I am. Hello, Albany,” she said, giving Albany a hug as well. “It’s very nice to see you, too. It’s always good for my clients to have a support system.”
I followed Dr. Rosen back to her office. She went over to her fish tank, which sported all manner of saltwater fish, and put a pinch of food into it.
I was always fascinated with her fish tank, because she kept some of the most beautiful fish I had ever seen. There were enormous fish that were blue with bright yellow fins, and coral reefs swaying in the water. There were vibrant clown fish, with their distinctive orange and white patterns, and delicate sea horses which bobbled alongside fish that were brilliantly striped.
I watched the fish, mesmerized, while Dr. Rosen sat down behind her desk. “You always did like watching the fish,” she said with a smile. “I bought some new ones since you were here last.”
I nodded. “I worked in a pet store when I was 16, and the saltwater fish always fascinated me. But I know how hard it is to maintain this tank, so hats off to you.”
She
smiled. “It is a challenge, but once you get the hang of it, it’s not so bad.” She hesitated. “But I know that you didn’t come here to talk about the fish.”
I sighed and hung my head. I was embarrassed to admit to her what was on my mind, even though I knew that I needed to tell her all about it. I needed to have somebody help me try to puzzle out what I was doing with Michael’s case. It certainly wasn’t coming to me.
“No,” I said, “I didn’t come here to talk about the fish. But the fish certainly are a nice bonus.”
“Of course.” She nodded her head. “Now, Harper, why don’t you tell me why you made this appointment. It’s been years since we last met. There must be something on your mind.”
I nodded my head and swallowed hard. The words just weren’t coming to me, for whatever reason. I leaned back on the sofa and crossed my arms. My breathing was labored, and I felt like I was on the verge of tears. I guessed that telling Dr. Rosen what was on my mind was more difficult than I had ever imagined.
“Um,” I began. I picked up the paperweight that was on the coffee table in front of me and I examined it. “I’m having problems processing a case. I’m…” I trailed off. Would she judge me for taking Michael on as a client? Would she judge me if I told her that I really wanted to sink him and make sure he ended up behind bars? She couldn’t go to the Missouri Bar and tell them the truth about my motivations on this case, because of professional confidentiality, so I didn’t have to worry that I could get into professional trouble for telling her the truth. Yet, I was having difficulties admitting it. I really had difficulties admitting failings to anyone, so how could I tell her that I was trying to deliberately fail on this case?
“Go on,” she said. “You have a case that you’re working on, and you’re having problems processing it because…”
I swallowed hard again and tried to control my shaking. “I’m having problems processing it because the defendant is Michael Reynolds.”
Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3 Page 42
