‘I never specified, and no one ever asked,’ I said. ‘The record companies with whom I spoke this morning offered as much as fifteen million dollars for this fictitious album, with no questions about content being asked and not a note of music being heard.’
‘Your Honor, is there a question in our future?’ Cates asked.
‘Ms Moss …’
‘Certainly, Your Honor. Mr DuPrez, if you’re a professional business manager and I’m not, why can I get a fifteen million dollar offer for a fictitious Patsy album, and you can’t get an offer for a real one?’
‘I didn’t say I couldn’t get an offer – just that Patsy’s career had been in decline.’
‘Yes, but I’ll ask again. Since her death, hasn’t her value made a sharp comeback?’
‘I suppose that’s possible.’
‘Two of the record companies I spoke to asked if this was the same album they were already discussing with you. Have you tried to sell Patsy’s last album since her death, Mr DuPrez?’
‘Yes, just as I should, as her manager and partner …’
‘And was the value higher than before?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘Thank you for saying so. Mr DuPrez, were you at a party at Patrick and Patsy’s home the night he showed off the bow allegedly used in this crime?’
‘I’m sorry to say I was,’ DuPrez said. ‘I remember admiring the bow.’
‘Do you have one like it?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Do you own a similar bow?
‘I own a bow, but not one like that.’
‘Do you belong to the Nottingham Archery Club in San Clemente?’
DuPrez’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he overcompensated. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled.
‘The archery instructor there says you’re the most gifted archer in the club. Would you agree with that assessment?’ I turned to face DuPrez.
‘I think that’s a little generous,’ DuPrez said. But he ran his hand over his perspiring forehead.
‘Do you need a handkerchief, Mr DuPrez?’ the judge asked, and DuPrez shook his head no.
‘You’re being modest,’ I went on. ‘The instructor at your club, whom I can ask to testify if you like, says you can hit a one-meter target – that is, a target less than three feet square – from more than eighty meters away. Is that true?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so.’
That was the last straw. I dropped all pretense of pleasantness and said, ‘I can bring in the records from the club’s recent competition, Mr DuPrez. You consistently hit the one-meter target – which, by the way, is about the size of woman’s chest – from almost one hundred meters away.’
‘Objection,’ said Cates. ‘Ms Moss is trying to make a suggestion she has no right to make.’
‘Overruled.’
‘Mr DuPrez,’ I said, ‘according to police records, the distance from the outside of the dining room window at Patsy DeNunzio’s house to the spot where she stood was approximately fifty feet. That’s less than sixteen meters. You would have no trouble hitting a target that size from that distance, would you?’
‘Objection!’ Cates probably left his shoes when he leapt up.
‘Sustained,’ said the judge. ‘Ask a question about this case, Ms Moss.’
‘I’ll be happy to,’ I said. ‘Mr DuPrez, were you at Patsy DeNunzio’s house the night she died?’
‘No,’ DuPrez said shakily. ‘I was not.’
‘Would your answer change if I told you the police found footprints outside the window that match your shoe size?’
‘I … I …’
‘Your Honor, who’s on trial here?’ Cates protested.
‘I don’t see why I can’t pursue this line of questioning, Your Honor,’ I said as innocently as possible. ‘It certainly seems to be pertinent to my client’s guilt or innocence.’
‘I’ll let you go a bit further, Ms Moss, but just a bit.’
‘Thank you. Mr DuPrez, keeping in mind that you are under oath, were you outside Patsy DeNunzio’s window the night she was killed?’
‘Yes,’ DuPrez said. ‘But I didn’t kill her. I was just looking to see if she was home.’
‘And why did you park your car so far from the house? Ms Caswell said no other cars drove up to the mansion that night.’
‘I didn’t have a key to the gate.’ Yeah, that’s it!
‘Couldn’t you have called in? Wouldn’t Ms DeNunzio have let you in?’
‘I don’t remember where I parked the car.’
‘All right, let’s move on. Assuming you knew Patsy’s work would increase dramatically in value after her death, and you decided to do something drastic about it, how did you get her sister to lie on the stand? Did you promise her some of the proceeds from Patsy’s newly valuable work?’
‘OBJECTION!’ The room fairly shook.
‘That’s as far as I’m letting you go, Ms Moss,’ said Franklin.
‘Question withdrawn. Your witness, Mr Cates.’
‘Mr DuPrez, did you kill Patsy DeNunzio?’
‘What? Um … no.’
‘No further questions.’ Cates sat down.
‘The defense rests,’ I said, and sat down, too.
FIFTY
‘You are brilliant!’ Patrick said. ‘I don’t care if you’re angry with me for saying it. It’s true!’
I sat with Patrick in the deserted courtroom, waiting for the horde of reporters and spectators to dissipate in the hallway. It was a pointless wait, because the reporters and spectators were staying until they got at least a glimpse of the celebrity defendant.
‘Not so brilliant,’ I said. ‘Once Garrigan found DuPrez’s name on the Nottingham membership list, and I found out how much a new Patsy album – any new Patsy album – would be worth, it made sense – in a sick sort of way.’
‘You think DuPrez killed Patsy just to make her album worth more money? Really?’ Patrick shook his head. ‘It’s ridiculous. Patsy was worth more than money.’
‘Not to DuPrez. He felt he’d created her from nothing, and now he was getting shortchanged for his trouble. And I’d be surprised if he hadn’t come on to her sexually, and been, let’s say, rebuffed.’
‘Yes,’ Patrick said, ‘Patsy was a first-class rebuffer when she wanted to be.’
‘Did she ever say anything to you about DuPrez?’ I asked.
‘Just that she was always grateful to him. Imagine, grateful! In her will, she left him everything she was worth, and this is what he did to her. I could kill him.’
‘Watch what you say. We’ve been through enough.’
My cell phone rang, and I picked it up to find Holiday Wentworth on the other end. ‘I heard about your day in court,’ she said. ‘Everyone here’s offering their congratulations.’
‘Everyone?’
‘Well, Junius Bach isn’t that thrilled. The other partners found out what he did to you, and why.’
‘OK, I’ll bite. Why?’
‘Well, he hated you since that first day, but that wasn’t it. He was actually going to leave the firm and start another, one that specialized in celebrities like McNabb. And he couldn’t let this firm look good doing it after he was off the case. So he decided to be visibly off the case, testify against you to show how incompetent the firm’s lawyers are, and then start his new firm. The partners voted him out of the managing partner slot. Plus, let’s just say he’s taking a long leave of absence. While the bar association decides whether he can still practice.’
‘I’m sure it’ll do him good,’ I said. ‘I bet Evan D’Arbanville isn’t that thrilled with me, either.’
‘I guess not,’ Holly said. ‘He got fired by the partners, and I hear his girlfriend, the archer, broke up with him.’
‘I hope she broke his arrow. Thanks, Holly.’
‘No problem. Just come back to the office when this is done. I’m told I can give you some of the better cases.’
‘I’ll let you know,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure fa
mily law is for me.’
‘I’m sure we can find something for you, Sandy. You’re a star.’ Holly hung up, and I marveled at what a difference a day can make.
A flash of movement by the door caught my eye. Angie was signaling frantically for us to come out.
She stuck her head through the door. ‘Someone here to see you,’ she said in a tone suggesting it was a guest I wanted to receive. I nodded.
Evelyn Draper walked in, head still down, manner still timid, but she walked over to me, then turned toward Patrick.
‘I’m so sorry I misjudged you, Mr McNabb,’ she said.
Patrick held out his hand. ‘I understand how you could,’ he said. ‘Listening to the D.A., I thought I was guilty.’
Evelyn chuckled and took his hand.
I caught Evelyn’s eye, which wasn’t easy. ‘I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Evelyn. You helped me so much, finding Marilyn Caswell through PIOUS, and I have to tell you – I made up the new Patsy album. All that’s left is the rap album she recorded and I don’t think she’d want that released.’
Evelyn nodded. ‘I heard,’ she said. ‘I understand. It’s disappointing …’
‘Perhaps there’s something I can do,’ Patrick said. ‘I was urging Patsy to record standards – you know, sing something with a little more meat to it – and she did a number of tracks in our home recording studio. I’d like for you and some of the other PIOUS members to have copies. I’ll make CDs for you. Would you like that?’
‘But wouldn’t you get more money selling them to a record company?’ Evelyn asked.
‘This isn’t for money. Patsy was singing for the love of the music. It should be heard by the people who loved her.’ And he patted her hand.
Angie stuck her head inside again. ‘It’s not going to get any better out here,’ she said.
‘OK. Give us a minute.’ Angie nodded and closed the door behind her. Evelyn thanked Patrick and walked back out of the room, shaking her head.
I started to pack up my files. ‘So what happens now?’ Patrick asked.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll make closing statements, assuming Cates doesn’t withdraw the charges entirely, and then the jury will come back with a verdict. I don’t think there’ll be much question about that. Lieutenant Trench is already making sure DuPrez doesn’t leave the city, and I’m sure he’s being extremely thorough in his investigation of DuPrez right now. Trench doesn’t like to be wrong.’
‘How many of us do?’ Patrick chuckled.
‘I do. I once thought you were guilty.’
Patrick looked sincerely hurt. ‘You did? After I’d told you I didn’t do it?’
‘They all tell you they didn’t do it, Patrick.’ I slung my briefcase strap over my shoulder. He helped with the files and we headed for the door.
‘Yeah, but I’m an actor. I’m so much more believable.’
The hallway was a zoo, of course, but Patrick answered a few questions and signed a good number of autographs before some of the court officers came to usher us to the parking level elevator. Once we managed to get away from the throng, Patrick signed a few autographs for the officers. We thanked them and left the building with Angie, who was driving.
We were almost silent on the way to my apartment, where we automatically headed. Angie dropped us off at the entrance, and headed underground to park the car.
Patrick finally spoke as we approached the elevator. His voice had a more relaxed quality than I’d ever heard before, and I realized, finally, what a strain the trial must have been on him.
‘Do you think we’ll get to a verdict, or will the D.A. drop the charges?’ Patrick asked as I pushed the button to summon the elevator.
‘It depends on how much Trench finds out. My guess is he’ll be extremely thorough, and we’ll be all done by tomorrow.’
‘That’ll be a relief,’ Patrick said as the elevator doors opened and we got in. ‘I’m tired of being the most famous defendant in the country.’
The doors stayed open annoyingly long, and two men walked toward the elevator. I was about to hold the door open for them when I noticed they were both walking with their heads down, and wearing …
Atlanta Braves baseball caps!
‘Patrick!’ I yelled, lunging for the ‘door close’ button. Before Patrick could react, the doors began to close, and I saw the man on the left pull a gun out of his jacket pocket.
I screamed, and immediately after the doors closed, an indentation appeared in the left door, right in front of Patrick. I opened my mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Patrick looked absolutely stupefied. Neither of us moved.
And then I realized, in our panic, that we hadn’t selected a floor, and the doors would reopen any second.
I sprang to the buttons and pushed the highest number – sixteen. The elevator began to move, and I exhaled.
‘Now, what?’ I said, looking at Patrick.
He reached for his cell phone. ‘I’ll call the cops.’
I shook my head. ‘You can’t get a signal in this elevator. I’ve tried it fifty times. You’ll have to wait until we get out. But where do we get out?’
‘I don’t know. Anywhere except your floor. They’ll be waiting for us there. Who are those guys?’
‘I can only guess. Wait.’ I reached over and pushed the button for the eleventh floor. The doors opened there, and I nudged Patrick out.
‘Why are we getting out here?’ Patrick asked.
‘To confuse them.’
Patrick reached for his cell phone as I led him to the stairs. ‘Let’s go,’ I said. ‘Up two floors.’
‘To thirteen?’ Patrick said as he pushed buttons on the phone.
‘Fourteen. There is no thirteen. It’s bad luck.’
‘Wouldn’t want that,’ Patrick said.
After running up two flights of stairs, I led Patrick back to the elevator. He kept trying his cell phone, but still no service. ‘I can’t get a signal. Why are we back at the elevator?’
‘To confuse them.’
‘I don’t know about them, but it’s working on me,’ he said. The elevator doors opened, and we got in. I pushed the button for the eighth floor.
‘How long can we keep this up?’ Patrick asked.
‘I don’t know. As long as we have to. We’ll just keep … oh, no!’
‘Oh no, what?’
I slumped to the elevator floor. ‘Angie.’
‘Angie!’ said Patrick. ‘She won’t know, and she’ll go to your apartment …’
‘And they’ll be there. What can we do? How can we get her out of there?’
The elevator doors opened at the eighth floor, and Patrick put out a hand for me, helping me up. We headed for the stairs.
‘Which way?’ Patrick asked.
‘Down to five – my floor.’ He nodded, and we walked slowly down the stairs. At the landing for the fifth floor, I looked through the stairwell door window toward my apartment.
‘I don’t see anyone,’ I reported.
‘What should we do?’ Patrick asked. Isn’t the leading man supposed to take charge? I thought. How come I’m making all the decisions?
‘I’m going to have to go out there and see if Angie’s all right. If she’s there, I’ll get her out, and if they’re there, I can stall them, because they want you.’
Patrick shook his head. ‘I’m not letting you get killed,’ he said. ‘This isn’t your fight. I’ll go, too.’
‘Angie’s my best friend,’ I said, wondering why I was suddenly insisting on being the one to rush into danger.
‘And you’re mine,’ said Patrick. ‘You stay here.’
Before I could argue, he’d reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, hoping the door wouldn’t creak as he opened it. It didn’t.
Patrick crept out through the stairwell door into the hallway. He walked slowly toward the corner, at the end of the hall, where my apartment door stood. I watched as he moved, and every once in a while, he turned back to signal me, with a shrug,
that no one was there.
When he got a little more than halfway down the hall, I lost sight of him. I waited, hearing and seeing nothing except an empty hallway. There’s got to be a better way than this, I thought.
What seemed like hours, but was probably less than a minute, passed, and I couldn’t stand it any longer. I reached for the doorknob myself and opened the stairwell door, just to look down the hall to see if Patrick was still approaching the apartment. I slipped through the doorway and into the hall, flinching a bit at the sound of the door closing.
The hallway was stone quiet, and I realized I hadn’t been in the building by myself at this time of day since the week I’d moved in, which felt like twenty years ago. Had it really been only a couple of months? Perhaps this wasn’t the time to notice how quickly life passes one by.
I was aware of every sound, and I was making all of them – footsteps, breathing, clothes rustling. Suddenly, I felt like a walking brass band. But I could just see my apartment door at the end of the hallway … and it was closed. There was no one there.
Should I try the doorknob? I decided I wouldn’t use my key. If the door was locked, I’d assume no one was inside, and keep searching. I didn’t dare pull out my cell phone now – if my pants legs brushing against each other (damn you, thighs!) sounded this loud, my voice would be the equivalent of a ninety-piece orchestra playing in a one-room cabana. I couldn’t risk it.
My hand went to the doorknob, and as silently as I could, I grasped it. I was glad not to be wearing a ring, because that would have made a sound against the metal of the knob. I turned the knob so slowly, it felt like it took a full minute for the door to clear and swing open. It creaked. Damn it!
As it turned out, it didn’t matter. I might just as well have barreled down the hallway in combat boots, screaming at the top of my lungs. No one was in the apartment, but the phone was ringing.
I ran to the kitchen phone, checked the Caller ID, and saw a ‘Private Call’ description, which meant the caller had blocked the incoming number. Swell. I picked it up.
‘Hello?’
‘Come on up to the roof,’ said a gravelly male voice I recognized from the wardrobe room at the studio. ‘Your boyfriend and your pal are up here waiting for you.’
Inherit the Shoes Page 25
