The Perfect Game

by Leslie Dana Kirby

  Candace composed herself. “Ms. Montgomery, when was the last time you spoke to Liz Wakefield?”

  “She called me from her cell on the afternoon of Friday, July twenty-second. She was excited as she told me ‘I finally did it.’”

  “Objection, non-responsive,” Pratt interjected.

  “Sustained. The witness is directed to answer only the question posed.”

  “It was Friday, July twenty-second, at about 4:35 in the afternoon,” Kathryn said.

  “What was her demeanor on the phone?”

  “Objection, speculation,” Pratt interrupted.

  “Overruled, the witness may answer.”

  “She was excited and happy and relieved,” Kathryn responded.

  Lauren knew what the jury did not. Liz had called Kathryn to tell her she had hired a divorce attorney. However, most of that conversation would not be admissible under the hearsay exclusion. Candace was trying to help the jury put the pieces together.

  “Before you ended the conversation, did you make plans to speak to Liz again?”

  “Yes, she said she would call me Saturday night as soon as her husband left the house.”

  “And, Ms. Montgomery, did Liz Wakefield call you as she had promised?”

  “No.” Kathryn Montgomery’s composure crumbled as her voice quivered, “I never spoke to her again.”

  “No more questions for this witness,” Candace said.

  Pratt approached the witness stand. “Ms. Montgomery, did you ever observe Jake and Elizabeth Wakefield together?”

  “No, but…”

  “No more questions.”

  Kathryn Montgomery was excused from the stand without having shared the pertinent secrets she knew about the Wakefield marriage.

  Court recessed for lunch. Lauren and Boyd traversed the pedestrian tunnel that connected the court building to the County Attorney’s office. They joined the prosecutors in the war room, which allowed them a place to strategize in between court sessions.

  Candace was pacing the room like a caged tiger. Kathryn Montgomery sat nearby, looking discouraged.

  “Damn it,” Candace said. “I needed your testimony to establish motive. This case is going to be a helluva lot harder to prove without it. Tell us again what Liz told you.”

  “After Liz confronted Jake about the infidelity, he clamped down on her. His precious image would be tarnished if she left him. He threatened to kill her if she ever left. To her credit, that didn’t stop her from trying. She had it all planned out. She consulted with a divorce attorney on Friday, July twenty-second, and planned to move out on Saturday as soon as Jake left town. She also planned to file for a restraining order and have him served with it at the airport when he returned from D.C. I offered to let her stay with me, but she planned to get her own place and said she could crash with Lauren for a few days if necessary.”

  “But why didn’t she ever tell me any of this?” Lauren asked, the hurt obvious in her tone.

  “Things were unfolding pretty quickly. She had only just found out about the affairs. She didn’t want to tell you on the phone because Jake was tracking her cell phone and computer usage.”

  “But she called you on the phone.”

  “Yes, but she kept it really brief. We were working on a fundraiser together so she didn’t think that Jake would get worried about a quick phone call to me. But an extended phone call to you…”

  Candace believed Jake had discovered Liz’s plan to leave him and killed her in a fit of rage, clumsily attempting to cover up the crime as a burglary. Liz’s disclosures to Kathryn provided the Prosecution’s entire theory about Jake’s motive. Candace had intentionally scheduled Kathryn’s direct testimony for Friday, hoping her disclosures about Jake would marinate in the jurors’ minds over the long Labor Day weekend. But the hearsay ruling had ruined that plan.

  Candace was fit to be tied, “Damn it all to hell!”

  “We knew it was a long shot, but it wasn’t all for nothing,” Kyle reassured. “The jury still heard Kathryn say Jake hit Liz. They won’t forget that, even though the judge told them to.”

  Lauren was lost in her own thoughts.

  “Are you all right?” Detective Boyd asked her.

  “Why didn’t I pick up on the fact that Liz was being abused? If I hadn’t been so busy with work, would Liz have shared her troubles with me? Maybe things could have been different.”

  “You can’t think like that,” Boyd told her. “You’ll drive yourself crazy. Don’t let the what-ifs get the best of you. Liz’s death is not your fault. It’s Jake’s fault.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  (Friday afternoon, September 1)

  Candace and Kyle launched into crisis mode. Which witness could they call on short notice to do serious damage before the long weekend?

  They contacted the divorce attorney Liz had hired. He wasn’t scheduled to testify until the following week.

  Kyle hung up the phone. “It’s a miracle. He’s available and agreed to be here by one o’clock.”

  “That’s great news, but it’s no miracle,” Candace remarked. “He probably just ordered his secretary to clear his schedule. This trial is the best publicity money can buy.”

  Ronald Bourk was a reasonably good prosecution witness. He refused to disclose details Liz had shared with him, citing attorney-client privilege. However, he confirmed Liz had hired him on the afternoon of Friday, July twenty-second, paying his retainer of twenty-five thousand dollars with a personal check.

  “Mr. Bourk,” I know you can’t comment on Liz Wakefield’s case specifically, but can you tell the court what kind of law you practice?” Candace asked.

  “Family law.”

  “And what kinds of cases are included in family law?”

  “Divorce and child custody cases, primarily.”

  “So you’re a divorce lawyer?”

  “Objection,” Pratt said. “Ms. Keene is putting words in the witness’ mouth.”

  “Sustained.”

  Candace switched gears. “Mr. Bourk, do you happen to have one of your business cards with you?”

  “Yes.” He reached into his pocket.

  Pratt was on his feet. “Objection! Does the Prosecution plan to introduce this into evidence without prior notice?”

  “Your Honor,” Candace argued. “We are merely attempting to establish what kind of law Mr. Bourk practices. I thought his business card might shed some light on his specialty.”

  Judge Robles’ eyes smiled, but his face remained impassive. “Ms. Keene, you haven’t seen his business card before this moment?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “I’ll allow it.”

  Bourk handed his card to Candace, who glanced at it before returning it to him. “Mr. Bourk, can you read the top two lines aloud for the record, please?”

  “Ronald M. Bourk, J.D., Divorce Attorney.”

  “You identify yourself as a divorce attorney?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Mr. Bourk, you testified Elizabeth Wakefield paid you with a personal check on July twenty-second. Do you remember what date you deposited that check?”

  “Yes, I deposited it that same afternoon.”

  Although Bourk was obscure about his conversation with Liz, the significance of his testimony was clear. Liz had hired a divorce attorney the day before she was bludgeoned to death.

  “Mr. Bourk, have you ever met the defendant in this case?”

  Bourk glanced uncomfortably in Jake’s direction. “Yes.”

  “Under what circumstances?”

  “He made an appointment with me on August fifth of last year.”

  “And what was the purpose of that appointment?”

  Bourk looked uncomfortable, but he could not assert client-attorney privilege. Jake hadn’t hired him
.

  “He asked me to refund the money his wife paid me.”

  “And how did you respond?”

  “I refunded the money.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was no longer needed to represent Mrs. Wakefield.”

  “So Jake was spared expensive divorce proceedings by Liz Wakefield’s untimely death?”

  “Objection,” Pratt bellowed. “The Prosecution is providing testimony in the form of her questions.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Robles raised his eyebrows at Candace in silent warning.

  “I’ll rephrase the question. Mr. Bourk, how did you know you were no longer needed to represent Mrs. Wakefield?”

  “Because she had been murdered.”

  Candace was satisfied. “No more questions, Your Honor.”

  At the Defense table, Pratt stood. Although he was short and stout, he managed to look imposing with his expensive suit and haughty demeanor. The dark bags underneath his hooded eyes suggested he had been putting in late hours. He cleared his throat phlegmatically. “Good afternoon, Mr. Bourk.”

  “Good afternoon, Counsel.”

  “Since your business card identifies you as a divorce attorney, does that mean you can only represent divorce cases?”

  “No.”

  “You’re free to take on other types of cases?”

  “Yes.”

  “For example, if a client wanted to hire you to assist her in filing an order of protection against her own sister, you could take that case, couldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I could.”

  “No more questions, Your Honor,” Pratt returned to his seat, smiling.

  Candace stood up. “Mr. Bourk, over the past year, how many cases have you represented that were not divorce cases?” Candace was taking a gamble.

  Bourk didn’t even pause. “None.”

  “So you know a fair amount about divorce law in Arizona?”

  “Yes.”

  “If a man is worth ten million dollars and he gets divorced in Arizona, how much can he expect to lose to his wife in the divorce?”

  “Objection, irrelevant,” Pratt was putting up a good fight.

  “I’ll allow it,” Judge Robles ruled.

  “Arizona is a community property state so he can expect to lose half of what he accrued during the marriage.”

  “And do divorcing men enjoy the idea of handing over half of their net worth to their soon to be ex-wives?”

  Bourk chortled, “No ma’am, they do not.”

  “One more question, Mr. Bourk. What time did Liz Wakefield leave your office on July twenty-second?”

  “Let’s see. Her appointment started at three-thirty and lasted about an hour. She left my office about four-thirty.”

  “Just five minutes before 4:35?” Candace asked suggestively. She was stating the obvious, but Candace wanted to remind the jury that Liz had called Kathryn Montgomery in a jubilant mood shortly after leaving Bourk’s office.

  “Objection, irrelevant.” Pratt’s face was scarlet. “The State is trying to provide testimony in the form of a question.”

  “Sustained.”

  Candace grinned. “No more questions for this witness.”

  Pratt declined re-cross, Bourk was excused, and court adjourned for the week.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  (Friday afternoon, September 1)

  As Boyd drove Lauren back to her apartment, they discussed the day’s testimony.

  “At least Jake donated that twenty-five thousand dollar refund to MADD,” Lauren mused.

  “Didn’t Candace tell you?” he asked.

  “Tell me what?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you already knew. Jake never paid that donation to MADD.”

  “What do you mean? I was there when he pledged it.”

  “Oh, he pledged it alright. He just never paid it.”

  Lauren thought of her own thousand-dollar check that night. The one that had been inspired by Jake’s incredible generosity. The one she could ill-afford. She shook her head.

  “Do you think Pratt and Fisher believe Jake’s innocent?” Lauren wondered aloud.

  “There’s no way defense attorneys can believe all of their clients are innocent. Prosecutors will only take on the surest cases so, realistically speaking, most defendants are guilty. To be fair, I guess defense attorneys must occasionally believe their client is innocent. Hell, those guys might actually believe Jake is innocent. He’s a very convincing liar; I can attest to that. But the evidence against him is compelling. And Pratt and Fisher don’t want to know if he’s guilty. It’s easier to defend him if they believe that he is not.”

  “But he was convincing when you guys talked to him?”

  “Absolutely. That was before we had so much evidence against him, of course. But he agreed to talk to us without an attorney present. And he was incredibly relaxed. He certainly seemed adamant that you were guilty.”

  “Did you think I was guilty?”

  “No, I never believed it, but Wallace entertained the idea for a while.”

  “Wallace thought I did it?”

  “Not necessarily, but he wasn’t willing to rule you out either. He’s a very solid detective. He doesn’t guess, doesn’t operate on hunches, doesn’t take into account his personal feelings. He’s all about the cold hard facts and the facts ultimately pointed to Jake.”

  “When he came to the hospital last October, I thought for sure he was coming to arrest me.”

  “You? You never proved to be a viable suspect.”

  “Then why’d you search my apartment?”

  “Sorry, I thought Candace already told you all this. During the investigation, we established an anonymous tip line. As soon as it launched, we started getting regular calls from some guy who insisted you did it. At first, he didn’t have any specifics to back up his accusations, but he kept upping the ante. He said you had confessed your involvement to him. When that didn’t work, he called to say you showed him a ring stolen from Liz. Acting on that tip, we got the warrant to search your apartment. You know who the anonymous male caller was?”

  “Jake?”

  “Yep. After his arrest, we were able to establish that he had been calling into the anonymous tip line from his cell phone after blocking the number. Pretty weird for a guy who claimed to be cooperating with us. Why not call us directly?”

  “So they’re going to admit those phone calls into evidence?”

  “Unfortunately, no. Since the tip line was advertised as anonymous, we’re obliged to protect the identity of the callers. But we have more than enough evidence to convict him.” Boyd paused and shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you thought we were going to arrest you.”

  “I wasn’t so sure you guys knew what you were doing.”

  Boyd laughed. “I wanted to come notify you myself, but Wallace let me serve the arrest warrant since this is my first homicide case. That was really generous. In a huge case like this, most lead detectives would hoard the glory for themselves. You know, Wallace wanted to become a police detective because his father was falsely convicted for murder.”

  “Really?”

  “He doesn’t talk about it much, but his father did two years of prison time before some cop uncovered the truth and got his dad released from prison.”

  “Wow.”

  “So, he’s a real stickler for facts. He won’t identify somebody as a suspect until he is positive about the evidence.”

  “What about you? Why’d you become an officer?”

  Boyd sighed heavily and Lauren realized she had hit a nerve. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “No, it’s okay. My grandfather was murdered and his killer was never caught.”

  “Wow,” was all Lauren could manage for the second time in a mat
ter of seconds.

  “My grandpa had a huge heart and used to pick up hitchhikers. Sometimes, he’d go well out of his way to get them to their destination. We think he gave a ride to the wrong person. Somebody shot him, dumped him in the desert, and stole his car and his wallet.”

  “And they never caught the guy?”

  “Nope. They found Grandpa’s car a few days later engulfed in flames down near Tucson. I was twelve years old and I resolved to become a cop and track down the killer. Sounds silly, huh?”

  “Not at all.”

  “The case is still open. I pulled the file, but there’s not much to go on. The fire destroyed any physical evidence that might have existed.”

  Lauren didn’t know what to say so she patted his hand.

  “What about the driver that killed your parents?” he asked. “What happened to him?”

  “It was a her. Angela Martin. She was twenty-four years old and it was her third drunk driving arrest, though she liked to remind everybody that this was the first time anybody had ever been hurt. She pled guilty to two counts of vehicular manslaughter and got sentenced to two ten-year prison terms, but the judge let her serve them concurrently. She got out of prison after only seven years for good behavior.” Lauren laughed bitterly. “Good behavior. Like a kindergartner who doesn’t eat paste.”

  She paused for a moment before continuing. “My dad was declared dead at the scene. My mom was still alive when she got to the hospital, but the doctors weren’t able to control the bleeding in time. I guess that’s why I ended up in emergency medicine.”

  “Weird, huh?” Boyd asked softly.

  Lauren nodded. “You, me, and Wallace. All chasing the ghosts of our pasts.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  (Tuesday, September 5)

  As a matter of routine, the bank records were already on the Prosecution’s list of discovery. However, they took on new significance when they learned Bourk had deposited Liz’s check on the day before her murder. Boyd spent part of his weekend re-interviewing Cheryl Davis, the bank manager who would be testifying about the Wakefields’ bank records.