Annie's Verdict

by John Ellsworth

  She was waiting with her lawyer Hubbard in his conference room when we arrived, and we were shown right in. Hubbard introduced himself to us and then introduced his client, Evelyn Adelphia. He was a man with a military bearing and blond crew cut; she was a woman who, I guessed, was probably ten years younger than she looked, even with a modicum of daytime makeup applied. They sat on one side of the long, expansive table; Holt and I arranged ourselves on the other.

  "I'd like to record this," I began, nodding to Holt's tiny recorder. "Any problem with that?"

  "I have a huge problem with it," Hubbard said icily. "You're going to subpoena her for your grand jury, why should you record this informal conference? We'll be talking in generalities here, right?"

  I looked at Holt. I wasn't aware that it was just a conference; I thought we were there to take a full statement.

  "Attorney Hubbard," Holt said, "when you and I spoke I was quite clear we wanted to take your client's statement. But the counselor here is convening the grand jury next week, and we'd be glad to put your client's name at the top of the list."

  Hubbard knew he had no right to attend her grand jury appearance, so he evidently decided he'd rather get her story hammered out while he was present here with her than at the grand jury, where he wasn't. So, he relented.

  "I don't remember it that way," he said, "but let's let you go ahead and record and see how it goes. But if I get uncomfortable I reserve the right to discontinue at any moment, period."

  "Of course," I said. "You always have that right."

  "All right?" asked Holt of Hubbard. "Do I switch it on?"

  "Switch away," said Hubbard and he rubbed his hands briskly together, eager to do battle if it came down to that.

  "And we are rolling," said Holt.

  "Good morning," I said, "my name is Michael Gresham, and I'm an Assistant U.S. Attorney assigned to investigate the death of Gerald Tybaum. Today I'm sitting in the D.C. law office of L. Jamison Hubbard, attorney for Evelyn Adelphia. Joining me in the room this morning are L. Jamison Hubbard, Evelyn Adelphia, and Ronald Holt, a detective with the Metropolitan Police Department of the District of Columbia. Today I'll be asking questions of Evelyn Adelphia, and she'll be giving her answers under the watchful eye and ear of her attorney, L. Jamison Hubbard. I want to make clear that while this is not sworn testimony under oath, it is still a serious offense to tell an untruth to an officer of the law during an official investigation, which this is. Questions so far?"

  "How long am I going to be here?" asked Evelyn.

  "Maybe thirty or forty minutes. That should be plenty," I said. "Now, please state your name."

  "Evelyn Adelphia."

  "Ms. Adelphia, what is your usual occupation?"

  "I work for the federal government at the Treasury Department during the day. At night I work as a female escort."

  "At night are you freelancing or is there an employer you answer to?"

  "Freelance. I have a website."

  "As a female escort, what are your usual activities?'

  "I accompany men--and now and then women--on social outings, parties, things like that."

  "Any other services performed by you?"

  "Male companionship is the main one."

  "What about physical relationships? Any of that?"

  "You mean am I screwing my customers? Yes, I have sex with some of them. If they pay enough."

  "Is prostitution legal in D.C.?"

  She smiled at this one and then nailed me. "Only if you're a member of Congress."

  None of us could suppress a smile. Holt even laughed.

  "On the night of January fifteenth of this year were you with a client of your escort service?"

  "You mean night, evening, or day?"

  "What, there were three different men?" I asked and immediately regretted it. She was only trying to answer correctly. "Sorry. I'm talking about anytime on that Sunday."

  "Yes, I had been asked to join Senator Jessup that afternoon."

  "That would be U.S. Senator Stanley E. Jessup?"

  "Yes."

  "How did Senator Jessup come to call on you?"

  "He had used me before."

  "How many times previously?"

  "Maybe twenty, twenty-five."

  "Did he pay you for these meetings?"

  "Yes, one-thousand for the full day, five-hundred for a half day."

  "Was January fifteen a full or a half day?"

  "Half. He called me after noon that day. I don't usually work on Sundays, so I had an opening. Because he was a steady I worked instead of taking all day off."

  "Did you have occasion that day to visit the Lincoln Memorial with Senator Jessup?"

  "Yes."

  "What time?"

  "About six o'clock."

  "Why the Lincoln Memorial, if you know?"

  "He had a thing about sex in public."

  "What's that?" I said, my head jerking up from my note-taking.

  "He liked to have sex in public places. It's a fetish some men have. Weird, but hey, he's paying, so I don't argue."

  "You don't argue with their fetishes?"

  "Nothing to embarrass them. I want my customers to feel safe and comfortable with me. Men can be very strange. The senator's was public sex."

  "Did you have sex with the senator at the Lincoln Memorial?"

  "I did, about halfway up the steps. There are eighty-seven steps there--I counted them one time before when we did it there."

  "This wasn't the first time you had sex with the senator at the Memorial?"

  "We did it there maybe a half dozen times."

  "Where else have you had sex with the senator?"

  "EOB, Capitol, across from the White House. And there's more."

  "Did anyone ever spot you having sex with the senator in public?"

  "If they did they didn't come forth. No one ever told me or confronted us."

  I studied my notes for a moment. Then, "Describe the sex act you were engaged in with the senator on January fifteen."

  "BJ."

  "Pardon?"

  "Blowjob. I was giving him a blowjob."

  "This would be on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial?"

  "Yes."

  "Why there? Any idea?"

  "Senator Jessup is from the South. He hates Lincoln, he said. So he wanted to have sex on his stairs."

  "He told you this?"

  "Yes."

  "While you were having sex with the senator did anything unusual draw your attention away that night?"

  "A gun went off. I looked over. I saw a man shooting at a man who was floating face-down in the water."

  "The water, meaning the Reflecting Pool?"

  "Yes. I didn't see it, but I remember thinking the first gunshot probably put him down in the water. Then I watched him shoot several more times, standing over the guy and firing at him while he floated."

  "Could you see a man in the pool? Wasn't it dark?"

  "There are lights. I guess I saw more like a form of a man."

  "So your mind guessed it was a man you were seeing?'

  "I suppose so. I don't claim to know how the mind works, sir."

  "I appreciate that. How about this: you tell me if this is fair? You saw the man shooting at a form in the water, and you thought it looked like a person floating there?"

  "That's fair. That's what happened."

  "And what happened while you watched the shots being fired?"

  "The senator ejaculated in my mouth."

  "The senator--with your help--culminated the sex act?"

  "He climaxed. Went off in my mouth."

  "All right. Did you happen to see whether the senator was looking over at the shooting too?"

  "I did. He was watching and coming at the same time."

  "His eyes weren't closed?"

  "Oh, hell no."

  "And how do you know this?"

  "I looked away from the shooting and looked up at the senator. I wanted to see whether I should continue."


  "He gave no indication you should stop?"

  "The opposite. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled me closer to his penis."

  "Did you and the senator discuss what you'd seen?"

  "No. He immediately zipped up and double-timed down the steps. Then he double-timed in the direction of his car. I was left standing there. I didn't know how I was getting home since he brought me."

  "Did you talk to anyone that night about what you saw?"

  "Yes, the police talked to me."

  "Why were you still in the area when the police arrived?"

  "I hit my head and knocked myself out. Then they woke me sometime later. You've got to remember, Mr. Gresham, the place is swarming with Capitol Police. They're everywhere. I'll bet they were on the scene in less than two minutes."

  "That fast?"

  "I was passed out. I'm just guessing."

  "Did you have a line of sight of the shooter's face?"

  "I did."

  "Did you recognize the shooter?"

  "I did."

  "Can you tell us the shooter's name?"

  She stopped and looked at her lawyer for guidance. Then her lawyer stood up and said they were going out into the hallway to discuss her answer. I told them to take their time. It's very common for a witness and her lawyer to take a break and leave the room to discuss testimony. Happens just about every other time I'm taking a deposition. So I was neither surprised nor upset when it happened that day. Detective Holt paused his recorder and leaned back, his hands clasped behind his head. He looked over at me.

  "So what else is new, Mr. Gresham?" he said with a sort of sly smile.

  "Besides locating a witness to the murder of Gerald Tybaum? Besides the witness identifying a United States senator as her date at the time and place of the shooting? Is that what you mean?"

  "I know. She's going to make a terrific witness."

  "Ingénue," I said. "She comes across with all innocence and honesty. Even with her startling story."

  "Yes, she is very likable."

  "Agree one-hundred percent."

  The witness and her attorney then reappeared and took their seats. Holt switched the recorder on, and we were rolling again.

  "Ms. Adelphia, you just took a break from the recording with your attorney and went into the hallway, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "Please tell us what you discussed out there?"

  "Objection, attorney-client privilege," said Hubbard with a biting tone in his voice. "Don't answer that, Evelyn."

  "Withdrawn," I said. "You were going to tell us the identity of the man you saw doing the shooting. Please tell us now who you saw."

  Without hesitation, she said, "I can't be sure who it was, and I don't want to guess."

  "I told her not to guess, Mr. Gresham," Hubbard interjected.

  "What else did he tell you?" I asked.

  "He told me--"

  "Objection! Attorney-client privilege," Hubbard cried out.

  I fixed him with my eyes. "Nonsense. You just waived that privilege when you said you told her not to guess. Please let her answer my question."

  "Don't answer that question, Adelphia," said Hubbard. "Gentlemen--and lady--we're done here today. I'm ending this interrogation."

  "Well," I said, "you have the right to do that. Counselor, this statement will be reduced to writing. Will you allow your client to sign it and attest that it's her statement?"

  "Hell no. She's not signing anything."

  I looked casually at the attorney on the other side of the table.

  Then I nodded. It was no time to throw my weight around. Which was a new weight, the weight of having the full force and authority of the U.S. Government behind me while I conducted the investigation. I had promised myself that I wouldn't bully and I wasn't about to start then.

  So I let it go, and we broke up the meeting.

  Once outside, in the reserved parking where Holt had left his unmarked car, he unlocked the SUV then caught my eye across the top of the car just as we were stepping inside.

  "That was terrific," he said. "Nicely done."

  "That was nothing," I said. "Wait until I get her before the grand jury and make her give up the shooter's identity. That's when it's going to get fun."

  "Hmm. Do you think she knows who it was?"

  "Oh, she knows all right. Did you see her hands shake when she went to take a drink of her Starbucks? Shaking like a leaf."

  "I noticed that."

  "We've only just begun, Detective Holt. Now take me back to my office, please. I need to get ready to meet the GULP CEO."

  "We're on our way."

  23

  Rudy had staked out the Tybaum house three times to no avail. Meaning no one came or went and no one answered the door.

  "They're moved out," he whispered to himself as he gave up the third time, put his car in gear, and went rolling off in search of the missing heirs. One thing he knew for sure: he knew where Mona worked and he was going there just then. He would follow her to wherever she was living now. Which would lead him to the others, ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

  He arrived at Kricket Enterprises at half-past four in the afternoon. The building was located on a secondary street in Northwest D.C. It was a tree-lined street but it was serviced by Metro buses, which is how he guessed she would be getting home.

  Sure enough, at five o'clock, just as he was lighting a cigarette off the ember of one he'd just smoked down almost to the filter, she came out of the building and pulled her collar tight around her throat. She was wearing gloves and he was close enough to see they were made of green wool. He didn't move his car as she walked along the block, down to the south end of the block, where she took a seat on a bus bench. Ever so slowly he eased his Lincoln along the curb to where he was less than fifty feet from her. She was reading on her phone and never looked up. Easy, Rudy thought. Not paying any attention to her surroundings just like everyone under thirty in America.

  Rudy kept a watchful eye out the windshield and out the back window using the mirror. Then he saw the bus come lumbering up the street, swaying from side to side on the crowned road. It drew abreast of him and he turned to avert his face. One never knew. Then it stopped at the corner and he watched Mona climb aboard. So, is it really going to be this easy to locate the family's new digs?

  He planned the assassination of Mona Tybaum. To begin, he wanted no witnesses. Which ruled out the bus stop at either end of the route. It also ruled out the Kricket Building. Would he end up just entering their new residence and murdering them one-by-one where they lay sleeping? But surely they would be under the watchful eye of a police contingent. He was certain there was a grand jury meeting and searching for his identity already; which most likely would mean there was also police protection.

  Finally, two bus changes later, they arrived in Bethesda. She was let off on Elm and began walking the long block to the next street, which was Beech. At Beech she turned north and walked up to the front door of the third house on the left. It was a friendly-looking little house. From the exterior he could see the living room at the front window on the right side and on the left side were the bedrooms and maybe a basement below, he wasn't sure. At any rate it looked like windows somewhat above ground and windows at ground level. Maybe a story-and-a-half. From the end of the block he watched as she disappeared inside the house.

  Now to sit and make sure she was at their home, that she wasn't just there to visit someone.

  From six-thirty until eleven-thirty when all windows were dark Rudy sat in his Lincoln and waited. He called Wexler to report in.

  "I think I've got the house," he said without introduction over the phone.

  "Good. Where is it?"

  "Not over the phone. I'll wait here until sun-up so I know for sure."

  "Have you seen anyone else come or go?"

  "No. And I haven't seen any cop cars, either, marked or unmarked. Which kind of puzzles me. Wouldn't they have the cops watchin
g Tybaum's kids like hawks once they figured out the hit was about money? Wouldn't they know we'd come after his heirs next?"

  "You never know. Cops and government lawyers can be quite competent and they can be dumb as rocks, too. I'd like you to stake it out for another day just to be sure of everything. If you decide you've got their home, call me. We'll make plans. Do you understand me, Rudy? I don't want them hit prematurely before we know for sure what we have. Hear me and act accordingly."

  “Got it. I'll just settle in for another day. Then I'll call you."

  "I'm out."

  Rudy ended the call without another word. He hated that he'd been told to hang out at the house for another full twenty-four hours. To him, it was quite obvious he'd found the new house and it was quite obvious he could kill them all there at one time. All he needed was a door key and a silencer for his Glock .40. But he reconsidered and had to give Wexler a point when a cop car pulled up at seven a.m. and a uniformed officer climbed out and rang the doorbell. He spoke with Mona only briefly before climbing back into his vehicle and driving away. Fifteen minutes later, Mona reappeared, walked out to the sidewalk and began her trek a block over to the bus stop. She was dressed in a long black coat, unbuttoned up the front, and what looked to Rudy like a pantsuit beneath. Her shoes were half-heels and clacked on the sidewalk as she made her way up to Rudy then passed by without so much as a glance his way. He then pulled around the block and slowly drove up the street. He pulled over just less than halfway to the end and waited until--sure enough--the woman appeared again. This time she stopped at the bus platform and ducked under the small rain cover. Ten minutes dragged by before the bus came. Rudy watched her climb aboard and watched the bus then recede back down the street and drive out of view at the corner. She was gone.