For the Defense

by M. J. Rodgers

  She nodded. “Before my mother killed him for bashing in the front of her car, I figured I’d better get him patched up. I told the E.R. doctor he’d driven off the road. Never occurred to me that the doctor would contact the sheriff. When a deputy arrived, I panicked and called Lyle on his cell. He told me to tell the deputy I was driving.”

  “So you told him you were on your cell phone when you lost control of your car and hit the curb.”

  “I was holding my cell phone when I pulled the deputy aside. I’d driven my Cadillac, not the Duesenberg, to the E.R. It was the only explanation I could think of on the spur of the moment.”

  “I’m confused. Why did your husband ask you to take the blame for something Bruce did.”

  “Lyle and his dad were always covering for Bruce’s drunkenness so the good name of the real estate business could be preserved. And to protect Barbara.”

  “Protect her standing as a judge?”

  “It was more than that. When Bruce got a DUI in his twenties, she convinced herself—with his help—that it was all due to youthful exuberance. Lyle and Philip let her go on believing that, thinking it kinder than the truth.”

  “Are you saying Judge Weaton didn’t know her son was a drunk?”

  “She didn’t want to know. Bruce could be real charming when he chose to be. When he was around his mother, he turned that charm up full blast. He was her favorite and knew it. We all knew it.”

  “Must have bothered Lyle being second best.”

  Audrey shook her head. “Lyle fed on the feeling of superiority he got being the good boy who kept his mother ignorant of her favorite’s drunken sprees and womanizing. Every time he bragged about how he’d gotten Bruce out of another mess, I could hear the satisfaction in his voice.”

  “That doesn’t explain why you took the blame for Bruce.”

  Audrey’s eyes dropped to the soft drink in her hands. “I did it for my husband’s sake.”

  Diana might have believed her if she’d maintained eye contact. “Where did you take Bruce after the E.R. doctor released him?” she asked.

  “Back to the house to sleep it off.”

  “Your house?”

  She nodded.

  “And your bed?”

  Audrey’s eyes came up at that. “You can’t think—”

  “As you said, Bruce could be very charming,” Diana interrupted. “I rather doubt it was coincidence he was heading for your home that day, ten miles out of his way. You were expecting him, weren’t you?”

  She lifted out of her chair. “If you want to have me arrested for saying I was driving, go ahead. But I don’t have to talk to you about—”

  Diana halted both the woman’s words and retreat with a firm hand on her arm. “Yes you do, Audrey. If not here, in court. Would you prefer I ask these questions in front of a judge and jury?”

  Audrey’s voice was close to a sob. “You’re going to anyway.”

  “As long as your relationship to Bruce has no bearing on Connie’s defense, you have my promise I will say nothing about it in court. But I need the absolute truth from you now. Did you really see Bruce drive your mother’s car into a tree in your front yard?”

  Audrey dropped back into her chair. “You think I made that up? Lyle saw the damage to the car later when he got home. So did my mother. They’ll tell you. Ask them. I’m not lying.”

  No, Diana didn’t think she was. Which meant that Bruce not only hit and killed Amy that day. He really did strike a tree in Audrey’s front yard.

  “What happened to the Duesenberg?” Diana asked.

  “Bruce drove it home that night when he finally sobered up. He promised he’d get everything fixed. Only when he called around, no one could match the original paint. Far as Mom was concerned, the car was worthless without everything being original. She sold it to a collector in Tacoma. Bruce paid her the difference between what she got and what she would have gotten had the car not been damaged.”

  “Did your husband find out about your affair with Bruce?”

  “No.”

  “How long did the affair last?”

  Audrey took a sip of her drink and swallowed before answering. “Not long. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he must have been really shaken up by hitting that tree. He joined AA the next week and told me he couldn’t see me anymore.”

  “Did that upset you?”

  She shrugged. “Bruce was all window dressing. He pursued me for weeks, kept telling me how much he wanted me, couldn’t live without me. I knew he was lying. The week after he crashed the Duesenberg, I found out he’d been sleeping with at least three other women besides me. I was a conquest to him, nothing more.”

  “If you suspected he wasn’t being truthful from the first, why did you take up with him?”

  “For all Lyle’s superiority, he’s no better than Bruce when it comes to playing around—simply more discreet. Having an affair with Bruce was my way of getting back at Lyle.”

  “Even if he never knew?”

  “I knew.”

  Audrey’s words carried the small triumph of a wounded heart.

  It was on the tip of Diana’s tongue to ask her why she stayed with a man who cheated on her. She didn’t ask because knowing wasn’t necessary for Connie’s defense. And she’d already trespassed into this woman’s personal life enough for one day.

  “I’M MORE CONFUSED than ever about this,” Diana admitted as she joined Jack in the parking lot after her interview. They stood beside their cars, parked side-by-side at the far end of the lot. “If Audrey didn’t know Bruce killed Amy on his way to her house that day—and I don’t believe she did—then who knew?”

  “Way I see it, one of two things happened,” Jack said. “Either Bruce told someone, or when the report of Amy’s hit-and-run made the news, someone figured it out from the description of the car, the fact that Bruce was in the area, and maybe some damage to the Duesenberg that wasn’t consistent with having hit a tree.”

  “All of which means it had to have been someone who knew Bruce.”

  “And that someone blackmailed Bruce into joining AA. Diana, the only people close enough to Bruce to figure out what he’d done and with a motive for forcing him into making a life change was his family.”

  “You don’t think Tina could be a candidate?”

  “She might have blackmailed him into giving her a job, but she never would have required him to get sober as part of the deal. According to Bud Albright and Audrey Weaton, Bruce’s father and brother were the ones Bruce went to when he got in trouble. They also knew him best. My money’s on one of them.”

  “Barbara Weaton is also a possibility. When she met with me the other night, I could sense the fear in her.”

  “When do you have to give Staker your answer about that?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll call him at his office after I see Connie. She’ll go with my advice and turn it down, of course.”

  “Seeing how Barbara Weaton responds to that might be your clue as to how much she knows.”

  “Still, discovering the person responsible for Bruce’s joining AA won’t be required for Connie’s defense. We have the forensic evidence tying Bruce to Amy’s death and Craig Sutherland’s testimony firmly putting Bruce behind the wheel of the car. I’ll call Audrey Weaton to the stand to testify that she was the woman in the E.R. who lied about driving. That will close any loopholes Staker might try to use. The accident reconstruction specialist’s testimony will prove that Connie did try to avoid hitting Bruce. Evidence-wise, we have a strong case for acquittal.”

  “Sounds like all you have to do now is put the right jury in the box.”

  “Thanks to you,” Diana said with a smile. “Are you going to tell Jared about Audrey being the woman with Bruce and where he can find the Duesenberg?”

  “I’ll make an anonymous call to him. Until he starts talking to me again, it’s the only way we’re communicating these days. Although if I know Jared, he’s already aware of where the Duesenber
g is and that Audrey was the woman in the E.R. that day.”

  “And yet he said nothing to the sheriff. Is he going to get into trouble, Jack?”

  “If there’s a way to explain why he didn’t tell the sheriff what he’s discovered and how it relates to the prosecution’s case against Connie, he’ll find it.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help him?”

  “Try not to pin him down to the specific dates and times he uncovered the evidence when you get him on the stand.”

  Diana nodded. “I’ll be requesting the subpoena for the E.R. doctor and the medical records on Bruce from Judge Gimbrere right before voir dire begins on Monday. When you make that call to Jared, why don’t you tell him to go ahead and fill in the sheriff.”

  “You’ll be giving Staker the whole weekend to respond,” Jack warned. “I thought you wanted to spring the subpoenas on him as a way to distract his attention from the jury selection process?”

  “I did. But I’d gladly forgo that strategy now if it means Jared’s job won’t be at risk. Besides, this will give me a chance to see how fast Staker discloses the information about Bruce’s involvement in Amy’s hit-and-run.”

  “Shall I plant a hidden camera and microphone in his office so you can see his response when he’s told?”

  Diana smiled. “Tempting, even with the jail sentence we’d both have to serve for illegal eavesdropping.”

  Jack moved closer. “Speaking of tempting, tell me you don’t have anything pressing to attend to tonight.”

  “Ah, but I do. Shirley will be giving me the last of her insightful reports on the treasures she’s found in the prospective jurors’ trash so I can finish my voir dire selections this weekend. I also promised Mel I’d listen to her do her lines for her debut tomorrow night. She’s actually gotten excited about the play since you’ve been coaching her.”

  “Then I’ll be by with dinner for four at six. All healthy, I promise.”

  “You want to spend your Friday night on casework and Mel’s play rehearsal?”

  “Foolish woman. I want to spend the night making love to you after Shirley and Mel go to bed.”

  JACK KNEW the exact moment when Diana had fallen asleep. He could feel her slow, rhythmic breathing now as she lay in his arms. Tonight had been even better than their times before, despite the fact he’d been certain that would be impossible.

  It seemed nothing with her was impossible.

  Or enough. Fighting the stirring of his body, he forced himself to let her sleep. He owed her that at least after all the pleasure she’d given him over the past few hours.

  He’d never experienced anything like this before. Being with her felt as natural as arriving at the destination he’d been heading to all along. That should scare him. It did.

  Their first night together, she’d asked him where the relationship was going. Had she been any other woman, he would have told her straight out that he wanted to be with her for as long as it pleased them both.

  But he couldn’t say that to her, because he was afraid of losing her. So, he’d evaded answering her question. And she’d let him.

  That wasn’t like him—or her.

  Unless she wanted the freedom to walk away from him?

  Next week voir dire started. Following that would be the trial. His contract with her kept him on the case until the trial’s conclusion.

  And then? What would he be to her then? Nothing but an inconvenient lover who could cause friction between her and her child?

  She moved against him, sighing in her sleep. To hell with letting her rest. Every minute with her was a gift too good to be squandered. His hands played over her skin, willing her to wake.

  A moan of pleasure rose in her throat. He wanted—needed—to know she was responding to him and not from the sweetness of some dream in which she was still encased. Feathering his fingertips over her breasts, he smiled as he felt her come alive beneath his touch.

  She rolled over to face him, molding her softness to him with an eagerness that hammered the blood in his ears.

  “Don’t you ever get…tired?” she murmured, a pleased if somewhat amused wonder weaving through her tone.

  “Actors need lots of rehearsals to get it right,” he said, pulling her as close as skin.

  “I thought you were a private investigator now?”

  “That’s hard-boiled private investigator, ma’am, with the accent on hard.”

  Her laugh vibrated through him. His mind was already hazing over with the feel and scent of her. But before he completely lost control, there was something he wanted—no needed—to say.

  “Diana, the other night you asked where this was going. I didn’t know then. I don’t know now. I only know I want to be with you when we get there.”

  Then he molded his mouth to hers and there was no more breath for words. Or time for thoughts. There was only her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DIANA WATCHED in awed pride as Mel played her small part. She’d not only immersed herself in the role. She was pulling it off like a pro. When the fatal moment arrived for Matter to be murdered, a wonderful surprise stole over Mel’s face as she sank slowly and convincingly to the stage floor.

  Only knowing that such an act would horrify her daughter kept Diana from jumping up and clapping like the very proud mother she was. For years she’d been enthralled by Mel’s mental prowess, a true gift of nature. Tonight she was even more impressed to see Mel accomplish something that had taken a lot of hard work.

  A fellow performer rested on his bony knee beside Mel’s quiet form, putting an exploratory finger against the pulse in her neck. “Dead,” he announced in a voice that squeaked.

  Diana recognized him as Thackery, an eleven-year-old who was already so well versed in the string theory of physics that he was challenging assumptions made by known experts in the field.

  Beside him stood Rosemary, the fourteen-year-old host of the TV Game Show. She could play a piece of music on any instrument like a virtuoso after having heard it only once.

  “One of our contestants in the studio tonight is a murderer,” she said, looking pointedly at the other performers left standing on the stage. “Before this game is over I will name the culprit and bring him—or her—to justice.”

  As the curtain closed on Act One, a murmur of appreciation wove through the community center’s auditorium, filled this Saturday with the families of the gifted children performing the Game Show Murder.

  Jack sat on Diana’s right, the feel of him producing both a gladness and an ache inside her. He’d helped Mel accomplish what she had tonight. Diana loved him for it—and for so many other things she’d lost count. But she could never tell him.

  From the first he’d let her know he was a confirmed bachelor and that children were not part of his life plan. And yet she’d still chosen to have an affair with him. Last night he’d told her he didn’t know where their relationship was going. She did. At the end of the trial, she’d say goodbye. She had to. If she didn’t do it then, one day he would. And that would be so much harder for her heart to handle.

  Diana sat back and watched Act Two unfold. Mel was backstage, Shirley helping her remove the heavy Matter costume, while on stage the clever sleuth ferreted out the murderer by asking the remaining contestants questions and tripping them up by their answers. When the culprit was unmasked and admitted to the foul deed, the play was over and all the performers piled onto the stage to take their bows before a cheering audience that had come to its feet.

  Diana was looking for Mel to emerge for her bow when the cell phone in her shoulder bag rang. Thankful the call hadn’t come during the performance, she dug out the phone, put a finger in one ear to drown out the clapping and answered.

  “Diana Mason?” the strange, breathy voice asked.

  “Yes,” Diana said, straining to hear. “Who’s calling?”

  “Plead your client guilty right now. If I don’t hear you’ve done so on the news tomorrow, you will never see your
daughter again. Keep this secret to your grave or I will put you both in one.”

  JACK FELT Diana stiffen beside him, saw the shock that drained her face. He clasped her shoulders, gently turned her toward him. “Tell me.”

  She repeated what the caller had said in a voice devoid of life.

  Capturing her hands in his, he held on tightly, willing the warmth of his touch and voice to reach her. “Diana?”

  A shudder ran through her as her glazed eyes cleared and focused on him. “I’m all right. Let’s go.”

  They hurried backstage while the clapping continued. Darting through the layers of curtains, they found Shirley crawling on the floor near the exit. She held her middle, her breath coming out in gasps.

  Jack recognized a hit to the diaphragm when he saw one. As Diana dropped to the floor beside Shirley, he pulled out his cell phone and called for an ambulance.

  “Grabbed…” Shirley said, struggling to get the word out.

  “Did you see who it was?” Diana asked.

  “Mask,” Shirley gasped. “Tall. Dress.”

  “Judge Weaton,” Diana said.

  Shirley grabbed her arm, shook her head as she fought for breath.

  “Smell…man,” Shirley gasped.

  Jack dropped to his knee and studied Shirley’s face, noting the steady look in her eyes.

  “Lyle Weaton,” Jack said. He shot to his feet. “The ambulance is on its way, Diana. Stay with Shirley.”

  “Jack—”

  “I’ll get Mel back,” he promised.

  Before Diana could say another word, he was gone.

  “JARED, I NEED TO KNOW where Lyle is,” Jack said into his cell after having quickly related the situation. “The Global Positioning System in his Cadillac should pinpoint his location.”

  “Hold on,” Jared said.

  No argument, wasted words or hesitation. Jack never appreciated his brother more than at this moment.

  He was in the auditorium’s parking lot, sitting in the Porsche with the engine running. As he waited for his twin to return to the line, he pulled an emergency tool kit out of the glove compartment, wishing he hadn’t left his gun at the office. Richard had often warned him that a private investigator should never be without his weapon. But the last place Jack had figured he’d need one was a kid’s play.