Sleight of Hand

by Robin Hathaway

  The judge, a portly man with a shock of white hair, asked in ringing tones, “Does the defense wish to question the witness?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Ellis stepped up to the plate, so to speak. He looked more imposing than usual in his trim brown suit and maroon tie. Tom had recommended him. Ellis was a friend of his. Before the trial, Tom, Max, and I had gone to see Ellis at his home, because he was baby-sitting and couldn’t get away. Since he’d been wearing a sweatsuit and sneakers that day, tending an infant and a toddler, it had been hard to judge his competency. But in court, as he addressed the witness, his voice was firm and sure, and the jury was paying close attention. I relaxed a little.

  Before asking Shoemaker to describe the crucial scene he had witnessed, during which Regina had died, Ellis invited him to identify the main participants in the courtroom. Right off, he pointed at Max. “That’s the husband,” he said.

  “Very well,” Ellis said, “and who else?”

  He scanned the room. When his eyes lighted on Lolly, he pointed and, looking proud of himself, said, “That’s her!”

  “And who is that?” prodded Ellis.

  “Why, the dim-witted daughter,” he said.

  There were audible gasps from the spectators. As Lolly turned to see who had gasped, she caught sight of her father for the first time. “Hi, Daddy!” she called out, and got up, intending to go over to him.

  I grabbed her arm. “No, Lolly.”

  “What’s wrong?” She pulled away. “I want to talk to him.” She was angry.

  Max stared at us, his expression a mixture of shock and dismay. I glanced at the jurors. They were looking from father to daughter, fascinated.

  “Order in the court!” The judge banged his gavel.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw the bailiff heading our way. I reached for Lolly again, but the bailiff was well trained. Neither Lolly nor I could resist him. As he forcibly guided Lolly from the room, she let out a long, crooning wail that echoed through the chambers. I looked at the jurors. Their expressions ran the gamut from shock to pity. As I followed Lolly out, I caught a glimpse of Ellis. To my surprise, he wore a self-satisfied smile. Then it hit me. He had engineered the whole thing—from when we should arrive (before Shoemaker’s testimony), to our seating location (near the jury box), to his questioning the witness about Max’s and Lolly’s identities. He couldn’t have been sure what would set Lolly off, but he must have been pretty certain something would. Before I let the door swing shut behind me, I sent the lawyer a look of pure loathing.

  CHAPTER 60

  I got the rest of the story from Maggie. She said that as soon as we left, she could tell the jurors had made up their minds.

  “How could you tell that?” I asked irritably.

  “Because they stopped looking like scared rabbits. They relaxed.”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, you don’t have to believe me, but from the moment you left the room, everyone’s sympathy was with Max.”

  “By making a spectacle of Lolly?” I was still angry and I spat out my words. “You know she rarely carries on like that. In fact, I’ve seen her out of control only once before. I could kill that lawyer!”

  “But, Jo, look at it from the lawyer’s point of view. He wants to win the case. He wants to get Max off.”

  “But the means—”

  “The means won’t matter once the trial is over. Max will have his freedom and custody of his daughter.”

  I simmered down, remembering that Maggie had some experience with courtroom logic. Her son had been on trial. Unfortunately for her, his lawyer had lost the case.

  “But what if he loses?” I said.

  “You mustn’t think about that,” she replied.

  But I knew that’s all I would think about until the verdict was in.

  When I arrived at the farmhouse, it was dusk and the house was dark. Not a single light shone from any of the windows. Remembering the last time this had happened, I panicked. Had Lolly run away? But the car was still there. I rushed inside, calling, “Lolly! Lolly!” I had brought her home from the trial around noon, but I had to leave in a hurry because I had an emergency call, even though I knew she was still upset.

  I found her in the kitchen, sitting at the table in the fading light. The cats were milling around her feet, mewing for their dinner. No dinner had been prepared for us, either.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

  She lifted her pale face. “Why wouldn’t Daddy speak to me?”

  “Oh, Lolly, he couldn’t,” I said. “He wanted to, but I told you he was working.”

  “He wasn’t working; he was just sitting.”

  I racked my brain for an excuse for Max. Then I decided it was time to tell the truth. I sat across from her and took her hands in mine. “Your dad is on trial, Lolly,” I said.

  Her eyes widened. “What for?”

  “Remember the day your mother died?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “Well, your dad has to explain how it happened. He has to prove that you and he are not to blame. That it was an accident.”

  “But it wasn’t. I pushed her.”

  “In self-defense.”

  She looked puzzled.

  “Your mother was hitting you, and you tried to stop her. There was nothing wrong with that.”

  “I didn’t mean to push her so hard.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You just wanted her to stop hitting you.”

  She nodded.

  “Today, your father was sitting with his lawyer in a court of law. There are certain rules in the courtroom. One is that the person on trial cannot speak to anyone but the lawyers and the judge. He can’t talk to a spectator, even if she is his daughter.”

  She frowned.

  “Believe me, Lolly, he wanted to. I saw his face and I know he wanted to speak to you and hold you in the worst way.”

  Her eyes filled. “I just wanted to talk to him. He’s been away for so long.” She began to sob softly. I went around the table and squeezed her broad shoulders. “I’ll tell you what! Let’s go out for dinner.”

  Her sobs tapered off. “To McDonald’s?”

  “Sure. We’ll get Big Macs, fries, and chocolate sundaes.”

  “Oh boy!” Her face lit up and she wiped her tears on her sleeve.

  “Go get your coat,” I said.

  While Lolly was gone, I made a quick call to Hiram Peck on my cell phone. “Can you fix it so Lolly can visit her father tonight?” I asked.

  “Well, I don’t—”

  “Thanks. We’ll be over in a few minutes.”

  I pulled into the parking lot behind State Police headquarters.

  Lolly stared at the building. “This isn’t McDonald’s.”

  “No, honey. I need to make a stop first. I’ll only be a minute. Come on in with me.”

  The square, gray brick building didn’t look inviting. “I’ll stay here,” she said.

  “No. Lolly, I don’t want to leave you alone in the car.”

  She adopted her mulish expression and I was afraid I was in for a scene. I had never been afraid of that before. While I was trying to think what to do, a stray cat came around the corner of the building. Lolly was out of the car in a flash. I let her talk to the kitty for a minute before we went inside.

  Peck wasn’t there. Without looking up from his newspaper, the trooper at the desk said, “You can go on back.” Peck had obviously arranged our visit.

  “Thanks.” I steered Lolly down the corridor.

  Max was sitting on his cot, meditating on his shoes. When he saw me, he looked right through me. My face burned. I had seen him angry, depressed, even happy but never hard, cold, and remote.

  “Daddy!” Lolly went up to the bars.

  “Baby.” He jumped up and went over to her. He reached through the bars and tried to embrace her, but it was too awkward. His arms fell to his sides.

  “I miss you, Daddy.”

  I stepped back,
out of the way, and stared at the floor, the ceiling, and the walls. But there was nothing I could do about hearing them. I was a captive eavesdropper.

  “I miss you, too, baby,” Max murmured.

  “Will you be home soon?”

  “I don’t know.” His voice was harsh.

  “Jo and I are going to McDonald’s.”

  “Oh? Well, have an extra bag of fries for me.”

  “Okay. Can we bring them back here?”

  “No, but when you eat them, think of me, okay?”

  “I’ll eat a sundae for you, too,” Lolly said “Bye, Daddy.” She threw him a kiss and started down the corridor. Max turned away.

  I lagged behind and spoke to Max—or rather, to his back. “I had nothing to do with what happened in court today. Ellis told me to bring Lolly to court so the jury could see her. He never told me he planned to make a spectacle of her. I never would have brought her if I’d known.”

  He didn’t turn. He remained facing the back wall of the cell, his hands hanging at his sides. I don’t know if he even heard me.

  I followed Lolly out.

  The next day I had some free time at midday and decided to stop by the farmhouse and check on Lolly. She had recovered completely from the trauma of the day before and was happy to see me. She was making a tuna fish sandwich for herself and she immediately made one for me. We were sitting comfortably at the kitchen table when my cell phone rang. It was Maggie.

  “Jo, it’s all over! It took the jury only ten minutes to reach a verdict. Not guilty. Max is a free man.”

  “What?” Her words didn’t make any sense.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Lolly.

  “I’m telling you that the jury found Max not guilty of the two main charges—homicide and manslaughter. And the jury recommended leniency for the minor charges of failing to report a death and concealing the body. The judge accepted their recommendations because of the defendant’s ‘heavy responsibilities—taking care of a mentally disabled daughter.’ I’m quoting him. And the sentence was light. Max just has to work two days a week at the county hospital for a year. They’re sending him home right now.”

  Oh no.

  “Jo, are you there?” asked Maggie.

  “Yes. But I have to go.” I cut Maggie off and jumped up.

  “But you haven’t eaten your sandwich,” Lolly said.

  “I know. I’m sorry, Lolly. I just remembered something I have to do.” Like get out of here before Max comes home. I couldn’t face his cold look again. I rushed around the house, searching for my backpack, only to find it by the door where I had dropped it. I grabbed it and dashed out of the house.

  Lolly, who had followed me to the door, looked after me with a bewildered expression.

  “Your dad will be home soon,” I yelled back. I hopped on my bike.

  As I trolled down the drive, I saw Max walking toward me.

  They must have just dropped him on the road. I turned up my throttle, but he stepped in front of me. I had to stop. I was filled with trepidation as I waited for him to come closer. When he reached me, he paused.

  “Congratulations,” I said stiffly.

  He still didn’t speak. He seemed in a daze.

  “What are you going to do now, Max?” I asked softly. “Go back to New York?”

  He blinked, as if waking up. “No.” He held out his right hand and slowly flexed his fingers one after the other.

  “That’s wonderful!” I said. “You must have been doing your exercises.”

  “There wasn’t much else to do in that damned prison,” he said bitterly. Then he turned, looked across the field to the horizon, and said slowly, “I’m going to work like hell and make enough money to buy this place.”

  The only sound was the clatter of dry cornstalks, shaken by the December wind.

  “Let me see your hand again,” I said.

  He held it out.

  I examined his thumb and forefinger. “All your plans are possible if you can pinch,” I said. “Can you?”

  With the sleight of hand he was once famous for, he reached behind me and pinched my butt. It was a weak pinch, but a pinch nevertheless.

  “Why, Max, you dirty old man!” I cried.

  He smiled and walked on to the house.

  ALSO BY ROBIN HATHAWAY

  THE JO BANKS MYSTERIES

  Satan’s Pony

  Scarecrow

  THE DR. FENIMORE MYSTERIES

  The Doctor Rocks the Boat

  The Doctor Dines in Prague

  The Doctor and the Dead Man’s Chest

  The Doctor Makes a Dollhouse Call

  The Doctor Digs a Grave

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  SLEIGHT OF HAND. Copyright © 2008 by Robin Hathaway. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

  THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.

  An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.

  www.thomasdunnebooks.com

  www.stmartins.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hathaway, Robin.

  Sleight of hand : a Jo Banks mystery / Robin Hathaway.—1st ed. p. cm.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-312-37092-3

  ISBN-10: 0-312-37092-X

  1. Women physicians—Fiction. 1. Title.

  PS3558.A7475S56 2008

  813’.54—dc22

  2007051721

  First Edition: April 2008

  eISBN 9781429987233

  First eBook Edition : February 2012