“What kind of evidence could you give me?”
“Nothing concrete yet, but if you were able to get a retrial, I’m sure you could win it. Heck, I think I could win it, and I’m no lawyer.”
Cal waited for Frost’s response, one he expected to excite her. Instead, she sighed.
“I don’t know, Cal. Getting a new trial isn’t easy. Judges don’t tend to just order retrials without good cause. The state spent plenty of money and resources on getting this conviction, and it’s not likely to abandon it on a whim of goodwill.”
“I’ll keep digging.”
“Keep me posted.”
Cal hung up and parked along the street in front of the courthouse. Kelly grabbed her gear as the pair got out together.
“What does Marsha Frost think?” Kelly asked.
“She thinks we don’t have enough real evidence to get a judge to issue a retrial. We need to find more proof that the defense bungled this case.”
Once inside the courthouse, Cal and Kelly obtained permission to sift through the trial transcripts again in the basement archives.
After a few minutes, Kelly shouted aloud. “There you are! I knew I’d seen this before but couldn’t remember where or when.”
“What’d you find?” Cal asked.
“I thought I remembered reading in the discovery that Susannah’s lawyer lover from Jacksonville, Mr. Tanner Thomas, had secured a marriage license two days before her death. That alone was motive enough for Drake to killer her.”
“Good point.”
Kelly nodded and held up her right index finger. “However, there’s something that dawned on me after hearing Mrs. Kirkwood talk at the library: small towns people like to talk.”
“Everyone likes to talk.”
“True. So, based on what Mrs. Kirkwood just told us, aren’t there some other questions we should be asking about this case that apparently never got asked.”
“Such as . . . ?”
Kelly’s eyebrows shot upward, and she broke into a smile. “Such as if Jordan Hayward was upset with Susannah, maybe he found out that she was planning on marrying Tanner Thomas and leaving his buddy Drake in the dust—or himself in the dust.”
“Did Drake know about Susannah getting married? Because he certainly didn’t mention it when we interviewed him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But if we need hard evidence that creates doubt, this does it.”
“Or confirms it. The only way the jury would know is if Hayward or Drake testified to this. Neither of them were on the stand.”
“So, how did this information come out in the trial?”
Kelly held up her index finger. “Well, initially it was speculative . . . until this piece of evidence got introduced as ‘Exhibit S,’ a photograph of the marriage license log from that day.”
She handed the picture to Cal.
“What am I looking for here?” Cal asked.
“Check the name of the clerk on the log sheet.”
Cal’s mouth went agape.
Kelly smiled and nodded. “Now you’re tracking with me. The clerk who gave them the marriage license was none other than Heloise Hayward, Jordan’s mother.”
Cal shrugged. “That still doesn’t bolster the level of doubt that Drake did it. If anything, it strengthens it.”
“I agree . . . unless the jury didn’t know about Hayward’s fling with Susannah. And it was never brought up in court.”
“Are you suggesting this gives Hayward a motive?”
“Maybe,” she said. “A good defense attorney would’ve brought this information to light in a trial. If anything, they could’ve hatched a plan together.”
Cal nodded knowingly. “Or Hayward was solely responsible.”
CHAPTER 19
CAL AWOKE EARLY FRIDAY MORNING and was careful not to wake up Kelly. He took a quick shower and slipped out onto the balcony to enjoy the Okefenokee wildlife just outside his hotel room. After a few days, he was getting acquainted with the various bird calls and other animals communicating throughout the swamp. The serene moments provided him with a chance to clear his head and think about the case.
A man’s voice from below jarred Cal, serving as a reminder that his place of zen was shared and unpredictable.
“Sorry I don’t have anything to show you from Gus this morning,” the man said.
Cal stood up and peered over the balcony at the friendly janitor for the Okefenokee Inn. “That’s okay,” Cal said. “I’d rather just enjoy the sights and sounds of life than death.”
“Death is part of the circle of life,” the janitor said. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the swamp wasn’t all full of peace and harmony last night. Wander around here long enough and you’ll see somethin’ else dead.”
Waving at the man, Cal said, “You have a good day, sir.” He retreated inside and found Kelly awake.
“What was that all about?” she asked, squinting as she looked in his direction.
“Oh, nothing. Just the friendly and morbid Okefenokee Inn grounds keeper.”
***
NEVER KNOWN FOR HIS PATIENCE, Cal suggested to Kelly that after breakfast they should visit Heloise Hayward. Cal had learned that she quit working at city hall a few years ago and had taken up as a waitress at a fancy restaurant located near the entrance of the Okefenokee. According to one of the articles he’d read about it, the eatery catered to tourists and didn’t open until 11:00 a.m.
“She should still be home if we hustle,” Cal said while glancing at his watch.
Kelly agreed, and by 10:00 a.m., they were pulling into Heloise’s driveway.
When the car came to a stop and Cal turned it off, his heart-rate quickened at the sound of ferocious barking. He looked up to see a Rottweiler salivating and lunging toward the car. He quickly sighed, relieved once he noticed the chain around the dog’s neck.
“Herschel, I done told you a hundred times to treat guests with more respect than that,” a woman said as she hobbled down the steps. She grabbed the dog by his collar and held him in place while eyeing Cal and Kelly.
“May I help you?” the woman asked.
Cal approached gingerly, raising his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender.
“Mrs. Hayward?”
“Yes. Who’s askin’?”
“I’m Cal Murphy, and this is my wife, Kelly. We’re from The Seattle Times and working on a story about Isaiah Drake. Would you mind if we asked you a few questions for the article I’m writing?”
She stood up and broke into a wide smile. “As long as you’re not from the government, you’re welcome. Come on in. Have a seat on the porch while I fetch y’all some sweet tea.”
Cal and Kelly sat down on the bench swing and surveyed the surroundings. The clapboard house looked like it had seen better days along with the yard, which was little more than a dirt patch, probably due to Herschel. The only vehicle in the yard was a twenty-year-old BMW that needed a new paint job but otherwise looked like a serviceable vehicle.
The chain link rope attaching the wooden swing to the porch eave creaked as Cal and Kelly shifted on the bench.
“I’m afraid I don’t have too much time to talk,” Mrs. Hayward said as she returned carrying a platter with three glasses of sweet tea. “I’ve got to get to work in an hour, but I’ll be more than happy to talk with you as long as I can.”
She held out the platter in front of Cal and Kelly, waiting for them to take a glass. Once they did, she pulled up a chair from the other side of the porch and sat across from them.
“So, what is a big city paper sending a couple of reporters all the way across the country to little ole Pickett to write about Isaiah Drake for?”
“To be blunt, he’s running out of appeals and it looks like his execution might be coming soon,” Cal said. “He was a fan favorite in Seattle, and it’s been twelve years since the murder of Susannah Sloan.”
Mrs. Hayward shook her head. “Mmm, mmm, mmm. That trial tore this town apart. Two of our favorite people in
the world. And now they’re both gone.”
“Both of them were admired?” Kelly asked.
Mrs. Hayward nodded. “That’s what made it so painful. We all loved Susannah. She was always smilin’ and kind to people. Even when she became the prosecutor, she handled each case with care. Because she knew the families, she understood each one’s struggle . . . or lack thereof. Some people needed to get a heavy dose of justice; others just needed mercy and a second chance.”
“Like Jordan?” Cal asked.
She nodded emphatically. “Especially Jordan. He was always gettin’ into trouble, messin’ around with the people he shouldn’t have been messin’ around with. But he finally got his life straightened out. He’s still poor, but at least he ain’t gonna die in some drug deal gone wrong.”
“And Susannah knew that about him?” Kelly asked.
“Ah, yes. Susannah was an angel. She wanted to see Jordan escape this place.”
Cal scooted up on the bench and leaned forward.
“Mrs. Hayward, I hate to ask a question like this, but I was wondering if you knew if Jordan and Susannah were lovers.”
“Lovers? Jordan and Susannah? Lawd, no. Whoever told you that has been smokin’ crack since Sunday. Those two were just friends, nothin’ more.”
“Is that why it didn’t bother you to issue Susannah and that Jacksonville lawyer Tanner Thomas a marriage license?” Cal asked.
Mrs. Hayward took a deep breath.
“Well, I can’t say that didn’t bother me. The whole time she was standin’ in front of me, I was starin’ at that bling on her finger that Isaiah had given her. I was hopin’ it might make her reconsider, but it didn’t. I thought it was a rotten thing to do, but who am I to judge?”
“When did she come in to get that license?” Kelly asked.
“On Wednesday afternoon, just a couple of days before she was murdered.”
“Did you ever share with others about the people who applied for a marriage license?” Cal asked.
Mrs. Hayward chuckled. “Hardly ever. By the time they get to me, it’s old news in Pickett County. There’s already either been an announcement in the paper or the woman’s makin’ her own pronouncement, if you know what I mean.”
Cal and Kelly laughed softly.
“I think I understand,” Cal said. “But what about in this case? This would’ve been different, right? Nobody really knew about Susannah’s intent to marry Mr. Thomas until the trial, did they?”
“No, that was the big bombshell in the trial, more than anything. The whole town talked about that excessively after it was over. They just couldn’t believe she’d do that to Isaiah after they dated for so long.”
“So, Mrs. Hayward, did you tell anyone about that before she died?”
She shook her head. “I don’t recollect it.”
“Not even your son?” Cal asked, pressing her.
Mrs. Hayward stood up.
“Mr. Murphy, I think it’s time you and your wife got goin’. It’s gettin’ late, and I still gotta finish gettin’ ready for work. Have a good day.” She stormed inside her house.
Herschel growled from the corner of the yard before the screen door slammed, bouncing several times against the frame before silence fell on the yard.
“Well, I think that went well, didn’t it?” Cal asked.
“Let’s get out of here before Mrs. Hayward returns,” Kelly said.
They hustled down the steps and to their car.
Cal buckled his seatbelt before turning the ignition.
“This story just got a whole lot more interesting, didn’t it?”
CHAPTER 20
SATISFIED THAT DRAKE’S LAWYER had failed to provide the football star with a competent defense, Cal wondered aloud if it was time to return to Seattle. With all the interviews they’d conducted and the photos Kelly had snapped, he was confident he could write a compelling story.
But this wasn’t just about an assignment for him; this was also about exonerating one of his childhood heroes. Cal quickly decided it wasn’t time to leave just yet.
“What did you think about Mrs. Hayward?” Cal asked.
“Based on her response, it’s hard to imagine Mrs. Hayward didn’t tell her son about the marriage license.”
“And if she did tell him—and she was messing around with him—then he’d have the good ole reason of jealousy to kill her.”
“But why not kill Thomas?” Kelly countered.
Cal shrugged. “I’m not sure, but maybe he realized he wasn’t going to have her no matter what and thought he could get away with it by pinning the murder on Drake.”
“That's a good theory,” Kelly said. “And that’s something a lawyer could make in a retrial that might be more than enough to cause reasonable doubt in the mind of most jurors. I know it’s making me doubt everything I’ve already thought about this case.”
As Cal turned back onto Main Street and headed toward Hank’s Pawnshop, his phone buzzed. It was Marsha Frost.
“I’m so glad you called, Marsha,” Cal said. “Have I got some news for you.”
“It’s probably nothing compared to the news I just received,” she said.
“I’m gonna put you on speaker so Kelly can hear, okay?”
“Okay.”
“All right. Fire away. What’s happening?”
“I just got a call from Keith Hurley. Name sound familiar to you?”
Cal thought for a moment. “Yes, isn’t that the eye witness in the case who said he saw Drake kill Susannah?”
“Bingo. That’s the one.”
“So, what did he say?”
“He said he made it up. It’s all a lie. Somebody told him they’d pay him a thousand bucks to say that he saw Drake kill her. He was just a kid and was out riding his bike around when it happened. He said he never saw anything but jumped at the opportunity to make some quick cash.”
“Whoa,” Cal said. “Did he know who it was?”
“Said he never saw the guy before, but he was a kid and it was a long time ago. He said it was dark, too, when the man approached him, and he could hardly see his face.”
“That changes everything.”
“Dang right, it does.” She paused. “So, what were you gonna tell me?”
“Does it matter now?”
Frost laughed. “Probably not. I’ve already contacted one judge, who’s supposed to call me back today. If he finds that compelling-enough evidence, he may order a retrial.”
“That’s great news,” Cal said. “What we found out isn’t quite as earth shaking, but it’ll help any retrials.”
“What’d you find?”
“So, from what we’ve gathered, Jordan Hayward was also lovers with Susannah Sloan. And Susannah applied for a marriage license with a man named Tanner Thomas just two days before her death. And guess who the clerk at the courthouse was who knew about the marriage license application?”
“Who? The suspense is killing me,” Frost said.
“None other than Heloise Hayward, Jordan’s mother. And she intimated to us that she told her son about Susannah’s intent to marry Mr. Thomas.”
“How did Drake’s lawyer miss all of this?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Either way, it’s pretty damning as to the incompetency of Sullivan’s team running this trial.”
“That or either they were way out of their league in the Deep South.”
Cal nodded. “That could be it, too. No matter what, do you think that’s enough along with Hurley’s admission to get a new trial and possibly earn Drake an exoneration?”
“It should be enough . . . and it’s definitely enough for us to take the case.”
“Excellent!” Cal said. “That’s made this entire trip worth it.”
“I bet you have one compelling story, too,” Frost said.
“I do, but I’m not done yet.”
Cal hung up and pulled to a stop just outside Hank’s Pawn Shop. He dug into his pocket for a quarter to feed the m
eter and went inside with Kelly.
“You think Jordan’s gonna talk to us now?” Kelly asked in a whisper.
“We’ll soon find out.” Cal scanned the shop and didn’t see anyone inside.
“Hello?” he called.
Moments later, Hank plowed through the swinging double doors that led to the back.
“Can I help you?” Hank said before realizing who was standing in front of him.
“Hello, again. We were wondering if we could speak with Jordan Hayward again,” Cal said.
“I wish,” Hank growled. “That little lowlife hasn’t shown up for work today. So, if you find him, tell him he’s late.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” Kelly asked.
“He was here yesterday. But he was supposed to be here an hour ago, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”
Cal nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He and Kelly turned toward the door and exited the shop, running right into Crazy Corey Taylor.
“I know who killed Susannah Sloan,” Taylor said, bouncing from side to side, while carrying another sign proclaiming the end of days. “Talk to me, and I’ll tell you who.”
Before Cal could say another word, Hank rushed outside and ran up to Taylor, giving him a swift shove.
“How many times do I have to tell you to get outta here and stop harassing my customers?” Hank said.
“They’re not customers,” Taylor said.
“Neither are you. Now scram,” Hank said.
He turned toward Cal and Kelly as the town’s lunatic scampered down the street, lugging his sign behind him.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Hank said. “That guy is certifiable, and why he continues to walk the streets of Pickett is one of the world’s biggest mysteries if you ask me.”
“No harm, no foul,” Cal said as he headed toward his car.
“And don’t forget—if you see Jordan, tell him he’s late for work,” Hank said.
Cal raised his hand in acknowledgement without turning around.
Dead to Rights Page 10
