“Was the defendant trying to sell paintings?”
“I don’t know. I know he wrote the guy a check.”
“You saw the defendant write a check?”
“No, but I found the check after all three of them left. It was on the table, made out to Christopher Andrus and signed by Conrad Sweeney. In thick blue ink.”
“Like it was signed with a fountain pen?”
“Yeah. The fancy kind with the shiny tip.”
Jazlyn lifted an exhibit. “Your honor, at this time I will direct the court’s attention to pre-marked and pre-admitted Exhibit 47, which is a series of handwriting exemplars made using the blue-ink fountain pen found on Conrad Sweeney’s desk. As is readily apparent, the pen nib has a pronounced left bent, which gives any writing by the pen a distinctive appearance. Which can be seen in the signature on this check.”
Judge Smulders examined the exhibit. “You’re saying this check was signed using the same pen the police found on the defendant’s desk?”
“Exactly. We also have an affidavit from the department’s handwriting expert, which the defense stipulated to prior to trial. The defense might try to claim the signature was forged. But no one could duplicate the distinctive markings made by this pen.” She returned her attention to the witness. “What happened next?”
“The fight got worse. Big time. Both shouting at each other. The poor lady cowering, scrunching back into the booth. I couldn’t hear most of what they were saying because they both spoke at the same time. I never heard people go at each other like those two did.”
“Can you repeat any of what you heard during this disagreement?”
“I know how it ended. The big guy, the defendant, he stood up. He’s a large man, as you can see. He slammed his fist on the table and said, loud enough to be heard in the next county—‘You will be sorry you crossed me.’” Dilbert drew in his breath. “Then he stomped out of the bar, making the floor shudder like a tyrannosaurus was passing through.”
“And the other two?”
“The woman left first. She went out the front door. The other guy waited a while and, when he finally left, he went out the back way.”
Sweeney scratched a note on the legal pad on their table. NEVER HAPPENED.
Jazlyn waited a few beats before she continued. “You’ve said the defendant was angry.”
“Yeah.”
“And he threatened Andrus.”
“Big time. He was mad.”
“Mad enough to kill?”
Dan objected but at the same time, Dilbert answered. “Definitely.” And no objection would ever make the jury forget that.
Chapter 34
Dan started with the obvious. “Mr. Dilbert, are you receiving any benefit in exchange for your testimony today?”
“No.”
“Are there now or have there ever been any charges pending against you?”
“No.”
“Have you been sentenced, or subjected to any form of punishment or incarceration?”
“No.”
He wasn’t surprised. Jazlyn was smart. If she’d given Dilbert an immunity deal, she would’ve brought it out herself rather than let Dan go to town with it.
“You said you couldn’t read the newspaper you found. Why?”
“I don’t trust reporters. They’re all socialists and liars.”
He wanted to make sure the jury got this. “What paper were you reading?”
“The local one.”
“The Tampa Bay Times?”
Dilbert nodded.
“You consider that fake news?”
“It’s all controlled by the Deep State. A multinational liberal conspiracy.”
Jazlyn rose. “Objection, your honor. This is not relevant.”
“I disagree,” Dan quickly rejoined. “Goes to the credibility of the witness. Goes to possible prejudice. The jurors have a right to know who they’re listening to.”
Judge Smulders thought for a moment. “This might be...of interest. I’m going to allow it.”
“Your honor,” Jazlyn said, “he’s trying to use politics to impugn the witness.”
“You’re the one who put this man on the stand,” Dan said quietly.
The judge raised his hand. “I’ve ruled. Counsel, proceed.”
Dan turned back to the witness. “Mr. Dilbert, since you don’t read the papers, where are you getting your information about the world? And the press. And...conspiracies.”
“From the internet. Like everyone else.”
“Are you a follower of QAnon?”
Jazlyn rose again but, before she could speak, the judge cut her off. “I’ve already ruled.”
Jazlyn sat down, incensed.
“I’ve read QAnon stuff.”
“Do you believe it?”
“I believe there are a lot of people trying to steal this country from the real Americans.”
Dan cast a glance to the jury box. Especially the three jurors of color. “And who are the real Americans?”
“The one who work hard and don’t sit on their butts accepting handouts.”
“Did you accept your COVID-19 stimulus check?”
“That’s completely different.”
“That was a handout.”
“That went to everyone. Not just deadbeats.”
“Do you consider my client, Conrad Sweeney, a real American?”
“I consider him a rich fat cat. Part of the one percent. Probably hasn’t paid taxes in years.”
“Is that why you’re testifying against him?”
“No.” Dilbert’s voice was a bit too loud. “I’m here because the lady prosecutor asked me to be here.”
Dan had the feeling there was more going on here than he understood. “Tell me more about the conversation you overheard. Did you actually hear my client threaten to murder Mr. Andrus?”
“He told the guy he was going to be sorry he crossed him.”
“That sounds like the sort of thing businessmen always say when they can’t get the deal they want. ‘You’ll be sorry.’ So what? It’s not a threat.”
“Mister, I was there. This was a threat. The expression on his face, the fist on the table, it was all sayin’ the same thing.”
“Did he ever use the word ‘kill’?”
“He didn’t have to.”
“Did he use the word ‘murder’? Or any synonym of ‘murder’?”
“Believe me—there was murder in this guy’s eyes. And sure enough, two blinks later the poor chump is dead.”
“You don’t know that my client killed him.”
“I think I do.” He turned, facing the jury. “I saw the expression on his face. I know what it meant. I won’t kid you—I’ve hung around some nasty customers in my time. But I never saw nothing like this before. That man had murder on the brain. I thought he was going to tear the poor guy apart right then and there.”
Dilbert paused, then raised his arm and pointed. “That guy murdered Andrus. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
“You don’t know—”
“That man is a killer,” Dilbert said, his voice rising. “I am absolutely sure of it. Tell all the lies you want, shyster. That man is a murderer. I guarantee it.”
Dan glanced at Maria. She gave him a worried look and he knew exactly what that meant.
She had predicted this was about to get real. And it just did.
Chapter 35
Tulip opened her eyes.
She could barely see. It was as if she had gauze over her eyes. Everything was hazy. She had no idea where she was.
And she remembered the last time this happened.
Dear God, don’t let it be true. Was she still in the desert? Was she still lost and alone and...?
She tried to recall what had happened last. It was like when she fell asleep while reading and the next morning couldn’t recall what she’d read. Only worse. Her memory seemed completely blank...
She remembered the wandering. The heat. The thirst. The pain
. Her searing skin. Stumbling through the sand, hoping she was traveling south. She remembered trying to be strong and telling herself she would not let them destroy her, but...
Wait.
She was not thirsty. She wasn’t starving.
Which could mean only one of two things. She was dead...or someone found her. And took care of her.
She didn’t feel great, but she was almost certain she wasn’t dead.
The light clarified around her eyes. She detected movement, but she couldn’t make out any distinct impressions.
She tried to raise her hand—and was pleasantly surprised to find that her arm responded. She rubbed her eyes.
Her vision sharpened. She could see a wall. And a window.
She was not lying in the sand.
Where was she?
“Nurse. She’s awake.”
Tulip tried to turn her head in the direction of the sound, but her neck was stiff and didn’t immediately comply. Now that her consciousness was returning, she found she hurt in a lot of places. All over, in fact.
She used her hands to feel up and down her body. She was under a sheet, but she could reach beneath it.
She wore a gown. Her arms and legs were intact.
She was in a hospital. And most importantly, she was alive.
She heard footsteps scurrying into the room. A moment later, two faces appeared above her, one black and female, the other white and elderly.
“Can you hear me?” the black woman asked. “Can you hear what I’m saying?”
Her lips were slow to respond. Her jaw cracked as she tried to move it. “I...can.”
“I'm your nurse, honey. I knew you’d come back to us. I knew it. I am so glad I stayed in today. My boyfriend wanted to go to the World Poker Championship and see this player called BB Thomas he thinks is all that, but—”
“Where...am I?”
“Sunrise Hospital. You’ve been in a comatic state. Do you have any idea how long you’ve been here?”
The elderly woman shot the nurse a harsh glance. Apparently she didn’t think that needed to be the lead topic.
“No, how could you know? Doesn’t matter. But we’re glad that you are back with us. You came in with no ID. What should we call you?”
“My...friends call me...Tulip.”
“Tulip!” The nurse seemed to exude joy. “I love that name. You can call me Karen. I know, Karen is supposed to be a white girl who thinks she’s supervising the world, but that’s the name my mamma gave me and there’s nothing I can do about it now.”
“Karen.” Tulip tried to smile, but it was difficult. Her lips felt dry, swollen. Chapped. “Thank...you.”
“You’re welcome, girl, but it wasn’t just me. There’s been a whole bunch of us looking after you, and they are going to be so jealous that I was the one who was here when you finally came around.”
“What...happened?”
Karen tucked in her chin. “We were kinda hoping you could explain that to us.”
“I remember...the desert. The heat.”
“You’d been out there a long time. A family of campers on their way to Yellowstone found you. Said you were in a bad way, lying in the sand, exposed and muttering stuff they didn’t understand. They brought you here and this is where you’ve been ever since.”
“Who...were they? I want to thank them.”
“I’ve got their information. But you’re not ready for that. Evelyn, can you page the doctor?”
The other woman nodded and disappeared.
“Let me tell you, girl,” Karen continued, “when you came in here, you were a mess. Dehydrated. Skin red as a robin. Sorry to tell you, but you’re probably going to be dealing with skin damage for a long time. We’ll get a dermatologist to come in and look at you. You had some wounds, too. Were you in some kind of scrape?”
Tulip knitted her brows, trying to force herself to remember. There had been a fight...and a gun. The car keys, his eye—
She winced. She didn’t need to remember that. Ever.
“Honey.” Karen leaned closer. “Who did this to you? You need to tell us.”
“He...can’t hurt anyone else. Ever again.”
“You’re sure?”
“He’s dead.”
Karen was quiet for a moment. “Well then. Enough said about that. I’ve been in a few bad scrapes myself. Was it your ex?”
She shook her head slightly. “Much worse.” And then, all at once, her eyes widened like balloons. “St. Petersburg.”
“Um, excuse me? You lost me there. You’re not saying your ex is a saint, are you?”
“That’s the city where I’m from. That man brought me here against my will. Tied me up like a steer at a rodeo. He wanted to kill me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“I’m not sure.” She scooted up a bit. Her neurons were finally firing. In fits and starts, bits and pieces, her memories were returning. “It must’ve had something to do with that meeting. Because they grabbed me right outside the door. The instant I left the club.”
“Why?”
“Kit got himself into trouble. I think maybe they thought I was in on it.”
“Kit?”
“This guy I was with. Christopher Andrus.”
As soon as she said the name, Karen’s face went blank. “You know Christopher Andrus?”
“Yeah. He was working a deal with this big dude, but he didn’t trust the guy, so he asked me to come with. Why, do you know him?”
Karen was typing into her phone. “I thought I recognized that name. This story made national news.” She paused. “I got some bad news for you, sweetie.”
“What happened? Why did Kit make the news?”
“It wasn’t so much what happened as...how it was done.”
“What...was done? Is—Is Kit—”
“He’s dead.” Karen glanced back at her phone. “Christopher Andrus of St. Petersburg, Florida, was murdered. And—”
“What happened to him?”
“It’s...not pretty. Someone’s on trial for murdering him. A guy named Conrad Sweeney—”
“He’s the man at the meeting!” Tulip sat upright. “Should I...do something?”
“Don’t make a target of yourself, honey. Someone already came after you once. They might try again. You can’t go anywhere now anyway. Not till the doc says so. And that’s gonna be several days yet.”
“And then?”
“Up to you.” Karen straightened. “But if I were you, I wouldn’t go anywhere near Florida. People are getting killed out there. And there’s no telling who might be next.”
The Good Fight
Chapter 36
Dan trudged through the front door of their Snell Isle office and threw his backpack onto the sofa. “That was depressing.”
Maria followed behind. “Did you see the faces on the jurors? They’re ready to convict today. Like, right this minute. As soon as possible.”
“I saw the face on the judge, too. I think he’s stunned we have the temerity to mount a defense.”
Maria flopped down in the middle of the sofa. “Problem is, we don’t have a defense.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. We have witnesses...”
“We have absolutely nothing that can undo what the last prosecution witness did.”
“Sweeney will dispute everything he said.”
“Sweeney will be a horrible witness. I don’t care how much time we spend coaching him. He’s arrogant. Self-righteous. Thinks he’s smarter than everyone else in the room.”
Dan flopped down beside her. “It doesn’t look good. But something will come up. If we can find an expert who will—”
Maria raised a hand. “Dan, I know you want to talk about the case. You always do. But I need a break.”
He smiled and snuggled closer. “I assume that’s a euphemism for making out.”
She raised her other hand. “Maybe later. Right now, I can barely think straight. I need food.”
“As
it happens, that’s my best thing. Well, other than making out.”
He heard Garrett tromping down the stairs. He was wearing a Rays T-shirt. “Hear you had a rough day in court.”
“How goes the research? Find anything promising?”
“Maybe. I’ve been watching and re-watching that surveillance footage so much I’m starting to dream about it. But I think I’ve found something useful. The footage for—”
Garrett was interrupted by a doorbell.
They looked at one another.
“Are we expecting guests?” Dan asked. After a moment, he walked to the front door. “Shades of déjà vu.”
Prudence Hancock. Again.
“Hello, handsome.” She gave him a quick onceover, then touched him on the cheek. “When are we going to end all this flirting? I know you want what I’ve got. And I could use a good sorting out.”
Over his shoulder, he saw Maria mouth “Skank.”
“I do not want anything you’ve got. Why are you here?”
She strode past him into the living room. “Are you having a trial postmortem?”
“Of course.”
“Then I assume you’ll want my input.”
“It’s...more of a team meeting.”
“Then I’m appointing myself to the team.”
“That’s not how it works.”
Prudence sat on the sofa beside Maria. Maria scooted away.
“What have you got to bury Dilbert?”
“Nothing,” Dan admitted.
“About what I expected.”
Garrett cut in. “I’ve been researching this extensively, Ms. Hancock, and I’ve spoken to more than two dozen people who were at Beachcombers that night. Unfortunately, it’s a noisy place and although some recall seeing Sweeney there, no one has any idea what was said or whether there was fighting.”
“C’mon,” Prudence said. “I know the kind of scum that hangs out at that place. I’m sure there’s someone who could be...persuaded to remember.”
Dan gave her a harsh look. “We don’t do that.”
“Don’t lecture me about your morals. I’ve seen you use all kinds of courtroom trickery to—”
“When I’m in the courtroom, I have a professional obligation to use all legitimate means to assist my client. That most certainly does not extend to paying bribes.”
Final Verdict Page 18
