Kentucky Woman

by Mike J. Brogan

  Pushkin’s finger touched the handle of the Glock.

  “Young fella …”

  “Yeah?”

  “I reckon you bes’ brang’ yer right hand ’round front, real slow and real empty. I’m old, but I ain’t blind!”

  Bastard sees everything. I gotta get closer, deflect his gun barrels.

  “Okay. You win, mister.” Pushkin took a step closer.

  “Name’s Luther.”

  “Okay, Luther.”

  Suddenly, a radio blasted from inside the cabin …

  “ … AND A SEVERE STORM ALERT IS ISSUED FOR

  HARLAN COUNTY! HIGH WINDS ARE …”

  The old man turned toward the loud voice …

  Pushkin saw his chance – yanked out his Glock and swung it around -

  - too late.

  Luther’s 12-gauge shells slammed into his neck and chest like mule kicks, knocking him off his feet and onto his back, staring up at thick black clouds. He felt warm blood gushing down his chest.

  Kill shots, he knew.

  Vot zasranec! I’m screwed …

  SEVENTY THREE

  MANCHESTER, PROBATE COURT

  The big day, Ellie thought.

  And I’m still living!

  But how?

  Poor? Or rich?

  That will be decided by the Right Honorable Emmett Vincent Shue any minute now.

  Ellie sat between Quinn and her probate attorney, Henri Delacroix, in the distinguished Clay County Courthouse. The case had garnered local, national and even international media attention because of the unique DNA issues and the billion-dollar inheritance being litigated. Judge Shue had granted seats to those with vested interests, local folks, and reporters from the print, television and Internet media.

  As Ellie looked around the packed courtroom, she feared another last-minute discovery would hit like an asteroid and blow the case wide open. Like yesterday’s shocker that Nafeesa Hakim had married Lieutenant Rick Radford in Iraq.

  She also feared Judge Shue would rule in favor of the vast majority of DNA evidence – the first four tests that concluded she was not Radford’s biological daughter. He might not even admit the extremely rare chimera-DNA test that concluded she was. After all, the law had very little precedent with chimerism. And Judge Shue had never adjudicated a chimera case.

  But he seemed ready to render a decision.

  Now in his twenty-sixth year on the bench, Judge Shue had thick silver hair and large intelligent eyes that looked like they could spot a felon in a First Communion class. He also had the muscular shoulders of the University of Kentucky middle linebacker he’d once been. Henri Delacroix said shifty halfbacks couldn’t slip past Shue back then, and shifty lawyers couldn’t slip anything past him today. Emmett Vincent Shue was a no-nonsense, but fair judge who Ellie learned wrote award-winning poetry.

  Judge Shue nodded toward Henri Delacroix and Fletcher Falcone.

  “Mr. Delacroix, do you have any new information to share with the court this morning?”

  “No, your Honor.”

  “Mr. Falcone, do you?”

  “Well, your Honor, I would implore the court to accept the overwhelming preponderance of scientific evidence in this case, namely that four separate DNA tests from highly respected laboratories prove scientifically that Ms. Ellie Stuart can not possibly be the biological daughter of Mr. Leland Radford. I would also ask the court to exclude her new secret DNA test that purports to offer contradictory DNA findings. And I would further ask the court to exclude the alleged deathbed statement by Mr. Radford since it was signed by only one witness, and not two witnesses as required by Kentucky law, Section 394.020.”

  “And finally, my associate counsel, Mr. Earl T. Luxfooter, is representing Ms. Nafeesa Hakim and her marriage to the biological son of Mr. Leland Radford, namely, First Lieutenant Richard Daniel Radford – ”

  “ – Mr. Falcone!” Judge Shue said, his blue-gray eyes peering over his horned-rimmed half-glasses.

  “Yes, your honor?”

  “I said new information. Your petitions already presented these arguments to the court with no small eloquence.”

  “Thank you, your honor, but if it would please the court –”

  “ – it would please the court if you sat down, counselor, so we can proceed.”

  Looking chastised, Falcone plopped his three hundred pounds down hard on his seat cushion, blasting air out like a blown Goodyear.

  Judge Emmett Vincent Shue adjusted his glasses.

  “First off, let me say that the probate of Mr. Leland T. Radford’s estate has presented this court with a unique set of DNA issues. Ms. Ellie Stuart has petitioned the court claiming that she should be considered the biological daughter of Leland T. Radford, and the sole surviving member of his immediate family. And that, as such, under Kentucky law, she should be considered his rightful heir.”

  “In support of her claim, Ms. Stuart presented a special multi-specimen DNA test that she claims demonstrates she is a chimera, namely an individual born with two distinctly individual sets of DNA, and that the newly discovered set of her DNA matches Mr. Radford’s DNA, thereby proving that she is his biological daughter.”

  The elderly bailiff started hiccupping. He gulped water and smiled.

  Judge Shue continued, “Additionally, Ms. Stuart has presented the sworn testimony of Ms. Irene Whitten, who was Mr. Radford’s housekeeper for thirty-one years. Ms. Whitten can’t be with us today because she was recently attacked and sustained life threatening injuries. But fortunately, she has just regained consciousness and is now talking. Very good news indeed.”

  Ellie’s eyes moistened at the wonderful news. Quinn placed his hand on hers.

  “And, should we require Ms. Whitten’s testimony, the court will allow her to testify via Skype. Ms. Whitten stated in a written document that on the night of March 29, just hours before Mr. Radford passed away in the hospital that she told him a secret she’d been forced to keep from him for twenty-one years. Namely, that he had fathered a child with a woman named Jacqueline Moreau, his household employee at the time. When Leland Radford learned of his child’s existence, he became overjoyed with the news, despite his grave condition. Ms. Whitten wrote down Mr. Radford’s statement at that time, which said in essence, “Irene, please try to locate my child. I want my child to inherit my estate, except for those items I’ve bequeathed to my household staff.” Mr. Radford then signed his sworn statement. Ms. Whitten also signed it. A registered nurse also heard Mr. Radford make the statement, but before she could sign it, she was called to an emergency in the ER.”

  A cell phone rang out Yankee Doodle.

  Judge Shue looked up. The phone went silent.

  “Also in the room witnessing with Ms. Whitten and Mr. Radford at that time, was Ms. Judith Long, a registered nurse. Ms. Long has sworn that she too heard Mr. Radford make the aforementioned statement. but before she could sign it, she was called away to an emergency.”

  “Moreover, Mr. Radford’s doctor, Dr. Thomas A. Lyons III, M.D., has signed a written document saying that he’d examined Mr. Radford ten minutes prior to Mr. Radford’s aforementioned written statement and found him to be mentally competent.”

  “Furthermore, this court has established that Mr. Radford’s housekeeper, Jacqueline Moreau, did in fact give birth to a baby girl nine months after she left The Pines. Ms. Whitten, and Ms. Loretta Mae Jefferson, a cook at the House of Grace where Jacqueline Moreau resided during her pregnancy, have both signed affidavits stating that Jacqueline Moreau named her infant daughter – Alex – which as you may know is also a girl’s name in French-speaking countries.”

  Whispers hissed through the courtroom.

  “However, three months after giving birth to her baby Alex, Jacqueline Moreau unfortunately died in a car accident.”

  The courtroom hushed.

  “Young baby Alex was then delivered in an undocumented, but de facto adoption to Harold and Joyce Stuart in Harlan, Kentucky. The Stuarts then
gave baby Alex a new name. They named her … Ellie.”

  People gasped and began talking loudly.

  Judge Shue pounded his gavel.

  The room went graveyard quiet.

  “For his part, Mr. Fletcher Falcone, executor of the Radford estate, has presented four separate DNA tests from respected laboratories that show Ms. Ellie Stuart’s DNA does not match the DNA of Leland Radford, and therefore she can not possibly be his biological daughter. Mr. Falcone argues that this overwhelming preponderance of DNA evidence proves this.”

  “In a separate petition, Mr. Falcone’s, associate counsel, Earl T. Luxfooter, representing Ms. Nafeesa Hakim, a citizen of Iraq, has presented this court with an authentic, official Iraqi state-issued certificate of marriage between her and First Lieutenant Richard Radford, the natural son of Mr. Leland Radford. Thus, Mrs. Nafeesa Radford, citing both Kentucky law and Iraqi law, claims she is entitled, as his widow, to participate in the inheritance of the estate of her deceased husband’s father.”

  Ellie watched a chubby court clerk rush up and hand Judge Shue a note.

  Judge Shue read the note, frowned, shook his head in obvious surprise, then stood up.

  Ellie wondered what was wrong.

  “The court will take a fifteen-minute recess.”

  “What’s going on?” Ellie asked Henri Delacroix, fearing some new information would again change everything.

  “I have no idea,” Delacroix said.

  Judge Shue looked concerned, maybe even alarmed as he signaled to two dark-suited men who’d just entered the courtroom.

  The men followed Judge Shue into his chambers and shut the door.

  SEVENTY FOUR

  As Judge Shue’s chamber door shut, someone tapped Ellie’s shoulder. She turned and stared into the squinty little eyes of a very short man. They were eye to eye – even though she was sitting and he was standing. His shiny black Elvis pompadour swooped his height up an extra five inches. His lips looked like strips of veal. He reeked of lime cologne.

  She’d seen him when he emerged from a stretch limousine with three large black animals. “Wolverines,” Quinn said. The furry creatures remained with the chauffeur as the tiny man, surrounded by four briefcase-toting lawyer types, marched into the courthouse.

  “Miss Stuart, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Mason V. Marweg. I was a very close friend of Leland Radford.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Marweg.”

  His smile revealed perfect, snow-white teeth. He handed her a business card with gold embossed letters. His cufflinks sparkled like two-carat diamonds. “I’m chairman of the Marweg Mining Group. My very good friend Leland Radford and I often chatted about my eventual acquisition of his 12,000-acre parcels here in southeastern Kentucky.”

  “But I’m told Mr. Radford did not want to sell his land.”

  Marweg smiled. “Well, yes, that was true a few years ago. But only because my former sales personnel were not sensitive to his valid environmental concerns. I, however, am quite sensitive to his concerns. Because they’re my concerns. You know that technology today has made coal mining quiet clean.”

  Ellie said nothing.

  “What if we could guarantee you that our new high-tech “green” mining would maintain the land’s ecological integrity?

  “Even with strip mining?”

  Marweg fell back as though she’d tasered him.

  “Strip mining is a most unfortunate term, Ms. Stuart. We call our unique process, environmental surface enhancement. We enhance our surfaces.”

  Ellie remembered a Courier Journal article condemning how Marweg Mining had left many un-enhanced ugly, naked surfaces behind.

  “Mr. Marweg, this discussion is hypothetical, as you know. And if I am fortunate enough to inherit something, I would ask you to deal with Mr. Henri Delacroix on any real estate matters.” Marweg looked up at Delacroix who towered over him and smiled. Marweg did not smile back. Instead, he scampered back to the security of his lawyers.

  The courtroom door suddenly banged opened and Ellie saw Henri Delacroix’s assistant hurry in and whisper something to him. Henri looked shocked, then leaned close to Ellie and Quinn.

  “The police,” he whispered, “have just arrested a man named Huntoon Harris for the murder of Mary Louise Breen, the elderly woman who knew your mother well at the House of Grace. Mary was suffocated in her sleep. This Huntoon Harris may have also been responsible for the recent attack on Irene Whitten at The Pines.”

  Ellie was speechless.

  “Huntoon Harris wants to cut a deal. He’s talking to the police. He’s implicating one of the Radford estate managers, a man named Heinrich De Groot. That’s De Groot next to the courtroom door, talking on his phone.” Delacroix pointed him out.

  Ellie turned and looked at the thin-faced man in a dark suit.

  Delacroix leaned closer and whispered, “Huntoon Harris has also implicated someone else.”

  They waited.

  “Mr. De Groot’s boss.”

  Ellie looked at Fletcher Falcone.

  Delacroix nodded. “Yeah, Falcone.”

  “Huntoon phoned Falcone’s office often using CVS throwaway phones purchased with a Falcone & Partners credit card.”

  Ellie and Quinn nodded at each other, their suspicions of Falcone solidifying at warp speed.

  The door to Judge’s chamber clicked open. He walked out and headed toward the bench.

  Judge Emmett Vincent Shue looked angry.

  SEVENTY FIVE

  “Please excuse the interruption,” Judge Emmett Shue said, settling back on the bench.

  Ellie noticed his flushed face, hunched-up shoulders and white-knuckle grip on some documents. He looked beyond upset. He looked angry. Something happened in chambers.

  He adjusted his glasses.

  “First off, let me say that yesterday I spoke with an old friend, a General with the Army’s Judge Advocate General’s Corps in Washington. At my request, he spoke with a JAG major in charge of marriages between U.S. military personnel and Iraqis. The major said that First Lieutenant Richard Radford did in fact once talk to him about the possibility of marrying an Iraqi woman, but he did not mention the woman’s name. A month later Lieutenant Radford was unfortunately killed in action.”

  Ellie saw Nafeesa Hakim begin fingering her worry beads.

  “The major also spoke with three officers of the 34th Brigade Combat Team who were with Lieutenant Radford the entire day and night on the date of his alleged wedding. But not in Baghdad. They were with him in Basra, three hundred miles south that entire week.”

  Ellie heard whispers creep through the courtroom.

  Nafeesa fingered her prayer beads faster.

  “The major then visited the Iraqi Social Status director who issued the Radford-Hakim marriage certificate. The director swore that the date and wedding location on the certificate were absolutely accurate. He remembered Nafeesa Hakim in great detail. But for some reason couldn’t recall whether Lieutenant Radford was white, black, short or tall, or aged twenty or fifty.”

  “The JAG major also learned that none of Lieutenant Radford’s, or any of Ms. Hakim’s friends, were aware of the alleged wedding. And that the priest and the only two witnesses at the alleged wedding, are unable to confirm the wedding, since they are all, sadly, deceased victims of the war.”

  The courtroom fell graveyard silent.

  “In view of the US Army’s proof that Mr. Radford was on patrol in Basra on the date of the alleged wedding in Baghdad, and all other surrounding circumstances, the court can find no basis on which to support the claim that Ms. Hakim was legally married to Lieutenant Radford. Therefore, this court has no alternative but to deny this petition.”

  “And, in view of the potentially fraudulent circumstances surrounding the marriage certificate itself, this court has requested that U.S. Immigration assist Ms. Hakim with her prompt return to Iraq.”

  Ellie noticed Nafeesa staring daggers at Falcone as though he’d promised her
a far better outcome. But when Falcone refused to turn and look at her, she buried her face in her hands and wept.

  The judge cleared his throat.

  “Now, with regard to the petition of Ms. Ellie Stuart, let me say that this case presented the court with a major problem. Contradictory DNA results. To resolve the contradiction, the court enlisted Dr. Robert Simon, a distinguished geneticist and Associate Dean of Medicine at the University of Louisville School of Medicine. His team conducted three multi-sample tests that came back with the same result. Namely, that Ellie Stuart she is a chimera with two individual sets of DNA, one of which matches the DNA of Mr. Leland Radford with a 99.9999% accuracy rating.”

  “In conclusion, based on irrefutable DNA proof and on all other corroborating evidence, this court finds that Ellie Stuart is the biological daughter of Jacqueline Moreau and Leland Radford …”

  Quinn placed his hand on Ellie’s.

  “ … and based on the written and witnessed document, expressing Leland T. Radford’s desire to leave his estate to his surviving child … .”

  “ … and lastly, based on Kentucky law that states a surviving child shall inherit the estate of a deceased single parent, this court rules in favor of the petitioner, Ms. Ellie Stuart, finding that she is sole heir of Leland T. Radford’s entire estate, with the exception of the generous allowances he bequeathed and devised to his household staff.”

  Tears spilled down Ellie’s face as she buried her head in Quinn’s shoulder.

  SEVENTY SIX

  “Congratulations, Ellie-Stuart-Radford!” Quinn whispered in her ear.

  “Thank you, Quinn Parker.” She melted into his warm embrace and the pleasant scent of his citrus aftershave and wanted to remain there for a week.

  Then the stench of cigarettes ruined everything.

  Turning, she realized the vile odor reeked from the obese body of Fletcher Falcone who’d snuck up behind her.

  She stepped back and faced him.

  How incredibly naïve she’d been. From the beginning, she’d assumed Falcone was the friendly country lawyer trying to help her. Now, she realized he’d most likely been behind everything – behind the sabotaged DNA tests, even behind the hit men sent to kill her – all because he’d known, perhaps from the beginning, that she was Leland Radford’s daughter.