A Killer's Wife (Desert Plains)

by Victor Methos

  She got a brief response:

  Tell the court you need a delay. Johnson won’t be testifying.

  74

  Yardley parked across the street from the hotel. She didn’t get out right away. While she sat in here, it wasn’t real. Not yet. Once she left the car, it would be real, and the feelings would barrel into her. Guilt most of all.

  Police cruisers lined the curb, along with an ambulance and fire truck. Baldwin’s car was there as well. Yardley went inside the hotel. Paramedics and EMTs hovered over a body in the lobby.

  Baldwin spotted her and came over.

  “What happened?” she said.

  “They think it was cardiac arrest.”

  Yardley stared at the corpse. Corpses always looked smaller than the person had been in life. As if death immediately shrank the body, something lost when that last beat of the heart came and went.

  “He was on his way to meet the ME,” Baldwin said. “No one saw anything, no one heard anything. Wesley certainly is thorough.”

  “He has someone out here,” Yardley said. She thought a moment. “The investigator.”

  Baldwin took out his phone and put in a call.

  Without the bite mark evidence, was there enough to convict Wesley Paul? She couldn’t be certain, and she needed to be certain.

  “I’ll have my cell on if you need me,” she said to Baldwin before leaving.

  “Where you going?”

  “The jail.”

  Yardley watched as a guard led Wesley into the attorney-client meeting room and sat him down.

  “Ms. Yardley,” he said with a grin, “you are truly a sacred lotus among weeds. I cannot tell you how much it brightens my day to see you.”

  She looked to his cuffs and the chains that ran down to the shackles around his ankles, which were secured on a metal ring bolted to the floor. Yardley had purposely not brought in her purse. She lifted her blouse and ran her hands over her waistline and legs, showing him she had no recording device.

  “Oh,” he said, “so this is to be an intimate conversation? How tantalizing. Careful, though, everyone will think you still love me.”

  Watching him, the sneer on his face, the wrinkles by his eyes, the slope of his forehead, she realized that the veneer of charm he had built for her was no longer there. He had worn a suit of a human being, a human being she would relate to and love, and now the suit had come off, and only this thing remained.

  “I have to hand it to you,” she said. “The cold efficiency is just stunning. I thought you would want to prove how much smarter than me you are by beating me in trial on equal grounds, but I suppose it’s much easier to kill a witness than cross-examine him. It was your investigator, right? Who is he really?”

  He tilted his head slightly as he watched her. “How’s Tara? Does she miss me? We had a bond, you know, she and I.”

  “She didn’t have a bond with you. If you felt like she did, it was purely imagined, or she was pretending for my sake.”

  “And who are you pretending to be, Jessica? Fabricating this entire case against me doesn’t seem like the Jessica Yardley I know.”

  A scar ran along his thumb, and she stared at it. It had happened in the kitchen at her home while he cut vegetables for a dinner they were hosting.

  “You came here to see if I’d reveal anything about where Mr. Parker is. Surely you know me better than that, don’t you?”

  “I came here to tell you that your efforts were wasted. I’m going to convict you, Wesley. You killed Johnson to prevent him from testifying but also to scare me.” She leaned forward. “You don’t scare me. When I look at you, I see a frail little boy. A little boy who saw the death of his parents and then forced that pain on other children the rest of his life because he was too pitiful to overcome it. You couldn’t even come up with your own method of killing. You had to steal Eddie’s. You’re pathetic.”

  His face went still as a statue, his eyes losing the shine they’d had upon first seeing her.

  “You’re weak, Wesley. You became exactly what those men that killed your parents wanted you to become. You’re their offspring. It’s them you honor with all this, not Eddie.”

  “You don’t know shit about me and Eddie,” he barked, the chains around his wrists rattling as his hands curled into fists and he brought them up to the table.

  “Your parents were little more than trailer trash, wouldn’t you say? Cooking methamphetamine in the basement while their child slept upstairs. Couldn’t have been easy for you. I’m sure there were many days they forgot to feed or change you. Do you remember those days? The days you lay in your own waste, staring up at the ceiling, your stomach burning with hunger, just praying that your parents remembered you? But you didn’t exist to them, did you? Not until you had to mop up their blood.”

  He lunged for her. The chains held him back, but he grunted like an animal against them, and when he realized he couldn’t reach her, he spit in her face.

  She wiped the spit off with the back of her hand.

  “Goodbye, Wesley. See you in court.”

  As she turned and left, she smiled.

  75

  Yardley, Wesley, and two marshals sat in Judge Aggbi’s chambers. The judge slung her robe over a coatrack and retrieved a soda out of a minifridge before sitting down and putting her feet up on a footstool.

  “I’d be happy to grant a short suspension of the trial, Ms. Yardley, in light of what’s happened. But no more than a few days. You would need Mr. Paul’s stipulation for any longer.”

  “That won’t be necessary. The prosecution is prepared to continue without Dr. Johnson.”

  She nodded and looked to Wesley. “Mr. Paul?”

  “Nothing’s changed for me since the tragic death of Mr. Johnson. Health first, correct, Your Honor? When we don’t have our health, we don’t have anything. Sadly, a lesson many like Dr. Johnson learn too late.”

  Aggbi put the soda down, ignoring him, and said, “Then let’s go ahead and resume. My understanding is you have two witnesses left before resting, Ms. Yardley?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Well, I think we can finish them today or tomorrow at the latest. Mr. Paul, how many witnesses will the defense be calling?”

  “Just one, Your Honor. Dominic Hill. And I will not be testifying.”

  “Then I anticipate no more than three days before sending this to the jury. Thank you both. Let’s head out there.”

  The marshals took Wesley out. Before Yardley could leave, Aggbi said, “Jessica?”

  She turned. “Yes?”

  “He’s dangerous. And you might lose this.”

  “I know.”

  “What will you do?”

  She looked out the only window in the judge’s chambers. “Whatever I have to.”

  When the jury was recalled, Aggbi said, “Next witness, Ms. Yardley.”

  “Agent Cason Baldwin, please, Your Honor.”

  Baldwin strode to the stand. Yardley quickly went through his involvement in the case. The testimony was so quick he gave her a look several times that said, What are you doing? She wanted him off the stand as fast as possible.

  Wesley cross-examined him much as he had done in the motion hearing, raising doubt as to his motives and suggesting he was simply doing a favor for Yardley, a former lover, in fabricating evidence for her. Maybe, she thought, that might’ve worked at the beginning of the trial, but now the jury had seen his rage. They would see his contorted face barking at her when they went back to that room to deliberate. Watching the jury, she didn’t think they believed him anymore.

  When Wesley was done, the judge said, “Ms. Yardley? Any redirect?”

  “None, Your Honor. Agent Baldwin may be excused.”

  “Thank you, Agent Baldwin. Ms. Yardley, your next witness, please.”

  “The prosecution calls Mr. Dominic Hill to the stand.”

  Wesley’s eyes widened, and he glanced back to the courtroom doors just as the marshal stepped out and
called Hill’s name. Wesley clearly hadn’t expected her to call him.

  Hill strolled through the doors in a suit and tie. He didn’t look at anybody as he made his way to the stand. He was sworn in and sat down, glancing only once at Wesley. Yardley took the lectern.

  “Name, please.”

  “Dominic James Hill.”

  “Mr. Hill, are you familiar with the defendant in this case, Mr. Wesley Paul?”

  “I am, yes.”

  “Please tell us how.”

  He looked down and pulled lightly on his tie to straighten it before raising his eyes to hers again. “We met as kids in Santa Barbara. I think I was eleven and he was a few years older. I lived next door to a foster family he ended up living with.”

  “Describe your relationship to him.”

  “It was good. We became friends quickly, had a lot of mutual interests. Later we went to parties and played sports together, things like that. We moved out here after high school. We eventually lost touch, but we were close for a long time.”

  “Do you know what this case is about?”

  “Yes. The murder of Jordan Russo about twenty years ago.”

  “Were you friends with Mr. Paul at that time?”

  “I was.”

  “Ever have lunch at Telly’s on Bluff Street around that time?”

  “Multiple times.”

  “Anything of note ever happen there between you and the defendant?”

  Hill inhaled deeply and then looked at Wesley. “Yes. Jordan Russo was our hostess there a few times. She and Wesley hit it off, and whenever we went back, he always asked for her by name and would spend some time up front talking to her. In fact, we began going there too much. The food wasn’t bad, but I’m not one to enjoy eating the same things so often.”

  “Objection! This is ludicrous. I’ve never had lunch with this man in my life,” Wesley snapped as he rose to his feet. “Sidebar, Your Honor.”

  “Of course.”

  Wesley was speaking before they were out of earshot of the jury.

  “Your Honor, Mr. Parker interviewed Mr. Hill on my behalf just yesterday afternoon. This is absolutely not what Mr. Hill relayed to him. He was clear that he has never met me and has never seen me with Ms. Russo, and that it was his brother that murdered Jordan Russo and he feels guilty for the crime and is coming forward now to exonerate me.”

  “If he’s lying,” Yardley said, “Mr. Paul can cross-examine him on it. If the Court finds evidence of perjury afterward, our office would be happy to look into it.”

  “The objection is overruled,” Aggbi said. “The proper time to discuss this is after your cross-examination, Mr. Paul.”

  Yardley saw the flush of pink in Wesley’s face. He was getting too angry too quickly; he wouldn’t be able to hold himself in check.

  When she was back at the lectern, Yardley said, “Describe what you saw of their relationship.”

  Wesley’s eyes never left Hill’s. Absolute rage emanated from him now as he glared at Hill with a pure hatred that Yardley was certain the jury could see.

  Hill said, “My understanding was that they began dating, or at least as close to dating as Wesley can get.”

  “What happened next?”

  “He began having sex with her. I talked to him about it once, told him it was a bad idea. That she was too young for him. He said he had a lot of girls her age around—”

  “Objection!” Wesley shouted, shooting to his feet. “Sidebar.”

  “You may approach.”

  Yardley stood close to the bench as Wesley stomped over. His face was red, his lips curling and uncurling as though tremors were going through them. He was losing control.

  “Your Honor, he is perjuring himself at the behest of Ms. Yardley and making a mockery of the Court. I would ask that this witness’s testimony be stricken and he be disqualified from testifying. This entire trial is an elaborate game put on by Ms. Yardley to convict me for a crime I did not commit.”

  “Ms. Yardley, have you influenced this witness to change his testimony today?”

  “No, Your Honor. I simply told him to tell the truth. I’ve made a deal with Mr. Hill, and he will be granted immunity for his involvement with the death of Ms. Russo in exchange for his testimony today. Mr. Hill has never mentioned a brother in all of our conversations and informed me that he lied to the investigator to protect himself.”

  “Then I object on notice grounds. I received no notice that he would be testifying.”

  “He’s your witness,” Yardley said. “No notice required.”

  The two glared at each other, and Yardley didn’t think it impossible that he would attack her right then. She took a step forward instead of back. The marshals would get to him in time before he did any real damage. The pain would be worth it to show the jury what he really was.

  Wesley sensed what she was doing, took a deep breath, and said, “Your Honor?”

  “I’m allowing his testimony, Mr. Paul. Please step back.”

  Yardley returned to the lectern and said, “Mr. Hill, what happened after Mr. Paul began sleeping with Ms. Russo?”

  “He became . . . odd around her.”

  “Odd how?”

  “Just began making inappropriate jokes, stuff like that. It’s hard to remember because it was so long ago, but I remember a few things. Like he asked me once if I wanted to have sex with her. He said he would drug her and that I could come over at night and bring any friends if I wanted.”

  “Objection! He’s lying under oath, Your Honor, because he and his brother killed this poor girl and have found a scapegoat. This is an absolute travesty of justice! You cannot allow this to go on.”

  “Mr. Paul, please refrain from objecting unless the objection deals with admissibility of evidence, not a witness’s credibility. Credibility is for the jury to decide. Now do you have an evidentiary objection?”

  His lip curled in a snarl, and he sat down.

  “Did you have sex with her, Mr. Hill?” Yardley continued.

  “No. I thought he was kidding. But looking back, he clearly wasn’t.”

  “Objection, he could not know my state of mind.”

  “Sustained.”

  Yardley said, “So what happened as the relationship progressed?”

  Hill shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “I suppose,” Yardley said, “this is a good time to mention this, Mr. Hill. I’ve offered you a deal in exchange for your testimony today, and we should get that on the record. What is that deal?”

  “You said you would give me immunity in exchange for my testimony about what Wesley and I did to Jordan Russo.”

  She nodded. “And that deal is now on the record. Please continue. What happened?”

  Hill inhaled through his nose and stared at Wesley, animosity bubbling between them. “He said he wanted something from her.”

  “What?”

  “To see her die.”

  “Ridiculous!” Wesley said, jumping to his feet. The marshal behind him ran up. “You’re lying, and she told you to lie!”

  Aggbi said, “Mr. Paul, sit down immediately.”

  “I cannot just sit here and let this man make a mockery of this Court and the justice system I so love, Your Honor. He is lying through his teeth.”

  “And you will have your chance to ask him anything you like. Now please sit down.”

  Wesley glanced over at the jury and then sat.

  Yardley continued, “He said he wanted to see her die?”

  “Yeah. He said he has certain . . . needs. That there were things he needed in order to have a fulfilling sex life. And I should get this out there—I’m a convicted sex offender. I made mistakes, too. So I guess he thought we could commiserate or whatever.”

  “What did you do when he said he wanted to see her die?”

  “I laughed. I thought he was joking. But then he didn’t laugh with me, and I knew he was serious. He said he wanted my help.”

  “Help how?”

&nbs
p; “He said he didn’t want to be the one to pick her up. That it would be good if someone else picked her up, because if anybody saw, they’d be looking for that person, and that person could have a solid alibi when Wesley did the killing. Like, I pick her up and drop her off a block away where no one is around and then immediately go somewhere with cameras, a bank or whatever, so we can prove I didn’t kill her.”

  “Why would you agree to help him, Mr. Hill?”

  He cleared his throat. “I, um . . . I’d been sleeping with someone at that time. A younger girl. Sixteen. I have a long history of offenses—even back then I did. I have a certain psychological problem, and it’s led me to a lot of trouble. Wesley didn’t come right out and say it, but it was clearly implied that if I didn’t help him, he would be placing a call to my probation officer at the time.” He glared at Wesley. “We’d been friends since we were kids, and he was ready to sell me out in a second if I didn’t do what he wanted.”

  “But you knew at this point he wanted to kill her, yet you still helped him.”

  “I just . . . I thought he wasn’t serious about killing her. That I would pick her up and drop her off and they’d go have sex somewhere and laugh about it. I just didn’t think he would go through with it.”

  “Now, Mr. Hill, you were supposed to have a solid alibi for the time of Ms. Russo’s death, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  Yardley took out a few still photographs and approached him. “What are these?”

  “These are pictures of me at the Vegas Downs Racetrack that I took.”

  “On what date?”

  “February nineteenth of oh one, the day Ms. Russo disappeared. You can see I took the photos near the date-and-time ticker at the racetrack. I picked her up a little before eleven and then dropped her off at Wesley’s car up the block before going to the racetrack. I spent half the day there.”

  “Move for introduction of exhibits sixty-six and sixty-seven, Your Honor.”

  “Objection!”