The Witness

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  Although she was shaken from her interaction with Seth Woodson, Olivia had to stay focused on the task at hand. Brian had been able to track down the original medical examiner, one Duncan Wymark, who not only remembered the Cynthia Engstrom murder, but who had agreed to meet with Olivia to discuss the case. Brian had arranged a meeting, and – in the spirit of going the extra mile – had done a background check on Duncan to make sure Olivia wasn’t walking into an unsafe situation. Olivia thought the background check was overkill, but reckoned Brian was sensitive, given the situation with Leanne.

  Olivia sent Brian a quick text: Confession stays in. Off to talk to Duncan Wymark. See you at the office?

  Brian texted back: As expected, nothing new from Eleanor Wiseman. We got discovery. See you back here. I’ll get lunch.

  ***

  Duncan Wymark lived in a Craftsman-style bungalow on a tree-lined street in San Anselmo. The house was painted bright yellow, with white trim, surrounded by a white picket fence. A rose garden had been planted in the front yard, now trimmed to stubs and mulched. Olivia thought wistfully of her own garden as she navigated the brick walkway to the porch.

  The front door was opened by a man close to Olivia in age. He wore baggy jeans and a well-worn fisherman’s sweater. Birkenstocks and argyle socks completed his ensemble. He wore his salt and pepper hair in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. “Olivia Sinclair?”

  “Mr. Wymark. Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”

  “Come on in.”

  Olivia followed Mr. Wymark into a sunny front room that faced the street. The original built-in cabinetry with beveled glass doors had been refinished and left their natural color. Clean white walls covered with a myriad of gorgeous black and white photographs, two leather couches, and an original Aubusson rug finished off the room in fine style. Mr. Wymark, it seemed, was a man of taste.

  “Did you do the remodel on this house?”

  “I did most of the work by myself, with the exception of electrical and plumbing, and extra labor where needed. It was a mess when we bought it, but my wife is actually a very accomplished builder. She showed me the way. Now, I found a copy of my report with regard to Cynthia’s Engstrom’s murder. It’s on the table there. Why don’t I leave you to read it while I get us some coffee?”

  “You have the report? Isn’t that—”

  “Mrs. Sinclair – may I call you Olivia?”

  “Of course,” Olivia said.

  “The Cynthia Engstrom case was my first murder. It was gory and horrible. I’ll never forget it. I’ve never spoken about this to anyone, but that case gave me nightmares. In school, we’re trained to examine from a detached, clinical perspective. But it’s hard to do the work of an ME and not feel the personal aspect of each situation. If I’m honest with myself – and with you – Cynthia Engstrom’s murder made me realize that I wasn’t cut out for life as a medical examiner. I stuck with it for five years and left.”

  “But why did you hang on to the report?”

  Duncan laughed. “You can imagine what my family thought after I quit my job to pursue a career in photography. My father was furious with me. Threatened to disinherit me, pushed me for years to take another job. I never gave in. Every time I thought about capitulating to his demands, I’d pull out that report and read it. It served as a stark reminder of why I made the decision to change careers.”

  Duncan left, and soon Olivia heard him opening cupboard doors. She picked up the report and started to read. When he came back into the room carrying a coffee tray, she was only two pages in.

  “I was thinking it might be better if I just discussed my findings.” Duncan poured coffee for them. Olivia waved off the cream and sugar. “I read they had arrested Edward, Cynthia’s youngest?”

  “Correct. Ebby. He was thirteen at the time of the murder.”

  Duncan shook his head. “The child did not kill his mother. My report proves that without a doubt.”

  “That’s good news.” Olivia smiled. “So my question for you is this: would you go through your report and explain your findings to me in lay terms, and, secondly, would you mind testifying at Ebby’s trial? The ADA is a little overzealous. Honestly, I’m surprised he even charged Ebby.”

  “I’d be happy to. Let me just start by saying again that there’s no way that child – your client – murdered his mother. Not only was there no sign of blood on him, but it would also have been physically impossible for him to commit the crime based on the evidence.” Duncan turned to the pages of the report that depicted an anatomical drawing of a human body. He pointed to the straight lines emanating from the stab wounds, and the accompanying measurements noted in tiny precise handwriting. “My measurements, which I double-checked and had a colleague check once again, indicated the height of the person who inflicted these stab wounds was between 5'7" and 5'8". Your client, the child, was only 5'2" tall at the time of the murder. There’s no way he could have committed this crime. Stabbing is a messy business. If that boy murdered his mother, there would have been blood all over him. And, finally, the wounds were in the chest and throat. Whoever stabbed Mrs. Engstrom was rather strong. In fact, one wound into the sternum – the breastbone – was remarkably deep. I’ve delineated all of this in great detail in that report. I’m happy to testify. I can’t help but wonder if the prosecutor even looked at this report. Did he review the old case before he made an arrest?”

  “Apparently not,” Olivia said. “Can I have this?”

  “Yes. That copy is for you. I don’t miss that part of the job.”

  “What part?”

  Duncan gave her a wry smile. “The politics, especially among the lawyers. Don’t get me wrong, many of them are good, hard-working civil servants, passionate about law and order and justice. But – as I’m sure you know – there’s always one in the bunch who’s out for himself. Wants to get his litigation experience in, so he can switch sides and work the big cases, make the money, and get famous. Sort of like your ex-husband.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “In any event, I’ll make myself available. Whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Wymark.” Olivia set her coffee cup down. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Duncan Wymark walked her to the door. “Sure. Just let me know when you need me.”

  Chapter 24

  Olivia

  Friday, January 9

  Olivia was a mess by the time she returned to the office. Her encounter with Seth Woodson had upset her more than she realized. As she let herself into the office, she hoped Brian’s morning had been as fruitful as hers. She found him hunched over his computer, tapping away with two fingers.

  “I see you there, Liv,” Brian said. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I was just going to order – what’s wrong?”

  She walked into his office, kicked off her shoes, and sat down in the chair across his desk. “Seth Woodson is what’s wrong. I have a problem with him. Or I should say, he has a problem with me.”

  “What happened?”

  “I asked him if we could meet off the record to discuss the case.” Olivia felt a headache coming on. She took a deep breath and bit back the tears. “He said, and I’m quoting now, ‘I don’t meet with people off the record, especially old bitches like you with an axe to grind. I know you’re on some feminazi crusade. I couldn’t care less. I’m coming for you, Mrs. Sinclair. I don’t give a shit whether or not your client is innocent.’

  “I swear, I could have throttled him. I’m beginning to regret taking on this case. I’m wondering if I have the stomach for criminal law.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Brian asked. “Ethics complaint?”

  “I could. God knows I’m mad enough, and his conduct warrants investigating, at the very least.”

  “Or?” Brian asked.

  “Or I could exploit Seth’s bad behavior to my client’s advantage.”

  “How do you propose to do that?” Brian asked.

  “Not sure ye
t. I do have some good news. Duncan Wymark remembers the Engstrom murder. Not only did he have a copy of his report, which exonerates Ebby, he also agreed to testify. His position is that there’s no way Ebby could have stabbed his mother. He wasn’t tall enough or strong enough.”

  “That’s great. That’s definite forensic evidence,” Brian said.

  “I know. I’m going to do my best to get his case dismissed at the prelim. In fact, I’m thinking that I’ll call another expert to verify Duncan Wymark’s findings. We’ll see what Seth Woodson does with that. Is that the discovery from the original investigation?” Olivia pointed to the singular banker’s box sitting on the floor in Brian’s office.

  “Yep. Delivered this morning,” Brian said.

  Olivia went to the box and lifted the lid, surprised to see one lone file inside. She picked it up and thumbed through it. “There are photographs and police reports missing. And there’s no report from Duncan Wymark. Seth Woodson didn’t give us everything.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to do a comparative inventory with what I got from Fiona. If Mr. Woodson is engaging in discovery shenanigans, I’m going to enjoy giving him a hard time about it.”

  “Do you need my help?”

  “No. That’s okay.”

  Brian stood. “I’ve got a handful of errands to run. Do you want lunch?”

  “Sure. Thanks. I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Olivia took all the documents received from Seth out of the file, pleased to see they were in chronological order. With Seth’s documents next to Fiona’s, she set about comparing the two, making note of the documents Seth failed to provide. Surprisingly, the process went a lot quicker than she thought it would. Olivia felt a plan start to form in the back of her mind. She smiled to herself and focused on the task at hand.

  ***

  They ate their burgers off paper plates in Brian’s office, sharing an order of fries heavily doused with ketchup.

  “Thanks for lunch,” Olivia said, wiping her fingers.

  “No problem,” Brian said. “I stopped by a friend’s office when I was out. Got a little intel on our buddy Seth Woodson. It seems young Seth has a history of filing criminal complaints without sufficient probable cause. You may know the DA, Gwen Kyleson, has been out on medical leave?”

  “Yes,” Olivia said. “Breast cancer, right?”

  “Correct. She’s recovered and will be returning to work any day now. While she was gone, Seth Woodson has had two cases dismissed at the preliminary hearing for lack of probable cause. As you know, that rarely happens. When I was a cop, I testified at my fair share of probable cause hearings. From what I understand, dismissals at that stage are rare. And his colleagues don’t trust him. Seth plays dirty and has been known to tamper with exonerating discovery.”

  “I don’t know Gwen personally, but I’ve met her at Bar Association functions. I know she’s ethical. In fact, that’s her schtick. She doesn’t put up with any shenanigans from her ADAs. At all,” Olivia said. “I have an idea.”

  “Go on,” Brian said.

  “What if I had a meeting with her to discuss Seth’s behavior, tell her I’m going to file an ethics complaint, but wanted to give her a heads-up beforehand. Then I draw her attention to the evidence in the case, which wasn’t turned over to me and proves Ebby couldn’t have committed the murder, to make my point. There’s no refuting the evidence. That coupled with the likelihood of a dismissal at the prelim could work in our favor.” Warming to the idea, Olivia picked up a pen and started scribbling notes on the legal pad near her elbow.

  “You’ll go over Seth’s head?”

  “Why not? He’s already on a mission to ‘come after me’. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “You’d blow your strategy and give Seth an opportunity to prepare an argument as to how Ebby could have committed the crime, despite his height.”

  “There’s no argument, Brian. Ebby could not have killed his mother. That impossibility is substantiated by evidence. The ME’s report speaks for itself, and Mr. Wymark said he’d testify. I’ll go to Gwen, tell her I’m there as a professional courtesy prior to an ethics complaint.”

  “And if she doesn’t bite?”

  “Then I present evidence to the judge. If he doesn’t dismiss the case, I’ll take it to a jury.”

  “It’s risky,” Brian said.

  “I know it’s tricky going over opposing counsel’s head. I’m willing to take that risk. Gwen Kyleson is a reasonable woman. I think I can appeal to her common sense,” Olivia said.

  Olivia made a few more notes on her legal pad, set her pen down, and leaned back in her chair.

  “You know what I was thinking,” Brian said. “Now that we have evidence exonerating Ebby, it occurs to me that someone in the Engstrom family committed a perfect murder.”

  “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” Olivia said.

  “And whoever killed Cynthia Engstrom was furious. This case was personal. Stabbing someone in the face and throat is an act of rage.”

  “And let’s not forget the sovereigns. I wonder where they are?”

  “We may never find out,” Brian said.

  “I guess at the end of the day that doesn’t much matter. My concern is Ebby. And now, thank goodness, I can call him and tell him that he definitely didn’t murder his mother. He’s going to push about continuing to investigate, but I can’t worry about that right now. I need to stay focused on Ebby’s case. I’ll leave the finding out who really killed Cynthia up to you.”

  “Got it,” Brian said.

  “Changing the subject now. Tell me what you found out about Leanne.”

  “You were right. I drove her to work and waited to see if she would leave. She did, and I followed her to an apartment complex in Fairfax. I waited until she left and then I broke in and found credit cards, bank statements, and loan applications – a pile of mail – addressed to Maureen Vickery.”

  “Maureen? Are you telling me—”

  “—that Leanne is using my wife’s identity to get credit cards and take out loans? Yes, I am. And I’m furious at her and at myself.”

  “Oh, Brian. I’m so sorry.”

  “How could I have been so stupid?”

  “You got conned. It can happen to anyone. You have to report this to the police.”

  “Sure. And tell them that I followed the woman I’m dating to her secret apartment, broke in when she left, and discovered she’s taking out credit cards and opening bank accounts in my dead wife’s name?”

  “Absolutely. And give yourself a break, Brian. You’re not perfect. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “Everyone isn’t a retired cop who should know better.”

  “Excuse me, but you’re talking to the woman who was rather excellent at recognizing adultery in other people’s husbands. Imagine the grief I would have been spared if I could have recognized it in my own.”

  “Olivia—”

  “We’re debating semantics. Forgive me for being pushy. You know you need to report this. Tell the cops you suspect Leanne. You don’t have to tell them why.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Eventually, social security will catch up to her. You say she’s opened a bank account? I wonder how she got away with that,” Olivia said.

  “I’d like to find out her real name,” Brian said.

  “Don’t con artists, grifters, whatever, use a semblance of truth in their stories?”

  “Yes, I would say that’s accurate,” Brian said.

  “Are you sure Leanne is from Minneapolis, or do you think she was lying about that?”

  “No, I believe that part. We met a couple one night when we were out to dinner who came from St. Paul. They talked about the city, restaurants, things like that. Leanne – or whatever her name is – knew what she was talking about. Why? What are you thinking?”

  “Doesn’t the Department of Corrections in each state post mug shots of wanted people? If Leanne has a criminal p
ast, she might have a record. She might be wanted for something. Can I sit at your computer?”

  Brian stood up. “This is a total long shot.”

  “I know,” Olivia said. “Good thing I’m the queen of long shots, isn’t it?”

  It didn’t take Olivia long to find the Minnesota Department of Corrections list of wanted fugitives. Most of the mugshots were of men, and they had flipped through pages upon pages of thumbnail photos when Olivia spotted Leanne.

  “There she is,” Olivia said. Brian, who was standing behind her as she navigated the website, leaned close. The woman in the photo was named Andrea Seaton. Andrea had blond hair that was worn in a pixie cut, and although she was a few pounds heavier than Leanne Stoddard, there was no doubt the two women were one and the same. “It’s her. Picture her ten pounds lighter, with auburn hair.”

  “Wow,” Brian said. “You’ve got a good eye, Liv.”

  Olivia clicked on Leanne’s picture and was given the court case number, the county in which the criminal action was pending, and the agent in charge of the case. The charges pending against Leanne were listed as theft by swindle, insurance fraud and homicide. When Olivia clicked on the court case, they received a notice that the file was sealed and that they should contact the agent. Olivia moved her mouse over the agent’s email address. “Should we?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Brian pulled a chair next to Olivia and together they drafted an email to the agent handling Andrea Seaton’s case. When Brian was happy with the email, Olivia said, “Ready for me to hit send?”

  “Hit it,” Brian said.