The Victim's Wife

by Dan Decker

  I stepped closer to study Mason Harwood himself. In one picture, he was at the beach, holding a child in one hand with his other hand on the head of another child.

  This man doesn’t look like a murderer, but they hardly ever do.

  I started to feel a sudden desire to see Mason walk away from prison, especially if he was put into a situation that made it difficult for him to control his anger as alleged by Penny.

  “What do you want?”

  I turned toward the rough voice, keeping the smile that naturally formed on my face when facing conflict from showing.

  Mason descended the stairs, glowering at me when he saw that I had been staring at their family pictures. I offered a hand to him. He refused to take it.

  I brought my hand down and slid it into my pocket as if it were nothing.

  “Mr. Harwood. I understand you have had a rough couple of days. I would like to ask you a few questions about last night.”

  “Who are you?” Mason asked with unmasked hostility.

  “My name is Mitch Turner. I’m an attorney.”

  “And who are you representing?”

  I hesitated. “Nobody yet. I just have a few questions—”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I believe you might have been the victim of a situation—”

  “I’m not a victim of anything. My victim is dead in the morgue right now.” Mason looked remorseful, something I rarely saw in a client. “I did what I did, I regret it, and now I’m going to pay for it. Just let me enjoy this last remaining time with my family in peace.”

  “While I don’t disagree—”

  “Get out of my house! I don’t want to see you again.”

  I was about to bring up the same argument I had tried with the wife, intending to ask what he had to lose, but I could see that he was not in the proper state of mind to entertain such a question. I decided to take a different approach.

  “I need a favor. I ask only for five minutes of your time. I just have a few questions—”

  “What part of ‘get out of my house’ do you not understand?”

  I hesitated, shrugged, and headed towards the door. “I just thought you might like to have a chance.”

  I reached for the door and opened it.

  “A chance at what?”

  I paused. “A chance to make the situation better for you and your family.” I turned to face him. “I can’t promise you anything, that’s why it is a chance, but—”

  “I recognize you now. You’re that guy whose face is on those cheap billboards.”

  “I guess I’m he.” I wished for money to get better billboards, maybe one day.

  “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anything from you. How about you just go?”

  “Okay,” I said, shrugging. “No big deal.”

  I headed out, pulling the door shut behind me. Just before it closed, I heard them talking, but the words were indistinct.

  The door shut and I heard nothing more.

  I walked down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk.

  It was better I not get involved anyway.

  If I was being honest with myself, it was difficult for me to just walk away. I had been about the age of those younger kids when my father had gone to prison.

  The door opened. Mason cleared his throat, but I did not turn around, continuing down the sidewalk.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Turner,” Mason said, “I’m happy to talk if you’re still interested.”

  I went a few more steps before turning.

  “Mr. Harwood, I’m here of my own volition because I received information this afternoon that you might have been set up. I just want to ask you a few questions to see if there is anything to it.”

  He studied me with dark eyes. “Where did this information come from?”

  “I’m not at liberty to reveal that.” Technically speaking, I probably could. I had not made an actual promise to Penny, and I was under no attorney-client obligation to her either. It seemed safest to not bring up the name of the victim’s wife, particularly in the presence of the accused’s wife.

  Mason stared at me. “Come on in.”

  7

  I expected Mason to show me to the couch in his front room, but instead, he had me follow him down the hall, through their kitchen to his study on the first floor. After we entered, he motioned for me to take a seat in front of a desk as he shut the door behind us.

  The room was full of sports memorabilia, pictures of football teams, famous players, and he had no fewer than five footballs in varying conditions mounted along the side of one wall in his study.

  “I hope I’m not wasting my time,” Mason said as he walked around to his side of the desk and took a seat. When he saw that I had not yet sat, he tapped the desktop impatiently.

  “I don’t know that you are,” I said, studying the row of footballs, “I don’t know that you aren’t. But if there’s truth to the rumor I heard, it is something to consider.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I had not yet moved since coming into his office, so I moved to the chair Mason had indicated, sat down, and got comfortable before looking at Mason.

  I could tell that if I said even one wrong word, I would be shown the door and be on my way out of here.

  “Tell me about your partnership dynamics.”

  Mason made a face, and he appeared to be surprised.

  “Why do you want to know about that?”

  “Well, you just killed your partner and are apparently planning to confess. It seems the most logical place to start.”

  “You aren’t working for the police, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  The man nodded. “The relationship between our partners was strained, to say the least.”

  “How many partners were there?”

  “Five.”

  “How was it strained?”

  “Max and I had a difficult time getting along with one another. We were like two bulls that had been wrapped into the same net and pushed into a China shop.”

  “And why was that?”

  “I’m not sure. He and I had quite a bit in common. I would have figured that there would be more of a rapport between us, but it never seemed to work out that way. Whenever we met, we would usually be at each other’s throats by the time it was up.”

  I nodded and just waited for him to go on.

  “It went on like this for quite some time. Neither one of us seemed to like the other. Perhaps it was because we were too similar in some ways. I don’t know.”

  “What pushed you over the edge last night?”

  “I’m not sure. It was just something about the look in his eye. We’d been fighting about a heated issue. He wanted to sell to a venture capital firm, something I didn’t want to do. The others were ambivalent about it, at least that’s where I thought everybody else was. Last time we had met, it seemed like it was all of us against Max. That changed yesterday. Everybody else suddenly agreed that it was best to bring in venture capital.”

  I waited, trying to figure out the next question I should ask him. I wanted to bring up Vivian, but I did not want to be too obvious about it as it was clear he did not suspect her. I didn’t want to put the idea into his head.

  I didn’t want to give him false hope if there was no basis in reality to do so.

  “So what made your other partners change their minds?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t spend much time talking with Ronald or Frank. I had just assumed that they had not moved since the last meeting.

  “Now Vivian, I do talk to her. The last time we met, she represented something different to me than what happened yesterday in our meeting.” Mason rubbed his hands through his hair, and I could see that he was getting worked up just talking about it. “I suppose she saw which way the wind was blowing and just decided to line up with the other partners to not seem contrary. She can sometimes do that.”

  “How did all this make you feel?”
>
  “I was angry with Max, wasn’t I?”

  “What would the effect on this be to you personally?”

  “I would lose my say in what goes on in the company.”

  “How’s that?”

  “They wanted to bring in venture capital. To do that we would have to give up voting rights. I was not willing to do that. I was afraid that if we did, I would soon be out on my rear.”

  I nodded and waited.

  “When we took a partnership vote, all the others voted for it. I got angry. I felt like the wool had been pulled over my eyes. I blamed Max.”

  “Did you kill him right then and there?”

  “I managed to contain my anger throughout the meeting.” Mason studied me. “I’m not gonna try to justify what I did, not to you, not to the police. I did something wrong. I got carried away. I’m going to regret it for the rest of my life.”

  “I understand but humor me. I want to know more.”

  Mason didn’t answer for a long moment. “Our meeting took place during the afternoon, it was just like a normal partnership meeting, and afterward we went out to dinner.”

  “Did you have anything to drink?”

  “No.”

  “Did any of the others drink?”

  “Ronald has been sober for twenty years; however, Vivian did have several glasses of wine if I’m not mistaken. She was looking tipsy by the end. I don’t think either Max or Frank touched anything, but I might be wrong.”

  I filed this information away for later. I could not make an assessment yet; however, if Vivian had been intoxicated, it would be hard to make a case that she had intentionally provoked Mason into attacking Max.

  Unless she faked getting drunk to appear less culpable.

  “After we went to dinner, we went back to the office to have another discussion about the venture capital, at my request. Up to this point, I had not lost my temper yet. I was angry but had not lost control. During our dinner meeting, I had thought of several more arguments why we should not take it.”

  “What happened next?”

  “We sat around the conference table. Vivian sat by Max, which was surprising because she usually sat further away from him. Ronald and Frank sat in their normal places.”

  “Did Vivian seem inebriated during this discussion?”

  “No, she also didn’t say much.”

  “How did the meeting go?”

  “We voted again, and nobody’s vote had changed.”

  “Is this when you killed him?”

  “No. The meeting adjourned. I went back to my office, angry but still in control.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Vivian came to speak with me.” Mason closed his eyes and tilted his head back in concentration. I did not have any information yet on Vivian, but I imagined her as an older woman who was the same age as Mason.

  “She sat in my office. We spoke for more than an hour.”

  “What did you guys talk about?”

  “Well, at first, it seemed like we were both dancing around the elephant in the room, so we talked about almost everything else. We talked about children, politics, the usual office gossip.”

  “Did you guys talk about the vote?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And how were you feeling at that time?”

  “I dunno, the anger had worn off. The more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that Max had done something behind my back. I was determined to confront him.”

  By the end of the night or by the end of your conversation with Vivian?

  I didn’t dare ask such a loaded question to Mason, not yet at any rate. He had not said anything that supported Penny’s accusation that Vivian was somehow complicit in all this.

  “Tell me more about what you and Vivian talked about, specifically with politics.”

  “I dunno, just the normal stuff. I guess we talked about that mass shooting. You know, the one where they couldn’t identify the shooter’s motive because he was dead?”

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  “Anyhow, we spent some time talking about that. I guess Vivian had some conspiracy theories about who was behind it and why they did it.”

  Conspiracy theories?

  This drew my attention.

  Was it after Vivian spent a bunch of time talking about conspiracy theories that Mason started to concoct conspiracies of his own about Max?

  Was she trying to prime the pump?

  “What were her conspiracy theories?”

  Mason stared at me. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “Are we wasting our time?” Mason asked, the look of skepticism on his face becoming far more pronounced than it had been previously.

  “No, we’re not. I believe we are making some progress, not a lot, mind you, but baby steps. Do you usually work at night?”

  “No, but when we have partner meetings, I expect it to be a long night. If only because I know Max and I will butt heads on something. I need some time to decompress afterward, so I don’t take it home with me. My wife knows and doesn’t wait up.”

  “Let’s go back now to your previous partner meeting, not the one from yesterday, but the last one where you guys talked about the venture capital. When was that?”

  “It was a couple of months ago. We’ve had several meetings since then. We meet every other week.”

  “How did that one go?”

  “It went well. I thought everybody was on the same page, well everybody but Max. We were all set on not taking venture capital. I didn’t even think I had anything to worry about. I don’t recall bringing it up as an issue with anybody in my private conversations.”

  “Did you have any indication that things had changed prior to yesterday’s meeting?”

  Mason leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and studied the ceiling before closing his eyes. He was quiet for a long time. I was starting to wonder if maybe he had dozed off when he opened them and looked at me.

  “I dunno, hindsight is always twenty-twenty, I suppose. I did have a conversation where Vivian told me that she could change her mind at any time on any given issue and that I should not hold it against her.

  “This is something I’ve heard from her before. I often found it troubling when I would meet with her, think she and I were aligned on an issue, but then we would go to the partner meeting, and she would go the opposite way.”

  “So you confronted her about it? That’s how this conversation started? Was it only the one time, or were there other conversations like this?”

  “Yeah, that one time I just told you about. She told me that she’s liable to change her mind at any time, whenever she receives new information.”

  “What was the issue that time?”

  “You know, I can’t recall for the life of me. It was a small issue, at least when compared to selling to a venture capital firm.”

  I nodded. There was something here with Vivian, I didn’t exactly understand what it was, but I didn’t want to probe further quite yet.

  “Walk me through what happened next. Vivian leaves your office. Is that when you killed Max?”

  Mason shook his head. “No, I stayed in my office for a while longer, trying to cool down; unfortunately, it wasn’t working. Everything I did just made me angrier and angrier. Frank stopped by. It wasn’t for long. We chatted for only a minute or two. He apologized for how it had blindsided me. He told me how he thought I’d already known the direction everybody else was going. I asked him point-blank why he had changed his mind. He just looked at me and said that it was for the money. He thought that we’d had a good ride and that it was time to sell.”

  “Are you sure it was just a few minutes?”

  “No more than a couple. It was brief. I think he could tell how upset I was, so he was anxious to get away.”

  “What happened after that?”

  I kept thinking that I was finally going to get to him killing his
partner, but the night just seemed to drag on.

  “I ate some candy and went out for a walk,” he said.

  I stifled a sigh.

  “There’s a trail right by our office that runs by a river. I go there when I need to calm down. I went out, hoping that would do the trick, but by the time I got back, I was even angrier than before.” Mason closed his eyes, licked his lips, and lowered his hands. “It’s probably the angriest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I felt like I had been betrayed, not just by Vivian, but by Ronald and Frank too. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was at the end of my rope.”

  “What time was this?”

  “I don’t know. I went for a walk a little after eleven. It might’ve been close to midnight when I got back.”

  “Besides the candy, when was the last time you ate or drank something?”

  “Probably at dinner, so it had been a few hours.”

  Tired. Hungry. Thirsty.

  “How—”

  He gave me a skeptical look. “Are these details beneficial?”

  “Just tell me everything,” I said as I nodded, thinking hard about how to proceed with the next questions. We were getting close to the murder, and I wanted to approach it carefully.

  Mason had not hired me as an attorney.

  I had certainly not offered him any of my services, but I had a firm policy of never asking a client if they had done the crime they were charged with committing.

  I did this for several reasons, but primarily because even if somebody was guilty, I still needed to represent them to the best of my abilities.

  If I came across evidence that was damning beyond any reasonable doubt, I might broach the topic because it was time to talk about a plea bargain. Prior to that, I wanted to make sure that I never ran afoul of any ethical rules, so it was always best to limit the knowledge I got direct from the client.

  It wasn’t how I always played things, and I made exceptions upon occasion, but it seemed to be the best way for me to operate.

  “Okay, so you had a couple of treats, you talked with both Vivian and Frank, what happened next?” Before he could answer, I asked another question. “Did you have the candy before or after your walk?”