The Victim's Wife

by Dan Decker

  Mason thought about it. “Before. Right before I went out, I grabbed some candy bars.”

  “So what happened when you got back from your walk?”

  “As I was walking back into our office building, I noticed that Max’s office lights were on.”

  Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and rubbing his hands with his head. “I really just wish I would’ve gone home. I can’t believe I didn’t.

  “I’ve gotten angry with Max in the past, and I’ve always had a standing rule that I don’t ever talk to Max when I’m angry.

  “I knew that I shouldn’t have gone upstairs. It was like my inhibitions were suddenly erased.” He rubbed his temples again. “It was late. I had stayed way too late at the office. If I’d just gone home, none of this would have happened.”

  I nodded, focusing on Mason’s every word, weighing everything he said. I didn’t have any reason to doubt the veracity of his statements, particularly because he was openly confessing to me.

  What else would he have to hide?

  “So instead of going to my car, I went inside. That was a bad choice. I knew as soon as I walked into the building that I was making a bad choice, but I just couldn’t stop. I was that angry. I must’ve been in a real hurry because I took the stairs. I almost always take the elevator up to the fourth floor. By the time I got upstairs, I was covered in sweat and more worked up than ever.” Mason continued to rub his temples. “You know, it is strange now that I think about it. It was like I was a different person.”

  “How do you mean?” I asked, wondering if there might be anything to Penny’s claim that Mason was provoked by Vivian.

  And if Vivian was involved, I’d be willing to bet at least one of the other partners was too.

  “Well, I didn’t feel like myself. I felt like I was in an alternate reality and I’d just somehow woken up, like the sky was purple and gravity wasn’t functioning like it should or something like that. Anyhow, after I entered, I walked towards Max’s office. His door was open part of the way. I knocked and heard Max say come in.”

  Mason stopped rubbing his head and gave me a long hard look. “Are you sure you want to hear what comes next?”

  “What did you tell the police?” I asked him, cocking my head to the side.

  “Not much. Not yet. That’s tomorrow.”

  “Give me the high-level, at least for now. You don’t need to tell me everything, just enough to give me the gist. I’ll ask questions where I want clarity.”

  “Max was there, his back was to me, and he was staring out the window. He was enraged when he turned around and saw that it was me. It looked like he wanted to jump across the table and encircle his hands around my throat. I think that’s what set me off the most.”

  Mason hesitated. “What did he have to be angry about? He had won. We started to argue. I don’t remember everything we said, it’s all a fuzzy blur now. I can’t remember if he swung first or if I did, but we were soon rolling around on the floor.”

  “Let’s hold it here a second. You said he was enraged. Do you have any idea why?”

  “I don’t. It just doesn’t make sense to me. He was yelling things, I was yelling things, and you know how you can sometimes get so focused on what you’re saying you’re not listening to what the other person is saying? It was like that. All I could focus on was how angry he was and how angry I was.”

  I nodded, finding it strange that Max was just as upset as Mason, particularly when Max had won the day. It was an unusual response.

  “Who threw the first punch?”

  Mason closed his eyes. “I think it was Max, actually.”

  “Did you make any move towards him at all before that? Did you make him think you were going to hurt him?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Did you walk up to him like you were going to hit him?”

  “No.”

  “Did you make any threatening moves at all?”

  “No, I remember it distinctly now. He was sitting across from the desk before he attacked. I continued to stand as we argued. He suddenly lunged out of his seat, jumped on the desk, leapt over, and socked me in the face.” Mason pointed to the bruise he had on his cheek. “I was stunned.”

  “Did he make any move before that or give you any indication that he was going to try something?”

  “I don’t think so. He was standing when I entered, but as the argument progressed, he sat down. He was even sitting on his hands at one point, almost as if he was—”

  Mason looked at me. “He was angry enough he wanted to hit me too.” Mason closed his eyes in thought. “Why was he angry? He had won. I just don’t get it. You know, the more I think about it, it makes no sense that he hit me first. By all logic, I should’ve been the one to take the first swing, but it was him.”

  Mason fell silent.

  “It is coming back to me now,” he said. “It’s all coming back to me now. I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before, but he was under the impression that I had changed the other partners’ minds so that they weren’t going to sell after all. I guess Vivian had been in to see him and had told him that the other partners had taken a vote and that they had each changed their minds.”

  I leaned forward. “You’re sure it was Vivian?”

  Is this true? Could he really have forgotten until now? My skeptical side didn’t believe him, but he looked to be in earnest.

  “I think so.”

  “Did you tell the police?”

  “No, I just remembered. Max grabbed the knife from the wall. It was hung up for decoration. We fought over it, and well, you can probably guess the rest.” He deflated like a balloon.

  I nodded. I didn’t know that there was much more for him to tell me.

  He can probably claim self defense.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you, Mason.”

  “Me too. I just—” He looked at a picture of his family on his wall. It was on the other side, across from all the sports memorabilia. “I just can’t believe I let them down so badly. It’s like I was just a different person last night. One bad moment ruined my life.”

  He paused, swung his head down, and looked past me for a moment before making eye contact. “And the worst part is that I’ve ruined the lives of my children.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. I believed everybody could make of themselves what they would, and that his decisions, while they would affect his children, didn’t predetermine an outcome for them.

  Part of me wanted to tell him that, but that was beside the point. I was hardly qualified to talk with him about his personal life.

  Am I getting callous because this is not the first time I have spoken to a parent who was headed to prison?

  I shook my head.

  I turned out okay, didn’t I?

  “Mason,” I said slowly, wondering if I needed to comment on his last statement. I just decided to get on with it. “Was there any more discussion between you and Max after he told you that they were not going to go with the venture capital after all?”

  Mason closed his eyes and muttered something I couldn’t make out. I let him sit and think before he finally opened them again.

  “I think that’s it. I mean, it’s all a blur now, isn’t it? I was just so angry that the words went in one ear and out the other. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together until just now.

  “One moment, I’m walking in, thinking that he and I might have a reasonable conversation, and the next, we’re grappling with each other. He snapped. I snapped. We were at each other’s throats.” Mason stared at me. “It’s only by a lucky chance that I survived. It could easily have gone the other way.”

  I nodded.

  Mason brought his head up out of his hands and stared at me. “What do you think?”

  “Well,” I said, carefully, “I’m not your attorney, so I have to be careful of any analysis I make of the situation.”

  I leaned back, put my hands behind my head
, taking my time to make sure I was certain about every word.

  “I don’t think you should give up without a fight.”

  “Really, you think I have a chance?”

  “That not what I’m saying, and I always believe there is a chance. I can’t say more unless I have all the facts in front of me. I’m just saying that there’s enough questions here that you shouldn’t change your ‘not guilty’ plea from this morning.

  “You should put up a fight and mount the best defense you can. You must hire a good attorney with a solid investigator. They need to go to work on your case to see what they can produce.”

  “You don’t think I’d just be wasting my money?”

  “They couldn’t promise you a favorable result, but nobody can. The wheels of justice turn, and who knows where they stop?

  “However, when I consider that you’re thinking about confessing and spending the rest of your life in prison, what do you have to lose by spending a few months fighting at the beginning?

  “If you go away, at least you know you did your best, and you won’t have a bunch of regrets haunting you as well as the death of this man.”

  “But isn’t my case already sunk, they caught me red-handed?”

  I shrugged. “Not necessarily. There’s things that could be done about that.”

  “Who would you recommend I hire?”

  “There’s lots of good attorneys. I’m certain they would consider your case.” As I spoke, I realized that most liked cases that were not quite so problematic.

  But I do like a good challenge.

  Would another attorney take this case and work it? Or would they just try to get Mason the best plea bargain they could?

  I shook my head, uncertain of what to think. I knew what I would do. I would fight it tooth and nail.

  “Would you do it?” Mason asked.

  I studied him.

  I couldn’t think of any ethical rule I had broken. I’d been careful in my approach to Mason, so it wouldn’t come back to bite me.

  I wanted this case.

  Something about it nagged at me.

  I needed to know what had happened here. Things were not making sense, and I hated that.

  “Come down to my office in the morning,” I said after a brief hesitation, “I will draw up the paperwork.”

  8

  It had been several days since my visit to the Mason Harwood home, and during that time, I had sweated bullets, wondering if I’d made a mistake.

  Had a novel issue prevented me from taking a rational look at his case?

  His case was challenging.

  Had I unintentionally given the man hope because I wanted to see if I could get him off?

  It appeared I had let my own interests interfere with my professional judgment.

  Why did I have to go and put my nose into this? I wondered while staring at my blank computer screen after arriving at the office. It had been another sleepless night.

  I couldn’t remember what it was that had prompted me to visit Mason’s home.

  Penny had a crazy theory, so I looked into it out of pure curiosity.

  What does it say about me that I went and did all this?

  I shook my head as I turned on my computer, tapping on my desk while I waited for it to boot up.

  I was either the biggest fool or I was onto something. I just couldn’t decide which.

  I might have walked close to the ethical line, but I would be fine, especially if I won this guy’s case.

  Nothing like extra motivation.

  I drummed on my desk again after entering my password and was about to pull up my notes on another case when my phone rang.

  “I have a prosecutor on the phone for you,” Ellie said when I picked up, “says she is prosecuting Mason Harwood.”

  Cindy Seakowics.

  “Okay, go ahead and send her on through.”

  There was a click.

  “Mitch, it’s been a long time.”

  “Hey there Cindy, how you doing?”

  The history between Cindy and myself was complicated, and that was being generous.

  She and I had briefly dated while in undergrad.

  We had not lasted longer than a few weeks before I had put a stop to things. She had not been my type, and I had found her more annoying with each passing day.

  The woman had brains, I would give her that, but she just wasn’t the right fit for me.

  It felt like she had followed me ever since, both when I got my degree in undergrad and then at law school.

  The rumor was that Cindy had got into Harvard but had declined to attend so that she could follow me. I didn’t believe it, but the rumor had gone through the school still the same.

  I had just assumed it was another attempt to get my attention, and I had been determined not to give it.

  Through our first year of law school, she had sat by me in nearly every class, always wanting me to study with her.

  I preferred to study alone, even after I started dating Stephanie Gray.

  Cindy had been kind throughout most of that. Even though it had been tempting to go back to her, I never had.

  I’d done nothing to encourage the relentless pursuit.

  The craziness had come out when I had started dating Stephanie.

  Luckily, at least back then, Stephanie had been willing to overlook my past relationship with Cindy and had not held it against me. I didn’t know what she thought of Cindy today, particularly since they were both working for the same team.

  “Mitch, Mitch.” Cindy’s voice cut through my thoughts, her words like fingernails on a chalkboard. “How long ago was the last case? A year wasn’t it?”

  I shuddered, wishing again that I had just let this case slip through my fingers. Why had I actively sought it out? That had been foolish. I had forgotten she was the prosecutor when I had agreed to represent Mason.

  “Time does fly, doesn’t it?” I managed to get out while stuffing away my memories from the past.

  “So is your boy ready to plead guilty? I understand we caught him with blood on his hands. Open and shut.” Cindy expected this was going to be a perfunctory matter.

  A part of me wanted to agree that was true, then go back to Mason to tell him we had to do a plea bargain so that I didn’t have to interact with Cindy on the opposite side of the aisle.

  “Hate to break it to you,” I said slowly, imagining her reaction, “but we’re going to fight this one.”

  “Really?”

  I could tell from her tone that she assumed this would just be another opportunity for the two of us to connect, something she intended to milk all the way through. I could almost imagine the anticipation on her face as she thought about the months of interaction we would have over this case. I shuddered again and wished that I could just be rid of her.

  “Well, that does change things.” She sounded very happy about it. I groaned inwardly. “Well, well, well, indeed. I always did like a good fight, especially if it was against you.”

  I nearly dropped the phone.

  Was she flirting with me? I could all but see the more than friendly smile on her face.

  I shook my head in exasperation. We’d had exactly one other interaction on a case during all the years I’d been practicing. I didn’t even run into her in the hallway very often while at the courthouse.

  The interaction in that case had gone poorly, especially after I managed to pull a victory out of what had been inevitable defeat.

  She had been vindictive, something that was at odds with her behavior today. She had also been openly hostile during the trial, even stealing a notepad from my locked briefcase while in the courtroom.

  I might not have cared, but that particular notepad had contained all the questions I’d intended to ask during my cross-examination that day.

  Perhaps it had worked out for the best because I’d had to think on my feet, delivering the victory I had sought.

  I still had not managed to figure out how she had
stolen my notes, but I had since bought a different briefcase and used a random string of numbers as my passcode.

  I also took a duplicate set of my notes, as well as storing a scanned copy in the cloud that I could download to my computer if necessary.

  She was angry that day. What changed?

  A part of me wondered if she was greasing the wheels, hoping to make me think this would not be a contentious case so that she could pull the rug out from underneath me, but I discarded the idea almost immediately. That was one thing I could say about Cindy; she did not have a deceptive bone in her body. She had a very strong sense of right and wrong, to the point that it drove other people nuts. It was a good thing she’d gone the prosecution route because she would’ve had a hard time dealing with some of the gray areas I encountered daily as a criminal defense attorney.

  She was a straight shooter, straight as they come.

  Except for when she stole my notes.

  “Mitch, how about you and I meet for lunch today? I want to talk through a few things with you on the case.”

  I looked at my calendar, suddenly wishing I had lunch plans for the day, but couldn’t see a graceful way of excusing myself from it. She would know if I was lying; that was another thing I had not liked about her. She had a sixth sense about that, almost as if she had a door into my mind.

  “Pacino’s?” Cindy suggested before I had a chance to come up with something that would prevent me from eating with her. “At noon?”

  I thought about my last altercation in the courtroom with her and decided it would be the best thing for my client. A hostile Cindy Seakowics was far worse than having to endure a conversation over a meal.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “See you then.” Cindy’s voice was way too chipper, almost as if we had just agreed to a date. I sat and looked at the phone, dreading what was coming. It was only a few hours before lunch. I didn’t think I was going to get any work done between now and then.

  If it did come down to a negotiation, it would be in my client’s best interest that I had fostered a good relationship with the prosecution. I didn’t want to antagonize Cindy more than I had to.

  Not even Barbara is going to be jealous of Cindy, I thought, pulling out my phone to respond to a text message I had just received from Barbara about what she wanted to do for our evening plans.