The Victim's Wife

by Dan Decker

  My finger hovered over the answer button for a long moment, but I finally let it go to voicemail. I was in no state to talk to her.

  Why am I so angry? I wondered as I went to my desk and sat down. I almost pressed the button to call Denise to apologize, but I just couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. The fury was still flowing through my veins. I was just as likely to snap at her again as to say sorry.

  I took a deep breath and another, but was unable to push my anger away.

  I missed lunch. I checked my watch and saw that it was now almost 2:30 in the afternoon.

  I ordered a Jimmy John’s sandwich and paced around my office, hoping that the physical movement would help, but it did not.

  The sandwich came. I devoured it like I had not eaten in two days. Even after that, it was still almost two hours later before I finally started to feel like myself.

  During that time, I ignored all emails, text messages, and phone calls while I paced the office, all while feeling angrier and angrier.

  At one point, Denise knocked on my door. I almost lashed out at the interruption. I was somehow able to get out that I needed a moment before I could talk to her. Thirty minutes more passed before I felt enough in control to approach her.

  What has come over me?

  I finally went to the door and opened it. Denise looked up as if expecting me to give her another tongue lashing.

  “Mr. Turner,” she began carefully, “I’m very sorry—”

  “No, Denise, I’m the one who is sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just had a small reversal on a case. I was taking it out on you.”

  Denise nodded but still looked pale. I thought she could tell that I was still not over the bout of rage.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Denise hesitated, as if afraid to say the next part. “It’s okay. I get angry sometimes too.”

  “I’m very sorry. I just don’t understand what overcame me. It was like I was a different person—”

  A lightbulb went on in my head. I had heard something like that from Mason during my initial interview with him.

  I was not myself.

  I went back into my office and sat down, trying to think of why I’d had this emotional reaction.

  My first thought was Vivian, but surely, she had not said or done anything to bring it about. She had been friendly and had gone out of her way to be helpful.

  Perhaps it was just hunger that drove me to it, I thought, that combined with the frustration of feeling like I might’ve taken on a losing case.

  Expectations could be powerful. Was that why Mason had killed Max?

  Could it be that and nothing more?

  I had expected to hate Vivian and I did not.

  I could not think of any other reason to explain my anger. A few moments later, I opened my door with my briefcase in hand.

  “I’m going home for the day,” I said to Denise. “Feel free to take the rest of the day off.”

  18

  I was walking out of the courtroom when I noticed Winston waiting for me. He had testified in a small matter before the court on another case I was representing, petty theft. I would likely plead my client out, especially after today’s hearing on some evidence I had hoped to suppress.

  Winston had mentioned to me before the hearing that he had an update on the Mason Harwood case that he wanted to go over.

  It had been almost a week since my meeting with Vivian. I’d intentionally not thought about the case during that time, afraid it might somehow spark another bout of anger like I had experienced before.

  The more I thought about it, the more confused I became about the incident. I had been hungry, sure, but I had eaten that Snickers bar that I had taken from the jar on Mason’s desk. That should’ve been enough to tide me over; particularly, since it hadn’t been that late in the afternoon when I returned to the office.

  Anger at traffic. Hunger. Frustration about the case.

  Was it just a perfect storm?

  I shook my head.

  There were plenty of days where I completely skipped lunch. I had not gotten angry enough to snap at somebody the way I had at poor Denise.

  “You had lunch yet,” I asked as soon as I met up with Winston, looking at my watch and seeing that it was only a little after twelve-thirty. “I’m famished.”

  I thought for a moment about my mood and decided that I wasn’t angry at anybody, but figured I should still be careful.

  “You ever been to Sue’s Diner?” Winston asked, “it’s just around the corner.”

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  “Real good sandwiches, best lunch around.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  We walked through the courthouse without talking about anything other than exchanging a few pleasantries. I never knew who might be listening, and even though it probably would’ve been safe to talk about a couple of things, Winston knew that I preferred to wait until we had some privacy before getting into the real matters.

  So it was not until almost half an hour later— after Winston and I were both seated in a back booth at Sue’s diner and had placed our orders—that Winston got down to business.

  “Are you sure about your take on this case?” Winston asked me without preamble after the waiter had gone.

  “I’m starting to wonder if I made a mistake by taking it.”

  Winston nodded. “The information I discovered so far tends to confirm that while it probably doesn’t qualify as first-degree murder, this is a solid case of second-degree murder. If there’s an offer on the table, you might want to take a hard look at it because I’m not finding anything here to make me sympathetic towards Mason.”

  I just nodded and waited for Winston to go on. Mason was rich and I had noticed in the past that Winston had a bias against wealthy folks, so I didn’t read much into this.

  “There was a recent domestic problem at his home. The police were called and the officer filed a report.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Altercation with his wife?”

  “No, with his children. I don’t know the names because the report did not include them, but one called it in because they were afraid Mason was gonna kill the other.”

  My sandwich was halfway to my mouth, but I was suddenly less interested in eating. If I remember correctly, Mason had several daughters from his first wife and a son and a daughter from his second. As the younger ones were small enough not to know how to use the phone, I assumed it was one of the older girls who had called.

  “Were there charges?”

  Winston shook his head. “Not that I can find. I have not reached out to the prosecutor’s office. Would you like me to?”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Happened a year and a half ago.”

  I frowned. “If charges were going to be brought, it would have happened by now, so perhaps they looked into it and decided the girls were just playing around or something.”

  Winston’s eyebrows rose, and I could tell that he didn’t think that was the case.

  Is this because of his bias, or was there something in the police report?

  “What do you want me to do?” Winston asked.

  “Do you have a copy of the report with you?”

  Winston nodded, taking out a black binder, which he opened and slid towards me. I looked at the document, but unfortunately, it didn’t tell me much. The police officer had reported that he had checked the situation out and had found no indication that the girls were in danger. Mason’s daughter had answered, and the officer had spoken with Mason and his other daughter too, but that was it.

  I was beginning to suspect that this was just Winston’s bias coming through but wasn’t going to say that. I nodded as if this were significant, and I saw the same thing as him.

  “I think we’re going to need more information before we can say anything for sure. Do you know the cop who responded?” I looked at the report. “Officer Peter Baranski?”

  Winston nodded. “Normally, I
would already have reached out to him, but Baranski and I have a history. It is not a good one. I don’t think he’s going to take my call. If he knew that I was working on a case for Mason Harwood, it would probably tip the scales against your client, and it would not be in Mason’s favor.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Winston stared right at me. “He’s a former partner. We did not part on the best of terms.”

  I hesitated; my curiosity was trying to overcome my instincts. Winston did not speak about his past much, and I had never learned the exact reason he had left the police department. It was rare for me to have an opportunity to ask questions about it.

  I was curious to know more about this man who was determined to keep his past quiet.

  “What was it about?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could, hoping I did not show my interest too much.

  Winston shrugged. “Don’t worry about it; it was no big deal. It’s also been a long time, so really, nothing to worry about. I just shouldn’t be the guy to call.”

  Just as expected, Winston clamped down and had nothing to say. I hid a smile.

  I glanced at the police report and saw that it did not have Officer Baranski’s phone number. “Email me his information. I will reach out to him.”

  “Good enough.” Winston made a note. “That was not all I found. There was other evidence I came across that you might want to keep in mind as you consider how to proceed with this case. Or if even to keep Mason as a client.”

  It was the first time Winston had ever suggested I might want to cut a client loose, so that made me sit up and pay attention.

  Is it just his bias?

  The incident with Mason’s girls was alarming, but it might have been a joke. Maybe one was bitter about Mason’s divorce from their mother and had tried to get back at him. Family situations could be nuanced, at best.

  “Did you know that Mason has a black belt in karate?” Winston asked me.

  “No, I did not.”

  “I guess he was big into martial arts when he was younger. He used to compete at an amateur level. I looked into it but did not find any recent activity. Near as I can tell, the last time he did anything with karate was fifteen years ago.”

  “Good to know, good to know.”

  Winston appeared to think that this was significant in and of itself, which made me think once again that I needed to be careful to watch out for Winston’s bias on this case. It was coming out loud and clear. “Did you happen to track down how much Mason’s worth?” I asked while looking at my sandwich and taking a bite, intentionally not emphasizing the question, so he did not think anything of it.

  “Millions. And we are not just talking a couple million, we’re talking more like hundreds of millions.”

  “I’m surprised his house is so modest,” I said in between bites, glancing up at Winston in what I hoped was a casual manner.

  I had never talked with Winston about his bias. I just kept it in mind to make sure that I was careful with anything he gave me about a wealthy client.

  “It’s one of about ten houses that he owns. I have property listings for all the others if you’re interested.”

  That surprised me. “Where are they?”

  “Scattered throughout the country. He has one in Florida, another in California, one in Idaho, one in New York. The list goes on.”

  “Are they all vacation houses? What is he doing, listing them on Airbnb?”

  “As to that, I couldn’t really say. I didn’t think to check Airbnb to see if any are listed there, but it is something to look into,” Winston said while jotting another note to himself.

  So far, I wasn’t seeing anything that was super damaging to Mason, so I started to wonder if Winston was making a bigger deal of things than necessary.

  The angle with Mason’s girls was certainly something to investigate, but if the prosecutor never brought charges, there might be nothing there.

  “One of the things I turned up in my search into Mason,” Winston said, “is an anonymous Twitter profile. The man is quite active politically, at least when nobody knows that it’s him talking. Here’s a list of some of his most recent tweets.”

  I scanned them, looking for anything incendiary or problematic. While they were all politically motivated, I didn’t see anything likely to raise any flags for the prosecution or the police. Strikingly, Max and Mason were aligned politically.

  You’d think they would have got along.

  “Your thorough,” I said, “how were you able to tie this back to him?”

  Winston shrugged. “I have my ways.”

  I knew better than to ask for any more information after that. It meant that he might have done something unorthodox to get the information. As far as I knew, Winston never broke the law, but there were times he skated a little too close to legal boundaries.

  “There is some interesting history from back in the day.” Winston turned to a page and then flipped it around and gave me a printed copy of a news article. “This was one of Mason’s partners.”

  The headline read, “Man Murdered in Pool.”

  “You mean another of Mason’s partners died?” I asked.

  “Yep. Now, obviously, if the police would’ve had anything on Winston, they would have charged him. The murder was never solved. I reached out to a buddy in the department and confirmed that it’s still an open case.”

  “And how do you think this involves Mason?”

  “It is the coincidence of another partner ending up dead. There is nothing so far that ties Mason to this. I read what I could about this, and it appears that there is no connection between this and Max. The first partner was shot, Max was stabbed. The only connection is that this man used to be Mason’s partner.”

  “What do your instincts tell you on this one?” I asked, scrutinizing his face.

  “It’s quite a coincidence that two of his partners have died, but it’s hardly useful information, at least in and of itself. The police will need something more if they intend to use this against him, so at this point, it is just something to keep in mind.”

  I nodded. “I just want to make sure I understand. Your opinion of this case is largely based on the police report, is that correct?”

  Winston immediately saw what I was getting at. “I suppose so. My assumption is you want me to keep on digging and that it is not yet time to talk about a plea deal.”

  I knew he would get there if I allowed him to figure it out himself.

  “Keep digging. There are other things going on with this case that I still need to get answered before we can make an accurate assessment on the best way to proceed.” I leaned back and rubbed my head while I thought about what I wanted to have Winston look into next. “Did anything come up on any of the other partners?”

  “Not yet, I’ve only looked into them at a surface level, but I can dive deeper. I just wanted to check in to make sure you wanted to continue the investigation.”

  I nodded. “Let’s proceed. We have to see where this will go. We must play it straight, even if he is not as sympathetic as I originally thought.”

  19

  When I returned to my office, I was still mulling over the police report Winston had managed to dig up.

  I sat at my desk and studied the paper, reading it carefully word for word, as I tried to read between the lines about what had happened. My instincts told me that perhaps one of his daughters had been messing around with him, but I could not afford to make that assumption.

  Winston certainly did not make that assumption, I thought. And while I was tempted to discount this out of hand, it was always good to look at things from a different perspective, even if I thought I had the right one.

  This was recent. At the time this happened, Mason’s youngest children would’ve been three and one.

  How had the older children handled Mason’s divorce?

  I had a few minutes before an appointment with a potential client, so I reached out to the police officer to see if I cou
ld arrange a meeting, dialing the cell phone number Winston had just sent me.

  “Who is this?” The officer demanded in a gruff voice a moment later.

  “Is this Officer Peter Baranski?” I asked.

  “How did you get this number? I only give this number out to people I work with or family.”

  “My name is Mitch Turner—”

  “The defense attorney?”

  I had not thought his voice could become any more hostile, but it turned out I was wrong. His tone before had been a pleasant summer day compared to what it was now.

  “Yes, the same,” I said in a confident voice, trying not to be put off by his defiance but also hoping I didn’t come off as arrogant. “I have a question for you—”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I’m sorry, the person who gave me this number didn’t think it would be a problem for me to call.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Never mind. I got your number from somebody who didn’t think it would be a big deal to pass it on to me. I will make sure to let them know you disagreed with what they did.”

  There was a long hesitation on the other end of the line. “I heard you picked up that Mason Harwood case.”

  It always amazed me how word got around on some issues.

  “Yes, I did. That’s why I am calling you. I understand there was a disturbance at his house a year and a half ago. The police report says you were the responding officer.”

  It had been my original intention to arrange a time to meet Officer Baranski face-to-face, but judging by how things were going, I figured that I’d be lucky to get any information out of him at all, mainly since it was apparent he already had a bias against my client.

  “Don’t you usually work with Winston?” Baranski snarled. “Is that who gave you my number?”

  “Officer Baranski, I just have a few questions. Do you remember the case?”

  “Your lack of an answer is all the answer I need. I’m going to have words with Winston.”