“That can’t be right,” he said with a slight stutter. “She was at home with me, I am sure.”
“No Mr. Kirby, she was not at home with you,” Daniel said, holding up a signed piece of paper. “I am holding in my hand a sworn affidavit from the bartender at a bar/nightclub called Olive’s on the Square.”
Daniel handed a copy of the affidavit to the prosecutor, who took much more time than really needed to review it. He stood up, offered the court a half-hearted objection and handed the paper back to Daniel. The defense attorney then approached the bench and offered it to the judge, who allowed Daniel to proceed.
“The bartender, a man named Alex Crimson, worked from 2 p.m. the day of the murder until 2 a.m. the next morning. He has stated and will testify to the fact that your wife, Joanne Kirby, was a regular at the bar. He will also testify that she showed up at Olive’s right after work on the day the victim was murdered and did not leave until almost 1 a.m.”
“Um, okay, well he must be mistaken.”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Kirby. I think that you knew your wife was going to be out that evening because she is probably out most evenings. I think you were the person who insisted Sean meet you at the hotel, probably telling him that you wanted to talk about the situation with your uncle.”
“I… uh… no, not that’s not what happened,”
“You waited to make sure that Joanne was not coming home and you went to meet Sean at the hotel. You knew you were going to kill him and frame your uncle, so you called Bill on your way to the hotel to make sure that he would arrive right after Sean was dead.”
“I would… uh… never…”
“And on your way from the hotel room after killing Sean, you broke the vases near the pool to attract attention, hoping that when your uncle arrived he would be seen by someone, and it worked, didn’t it? You must have hated your uncle to do such a thing.”
“No, I did not hate him. I do not hate him. He’s a good man.”
“Then why would you frame him for murder?” he asked. “Why would you try to take his fortune?”
“It wasn’t like that,” Scott said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Then what was it like, Mr. Kirby? What was it like framing your uncle for murder? What was it like trying to send him to prison for the rest of his life?”
“You don’t understand. I was in prison. I had to get out. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Scott Kirby completely broke down on the stand and began sobbing as the prosecutor jumped out of his seat continuously spouting objections. Daniel Swift kept going at the witness, knowing that he was close to getting what he wanted. The judge began pounding his gavel demanding order in the court. Everyone was talking over everyone else when Scott Kirby stood up and began yelling.
“You have no idea what it’s like to live with her. You don’t know what it’s like to live with a woman who constantly berates you, tells you what a terrible husband and provider you are. Did you know she blames me for us not having children? Me!”
The entire courtroom quieted, even the judge, to watch Scott Kirby’s mental breakdown.
“I suppose it’s for the best through. I mean she already has one person to terrorize, we shouldn’t add more. You can’t understand it unless you are there.” He turned his gaze to Bill and looked at him hopefully. “You were there, Uncle Bill. You know, don’t you? She nags and nags. I had to find a way to escape her. That’s why I did it.”
Scott explained that after the initial competency finding by Dr. Farnsworth, he thought he had finally found a way out of his marriage and away from Joanne. He thought that if he were able to take control of his uncle’s finances, he would have the means to escape her.
“Sean or David or whoever the hell he was put that plan in jeopardy. I had to stop him. I did not think anything would happen to Bill. I thought he would spend his life comfortably in a hospital. It would have been good for him. It was not supposed to end up like this.”
Chapter 19
Scott Kirby continued to sob as the bailiff escorted him off the stand and arrested him. District Attorney Slater begrudgingly agreed to dismiss the charges, and the jury was let go. The judge declared Bill Levy free to leave. Bill and Lindsay gave Daniel and Kristie hugs, and a big thank you before happily leaving the courtroom together.
“Good win counselor,” Jason said. “I think we should celebrate by you buying us dinner.”
“Deal, but you’ll have to grab it and meet us back at the office. I want to get this paperwork wrapped up before heading to the next case.”
Daniel and Kristie returned to the law office and began filing the case paperwork away. Daniel really did not care if they threw all the files in the hall and walked away, but he knew that Kristie would care. She worked hard to keep his office and cases organized. He appreciated it and actually looked forward to spending a little extra time with her. They had just begun going through the second box of the case file when the electronic bell sounded. They both turned, expecting to see Jason with their food, but instead saw Detective Barclay.
“Hello, Detective,” Daniel said, trying to sound magnanimous. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“Cute, Swift, but I think there’s something in this office that does not belong.” He walked over to the office phone, pulled the receiver apart and pulled out a small metal object that obviously did not belong. He held it up to the light and shook his head.
“Is that a bug?” Kristie asked. “Did you bug our office?”
“Not me sweetheart, but I know who did.”
Barclay explained that Jake Keenan planted several bugs, including this one and one in Kate Paglio’s phone. He was providing information on the case back to the prosecution through a homicide detective. Barclay found out about it after the case when Keenan showed up at the police station looking for help with his license.
“Apparently an officer in homicide trying to forgo the traditional career path to lead detective starting working with Keenan. Keenan wanted to get his hands on the money, or as an alternative, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But that was not his only motive. Keenan thought that by feeding information to the police, the officer would help him get his PI license back.”
“And did it work?” Daniel asked. “Will that snake be getting his license back?”
“Absolutely not. He is out of the game for good.”
“How about you, detective? You about ready to give up the 9 to 5 and start fighting the good fight?”
“Not going to happen. Although I did find out that the janitor at the hotel was not being completely truthful in his recollection. Apparently, the hotel manager told him he could either keep his job and lie about the time he saw Bill, or he could pack his things and go.”
“I’m guessing he wanted to get the case out of the papers and out of the way as quickly as possible so as to avoid any bad press for his establishment.”
“Bingo. Anyway, it looks like it worked out okay.”
“So nobody is going to go after Bill for what happened in Tennessee?” Kristie asked.
“There is no reason to,” Barclay answered. “His story is reasonable. Nobody was actually murdered then. Anyway, the guy has been through enough.”
“His story is reasonable, but it’s not completely true,” Daniel said.
“What do you mean?” Barclay asked.
“I mean he did not shoot David in Tennessee.”
“If he didn’t get shot, why did he blackmail Bill?” Barclay asked.
“I did not say he didn’t get shot, but Bill is not the one who shot him. Lindsay shot him, and Bill has spent all this time trying to protect her.”
“Did Bill tell you all this?”
“Oh no, I figured it out as the case went along. But you are right, you know, he has been through enough. They both have.”
“What about Scott Kirby?” Kristie asked. “What will happen to him?”
“I imagine he w
ill go to prison, but at least he will be away from his wife,” Daniel replied.
Barclay gave a chuckle and nodded. “You set Slater up on that, didn’t you? The day before Slater called him to the stand, you were talking about doing it. I heard you. I know he wasn’t on Slater’s list for that day.”
“Guilty,” Daniel answered with a sly smile. “Sometimes you have to act the part to win the show.”
“You’re not so bad for a defense attorney,” Barclay declared, standing and heading toward the door.
“And you’re not so bad for a wise-cracking police detective,” Daniel said, extending his hand. Barclay looked it, took Daniel’s hand and gave a firm shake. He turned to the door but stopped.
“About that show. I would be careful about inviting Slater to your next performance.”
They all laughed as Jason walked in with the food.
“What’s the joke?”
“You are,” Barclay said, walking out the door.
“What a putz.”
“He’s not so bad,” Daniel said. Jason rolled his eyes, set out the food and they all sat down to relish the day.
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Other Books By This Author
Murder on the Village Green
Murder in the Neighbourhood
Murder on a Yacht
Murder in the Village
Murder in the Mail
Murder in Bermuda
Murder in the Bahamas
Murder in Jamaica
Murder in Barbados
Murder in Aruba
About The Author
For many, the thought of childhood conjures images of hopscotch games in quiet neighbourhoods, and sticky visits to the local sweet shop. For Penelope Sotheby, childhood meant bathing in Bermuda, jiving in Jamaica and exploring a string of strange and exotic British territories with her nomadic family. New friends would come and go, but her constant companion was an old, battered collection of Agatha Christie novels that filled her hours with intrigue and wonder.
Penelope would go on to read every single one of Christie’s sixty-six novels—multiple times—and so was born a love of suspense than can be found in Sotheby’s own works today.
In 2011 the author debuted with “Murder at the Inn”, a whodunit novella set on Graham Island off the West Coast of Canada. After receiving positive acclaim, Sotheby went on to write the series “Murder in Paradise”; five novels following the antics of a wedding planner navigating nuptials (and crime scenes) in the tropical locations of Sotheby’s formative years.
An avid gardener, proud mother, and passionate host of Murder Mystery weekends, Sotheby can often be found at her large oak table, gleefully plotting the demise of her friends, tricky twists and grand reveals.
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Murder in the Hotel: A Daniel Swift Mystery Page 7