Greed and a Mistress
Page 16
“Mr. Lockhart, isn’t it true that you have six million dollars in your personal bank account?”
Slone gasped, glanced at his brother and then hung his head. “Yes.”
Michael chuckled. “Jackie, you should see the look on Atticus’s face. Kaydence is furious and Melissa might actually cry. His wife is shocked as well. I smell a nasty divorce coming.”
“To your knowledge, does your brother or either of your sisters have large bank accounts?”
“If they don’t, they were too stupid to save what mother gave them. She gave all of us the same amount of money every month.”
Livingston took a deep breath and began his usual rapid fire questioning, although he was careful not to get too far ahead of the court reporter. “Mr. Lockhart, which one of your siblings has a key to your mother’s house?”
“I don’t think any of us do.”
“How often would you say the four of you got together socially each year?”
“We see each other for kid’s birthdays and Christmas, stuff like that.”
“Have you ever seen bruises on Melissa?”
“No.”
“To your knowledge, has her husband ever abused her?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you know the defendant, Mark Barrett?”
“No.”
“Before this trial, had you ever seen him?”
“No.”
Livingston quickly changed subjects. “Mr. Lockhart, isn’t it true you are a longtime friend of Lexi Hamilton?”
“Yes.”
Michael chuckled again. “Uh oh, Slone just spotted his wife in the audience.”
“Did Miss Hamilton ever tell you about her relationship with the defendant?”
“She never told me anything about him, why would she?”
Livingston grinned. “Perhaps, because you needed someone to blame your mother’s murder on?”
Davis bolted out of his seat. “Objection, Your Honor.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard the defense attorney’s last comment.”
Livingston wiped the grin off his face and continued, “Mr. Lockhart, have you ever been convicted of a crime?”
“No.”
“Miss Hamilton testified that she saw you at the lodge the night your mother was murdered. How long would you say it takes to drive there from here?”
“About two hours?”
“Isn’t an hour and a half closer to the truth?”
“I wouldn’t know, I never timed it.”
“I see. Mr. Lockhart, is it your testimony that you were at the lodge that night?”
“It is.”
“And under oath, you swear you were there all night?”
“I do.”
“Did you hate your mother?”
Slone looked shocked. “No, I did not hate her.”
“But you did not love her?”
“She wasn’t always that easy to love...not after father died.”
“Isn’t it true you didn’t go to her funeral?”
“Yes, it is. We didn’t want to deal with the press, so we had a private graveside service the next day.”
“How long have you known Deputy Musgrave?”
“A few years.”
“Isn’t it true the deputy called you and told you about a hidden bank account?”
Slone reluctantly answered, “Yes.”
“Were you surprised that your mother hid money from you?”
“Not really. She was like that.”
“Do you know what is in your father’s safe?”
“I have no idea. He never let us see what was inside it.”
“Was it your idea to contest the will?” Livingston asked.
“No, I don’t remember whose idea it was initially.”
“But you and your siblings are contesting the will, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?”
“Because we don’t believe she knew what she was doing. No sane person would leave everything to strangers instead of her family.”
“I see. Did you give Lexi Hamilton a new car last year?”
Slone looked at his wife. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“It was her birthday.”
Livingston quickly checked his notes. “I have no further questions.”
“Cross, Mr. Davis?” Asked the judge.
Davis stood up to ask his first question. “Mr. Lockhart, did you murder your mother?”
“No.”
“Did you pay Mark Barrett ten thousand dollars to murder your mother?”
“No.”
“Did you hide ten thousand dollars in Mr. Barrett’s backyard?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you steal jewels from your mother’s house?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you and Lexi Hamilton conspire to kill your mother and blame it on Mark Barrett?”
Exasperated, Slone answered, “No, we did not.”
“To your knowledge, did anyone in your family have anything to do with the death of your mother?”
“No.”
“Mr. Lockhart, just so I understand, where were you the night your mother was murdered.”
“I was in a cabin in the mountains over a hundred miles away.”
“I have no further questions.”
Davis sat down and Livingston once more stood up. “Mr. Lockhart, what did you do with the last ten-thousand dollars your mother gave you?”
Slone hesitated just long enough to make himself look suspicious. “I paid my employees with it.”
“From your personal account or the business account?”
“From the business account, naturally.”
“Mr. Lockhart, who keeps the books for your mother’s business?”
“Mother’s accountant.”
“Who writes the paychecks to your employees?”
“The accountant.”
“So, the accountant would know if you deposited ten thousand dollars into the business account?”
Slone defiantly squared his shoulders. “Yes, he would. Just ask him.”
“Is that what you normally did with the money your mother gave you?”
“It is.”
“That’s curious,” said Livingston. “If you deposited ten thousand to the business accountant each month, how did all that money end up in your personal account?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Michael muttered.
“It’s easy,” said Carl. “You lie, steal and lie some more.”
“Objection,” said Davis, “badgering the witness, Your Honor.”
“Sustained.”
“I have no further questions for this defend...witness.”
The Freudian slip didn’t go unnoticed by either the DA or the jury. The juror with the thick glasses even smiled.
The judge looked a little annoyed, but without an objection, there was nothing he could do about the comment. “Mr. Lockhart, you may step down. Mr. Livingston, call your next witness.”
“I’VE BEEN WATCHING Barrett,” said Michael. “If Slone hired him, Barrett isn’t letting on.”
Everyone watched as the eldest brother left the witness stand and his brother was sworn in.
“Jackie, I’ve looked through all the age progression pictures we have and I think these two are the closest match to the court reporter’s eyes,” said Carl. “One is almost dead on, with a few exceptions. Both cases are pretty old. Want us to see if our clients are still alive?”
Jackie slightly nodded.
Atticus Lockhart was not as tall as his brother, nor did they look that much alike. There were some similarities, such as the mouth, but his hair was a little darker and thinning on the top. Even so, he had the same blue eyes.
“State your name and occupation for the record,” said Livingston.
“Atticus Edward Lockhart. I own a chain of hotels.”
“How old are you Mr. Lockhart?”
&n
bsp; He seemed just a bit more nervous than his brother did. “Thirty-four.”
“Do you own the hotels, or did your mother?”
“I own them outright,” Atticus answered.
“Isn’t it true that you didn’t attend your mother’s funeral either?”
“Slone advised us not to.”
“Do you always do what Slone tells you to?”
“Of course not.”
“Mr. Lockhart, where were you the night your mother was murdered?”
“Home in bed.”
“Uh oh,” said Carl, “we know that’s not true. Michael, is his wife here today?”
“I don’t see her. She’s probably home packing her bags and wiping out their bank account.”
Livingston asked, “You were home with your wife?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Lockhart, how often did you go see your mother?”
“Once or twice a month.”
“To get money?”
“And to see how she was.”
“I see,” said Livingston. “Did you call her occasionally?”
“I did.”
“You loved your mother?”
“Very much.”
“Do you have a key to your mother’s house?”
“No.”
“Did you telephone your mother on the evening of June 10th at around eight o’clock?”
“I did.”
“Did she answer?”
Atticus briefly hung his head. “No. I know now she was already dead.”
“Isn’t it true that you called that day to verify that she was already dead?”
Atticus scoffed, “Of course not.”
“Isn’t it true that calling your mother was something you rarely did?”
“No, it is not true. I called her a couple of times a month.”
“What for?”
“Asked and answered,” Davis objected.
“Sustained.”
“Miss Childers testified that none of her children called Mrs. Lockhart just to see how she was.”
“Miss Childers wouldn’t know, would she? She went home at five.”
“So you knew Miss Childers wouldn’t be there the night your mother was murdered?”
Atticus took a deep frustrated breath. “I didn’t know my mother was going to be murdered.”
“Were you aware your brother had all that money in the bank?”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“How much would you say is in your personal bank account?”
Atticus had to think for a moment. “Less than a hundred thousand, last time I checked.”
“Did your mother give you ten thousand dollars the week before she died?”
“No, she gave me fifteen.”
“If you have money in the bank, why did you ask her for fifteen thousand?”
“I didn’t ask her for it, she just gave me money when I went to see her. I tried to refuse, but she wanted me to have it.”
“To your knowledge, do any of Mrs. Lockhart’s children have keys to her house?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen bruises on Melissa?”
“No, never.”
“I wonder why Livingston is so hung up on Melissa’s bruises,” Michael said.
“I don’t know, maybe he thinks Melissa had her mother killed,” Carl answered.
“Your witness, Mr. Davis,” said Livingston.
As if he was bored, Davis nonchalantly walked to the lectern. “Mr. Lockhart, do you know the defendant, Mark Barrett?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“No.”
“Ever talk to him on the phone?”
“No.”
“Did you pay him ten thousand dollars to kill your mother?”
“No,” Atticus answered.
“Did you kill your mother?”
“Absolutely not, I loved her.”
“Did you steal her jewels?”
“No.”
“Do you know what happened to the missing jewels?”
“Not a clue.”
Davis headed back to his table before he said, “No further questions.”
“Now that’s interesting,” said Carl. “Where are the rest of the jewels? Do you suppose whoever hired Barrett, and helped him get rid of the evidence, only let him keep the necklace?”
Michael whistled. “I bet the siblings are wondering the same thing. Only way to find out is if one of them turns on the other three.”
On redirect, Livingston asked, “Mr. Lockhart, if you loved your mother, why didn’t you claim her body and make the funeral arrangements yourself?”
“It...it wasn’t the right thing to do?”
“Not the right thing to do? Could you explain that comment?”
Atticus didn’t quickly answer. “Well, we knew we would be suspects and we didn’t want to answer any questions.”
“So you let the world think you didn’t love your mother, just because you didn’t want to answer any questions?”
Atticus nodded. “That’s what our lawyer said to do.”
“He advised you not to answer any questions?”
“Yes.”
“I am not sure I understand,” said Livingston. “Wasn’t the defendant already in custody by then?”
“Yes, but we knew we could still be implicated.”
“Who was it that suggested you get a lawyer’s advice?”
“I don’t remember, but we all agreed that we should. The press was all over my yard right after she was found. It was a zoo.”
“Mr. Lockhart, were any of you upset when you heard your mother was dead?”
“Of course we were.”
“Did you ever call the police to see if they knew who killed your mother?”
“No.”
“Is that because you already knew?”
Atticus vigorously shook his head. “I swear, we had nothing to do with it.”
“No further questions.”
“I believe Atticus,” Michael said, “even though he lied about where he was that night. His hotels are doing very well, and I doubt he gambles or does drugs, so why would he be that desperate to get his inheritance? Nope, Atticus is the last person I would suspect of ordering a hit on their mother. Slone didn’t need the money and neither did Atticus. Question is – who did? I’m not finding much on the girls. Apparently, they’re not very sociable. No clubs, no gala events, and no social media. Boring. Oh, here’s something...” Michael looked up just in time to hear Livingston call his next witness. “I’ll tell you later.”
WHEN KAYDENCE LOCKHART took the stand, she appeared calm and collected, just as her brothers had.
“Please state your full name and occupation for the record,” said Davis after she was seated.
“I am Kaydence Lockhart Bristow, and I am a stay-at-home mom.”
“How old are you, Mrs. Bristow?”
“I am thirty-three.”
“How many children do you have?”
“Eight.”
“Where were you the night your mother was murdered?”
“I was at home with my family.”
“You are the Lockhart’s third child, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Each of you were born just a year apart?”
“No, Melissa and I are only ten months apart.”
“I see.”
“Did you have a habit of asking your mother for grocery money?”
“I wouldn’t call it a habit. I only asked when we needed the help.”
“Was that once a month and sometimes twice?”
“Maybe.”
“Your husband didn’t make a good living?”
“He died.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Kaydence narrowed her eyes. “I bet.”
“Over the last few years, isn’t it true that you refused to take your children to see your mother?”
“No it isn’t. That nosey housekeep
er doesn’t know as much as she thinks she does. I took the children to see mother on Saturdays when Norma wasn’t there.”
“Every Saturday?”
“No, but when I could.”
“Your Honor, at this time, I would like to declare this a hostile witness.”
The judge raised an eyebrow. “Granted.”
“Mrs. Bristow, could you tell the jury why you needed grocery money?”
“Because Lucas was disabled, and all we had were his benefits and it was never enough to feed ten people.”
“At least Kadence stayed with her disabled husband. That’s a point in her favor,” said Carl. “Barrett looks a little puzzled. I wonder why?”
“I understand,” said Livingston. “Now...”
“Mother said to come once a month and more if I needed to. She never resented it, and I never tried to take advantage of her. I sure don’t have six million in the bank like Slone.”
“Isn’t it true that your mother gave you the same amount she gave the other children?”
“Yes.”
“Was that ten thousand dollars?”
“Yes, but mother didn’t mind. She knew we needed it?”
“That is a lot of grocery money. What else did you need that much money for?”
“Lucas was bedridden and we had to pay a full time nurse.”
“Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your husband live another year after your mother’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do about expenses after your mother died?”
“The VA sent a nurse, but he wasn’t very good.” Kaydence began to tear up. “That’s why he died.”
“Mrs. Bristow,” asked the judge, “do you need a break?”
“No, thank you.” She took a deep breath and calmed down.
“Mrs. Bristow, how much did you and your husband pay for the house you are living in?”
“We didn’t pay for it, Mother did.”
“Have you had it appraised recently?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“How much did the appraiser say it was worth?”
“A little less than a million dollars.”
“I see.”
“With eight kids, you need a lot of room.”
“I understand,” said Livingston.
Kaydence raised her voice. “You are making it sound like I did something wrong, and I didn’t.”
Livingston lowered his voice. “Mrs. Bristow, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Well you have.”
“I only have a few more questions. Mrs. Bristow, I’m curious. According to your mother’s phone records, you didn’t call her but once or twice a year, is that correct?”