by Daniel Black
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death …
After the third repeat, Elisha drifted off to sleep, smiling at Sorrow and hoping Lazarus wouldn’t forsake him for the life he’d once known.
Chapter 40
On the second day in court, the prosecutor called Steven Dupont to the stand. He rose quickly, anxious to testify, but Lazarus had a feeling something was about to turn against him. Dressed in a navy-blue pin-striped suit with a baby-blue shirt and a blue and red polka-dot tie, Mr. Dupont sat confidently and raised his right hand long before he was asked to. He bore an air of self-assurance that made Lazarus jealous. The prosecutor asked preliminary things, like how long Steven and Mrs. Dupont had been married and whether they’d ever had marital problems, then turned to things more serious.
“Have you ever had an affair, Mr. Dupont?”
“Absolutely not!” His tone suggested offense. “I’ve been faithful to my wife since we’ve been together.”
“Do you think she was faithful to you?”
“Certainly she was! We were in love. Always have been. We were high school sweethearts.”
“I see. And were you ever violent toward one another?”
“No. Never.”
“Did you argue at all?”
“A few times, but nothing major. And it never evolved into anything serious. We simply weren’t like that.”
The prosecutor nodded. “Do you know of any enemies Mrs. Dupont might’ve had?”
Mr. Dupont feigned thoughtfulness, then said, “Not that I know of, no. She was the sweetest person on earth.”
“Was she at odds with any family member or close friend?”
“No, not at all.”
The prosecutor paused. “So tell the court where and how you met Mr. Love, the defendant.” Mr. Dupont’s version mirrored Lazarus’s.
“And did he seem suspicious to you in any way the day you met him?”
Mr. Dupont shook his head. “No, he didn’t. I knew he was homeless or at least desperate. He looked like it. You know … dirty and unkempt and all. But he didn’t seem like one who could commit murder.”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Aaron shouted. “My client has not been convicted of murder.”
“Sustained. Watch your responses, Mr. Dupont. We don’t want extra commentary. Just answer the questions please.”
He nodded and gave a fake smile to the jury.
“So when he arrived Saturday morning, April 4th, were you home?”
“Yes, I was.”
“Did you see Mr. Love?”
“Yes, I did.
“Did he see you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I glanced out of the bedroom window when I heard him and my wife talking in the front yard.”
“And could you hear clearly what they were saying?”
“No, I couldn’t, but it didn’t sound hostile.”
“And how long was Mr. Love at your home that morning?”
“I don’t know exactly. I didn’t see him leave, but he must’ve been there three or four hours, I guess.”
“And was your wife pleased with his work? Did she say?”
“I think she was. She was in a chipper mood when he left. She asked me to come look at the flowers, so I did.”
“And would you say Mr. Love had done a good job?”
“From what I could tell, yes, I think he did a good job.”
“So Mrs. Dupont didn’t seem to harbor any frustration or disappointment with his work?”
“I don’t think so. She seemed fine after he left.”
The prosecutor walked closer to the witness stand. “Do you think Mr. Love killed your wife, Mr. Dupont?”
Lazarus and Aaron leaned forward simultaneously.
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” The courtroom buzzed until the judge slammed her gavel.
“And why do you think that?”
“Because no one else could’ve. Plus, he stole her scarf.”
“Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Dupont did not see my client steal anything, nor has Mr. Love been charged with theft. He says Mrs. Dupont gave it to him, but either way it goes, it’s one man’s word against another’s. He cannot say Mr. Love stole that scarf.”
“Then why did he lie about it!” Mr. Dupont shouted. His vehemence seemed to come out of nowhere.
“The witness will contain himself!” the judge declared. “There shall be order in my courtroom!”
Mr. Dupont sighed. Legion whispered to Elisha, “I’ll be back after a while. I gotta check on something,” and slipped through the rear door. The Comforter’s eyes narrowed to small slits as if she sensed something but couldn’t figure it out. Cinderella had come only because the family said she should, yet at noon she’d determined to return to the picket line, where perhaps she might be found helpful again.
“Are you a racist, Mr. Dupont?”
Aaron rolled his eyes.
“Absolutely not. I believe in treating everyone fairly, regardless of color. My parents raised me that way.”
“So your belief that Mr. Love murdered your wife has nothing to do with the fact that he’s black?”
“Positively not! When I see people, I don’t see color.”
Aaron and Lazarus grumbled, although the prosecutor seemed not to notice.
“I give to charitable organizations, such as the Urban League and the NAACP, to help support poor black people. Plus, one of the groomsmen at my wedding was a black guy, so obviously I’m not racist.”
Cinderella covered her mouth. Had she ever been so obliviously ignorant? she wondered. Aaron laughed out loud, but even then the prosecutor and judge seemed undisturbed.
“I believe that man killed my wife, then stole her scarf because he thought he could get some money for it. It’s the only explanation.” Mr. Dupont paused. “I just can’t believe how nice he was at first. And to think that we believed him!”
The prosecutor flashed the jury an expression of grief and bewilderment worthy of an Oscar. Lazarus sighed, hoping Aaron had something under his sleeve that might discredit Mr. Dupont’s testimony.
“Nothing more, Your Honor.”
Aaron rose and wasted no time with preliminaries. “You say, Mr. Dupont, that my client, Mr. Love, must have murdered your wife because there is simply no one else who could’ve done it. Is that right?”
The man’s face flushed bloodred. “That’s right. He lied—”
“And you said he killed her in the house, then took the scarf, hoping to gain a profit from its sale. Is that right?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“But he didn’t take the other scarf.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Were they together in one set?”
“Yes. I bought them that way and she never separated them.”
“So why wouldn’t he take both scarves and thereby gain a greater profit?”
“Objection, Your Honor. Speculation. Mr. Dupont can’t know the inner workings of Mr. Love’s mind.”
“Sustained.”
“I’ll redirect, Your Honor.” Aaron returned to the desk and retrieved a yellow legal pad. “Are you aware, sir, that none of my client’s footprints have been found anywhere inside your home or leading to it?”
“But that doesn’t mean he didn’t go inside! He could’ve taken off his shoes or wiped his footprints away!”
“Yes, he could’ve, but had he gone inside he might’ve encountered you.”
Mr. Dupont swallowed hard.
“Because, according to your testimony, you were home while he worked in the flower garden, and you were home when he left. Is that correct?”
Mr. Dupont nodded.
“Please answer yes or no, sir.”
“Yes. That is correct.”
“Yes. And did you leave at some point later that day, while Mrs. Dupont was still alive?”
“I did.”
“Where did you go?”
&nb
sp; Lazarus observed Dupont’s nervous twitch.
“I went to the grocery store.”
“Which one?”
“Whole Foods on Ponce. That’s where we shop.”
“So, if your theory is right, my client would’ve had to enter the house while you were at the store, murder Mrs. Dupont, steal the scarf, and leave—all before you returned. Is that right?”
“There was more than enough time!”
“And when you returned, you found Mrs. Dupont dead on the kitchen floor, is that your testimony?”
“Yes.”
“Was there any sign of struggle?”
“Yes. Lots of things broken and strewn across the floor.”
“So you called the police?”
“I did.”
“Right away?”
“Yes. I mean, I panicked for a minute, but then I dialed nine-one-one.”
“I see,” Aaron said kindly. “But there’s just one problem. When I checked your debit card statement, there was no transaction for Whole Foods listed that day.”
“I probably paid cash. I do that sometimes.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, in fact, I do.”
“Well, why didn’t you pay cash for your gas, which, according to the same document, you got at the Shell station the same day, presumably the same hour? Do you recall that? You seem to have filled up, from the amount of the transaction?”
Dupont looked puzzled. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything, Mr. Dupont.” Aaron approached the witness stand. “See, records show that you purchased gas the evening of Mrs. Dupont’s murder. You paid for it with your debit card.”
“So? Perhaps I got gas after I left the store. There’s nothing strange about that.”
“Maybe there is. Because the question becomes why, if you live in Buckhead, you needed gas at all? According to the same statement, you had just filled up the day before.”
Aaron studied Dupont’s eyes. Something was definitely amiss, but Aaron didn’t see the whole picture yet. The Comforter began to murmur indiscernibly. Cinderella frowned. None of this made sense to her.
“To get gas two days in a row is not a crime, sir. People do it all the time. And this has nothing to do with this case.”
Aaron smiled. “Perhaps you’re right, sir. No further questions, Your Honor.”
Chapter 41
During lunch break, Cinderella rejoined the protest. She simply assumed a picket sign and fell in line. It was the right thing to do, whether Lazarus loved her or not, and, anyway, she couldn’t very well abandon those who had come only because she’d summoned them. Yes, he’d said it wasn’t her fault, and, yes, he’d forgiven her, but she would never forgive herself. She’d almost had what her mother had dreamed for her, but, pressured by the prosecutor, Cinderella had given it up. And the chance would surely never come again.
Junior, Quad, and Lizzie sat at the Subway café, trying to figure out Aaron’s line of questioning.
“You think that white man killed his own wife?” Junior asked.
“I don’t know,” Lizzie said. “But it’s too many holes in his story. It just doesn’t add up.”
“Maybe he had her killed,” Quad offered.
“Maybe,” Lizzie said, “but why?”
“Hell, how would I know! I ain’t rich or white!”
They theorized until the sandwiches were consumed.
Elisha sat on the side steps of the courthouse, pondering where Legion and The Comforter might’ve gone.
In a private room inside, Aaron told Lazarus this could be their break.
“I’m on to something here; I know it!” He paced frantically. “I just can’t put it together. Why did he fill up twice in two days if he drove no further than Midtown and back?”
Lazarus shrugged. He was more confused than excited. How did any of this prove his innocence?
“See, it’s not just the fact that he bought gas twice, but that he paid more than forty dollars each time.”
“Yeah, but so what? What does that prove?”
“He didn’t burn an entire tank of gas in one day, not unless he went out of town or something.”
Lazarus saw the point, but he still didn’t get how this might lead to his freedom.
“And why didn’t he say he bought gas? I asked where he went and he said grocery shopping, which might’ve been true, but it wasn’t the whole truth.”
“Couldn’t he have forgotten about the gas? When I was driving, I wouldn’t have remembered every time I stopped for gas.”
“Yeah, but if it was the day your wife was murdered, you’d probably remember.”
Aaron chewed his lips and clapped as if conjuring clarity. Dupont’s inconsistency was already well established; now Aaron had to interpret its meaning.
At one thirty, just before the trial resumed, Legion reappeared. E rushed into the courtroom and handed Aaron a note and a small paper bag, then sat among The Family. “Where’ve you been?” Elisha asked. Legion patted Elisha’s thigh, but did not answer. The Comforter entered seconds later, smiling. Aaron read the note and nodded.
“Madam prosecutor,” the judge began, “you may call—”
“Excuse me, Your Honor,” Aaron interrupted, “but if it pleases the court, I would like to recall Mr. Dupont to the stand. I want to ask him a few more questions.”
The prosecutor didn’t object, so Mr. Dupont resumed the stand.
“Let me recap a moment: You say you bought gas both the night before and the day of Mrs. Dupont’s murder, is that right?”
“That’s right. That’s not strange.”
“True, it isn’t. But something else is.” Aaron paced before the jury. “You couldn’t have burned a tank of gas overnight, sir, unless you drove out of town and back, which of course you didn’t. Not unless you lied about your whereabouts. Then on the day of the murder you say you saw Mr. Love tilling the garden at your house. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you went to Whole Foods that afternoon and got gas on the way back, I presume. Is that right?”
“It is.”
“You’re right, Mr. Dupont. It is indeed right! You bought gas—but you didn’t put it in your car. You put it in someone else’s.”
“Excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Objection, Your Honor. What is this? A guessing game?”
“Your Honor I beg for a moment of latitude to show that Mr. Dupont’s word is not reliable.”
“Overruled. But this had better be good.”
The Comforter and Legion winked at each other as Elisha waited to see what Aaron had discovered. Quad and Lizzie moved to the edge of the pew. Junior mumbled, “Here it is. I told you it was coming. I told you!”
“Where were you last night, Mr. Dupont?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Last night. Where were you?”
“I was home. By myself. Grieving the death of my wife.”
“Is that so? I think you were somewhere else.”
The room buzzed with chatter. The judge admonished Aaron to get on with it.
“Where else could I have been?”
Aaron stared into Mr. Dupont’s frightened eyes. “With this woman right here.” He pointed to the rear of the room and The Comforter rose and waved like a beauty queen.
Dupont’s face washed white as snow. The courtroom gasped. It was her. He could see it now. But she’d been younger last night and far more beautiful and far less confident. Her sweet, seductive smile had assured him there’d be no harm in the exchange, especially since he was a single man now. It would be a friendly moment, he’d been led to believe, in which mutual parties got what they needed. Now he knew precisely what she’d needed. “I’ve never seen that woman in my life!”
“Oh, haven’t you?” Aaron waved for her to come forward. “Are you sure about that?”
“Objection, Your Honor! This is absurd!”
“I can prove it!�
�� Aaron shouted.
“Then do so!” the judge demanded.
The Comforter stood at the defense table next to Lazarus.
“If you weren’t with her, how did she get this?”
Aaron extracted from the bag Mrs. Dupont’s expensive twin scarf. Even the judge’s eyes bulged.
“Now let me ask you again: Were you with this woman last night or not?”
Dupont’s forehead collapsed onto the edge of the witness stand. “Yes. Yes. I was with her.”
The prosecutor leapt and shouted, “I need a recess, Your Honor! Please! I need a recess!” But the judge shook her head. “I want this jury to hear everything. Now.”
Aaron continued, “On the night of April 4th, you did buy gas, but you put it in someone else’s car, didn’t you?”
Dupont didn’t answer.
“Then you cruised Metropolitan Avenue while your hired help went to your house and murdered your wife for you.”
“Objection, Your Honor! This is conjecture! Even if Mr. Dupont was with a prostitute, it doesn’t mean he murdered his wife!”
“You’re right,” Aaron conceded. “But it does mean he’s willing to lie.”
Jurors grumbled, shaking their heads.
“Some weeks ago, you met a man in a dark alley. I’m presuming you agreed to pay him an indeterminate sum of money and a tank of gas if he’d get rid of your wife. Does this sound right?”
“Objection, Your Honor! Come on! He’s making this up as he goes!”
“Well, that man upheld his end of the bargain, and after you left Whole Foods, you met him and filled his tank, isn’t that right?”
“Objection, Your Honor! This is nothing but wild, unsubstantiated theory.”
Aaron approached the witness stand again. “I think I can prove it. But for that, I need to recall someone back to the stand.”
The judge excused Dupont who stumbled like a drunkard to the prosecutor’s table. He stared at The Comforter with all the hatred a human heart could hold.
Aaron declared boldly, “I’d like to recall Legion, please.”
The audience applauded as if having called for an encore. Legion’s large hoop earrings twisted and twirled as e moved. Tight, holey jeans revealed an hour-glass figure, which, with each step, only inspired greater praise. Es shirt, a gray-and-black collared button-down, was even tighter than es jeans and opened low enough to expose a semi-hairy chest. Aaron alone knew how beautifully fragile e really was, but, like everyone else, he enjoyed Legion’s public performance of strength and self-assurance. The judge banged the gavel until Legion was seated. She reminded em e was still under oath.