“Last Will and Testament of Wendell Martin Cartwright. This is the Will Wendell had made about six months after he married Frances, I mean, Mackenzie. Sorry.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because he gave me a copy of it. I had copies of all of his Wills and most of his important documents,” Calista testified.
“Is this the Will that was in place when he died?”
“No. I found out after he died that he had written a new one shortly before his death.”
“Between the times he executed the Will you are holding, State’s Exhibit Seven, and the Will he had at the time of his death, did he execute another one?”
“Objection, your Honor,” Marc politely said. “I’m not quite sure where she’s going but since Mrs. Sutherland is not on trial for the death of Wendell Cartwright, I submit this entire testimony is irrelevant.”
“Come up,” Carr said.
“Your Honor,” Heather said when they reached the bench, “this goes to the pattern between the two deaths.”
“She’s made her point, judge,” Marc said. “Anything more and we’re getting into prejudicial grounds. She wants the witness to testify that there are funeral instructions in it that do not include cremation. She has no way of knowing, absent speculation, if Wendell changed his mind about cremation.”
Carr turned back to Heather who said, “This witness knows he did not want to be cremated and…”
“Stop,” Carr said. “Mr. Kadella is right. She’s not on trial for Wendell Cartwright’s death and any mention of where you’re going would be too prejudicial and likely reversible error. Do you have anything else for this witness?”
“No, not really, your Honor,” Heather answered him, disappointed Marc stopped her from bringing in disallowed testimony through a back door.
The lawyers returned to their seats and Heather passed the witness to Marc.
“Did you have access to your ex-husband’s home?” Marc asked.
“Yes, I had a key and the code for the alarm system.”
“Isn’t it true that his second wife, Jeanne and her son by Wendell, Phillip Cartwright, also had access to Wendell’s home?
“Yes, they did.”
“Are you aware that Phillip struggled with drug addiction for over twenty years before dying of an overdose?”
The light went on in Heather’s head as she realized where Marc was going with this line of questions.
“Objection, relevance,” she said, the only thing she could think of to try to stop him.
“Your Honor,” Marc began, delighted with the opportunity to explain it to the jury. “We’ve had testimony that there were six searches on Wendell Cartwright’s computer for heart attack inducing drugs. The jury needs to know that there were a number of people with financial incentive and access to that computer other than my client.”
“Overruled,” Carr said.
“What was the question?” she asked.
Marc repeated his question about Phillip’s drug addiction and Calista answered that she knew about his problem.”
“Did he have money problems, too?”
“I’m not sure,” she said.
“Isn’t it true, he was living on the street when his father died?”
“I’m, ah, maybe. Yes, he was,” she reluctantly admitted.
“You and the other ex-wives would have inherited several million dollars if Wendell had died without changing his Will, wouldn’t you? You have a copy of it, you must have read it,” Marc said.
“Yes, we would have,” she answered.
“I have nothing further, your Honor,” Marc said.
“Ms. Anderson?”
“No questions your Honor. I have no more witnesses for today,” Heather said deciding she was not going to get much from the other ex-wife.
“We’ll adjourn until 9:00 A.M. tomorrow,” Carr said.
Butch and Andy came through the gate on the bar and joined Marc, Maddy and Mackenzie at the defense table. This was becoming habitual while they waited for the courtroom to empty. All of them, including the bodyguards, were tired of being accosted by media members.
The rule was, while in public even in the courtroom, no discussion about the trial. One never knew where a microphone may be hidden and pointed at them. An hour passed by and Marc decided it was probably okay to leave.
When they got outside onto Fourth Street, the weather hit them hard. Even though spring was on the way it was still February. The temperature was down in the mid-teens and the wind was whipping between the buildings on the narrow streets and biting the pedestrians on their uncovered faces.
Marc led the way up the street to the Victory parking ramp. Despite the cold and the fact most people on the street were in a hurry, they still received quite a few glances from people who recognized them. Fortunately, Butch and Andy’s presence no doubt a contributing factor, they were not confronted by anyone and they made it to their cars unscathed.
Having called ahead to reserve a table, the hostess of Hennessey’s Irish Pub had a table ready for them. The restaurant was in Minneapolis, across Lake Street and a block east of Marc’s office and he and his officemates were semi-regulars.
During the next hour they had a nice comfort food meal. The conversation was light, sporadic and mostly between the men. Marc could not help noticing that Maddy and Mackenzie, seated next to each other, barely spoke. Mackenzie had a sleep-deprived stressed look and Maddy appeared to be distracted as if she was somewhere else.
“You sleeping okay?” Marc asked Mackenzie who was sitting to his left.
Mackenzie paused, smiled then said, “Not so much lately.”
Maddy, to Mackenzie’s left reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Hey,” Marc whispered, “things are going okay. Trust me. Okay?”
In the parking lot they said their goodbyes, Maddy and Mackenzie affectionately hugging. Marc told the guys to get her home then he drove the block to his office. As he parked in the back lot he saw Maddy pull in next to him.
“You okay?” he asked her when they met outside their cars.
“Can we talk?” she quietly asked.
“Sure, come on up,” Marc answered.
When they got upstairs they found the office empty except for Connie Mickelson who was still at her desk.
“How did things go today?” Connie asked.
“Okay,” Marc told her.
Connie looked at Maddy and detected that something was not right. “What’s wrong?” she asked Maddy.
“I need to talk to Marc, would you join us?”
“Sure, hon,” Connie said and followed them into Marc’s office.
Maddy asked Marc, “Is Connie covered by attorney-client privilege?”
“For Mackenzie, yeah, she is. Why? What’s the matter?”
“Marc,” Maddy slowly said looking back and forth between the two lawyers. “I’m beginning to believe she’s guilty. It’s eating a hole in my heart. I...”
“Wait a minute,” Marc stopped her. “The jury is the one who makes that decision, not you, me, Connie or anyone else. Besides, she’s the same person you grew to like before all of this happened.”
“Who else had access to both computers? Who else had motive? Who stood to gain? I can’t avoid these questions,” Maddy said.
“This is the risk of becoming emotionally attached to a client,” Connie said reaching over from the client chair next to Maddy’s and taking her hand. “We’ve been there. We’ve all had this happen. Believe it or not, there could be any number of people who had access to both computers.”
Maddy gave Connie an inquisitive look and Connie said, “Hey, it’s possible. It’s also possible the computers were tampered with. Cops do that shit. Keep an open mind. Be a professional.”
“How do you do that? How do you represent people you know are guilty?” Maddy asked Marc.
Marc hesitated for a moment then said, “I believe in the presumption of innocence and our Constitution. But you’re right, sometime
s it’s not easy. Just so you know, I have more thoroughly studied the evidence and I believe Mackenzie is innocent. I’ve seen worse cases against people I knew were innocent.”
“Brittany Riley,” Maddy said.
“Yes, Brittany Riley.”
“Okay,” Maddy said obviously relieved. “I’ll be okay. Thanks.”
An hour after the meeting in Marc’s office took place, Mackenzie Sutherland stepped out of the shower. A problem had been nagging at her for a couple of days that she had not been able to resolve. Mackenzie had stood under the shower letting the hot water pound away the tension she felt while she again contemplated her dilemma.
She toweled herself off, hung the towel up to dry then wrapped herself in her large, white, terry-cloth robe. Mackenzie brushed out her hair, scrutinized a couple of new lines around her eyes, shrugged, sighed and went downstairs.
She poured herself a half-glass of an excellent Burgundy then carried it into the living room. She sat down on the sofa closest to the television and curled her legs up on the couch underneath her. Mackenzie turned on the TV. She paid no attention to the noise coming from it or what the show was. She was withholding information from Marc that he should have and she needed to figure out how to get it to him. Right now it was likely true that everyone believed Mackenzie was the only one who may have had access to both Wendell’s and William’s computers. Who else could have done those searches for heart attack causing drugs? Mackenzie knew something that Marc could use to create reasonable doubt and she needed to think of a way to tell him.
“How do I tell Marc,” Mackenzie said quietly out loud to herself, “that Adam Sutherland and Phillip Cartwright knew each other? How do I explain that I know that?”
FORTY-FOUR
Judge Carr had given the jury Wednesday off claiming he had other cases that required his attention. His appetite for Shayla Parker was the primary item on his personal menu.
First up Thursday morning was a lawyer from Chicago, Bennett Long. Long had been Wendell Cartwright’s personal lawyer for many years. It was Long who had drafted the new Will.
Long was a long-time friend having been a fraternity brother of Wendell in college. Long had also handled Wendell’s divorces and personal legal matters, which had been numerous, for forty years. Bennett Long had made a lot of money off of his friend over the years. More than he wanted to account for.
His appearance was essentially out of order. Carr had allowed testimony about the Will in place when Wendell died with the assurance that Long would verify it. For his part, Long wanted nothing to do with this trial and had tried to avoid it entirely. It was through Long that the prosecution hoped to establish that Mackenzie Sutherland, formerly Frances Cartwright, not only knew about Wendell’s new Will, but forced Wendell to change it.
Marc had tried to prevent his testimony by claiming attorney-client privilege. Because Long was Wendell’s lawyer and not Mackenzie’s she had no standing to prevent him from testifying. Long also tried to claim attorney-client but Carr ruled it was waived upon Wendell’s death because it concerned how he died. Plus, the privilege is for the benefit of the client only, not the lawyer.
Long was able to stall his testimony for a week claiming a scheduling conflict. That excuse was up and he was now in court. His real problem was how he felt when he looked Mackenzie in the eye. Long had nurtured an infatuation with her that began even before she married Wendell.
Heather Anderson conducted the questioning and after the introduction and explanation of who the witness was, moved quickly to the main topic.
“Whose idea was it, Mr. Long, to change Wendell Cartwright’s Will and leave his entire estate to the defendant?”
Long looked at Mackenzie who was staring back at him, shuffled uncomfortably on the witness stand then said, “I assume it was Wendell’s decision. As far as I know. I don’t know who else it could be.”
Caught off guard by his answer, Heather hesitated a moment before asking, “Mr. Long, did you not tell Detective Coolidge, on October twenty-second of last year, during an interview in your office, that it was Frances Cartwright’s decision? The woman we know as Mackenzie Sutherland and you were certain of it?”
This caused a bit of a stir in the gallery and the jury box. Marc stole a quick peek at Mackenzie who was still staring, unblinking at the witness.
“The detective asked me if I believed Frances knew about it. I probably said yes, but….”
“And he asked you if you believed the defendant somehow coerced Mr. Cartwright into changing his Will and the beneficiary of his family trust to name her as sole beneficiary and according to Detective Coolidge’s notes….”
“Objection, hearsay,” Marc said referring to Heather using Coolidge’s notes.
“Sustained,” Carr ruled.
“You told Detective Coolidge that you were absolutely certain that not only did Frances, now Mackenzie, know Wendell changed the Will and Trust but that she manipulated him into it, did you not?”
Long again looked at Mackenzie who showed him a slight smile before he answered. “Look,” he began, “you’re asking me very specific questions. I’m under oath and have to be honest. I don’t remember what caused Wendell to make those changes and I don’t know if Fra…sorry, Mackenzie knew about it.”
Danica Kyle handed Heather a document of several typed pages. Marc knew exactly what it was since he had a copy of it. He was going to object as soon as she started referring to it then decided to hold off.
“Mr. Long, I have a typed transcript of the interview you did with Detective Coolidge on October twenty-second. Did you receive a copy of this document?” Heather asked as she held it up.
“Possibly,” Long answered. “I get a lot of documents. Is my signature on it?”
“On page four of the transcribed statement, you were asked…”
“Objection, your Honor,” Marc said as he stood. “Asked and answered and now she is trying to testify from a document that has not been verified. The witness has answered her inquiry about whether or not Mrs. Sutherland knew about her former husband’s Will.”
“Sustained. Time to move on, Ms. Anderson,” Carr told her.
A clearly annoyed Heather Anderson asked, “Why are you trying to protect…”
“Objection!” Marc said again jumping to his feet.
“Sustained. Watch yourself, Ms. Anderson.”
“Request permission to treat the witness as hostile,” Heather said. This is done so an uncooperative witness can be made to answer leading questions.
“Denied,” Carr said. “I’ve seen nothing to convince me he’s hostile. You just don’t like his answers.”
Heather picked up another document and asked for permission to approach the witness. It was granted and Heather handed him the Will of Wendell Cartwright they had been discussing, State’s Exhibit Seven. She curtly asked him a few questions to acknowledge this was the Will and the beneficiary change of the Trust. Once that was complete, Heather offered it into evidence, gave it to the clerk and returned to her seat.
“I have no further questions, your Honor.”
“Mr. Kadella,” Carr said.
Marc had prepared a series of questions to try to cast doubt on what Mackenzie knew about the new Will. These were premised on his belief that Long would testify Mackenzie knew about the new Will and it was probably her idea. This was the essence of the typed transcription of Long’s interview with Coolidge. Since Long refuted it under oath and he never signed the transcription, Heather could not even use it to impeach his credibility and Long was a smart enough lawyer to know that. Without his signature on it, he could deny any knowledge of it. She would have to find a way to bring Coolidge back but Marc could probably block that since she had said she was done with him.
Marc decided to ask just one question. “Isn’t it true, Mr. Long, as far as you or anybody else knows, Mackenzie Sutherland, the woman you knew by her middle name Frances, had absolutely no knowledge about Wendell Cartwright’s Will,
State’s Exhibit Seven?”
“Yes, that’s true. At least not until after Wendell died.”
Heather declined to redirect, the witness was excused and Carr ordered a break. When Bennett Long walked past the defense table to leave, he looked directly at Mackenzie with an almost pleading look in his eyes.
When Maddy and Mackenzie returned from the restroom during the break, Marc was still seated at the table. He led them into the adjacent conference room and asked Mackenzie, “What was that with Bennett Long?”
“A couple of things,” Mackenzie said. “First of all, Bennett Long is a crook. He has made a career out of ripping off Wendell. I went through some of Wendell’s bills from him once and told Wendell about it. He said he knew and didn’t care, that Bennett was a good friend and blah, blah, blah. Basically, he put up with it.
“A couple weeks later, Bennett, who is on his third marriage, made a pass at me. Actually, it was more than a pass. He grabbed me, pushed me into a room at the home of a party we were attending. He came at me, tried to grope my boobs so I kneed him in the balls and slapped his face. I told him if he ever tried anything like that again I’d go to Wendell and audit every dime Wendell ever paid him.
“Two days later I get a card with a long letter. The sick twist liked it when I kicked him and fought back. Said he’d never been so much in love. And he left me no doubt he’d like to do a little S & M with me.”
By this point Marc and Maddy had all they could do to contain their laughter.
“It’s not funny,” Mackenzie said. “Well, maybe a little,” she added with a smile.
“Did you…” Maddy started to ask.
“No!” Mackenzie quickly said, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but every time I saw him after that, whenever he could without someone hearing him, he called me Mistress Frances. When Wendell died I had to get a new phone number.”
“I’m trying to picture you dressed up in leather with handcuffs and a whip,” Marc smiled.
“Turns you on, doesn’t it?” Mackenzie said arching her eyebrows at him.
“Have you spoken to Long since you left Chicago?” Marc asked.
Marc Kadella Legal Mysteries Vol 1-6 (Marc Kadella Series) Page 212