Leo stands boldly before the judge and takes a deep breath, and for one horrifying moment I am certain that he will lose his nerve, whimper mildly, and slink away. But I have not underestimated Mr. Hewitt; he performs admirably. “No, sir,” he says to the judge. “I am not kidding. I am in possession of evidence that could directly affect the outcome of this trial.”
Monty, as if on cue, rushes forward. He too plays his part with aplomb. “Your Honor, we have no wish to speak with this . . . individual. We respectfully ask that you have him removed from the courtroom.”
Ms. Manning grins stupidly and nods her head in silent agreement. If it were in my power to give the judge a gavel that he could use to shake at Leo as he spoke, I would, but some things are beyond my control. The judge’s voice, however, carries more dramatic weight than any prop ever could. “Sir, you may leave this courtroom voluntarily, or—”
And now for the reversal. Everything shifts. What you think will happen does not; in fact, just the opposite occurs. The one thing no one in the audience expects to happen, happens. I speak. And I say the one thing no one expects me to say. “No,” I say, and all heads turn toward me. “I want to talk with him.”
“Absolutely not!” Monty bellows. I smile at him.
“Bailiff, please escort the jury out of the courtroom until we can get this mess settled.” The bailiff does so, and Leo crosses the stage to confer with me. We hold our heads together and he whispers dark secrets to me, secrets I already know. We both turn our heads when Ms. Manning speaks to the judge.
“Your Honor, this is highly unusual.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Ms. Manning, he’s a member of your team. Correct?” Ms. Manning doesn’t respond. The judge looks past her to the district attorney. “He does work for your office, doesn’t he, Mr. Fox?”
Fox begins to respond, but I interrupt him, concerned that he may ad-lib, insert a line that isn’t in the script. “Your Honor,” I say, “based on information I’ve just received, I would like to dismiss my attorney.”
Monty is in shock, as well he should be. “Adam, are you crazy?”
The judge sighs and hangs his head. “I’m inclined to agree with your brother, Mr. Lee. This is crazy. This isn’t a Perry Mason novel. I’m not the cantankerous old judge with a heart of gold. In fact, I’m starting to get angry.”
Ms. Manning is having none of it. “He’s about to be found guilty of murder; of course he wants to change counsel.”
“Do I have the right to dismiss my attorney or not?” I ask. The judge sighs, and I know that suddenly he has allowed me to recast him. He is the cantankerous old judge with a heart of gold.
“Oh, you have the right all right, but let me tell you right now, we’re not stopping this trial. Ms. Manning is correct. This looks an awful lot like the actions of a desperate man.”
“Fine. The trial goes on. I dismiss my attorney, Montgomery Lee.”
“Adam!”
“And name as my new attorney Leo Hewitt.”
“Adam, what in the name of God are you doing? This is insanity!”
I ignore Monty and study Leo instead. He backs away from me and shakes his head. He is scared. He hadn’t bargained on me calling him to task, but I have faith in my loyal and trusty servant.
We all wait for his assent or dissent, but he offers neither. He merely stares at me and imperceptibly shakes his head.
The judge asks, “Well, Mr. Hewitt? Are you Adam Lee’s attorney or not?”
“He can’t,” the Manning woman says, her carefully applied makeup not coming close to disguising the purple bloom of anger in her flesh. She says each word with deliberate, barely controlled fury. “He works for the district attorney’s office.”
Still no word from Leo. We all wait. But, as I said, I have faith.
“Well?” the judge asks.
Leo breaks his silence and says, “No.”
Ms. Manning smiles wickedly. The flush retreats from her face, leaving scarlet trails down her neck. She believes she has won. She believes in Leo’s weakness. For one uneasy moment, I too believe she has won, but, like her, I also believe in Leo’s weakness, and know that all is not lost.
Leo turns to look directly in Ms. Manning’s eyes. “No. I don’t work for the district attorney’s office. I quit.” He turns now to the judge. “And to answer your question, Judge Cray, yes, I am Adam Lee’s attorney, and, in light of new evidence, I would like to dismiss Adam Lee as the defense’s final witness and call instead Mr. Montgomery Lee to the stand.”
FORTY-NINE
It felt good. It felt damn good. Leo knew he was on like never before. He was cooking with gas. Now if he could just get Monty to squirm a little. The two-day interruption in the trial had been tough. He could have still backed out, let Adam find another lawyer. He wanted to do just that, because for some reason, the urge to just back out was overwhelming. He found that he was scared. But scared of what? Of succeeding? Of doing the one thing he had dreamed of doing? Well, yes, actually, he was. But in the end, he knew that after the grandstand he’d pulled in court two days before, there was no point in not seeing it through to the end. He had it all. All the proof, all the evidence, why not take all the glory? Why not crush Bob Fox and Paula Manning under his heel in the process? Why not make them look like boobs? Why not do to them what they had done to him? Why not?
The only obstacle would be Monty Lee himself. Leo had evidence, but he also knew that evidence was never enough. Not in a jury trial. He had to make the jury believe, not just show them the facts, but actually make them believe that Montgomery Lee was a monster. And so far it wasn’t working. Leo was doing everything right. It was all coming together—except for Monty’s smug charm. Half the women on the jury were creaming their undies over him, and the men were probably doing the same. Monty was just that impressive. He answered the questions without hesitation. He looked not at all nervous. And he responded to Leo as though Leo were a fly, a pest, a nuisance, but certainly not a danger. And that demeanor was getting across to the jury. He had to make Monty squirm.
“Now, what I don’t understand, Mr. Lee, is what would have been Adam Lee’s motive for this murder?”
“Objection. Calls for speculation.”
Leo gave Paula a grateful smile. If Monty wasn’t going to show any discomfort, at least he could count on Paula to look hot and bothered. “As the defendant’s ex-defense attorney, he’s infinitely qualified to speculate on assumed motive.”
“Overruled. Let’s keep moving.”
Leo waited for Paula to sit back down. He noticed that her makeup seemed a bit overdone today, a little too thick. One of her earrings was crooked. There was a small run in one leg of her stockings. Had Judge Elizabeth Duran been here, she might have thought Paula looked, in fact, a little bit like a hooker in search of a twenty-dollar blowjob.
“Answer the question, please. What would have been your brother’s motive for murder?”
“Because Adam stood to profit from his wife’s death. Well over forty million dollars.”
“Did you prepare Ms. Lee’s will?”
“Yes.”
“And she left her entire estate to her husband, Adam Lee?”
“No. She left it all to her son, Albert Lee.”
“I don’t understand. That sounds to me like Albert Lee would be the only person who could profit from the murder.”
“No. Since Albert is not legally competent, Adam, as his legal guardian, would have complete control over all of Albert’s assets. Albert’s inheritance would, in essence, become Adam’s property.”
Monty looked past Leo to his brother sitting alone at the defense table. He gave Adam a slight shrug of the shoulder and an imperceptibly raised eyebrow. The gestures seemed to say, Sorry, but it’s your own fault, don’t blame me. None of this, of course, was lost on the jury. Or Leo. Send all the signals you want, Leo thought. You smug bastard, you don’t even see it coming, do you? These questions are nothing to you. Why aren’t you worried, just a
little? How can you stay so calm? Then it hit him. Was it possible? Had he overestimated the man? Was that why he was so complacent? Could it be that he really didn’t see it coming?
“And if Adam Lee is found guilty of this crime, what happens to the money?”
“It would still go to his son, Albert.”
“So, Adam Lee would get the money even if he was found guilty?”
“No. You don’t get it. You can’t profit from a crime. The inheritance would still be Albert’s, but Adam couldn’t touch it.”
“But Albert’s legal guardian could?”
“Yes.”
“And who would become Albert’s legal guardian if Adam Lee were convicted of this crime?”
Paula objected. “Your Honor, this is going nowhere. All of this ground has been covered before.”
Well, Leo thought, as always, he could still get a rise from Paula. Monty Lee, however, looked like he was waiting for a limousine to the inaugural ball. “Judge, I assure you this is most definitely going somewhere.”
“Overruled. Get to your point, Mr. Hewitt.”
“Who would become Albert’s legal guardian if Adam Lee were to be convicted of this crime?”
“I’m not sure what provisions Adam and Rachel made for such an eventuality.”
“So you don’t know who would become Albert’s legal guardian?”
“I believe that’s what I just said.”
Getting a little testy there, aren’t you, my friend? Monty, old pal. Is the limo starting to look a little late for the ball? Leo grabbed a sheaf of papers from the defense table. He handed a copy to Paula and one to the judge. “Your Honor, I’d like to enter this into evidence,” Leo said and handed a copy to Monty. “Mr. Lee, could you take a look at this document and tell me if you recognize it?”
Monty thumbed through the pages and stopped suddenly. Leo thought he could detect a slight tremor run through Monty’s hands. An imperceptible tremor, as imperceptible as his smug shrug of the shoulders earlier. Something wrong, Monty? Maybe the limousine driver got lost. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll delay the inauguration until you arrive.
“Mr. Lee, do you recognize this document?”
“I’m not sure.” His voice was thick. It rattled with phlegm, trembled with . . . could it be? Yes, it was fear. Leo had heard it clearly. Fear. He was sure the jury had heard it, too. Hell, Helen Keller could have heard it.
Leo leaned over Monty and thumbed through the document to the last page. “Is this your signature?”
Monty didn’t answer. What’s the matter, Monty? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe the limo ran it over.
“Mr. Lee, is this your signature?”
“It appears to be.”
“Could you tell the court what type of document this is?”
“It’s a custody agreement.”
“And whose custody does it concern?”
Monty didn’t answer. Leo noticed how Monty stared at the paper. He stared at it as though it were a poisonous snake someone had just dropped in his lap, and any movement, any sound might provoke it to strike.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Lee, that this document names you as the legal guardian of Albert Lee should his natural parents be unable to function as his legal guardians?”
Monty could only remain motionless, soundless. He looked as though he believed the snake would just slither away if he pretended to be asleep.
“Isn’t it true, Mr. Lee, that if your brother, Adam Lee, is found guilty of murder, you stand to gain control of more than forty million dollars?”
The snake had struck, the bite deep and solid. He could stop pretending now. Now it didn’t matter, the poison had been unleashed.
“I wish to invoke my Fifth Amendment privileges.”
A smile crossed Leo’s lips. Imperceptible, he hoped. He had won. From the corner of his eye, he could see one of the jurors shake her head in disgust, disgust with Monty’s cowardice. The Fifth Amendment was for cowards. For cowards and the guilty.
“I understand. In that case, let’s talk about something different. Let’s talk about Violet Perkins.”
FIFTY
LEE ACQUITTED, BROTHER CHARGED
by Anne Hunter
staff writer
Last month’s bizarre twist in the already bizarre Lee trial is likely to result in the conviction of Montgomery Lee for the murder of Rachel Lee, prosecutors say. Near the end of Adam Lee’s trial for the murder of his wife, Rachel, Mr. Lee dismissed his brother, Montgomery, as his attorney and named former junior deputy prosecutor Leo Hewitt as his new counsel. New evidence brought forth by Mr. Hewitt indicated to the court that Montgomery Lee was a more likely suspect. Adam Lee was found not guilty of the crime, and today Montgomery Lee was formally charged with the murder of his brother’s wife. In an exclusive interview with the Tribune from jail a month ago, Adam Lee stated that he did not know who killed his wife, but had “suspicions.” Mr. Lee also said—
The thought. The thought interrupted his reading. It was interrupting everything lately. Leo folded the paper and put the thought away. He reached for his cigar. It was smoldering away elegantly in a cut lead crystal ashtray. He grabbed it and puffed it back to life. And the thought came back. That was the trouble with pesky thoughts; you could put them away, but they just kept coming back. And here it was again. It kept popping into his mind unbidden. He shoved the thought to a vacant corner of his mind and left it there. Stay away, bad thought, you’re not welcome around here anymore. He was going to concentrate on being happy. And why wasn’t he as happy as he felt he ought to be? He knew he should be happy (there, the thought was gone), and for the most part he was. Hell—fuck, for the most part—he was happy. His dreams, despite the fact that he had begun to believe that they never would, were beginning to come true. The clothes, the office, the money, the prestige. The respect. He had won all of that by winning Adam Lee his freedom. And as an added bonus, he had been out four times with Rosalyn Wahlberg, and, judging from how heated things had gotten during that fourth date, number five would be his lucky number. He looked at his watch—five minutes before Adam was due to show up. A good-bye kiss before he left for Madagascar. An extended vacation, Adam had called it. But Leo couldn’t help but be struck by the fact that Madagascar was one of a handful of countries with no extradition agreement with the United States. Funny, wasn’t it? Of course, if something—some small fact, say—should turn up, he couldn’t be tried for the same crime twice anyway. But why take chances? Just look what our wonderful legal system had already put the man through. Once bitten, twice shy, right? You never knew what might happen; someone might want to charge him with a new crime altogether. Best to be safe. Leo didn’t blame the guy one bit. You just never knew what was gonna happen. Just look at the case against Monty Lee. Why, just last week it had seemed airtight, but now things were starting to look different. Leo had heard rumblings from the DA’s office (not that he was welcome there, by any means, but people loved to talk, especially if there was dirt involved), rumblings that the case against Monty Lee wasn’t as rosy as their statements to the press would lead one to believe. Certain inconsistencies were turning up. Little things like his ironclad alibi. It was impenetrable. They were trying to punch a few holes in it, and who knew, maybe they would, but Leo doubted it. Little things like the signatures on that custody agreement. It seemed that they might be the least bit forged. The handwriting analysts seemed to think so anyway. Sometimes, little things meant a lot. The DA’s office said that these were obstacles that they would easily resolve, but Leo doubted it. Now why on earth would he doubt that? After all, he had practically indicted the man himself, so why would he have doubts? And, oh, here he was, back at the unpleasant thought. He gave in to the thought, saw no point in fighting it any longer. He took the thought out, twirled it around a bit, examined it. It was an image really. Yes, more of an image than an actual thought. An image that would almost certainly lead to a whole slew of unpleasant thoughts, and unpleasant thoughts wouldn�
��t go well with the new mahogany desk and crystal ashtray, would they? It was an image of eyes, was what it was. An image of Monty Lee’s eyes. The eyes don’t lie. No, the eyes don’t lie. And Monty Lee never saw it coming. He never saw it coming. Right up till the end, he never saw it. If he had done the things Leo had accused him of doing, then how could he have not seen it coming? The surprise, the astonishment. The eyes don’t lie. Monty Lee was either the cockiest, most self-assured liar the world had ever known, or he—
(No, best not to think about that. Put the thought away.)
(Just put it away!)
Or he was—
(No! Put the thought away. Now!)
Or he was innocent.
Leo looked up when he heard Adam clearing his throat. “Sorry. Daydreaming, I guess.”
“Why dream? Haven’t your dreams come true?”
“More or less.”
“More, it looks to me. Your office is quite handsome. I’m sure that you will prosper here. I imagine you’ve generated many clients already and several retainers as well, I’m sure. How many?”
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen. Yes, you will prosper. And so will I. In any case, I’m on my way to the airport. I just wanted to stop by and thank you one last time.”
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“No, I have everything to thank you for.”
“Well, it was a hell of a case, I’ll say that much.”
“Yes, but it turned out quite all right, for both of us.”
“Not for Monty, though.”
“No, not for Monty.”
Leo puffed on his cigar, and the two men stood in silence.
Adam spoke first. “In any case, I just wanted to say thank you.” He turned to leave.
“Wait a minute.”
“Yes?”
“I just—”
“Yes?”
“You killed her, didn’t you?”
Adam didn’t hesitate. “Of course I killed her. I thought you knew. Why, you almost seem surprised.”
A Very Simple Crime Page 15