by MJ Rodgers
Elling’s step was sure, her posture confident as she approached her client, Bruce Harper, the man who rested his tail so hesitantly on the edge of the witness chair.
“Mr. Harper, how long were you and your wife, Patsy, married?” Elling asked in a crisp tone that carried well.
Harper nervously coughed into a closed hand.
“It’s all right, Mr. Harper,” Elling said, her voice turning gentle. “Take a moment to compose yourself. I know you haven’t been up on a witness stand before. It can make anyone nervous. Remember, we just want to hear the truth in your own words.”
A.J. understood that while Elling had soothed her witness, she had explained his nervousness to the jury and gained their sympathy. She had also managed to show them a considerate and concerned side to her professional demeanor. Nicely done.
Still, A.J. knew Gael Elling was not going to win this case. Not up against Adam Justice. A.J.’s brother was the best—a legal machine with no “off” button. Nothing ever got past him, and he never lost a case. Never.
“We would have been married ten years this July,” Harper said in a faint, chirpy voice.
“Were you happy in your marriage?”
“Very. We have a beautiful daughter, a nice home. At least we used to have a nice home.”
“You don’t now?”
“Now I’m no longer…welcome there.”
“Mr. Harper, would you please tell this court what happened eighteen months ago when your wife, Patsy, attended Lex Linbow’s theme park, Fabulous Fantasies?”
“Well, me and Ray—that’s Raymond Temark—were going to this golfing tournament and Patsy and Ray’s wife, Fran, were going to try out this new theme park, Fabulous Fantasies. The thing cost a fortune for just a weekend. Still, Patsy had her heart set on going.”
“Did you and Patsy often go your separate ways on weekends?”
“Rarely. We liked to do things as a family. Normally, when I was going someplace to golf, she’d come along with our daughter. Fran would come along, too, to keep Ray company.”
“Did Patsy and Fran often do things together?”
“The four of us did. Ray and Fran are—were—our next-door neighbors. Since Patsy and I moved in six years ago, we’ve all been—were—good friends.”
“When did Patsy and Fran leave for Fabulous Fantasies?”
“Friday morning, same time as Ray and I left for our tournament.”
“Did you all go to the airport in one car?”
“No. We needed two cars because Patsy and Fran’s plane would be getting back several hours earlier on Sunday, and we didn’t want our wives to have to wait around the airport for us.”
“I see. Please go on, Mr. Harper.”
“Well, on the way to the airport that Friday, Patsy and I dropped our daughter at my parents’ place. They were taking care of her while we were away.”
“How was the relationship between you and your wife on that drive to the airport?”
“Very happy. We were both looking forward to the weekend. There was no sign, no sign at all that anything was wrong.”
“What else can you tell us about that day?”
“Our flight left first. Patsy and Fran walked us to our gate. I kissed Patsy goodbye. She reminded me that because her flight would get in before my flight, she would be giving Fran a ride home and stopping on the way to pick up our daughter. I was to bum a ride with Ray.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
“Patsy told me she loved me and to have a good time. I promised to call her at the park on Saturday night around nine.”
“Did you call your wife at nine on Saturday night that weekend you were at the golf tournament and she was at Fabulous Fantasies?”
“Yes, but I was told she was in a fantasy session and couldn’t be disturbed.”
“Did you leave a message saying that you had called?”
“Yes.”
“Did she call back?”
“No.”
“Did that concern you?”
“Not at the time. I assumed it was because she completed her fantasy session late and knew I would be going to bed early because I had an early tee time on Sunday.”
“So you didn’t speak to your wife at all while she was at Fabulous Fantasies?”
“That’s correct.”
“And when you returned home from your golfing trip late Sunday, Mr. Harper, what happened then?”
“It was about eight at night when Ray dropped me in front of my place. I opened the door to my home and was greeted with silence—absolute, complete silence. I walked into the kitchen and found her note.”
Elling’s voice once again became gentle. “What did the note from your wife say, Mr. Harper?”
“It said that she had left me. It said that she never wanted to see or talk to me again. I was so…shocked. I couldn’t believe it. A couple of suitcases were missing. Some of her clothes. She took some of our daughter’s, too. I still can’t believe it. She just…left me.”
Bruce’s voice broke on his last sentence. His chin dropped to his chest, and his shoulders shook beneath the pads of his suit coat. A.J. decided that if this was a performance, Harper was a very good actor. Elling waited until her client had composed himself and raised his head. His eyes were rimmed in red.
“Mr. Harper, did your wife ever tell you why she took your daughter and left you?”
“My wife has never talked to me since that day that I said goodbye to her at the airport. Even now when I pick up my daughter for our weekends together, Patsy won’t come out. She still refuses to see me.”
“You never learned why she left you?”
“She told my attorney in her divorce deposition that it was because of my constant flirting and affairs with other women, my continuing emotional abuse of her and my hiding money from her to spend on other women.”
“Mr. Harper, have you ever flirted with other women or been unfaithful to your wife?”
“No. Never. I swear.”
“Have you ever been emotionally abusive to your wife?”
“How could I be cruel to Patsy? I love her.”
“Have you ever hidden money from your wife?”
“Never. What I make we share…shared. We were a family.”
“Do you have any idea what your wife might have meant by these claims of infidelity and emotional abuse?”
“None.”
“Then what explanation do you have for your wife making these accusations and divorcing you because of them?”
“All I can do is reiterate what my parents and our friends, and even Patsy’s parents, have already testified to in this courtroom over the last few days. Patsy and I were a happy, loving couple before she went to Fabulous Fantasies that weekend. When she came back, she had changed. Dramatically. They did something to her at that amusement park to make her hate me.”
“Your Honor, I object,” Attorney Sherman Scrater said, rising hesitantly to his feet.
A.J. immediately sat forward. Why hadn’t Adam raised the objection? Why had the attorney who was obviously second seat taken the lead, and a shaky one at that? Adam always ran his own case. What was going on?
“To what are you specifically objecting?” Judge Butz prompted.
“That last statement by Mr. Harper expressed opinion, not fact?” Scrater asked more than answered.
“Sustained,” Butz said. “Mr. Harper’s last comment will be stricken from the record. The jury will disregard.”
“Mr. Harper,” Elling continued, “throughout this trial, Mr. Linbow’s attorney has repeatedly stated that thousands of wives have visited his client’s theme park without returning home to divorce their husbands. He claims that the only reason your wife divorced you was because of your behavior. Is that true?”
“No! No! I’ve never done the things that Patsy accused me of after she went to that Fabulous Fantasies theme park. You’ve heard my parents and Patsy’s parents. You’ve heard our clergyman, my co-workers an
d dozens of our friends. They’ve all testified to our strong relationship and loving marriage. I am not responsible for its breakup! Please, believe me.”
“I do believe you, Mr. Harper. I have no further questions,” Elling said as she returned to the plaintiff’s table.
“Your witness, Mr. Justice,” Butz announced.
“No questions,” Adam replied immediately.
No questions? A.J.’s initial concern began to grow by leaps and bounds. Something was very wrong.
“Mr. Justice,” the judge said in a tone that was about as subtle as a sledgehammer in hiding its irritation. “Did you just say that you have no questions for Mr. Harper?”
All eyes seemed to be focused on Adam Justice as he slowly rose to his feet. He was silent for what seemed to be a very long moment before addressing the bench in that deeply even, ultraformal and emphatic tone that A.J. knew so well.
“Your Honor, with all due respect to this court and with full understanding of the consequences, I decline to ask this witness any questions.”
A surprised, speculative murmur instantly nppled through those assembled. A.J. understood its origin perfectly. You didn’t have to be a lawyer to know that Adam should have tried to impugn Bruce Harper’s claim that he had neither cheated on his wife, emotionally abused her or hidden money from her, inasmuch as those were her stated reasons for divorcing him.
Harper had given Adam a perfect opening. It should have been an easy task for Adam to have discredited this man’s testimony. Harper himself admitted that his wife blamed him, not the theme park, for the breakup of their marriage.
So why wasn’t Adam making these obvious points in a cross-examination?
And why was Judge Butz staring at Adam with a scowl on his face that was getting darker by the second?
Her brother and this judge seemed to be locked in a contest of wills. A.J. knew Adam well. There was no question in her mind who would win.
“You are excused,” Butz said to Bruce Harper. Butz had spat out his words in such obvious irritation, Harper nearly flew out of the chair in his eagerness to return to the plaintiff’s table.
“Counscl for the defense will approach,” Judge Butz said through thin, tight lips.
Once again the courtroom stirred with excited whispers.
As Adam and Scrater gathered around the bench for a sidebar, the courtroom murmur increased. A.J. began to pick up the conversation between the two men with the reporter badges sitting to her right.
“Up until yesterday, Justice was all over every witness Elling presented,” the first reporter said. “He was winning this case. Now he’s blowing it. What’s going on with him today? Is he hungover?”
“Adam Justice hungover?” the second reporter said. “Boy, are you a baby on the court beat. That attorney doesn’t just walk the straight and narrow line. He was the one who drew it. No, something else is going on here.”
The sidebar broke up and so did the conversation A.J. was eavesdropping on. The rest of the courtroom murmuring continued, however, as Adam and Scrater returned to the defense table.
Butz eyed the spectators with a scowl. When they didn’t immediately cease their conversations, he picked up his gavel and rapped it twice. Hard.
The courtroom instantly stilled.
“I hereby declare a mistrial.”
A.J. blinked, sure she must have misheard.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” Butz continued as he angled his head in their direction, “this court excuses you with its thanks.”
A.J. saw the judge then turn to her brother. The warning look in Butz’s eyes immediately sent a chill up her spine.
“Adam Justice,” Butz said, “I find you in contempt of this court and sentence you to ninety days in jail to commence immediately. Bailiff, take Mr. Justice into custody.”
Chapter Three
Zane Coltrane was waiting outside the courtroom door when A.J. exited. She possessed the sure, unwasted movements of a predator. They matched with everything he knew about her.
But what he had found in her eyes when she had boldly locked gazes with him in that courtroom earlier was something brand-new.
Zane always learned a lot from the way someone looked at him, or didn’t. What he’d learned about A.J. from her direct and prolonged eye contact had begun to positively fascinate him.
He moved up behind her, keeping pace with her quick stride, intentionally wanting to take her by surprise.
“Now what’s a nice private investigator like you doing in a place like this?” he asked.
She stopped dead in her tracks and swung around to face him.
Her long, thick black hair and contrasting pale blue eyes were striking. Her face was highlighted by full cheekbones and that cool withdrawn air of a woman comfortable with her own company.
Her deliciously deep, husky voice hummed in his ears. “Coltrane, what are you doing here?”
He draped an arm casually across her shoulders and eased them both out of the stream of spectators still trying to exit the courtroom.
“A.J., you and I have some things to talk about.”
She slipped her shoulders out from under his arm the second they were clear of the throng and faced him squarely. “What things?”
“Let’s just say that I’ve been curious about you ever since our paths crossed last December in that case involving Octavia Osborne of Justice Inc. and my client, Brett Merlin.”
“Curiosity about me doesn’t explain your presence here today. You couldn’t have known I would be here. You’re not at this courtroom to talk to me.”
She was smart and she was direct. He wasn’t disappointed in either observation. Or the fact that her skin up close was as smooth as marble and as white as winter.
“I didn’t say I came here to talk to you, A.J., only that we should talk.” He let his eyes travel appreciatively over her face.
Excitement now vied with wariness in those blue eyes staring so boldly into his. Anticipation tightened the muscles deep in Zane’s stomach.
“Why did you leave the courtroom so abruptly?” she asked.
Zane was disappointed that the wariness won out. “I didn’t leave,” he said. “I gave my seat to a lady. Now it’s my turn to ask a question. Why did your brother refuse to question Bruce Harper?”
She said nothing, gave nothing away. He admired the fact that she could control her expression so well and keep her gaze so steady with his.
She was no Hollywood beauty. Her features were far too strong for the image makers’ plastic molds. Zane was glad she didn’t fit into those molds. Hollywood’s idea of perfection bored him. But he was beginning to suspect that nothing about A.J. would bore him.
“You didn’t know what was going to happen in there today, did you, A.J.?”
“Who are you working for?” she countered without allowing a breath’s hesitation between his question and hers.
“I’m self-employed,” he said, also without hesitation.
A flicker of impatience passed across her face. Zane had a feeling that such impatient flickers passed there often.
“You know that wasn’t what I meant, Coltrane. Who’s hired you to work on this case?”
“What case would that be, A.J.?” he asked, his tone deliberately full of innocence.
“I thought you said we had things to talk about.”
His lips drew into a smile. “I had more personal subjects in mind.”
She stared at him, her eyes shooting blue daggers. Then she swung around and stalked off.
Zane watched her long, dark ponytail swing with an impatient windshield-wiper swish across her erect shoulders as she quickly threaded her way through the throng of spectators.
Despite her considerable height, she could have easily conjoined into that thick crowd. Certainly her dark loose slacks and shirt and sensible walking shoes hid her femininity and downplayed any difference. But for Zane, she still stood out. He knew now she always would.
“You want me to fo
llow her?” Vanack asked as he drew up beside Zane.
Zane glanced at his investigator, noticing the same kind of eager look in his eyes that Zane’s Labrador got when he saw a rabbit hopping by the window.
Zane turned his attention to A.J. “No, I’ll do that myself,” he decided that very minute.
“Look, I know she’s good, but you can trust me not to be seen,” Vanack said.
Zane clapped Vanack on the back. “It’s not that. I’ve just decided to take a more personal interest in this case. When I need relief, I’ll call you in.”
Vanack shrugged, not looking particularly happy. “I’m sorry she’s such a surprise. There was never any indication that A.J. or her private investigative firm was involved in this case. I would have told you if there was.”
“I know.”
“Her brother must have clued her in on what was going to go down in there today.”
“No, I think A.J. is stunned by her brother being jailed.”
“Kind of stunned me, too, Zane. Like I told you when I suggested you might like to sit in this morning, the scuttlebutt around the courthouse was that something was going to happen in there today, but I never expected it to be a mistrial and a contempt of court charge against Justice.”
“Interesting twist though, isn’t it? Look, Vanack, if I’m going to keep A.J. in my sights, I’d best get going. Find that courthouse clerk you’ve been romancing and see if she can fill you in on what happened. Then get the team together tonight for a strategy conference. I’ll be in touch on the cell phone.”
“Right. Zane, you know what this looks like, don’t you?”
“Yeah. It looks like Adam Justice just decided that this case wasn’t worth defending, after all. Makes you wonder what he knows about it that we don’t, doesn’t it?”
“HOW SOON can you bail Adam out?” A.J. asked Octavia Osborne, Marc Truesdale and Kay Kellogg, the three partners of the Justice Inc. law firm who were taking their seats around the conference room table.
“Adam isn’t eligible for bail,” Octavia Osborne said in that characteristic rich, languid tone of hers. “This is a contempt of court charge. The judge has the power to throw Adam behind bars for disobeying a court order, and at this point, no one but that judge has the power to release him.”