by Freya Atwood
“I’m a truck driver.”
“And who do you drive trucks for?”
“Patriot Breweries. I deliver beer.”
“Do you deliver beer to the Broncos bar on the corner of Vale and Duke in North Denny?”
“Um, yeah. I sure do.”
“Do you deliver at the same time, on whatever frequency you make your deliveries?”
“Yeah, most of the time it’s a regular refill. I deliver to Broncos weekly, Monday and Thursday evenings. Used to be day times but the manager changed the order a few months back.”
“When was that?”
“When did he switch to nighttime? Ummm, couldn’t say for sure but it’s all logged. Logged with the brewery and I keep a log too.”
“I call the court’s attention to Exhibit Thirty-Five AC. A handwritten log kept by Mr. Nielsen of his deliveries this month. Note the time and date is very precisely captured and the log for each week is countersigned. Who approves your time sheets Mr. Nielsen?”
The log, a thick wad of carbons protected inside a plastic bag, was being passed around the jurors.
“My supervisor, Clem Fisher. Or his deputy, Michelle Nolan.”
“How do they ensure that the times you record are being noted accurately? Couldn’t you just make it up? If you wanted to take a break for example?”
“No, ma’am. There’s a black box in the rig. Umm, in the truck. It records every time I stop and start the engine, gear changes and has a GPS tracker. The paper log is just a backup. The box is the real time sheet.”
“If it please the court, Exhibit Nineteen A is a print out of a GPS tracking readout. It details the precise coordinates the truck occupied at any given second of any given minute of any given hour…You get the picture.”
Small ripple of laughter. “Exhibit Nineteen AC is a signed affidavit from a Captain Marsh of the Washington State National Guard who specializes in logistics. He has verified that these coordinates represent this precise place…”
I pointed to the screen which showed a map of North Denny before dramatically zooming in on Duke Street. The truck’s location could clearly be seen at the corner of Duke and Vale.
“Does that location seem familiar to you, Mr. Nielsen?”
“Yeah. That’s where I park when I’m delivering to Broncos. The manager parks his car across the street, next to the bar so I have to park up opposite.”
“Can you tell me how long you were parked there on the night in question?”
“No. But it’s all in the log.”
“The log says your engine was off for forty-five minutes. The GPS system concurs. This has been verified by Captain Marsh of the Washington State National Guard.”
“Objection!” Halden sounded half-hearted. This was an attempt to disrupt my flow, not a serious objection. “Your Honor, people are being mentioned that are not present. Are we going to hear this testimony from them or is the jury expected to take Counsel’s word for it?”
“Your Honor.” I replied. “Of course I fully intend to have these people testify under oath in open court.” I held up my arms in a shrug, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That goes without saying.”
“Glad to hear it. Overruled.”
“On the night in question, Mr. Nielsen, did you hear the gun shots?” I asked.
“Nope. But then I was rolling barrels into the basement of the bar. And there was music playing upstairs. Couldn’t hear anything going on outside when I was down there.”
“Did you see the police respond to the 911 call?”
“Yeah. Came out and a patrol car came screeching up and two cops ran in. Then I went back into the basement.”
“You didn’t hear the shots that were fired after the officers went into the building?”
“Nope.”
“How long was it, after you saw them enter the building, that you took another barrel into the basement?”
“Umm. Say again?”
“After the cops went into the building, how much time passed before you went back into the basement?” I said slowly and clearly.
“Oh, right, right. Well I was rolling a barrel across the street when they got there. And they ran straight in. Maybe thirty seconds.”
“And in those thirty seconds you heard no gun shots?” I put some incredulity into my voice. “These police officers allege they were fired upon almost as soon as they entered?”
“Nope. Didn’t hear nothing. Umm, ma’am. Vinny said he heard shots though.”
“Vinny?”
“The manager of Broncos. Told me he heard gunshots. He was upstairs at the time.”
“Thank you Mr. Nielsen. Most interesting. This would be Vinny Fantucci?”
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“He’s our next witness. Thank you, again Mr. Nielsen. ” I strode back to my table. “Your witness.” I said brusquely to Halden before I sat down.
Chapter 42
Halden had no questions for Nielsen. I wasn’t surprised, there was very little she could do to pick apart his testimony just as she hadn’t been able to question Audrey Brown’s testimony. Vinny Fantucci was called. He hadn’t seen the cops arrive, just heard them. He hadn’t heard the gun shot that killed Adil Khan but had heard the two shots supposedly fired at Waters and Ditzarella. He confirmed a lag between the two, just as Nielsen had done.
Captain Marsh of the National Guard confirmed his translation of the black box coordinates as the exact location needed for the truck to obscure the door through which Hunter Watson had gone. Greene adjourned the court for lunch. I was feeling a sense of momentum. After lunch we would be calling Helen Stark and then Mrs. Khan.
She would be a hostile witness but I was confident she couldn’t hurt my defense and could, if questioned in the right way, be encouraged to undermine the prosecution, if unwittingly. I wasn’t a detective and it wasn’t my job to solve the mystery of who had killed Adil Khan. But I could point out some interesting avenues for investigation while casting reasonable doubt into the minds of the jury.
As soon as I was freed from the scrutiny of the jury I made for the privacy of my car and checked my phone. A message showed from Bryan.
“I’m OK. Stayed with a friend. Don’t worry.”
I wanted to swear, wanted to scream. After everything, that was all I got from him. The only thing that stopped me was the presence of the reporters who might see me. I called him and this time he answered.
“You’ve got some explaining to do.” I told him flatly. “Do you know what happened after you left?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He told me.”
My chest felt like ice. My hand gripped the phone with white knuckles. “How long have you been speaking to him?”
“A while.”
“Did he give you those bruises I saw?”
“No, I told you. I got mugged.”
I fought to keep my anger under control. “Bryan, he broke into our house and came after me. He’s attacked you. Do you see how dangerous he is?”
“Not anymore. He won’t bother us again. I talked to him.”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
He was answering like a robot. I wondered if he was in shock. What’s happened to my boy? “What happened? Please, tell me.”
Silence. “I went to see him. I had it out with him. And he left. Went back to LA.”
“Just like that?”
Silence. This time Bryan didn’t speak. I tried a different direction.
“Bryan, will you tell me what happened? The man I knew wouldn’t listen to reason. Did…did the two of you fight?”
“Yes. I beat him though. I won.”
“He must have been angry.”
“He was.”
“He wouldn’t just walk away. That would have been humiliating for him. He’s too vindictive.”
Bryan sighed in exasperation. “Mom, just listen. He’s gone. OK? He’s gone.”
“Well u
ntil I see either a dead body or him alive but in an orange jump suit, I’m going to be skeptical.”
“He wanted me to take his side, to move out and live with him in LA. He took it hard when I rejected him. I think that’s what made him lose his temper and then he tried to attack me.”
“And you gave as good as you got?”
“Yeah.”
It just didn’t ring true. Tommy DeLuca was a hardened criminal and, as far as I knew, Bryan had no experience of fighting. Tommy wouldn’t just quit. If Bryan had rejected him in favor of me, Tommy would be out for revenge.
“The detective, who was at the house when Tommy broke in the first time, is investigating. I asked him to look for you. I didn’t know where you were or if you were hurt…Anyway, if I call him and tell him what’s happened, will you take him to wherever you last saw your father?”
“Mom, I’m not helping the police to arrest my Dad.”
“I’m not asking you to. Just take Detective Franco to where you last saw him. If he’s long gone, like you say, then what harm can it do? Please, Bryan. For me? Once we’ve given Detective Franco all the help we can then I think he’ll drop the case and leave us alone. We can get back to how things were. Otherwise, I think he’s going to be hanging about trying to get a lead.”
“OK, OK. I’ll speak to him. Give me his number, I’ll call him.”
“I’ll send it over to you. Thank you Bryan. I love you.”
“Love you too Mom.” Bryan muttered.
Could it be that this is over that easily? If Tommy is still around, Franco can deal with him. If he’s gone, as long as he stays away, everything will be fine. I felt the urge to move. The same urge that had driven me from LA all those years ago. That was the effect Tommy had. He made places feel unsafe, tainted. Now, he had been to Everwood, he had broken into my home and had walked the streets of the town I had come to think of myself as being a native of.
The urge was strong to start over. Find somewhere new, far away and just start afresh. But I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Bryan had been a baby last time. He had no say in it. Now, he was an adult. He might not want to move. So, I had to make Everwood safe for us again. For the moment, Detective Franco seemed the person best placed to help. I had added his number to my phone and now I shared it with Bryan. I took out a cigarette, feeling the need urgently.
Had Bryan got his bruises from his father? It made me want to go looking for Tommy. Go looking with the intention of hurting him. Not just because he had hurt my boy. But because he had shown him what violence could achieve. If Bryan was telling the truth about driving his father away it had to have been with violence. Maybe his father made him angry enough that he was able to overwhelm him. Too many ifs. Detective Franco, I hope you’re up to the job. Show me Tommy is gone for sure.
Chapter 43
My next witness was Helen Stark. She was in her late twenties with a round, pretty face and wide green eyes. She was blond, slim and had dressed professionally for her court appearance. Her hair was tied back neatly and she wore little makeup. It didn’t look as though she needed it. Helen Stark looked wholesome and innocent, which would lend her credibility.
“Ms. Stark, could you confirm, for the court, your relationship with Dr. Adil Khan?” I began.
She hesitated and looked down at her hands. “We were lovers.”
“For how long?”
“Just over a year.”
“Would you describe your relationship as purely sexual or something deeper?”
“It was love. We loved each other. He was going to leave his wife for me.”
“How do you know?”
“We talked about it, towards the end. He’d had enough of her gambling. It was making him sick with stress. He just wanted it over and to get her out of his life.”
“You believed him?”
“Of course!” Her eyes opened wide, cheeks reddened. “I knew him well enough to know if he was lying.”
“No offense intended, Ms. Stark.” I placated. “I merely wanted to establish what your expectations were for your relationship, in your own mind.”
“I know he was going to leave her because I was there when he told her.”
“You were there? How did Mrs. Khan react to that?”
“She was furious. I guess it wasn’t right, me being there. In hindsight it was cruel, but Adil wanted me there for support.”
“When was this?”
“About a month before he was killed.” Her voice wavered at the mention of her lover’s murder.
“So, Mrs. Khan was angry when her husband told her he was leaving. Did he ask for a divorce at that time?”
“No. I don’t care about marriage, though it was more important to Adil. He wanted to marry me but I persuaded him to wait until we were set up to ask for a divorce.”
“Set up? Can you be more specific?”
Stark looked uncomfortable. She hesitated again before answering. “She had been a drain on him because of her debts. All of his money went to trying to pay off what she owed. He couldn’t get ahead. Couldn’t save for a place of his own if he moved out. Couldn’t save for a divorce, because she would contest it. He was trapped. So, he wanted to get some money behind him first. I guess..”
She trailed off, face red and looking away. There were tears in her eyes.
“You guess?”
“Look, he was a good man. He was just in a desperate situation. He made me promise…”
She was crying now. Greene gestured and a court officer brought her a box of tissues. She dabbed at her eyes.
“What did he make you promise, Helen?” I asked gently, using her first name for emotional connection.
“He made me promise not to ask any questions about where the money was coming from.”
The words were a bombshell. I let the silence stretch, wanting the full force of that impact to be felt by the jury.
“I am not going to cast any aspersions on the character of a man who so selflessly dedicated himself to helping others. But, the life of another man hangs in the balance. So, I’m sorry to ask, Helen, but are you saying that he planned to obtain the money he needed by…” I made myself look as though it was hard to say. “…some illegal means?”
“I kept my promise. I didn’t ask.”
Another silence. Let the implications settle. Even Halden was quiet. There were no objections from her. She knew that there was nothing she could object to. There was no evidence against Dr. Khan, but Helen Stark was merely stating facts. That she had been made to promise to ask no questions. The implication of this would be clear to all. And, I hoped, the jury would now be thinking about who else had a motive to murder Dr. Khan.
“Helen, did you ever see Mrs. Khan behave aggressively, or even violently towards her husband?”
“Objection!” Halden made up for lost time. “Your Honor, Mrs. Jasmine Khan is not on trial and it is not the place of the defense to make accusations.”
“Sustained. Counselor, unless you have specific evidence to relate, I do not want to hear speculation about possible alternative suspects. That is not your place.”
“Acknowledged, Your Honor. Question withdrawn.” I turned back to Helen Stark. “How did Mrs. Khan react when her husband told her that he was leaving her?”
“She was furious. She told him that she would bankrupt him with the divorce. That he couldn’t just walk away, he had responsibilities and she would make sure he met them.”
“Did you say anything to her?”
“No, I was just there to support Adil. It wasn’t my place to speak up. I was in the room but I didn’t say anything.”
“Did she speak to you directly?”
“Oh yeah. She had lots to say to me. She was scary. Thank God Adil stayed between us.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because more than once she tried to get to me.”
“Get to you? How, exactly?”
“Tried to get up in my face. But Adil wouldn’t let her.”
“And what did she say?”
“Just that I shouldn’t think I would have him or his money. That if I had him now it wouldn’t last. She said that I wouldn’t have him for long.”
“What do you think she meant by that?”
“Objection! Your Honor, the defense is blatantly trying to lay suspicion on Mrs. Adil Khan, a grieving widow. There is no evidence. If Ms. Jones wishes to be a prosecutor then she is welcome to apply for a job in my office. Until then…”