Moon Over Alcatraz

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Moon Over Alcatraz Page 22

by Patricia Yager Delagrange


  We’d agreed to have a small wedding at my house with a group of close friends. So far the only people who were aware of our engagement were those working in Edward’s law office. I planned to phone Cecilia and a few others today, guessing most people would be hanging out at home, tired from a big night out or just taking their last free day before returning to work.

  Tomorrow my intentions were to tackle the logistics of the wedding—a Justice of the Peace, flowers, the caterer, and lastly, my dress. I wanted to go into the city with Cecilia to select my gown. The wedding would be in a month, and I didn’t have a lot of time left.

  I was writing a to-do list when Edward’s hands encircled my waist from behind, his face nuzzling my neck.

  “Good morning, beautiful. Your couch is more comfortable than your bed.”

  I turned around, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You said you’d be moving back to your house tonight. Do you still plan on doing that?”

  Pulling back, he asked, “Why? You have someone coming to take my place when I leave?”

  “Stop kidding around,” I laughed. “Seriously, I have to make a few phone calls. There are people I want to invite to the wedding. I’d like to sit on the couch and do nothing, but I have a lot left to do.”

  He began nibbling my ear and whispered, “Then I won’t feel so jealous ’cause I have to work all day. And I mean all day, into the night, and then some.”

  He sat down at the kitchen table, and I poured him a cup of coffee.

  “When do you think you’ll do your summation?”

  He picked up his mug, breathed in the strong scent then sipped the dark brew. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smiled. “Probably in a week. Then the jury will deliberate, we’ll have our verdict, and I can take time off—to get married.”

  Sitting down across from him, I sighed. “You’re so romantic. I hope it all goes according to your plan, babe, otherwise we’ll have a slam dunk ceremony and you’ll return to work the next day.”

  He patted my hand and shook his head. “Not to worry. I’ve done this more times than I can count. Like I told you, I can always file for a motion to delay for a few days, which would give us enough time to have our wedding and slip away for a short honeymoon. We’re getting married on my birthday, Brandy. I promise.”

  He left after finishing his coffee, and I took a few moments to look over my list again. I decided to call Cecilia and invite her to the wedding. She picked up immediately but didn’t sound like her normal happy self.

  “Hey, it’s Brandy. What’s going on? You sound weird.”

  “Amylynn’s sick. She has a 104.5 temperature and I’m waiting for the advice nurse to call us back. I’m so worried about her, it’s making me sick.”

  Now I understood why she’d sounded funny. She must be distraught. “Have you given her anything for the fever?”

  “No. I wasn’t sure what the best thing would be, whether to let her body fight it off naturally or give her some aspirin. I just can’t think straight. She’s our first child, Brandy, and—”

  “Look, Cece,” I interrupted. “You’ve got to keep a cool head, all right?” I said calmly. “I’m not a doctor but Jessica’s gotten sick a few times, so I’ll tell you what to do, right now, while you’re waiting for the nurse to call. Do you have any baby Tylenol, not aspirin, but acetaminophen for infants?”

  “I could send Perry to the drug store to pick some up—”

  “No,” I interjected. “I have some right here.”

  “Perry’s on his way over right now,” she said, sounding anxious. “I had you on speakerphone.”

  “Great. Just follow the dosage on the bottle. I’m not trying to alarm you, but a temperature that high is nothing to mess around with. You have to get it down at least a few degrees then she’ll feel much better. Does she have any other symptoms, a cough, runny nose?”

  “No, it’s so scary. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

  “Don’t freak out. I’ve been there, honey, and felt the same way you do. Amylynn will be fine. You just have to reduce the fever. It’s your number one priority. The advice nurse can take over from there.”

  “Thanks, Brandy.”

  There was a knock on the door. “Perry’s here.” I opened the front door then rushed to get the Tylenol while holding the phone to my ear.

  “Did you call to tell me something?” she asked.

  “No, just to chat. Call me if you need anything.”

  Grabbing the bottle I raced back to the foyer and placed it in Perry’s outstretched hand. He looked like he hadn’t slept—his eyes were red and his clothes rumpled. I gave him a pat on the back and he ran next door.

  I could relate to the fear they were feeling, and it felt good to be able to help out with their sick child. Inviting them to the wedding right now was inappropriate. I also wanted to set up a date to look for a wedding dress and ask Cecilia to be my maid of honor, but I’d leave that for another day too.

  The clock was ticking on my to-do list, and I was anxious to cross off at least one item. But then I caught myself thinking this and guilt overwhelmed me. Here they were dealing with a very sick infant, and I was worried about when she’d be free to help me select my wedding dress? I took a mental step back and counted my blessings. Did I have a reason to be worried about my upcoming wedding? I didn’t think so. I poured myself another cup of java and went into the front room where I planned to hold Jessica and watch the parade.

  Chapter 46

  I arranged for Stephanie to come by one morning a week so I could jog around the streets of Alameda and have some much needed “alone time.” Since she was available, I took advantage of her willingness to babysit whenever she didn’t have a class.

  I’d slacked off during the holidays, and my New Year’s resolution was a personal promise to exercise every day no matter what was happening around me. If I wanted to stay healthy I had to get out there and raise my heart rate. And using the jogging stroller was a godsend, allowing Jessica to get out in the fresh air and sunshine, and me to think about my book.

  Edward had made a similar promise—to return to the gym, working with weights, and running on the treadmill. He was under so much stress, exercising was the only reliable way to maintain his sanity during the trial. When he called me on Friday, he sounded upbeat and happy.

  “My summation is next week. The jury will begin their deliberations after that. So far we’re on track with my plan for a February first wedding. My predictions are turning out to be right.”

  “You are such a conceited brat,” I teased. “Of course you’re right. What would I know about the law? I’m a simple housefrau, with nothing to do but wait for her man to come home and tell me what to do. And how would you like your shirts ironed, creases down both sides of the sleeves?”

  “I assume you’re joking,” he laughed. “You’re a complicated woman, Brandy, and I don’t pretend to have you figured out yet.”

  “I’m kidding. Now you know how it feels when you’re trying to be serious and someone is always making a joke.”

  “All right, all right. I’ll try not to kid around so much,” he said seriously.

  “Oh, come on now. I wouldn’t want to change a thing about you. You’re perfect just the way you are. If you were any different you wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

  “So by process of deduction, you wouldn’t love me as much if I wasn’t such a wise-ass.”

  “God, you’re incorrigible! Stop with the attorney jargon. Can I come listen to your summation next week?”

  “It’s a public trial. If you have the free time it wouldn’t bother me to have you there. And if we break early maybe you and I can have a quickie in the back seat of my Porsche.”

  “Geez. Could I coerce you into having a serious conversation?”

  “You could coerce me into doing more than having a serious conversation.”

  “Okay, I’m done,” I sighed then chuckled. “I have to get off the phone. I’d like to
hear your summation and if my being there won’t distract you I’ll see you in court.”

  He’d be working through the weekend so we said our goodbyes. I looked forward to seeing him in his element, having never witnessed an honest-to-goodness trial before. The closest I’d come was watching Judge Judy on the television.

  I’d called Cecilia two days ago to see how Amylynn was doing. She’d told me her fever had gone down to one hundred degrees and they’d taken her to the doctor who diagnosed her as having a virus. She’d probably be better in a few days. I phoned her, and the answering machine picked up so I left a message for her to call me back.

  Later that evening, after having put Jessica to bed, I sat down to relax and watch a Hallmark movie. The moment I turned on the television the phone rang. I contemplated letting the message machine pick up, feeling too lazy to get off the couch, but it could be Edward or Cecilia, so I answered it and heard Cecilia’s voice. I surmised she must have a terrible cold because she sounded congested along with a deep scratchy voice.

  “Amylynn’s really sick.” Her voice quivered and I could hear her crying.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, remembering how helpless I felt whenever Jessica was ill.

  “We’re at Alameda Hospital and they just admitted her through the E.R. They don’t know what’s wrong with her. Perry is beside himself, I’ve never seen him this upset. And I feel like I’m coming apart.”

  “But you told me she was getting better. When I spoke with you two days ago, her fever had gone down and you said she had a virus.”

  “I know. That’s what the doctor told us. Then today her fever spiked again, it was 105.2 and we rushed her to the E.R. This all just happened so I’ve gotta go. I just wanted you to know.”

  “I could come over, keep you company for a while, Cece. Stephanie would be happy to babysit Jess. But I don’t want to intrude—”

  “No, you stay with Jessica. Perry is here and we’re taking care of each other, though it’s kind of like the blind leading the blind. There’s nothing you can do, Brandy, and I know how much you hate hospitals because of Christine. Seriously, I’ll call you when I know more.”

  “Okay, honey. Call me whenever you can.” And we hung up.

  Life could sure turn on a dime. One minute everything’s fine, the next you find yourself wondering what the hell happened. I was so worried about Amylynn. And Cecilia and Perry, too. This was their first child, they were newcomers to the land of childhood illnesses. And it was a minefield of worry. Though I was a first-time parent myself, I’d bet it never ceased being a gut-wrenching event no matter what age—infant, toddler, kindergartner…teenager. It would probably never get any easier.

  The weekend before his summation, Edward and I talked on the phone several times. He’d be living at the office for the next few days working on the murder case.

  By Sunday I hadn’t heard from Cecilia so I called Stephanie to ask her to babysit and drove to Alameda Hospital. The receptionist told me Amylynn Saxton was in the Intensive Care Unit.

  I rode the elevator to the third floor while my stomach clenched and my heart fluttered. The elevator pinged when it reached the ICU, and like an automaton my feet took me to the nurse’s station, memories of the deaths of my parents and Christine flooding my brain. I asked the nurse if Cecilia or Perry was in their daughter’s room and she informed the Saxtons of my arrival.

  Several minutes later Cecilia walked down the hallway, looking like she hadn’t slept in days, her black hair pulled up into a straggly pony tail, face devoid of make-up. She ran up to me, and I wrapped her in my arms.

  “How is she?” I asked, hugging her.

  She pulled away and swiped the tears from her cheeks. “She had a febrile seizure after we arrived at the hospital but the doctor said it’s fairly common in babies if the fever’s high. They had to pack her in ice to bring her temperature down but she’s responding. It’s down to one hundred degrees now. The doctor wants to keep her overnight just to make sure she’s out of the woods.”

  I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and walked over to the nearest chairs. We sat down next to each other and I turned toward her. “I can’t imagine how frightened you and Perry must have been. What did the doctor say caused such a high fever? Can they treat her with medication?”

  She shook her head and sighed. “He said it was probably some sort of virus so giving her antibiotics wouldn’t do her any good. She does have a runny nose but her chest is clear, no sign of pneumonia or an ear infection or anything.”

  “Jessica’s doctor explained to me an infant’s immune system is still developing at this stage and they often can’t fight off some of the viruses going around.” She nodded and gave me a half-smile. “I won’t ask to see her, Cecilia. Just call me if you need anything, okay?”

  She stood up and we hugged again. “I’m sorry. I know coming into this hospital brings back every awful thing about Christine’s dying. Thank you for coming, Brandy.”

  I gave her shoulders a little shake. “Don’t you dare apologize. You helped me after Christine died, you talked to me, called me every day to check on me. I want to be here for you the same way. I can handle it. You’re my best friend, and I love you like a sister.” I gave her a small smile and another big hug and left.

  Cecilia and Perry were good, kind, and loving people and I was relieved Amylynn was recovering. They’d gone through so much to finally have her in their lives and I was glad this episode would have a happy ending for the three of them.

  Chapter 47

  The following day, Monday, I planned to watch Edward’s summation and was excited about seeing him in action. Cell phones had to be turned off while in the courtroom, lending me a sense of being away from it all, free for just a few hours from the outside world.

  I arrived early and found a seat at the front. When Edward walked in just before nine a.m. he squeezed my right shoulder as he passed by. This would be such a treat for me, I had butterflies in my stomach.

  We stood when the judge entered the courtroom, the bailiff calling the court to order. The judge asked if Mr. Barnes was ready to give his summation to the jury. Edward replied, “Yes, your Honor,” stood up, walked to where the jury were seated, and folded his hands behind his back.

  He smiled and opened his arms wide. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said, then drew his eyebrows together and wiped the smile from his lips. “The prosecution’s job is to prove my client William Carper guilty of the murder of Heidi Bailey. You may cast a vote of ‘guilty’ only if the prosecution has proven beyond a reasonable doubt my client committed the crime.”

  He turned to the side and pointed to the table nearest to him. “The prosecution states my client broke into the Bailey residence and brutally murdered Heidi Bailey with a kitchen knife.” Turning back to face the jury again, he continued, “But they have not been able to prove it. There isn’t a shred of evidence pointing to my client being in the Bailey house at the time Heidi Bailey was killed.”

  He shook his head from side to side and pointed his index finger toward the ceiling, wafting it from left to right. “My client’s fingerprints were not on the murder weapon. There was no hair or clothing from my client found at the scene.” He dropped his hand and put it behind his back again, still shaking his head. “There is nothing, ladies and gentlemen, nothing to prove my client was there at the time the crime was committed. The DNA found where the crime was committed in the Bailey house does not match my client’s DNA. In fact,” he pointed toward the parents of Heidi Bailey seated behind the prosecutor’s table. “The DNA at the crime scene belongs to Pat and Jeff Bailey. It does not match that of William Carper.” A rustling noise came from the spectator’s area and I noticed Pat and Jeff Bailey being comforted by those sitting near them.

  Edward walked over to where he’d been sitting, reached into his briefcase, and took out a stack of papers, waving them in front of his chest. “The evidence the prosecution has presented is completely circumstantia
l. The coroner has determined Heidi Bailey was killed sometime between midnight and two a.m. A neighbor claims to have seen my client walking across the lawn of the victim’s house sometime on the night of the murder but doesn’t recall the exact time.” He fingered through several sheets of paper, looking through them, then folded them back and pointed at the top sheet and read, “In fact, the neighbor only remembers seeing someone ‘looking sort of like’ William Carper walking toward the victim’s house.” Then he looked up and stared at the jurors. “Once again, flimsy and circumstantial evidence, ladies and gentlemen.”

  He put the papers back in his briefcase then leisurely ambled over toward the jury box, all the while turning his head slowly from one side of the jury box to the other. “My client does not deny he went to the victim’s home on the night the murder was committed. He admits to being at the door of the victim’s house at ten o’clock the evening of the murder.” He shrugged. “Mr. Carper went there to borrow some coffee for the next morning, for him and his girlfriend, Carmella Anthony. My client states he walked up to the door, noticed there were no lights on in the house, looked at his watch, noted it was ten p.m., and realized it was too late to be bothering the Baileys. He then returned to his home. He was gone for no more than three minutes. He states he then went to bed around eleven p.m.”

  Placing his hands on top of the railing in front of the jury box, he glanced from one juror to the next as he raised his voice. “William Carper was a friend of the Baileys. He babysat Heidi Bailey several times at the request of her parents, Pat and Jeff Bailey.” He slapped once lightly on the top of the railing. “Yes, he’d been in their home, but only when asked. Did he enter their home on the night of the murder? No, he did not.”

  He gestured toward one side of the courtroom. “His girlfriend, Carmella Anthony—” He glanced in her direction for a second, returning his gaze to the jury box. “—testified Mr. Carper stepped out for a couple of minutes to go next door to borrow some coffee. She swears he was gone for only a couple of minutes.” He brought up his left hand and ticked off four fingers, one at a time with his right hand, counting with each point he made. “That did not give my client enough time to break into the Bailey house, find the knife in the kitchen in the dark, walk down the hallway into Heidi Bailey’s bedroom, and murder her. Ms. Anthony states she and my client went to bed at eleven p.m. and he never left her side. They were both awakened the following morning when the police arrived to question them.”

 

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