The Associate

by Rachel Sinclair

  “Of course. People argue with each other all the time.”

  “And is it fair to say that, even though people in general might have heated words with one another, those same people don’t usually go out and kill that other person?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess. You mean, you don’t know? Do you believe that most people who have heated words with each other end up killing that other person?”

  “Well, no.”

  “And you said that you saw them arguing, but you never said that my client actually made any verbal threats against Ms. McMason. I would imagine that is because there weren’t any verbal threats made against her. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “In fact, there wasn’t anything about their arguments that was out of the ordinary, isn’t that right? There wasn’t anything physical between them – no punching, no kicking, no shoving, none of that. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “And you knew Ms. McMason personally. I didn’t know her, but I know her personality, and she had never struck me as the kind of woman who wouldn’t call the police if she felt threatened in any way. Wouldn’t that be fair to say?”

  “Yes. That’s fair to say. If Shelly had felt threatened by Erik, she would have called the police.”

  “And she never did the call the police on Erik. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” He nodded, but then glared at Erik.

  I paced a bit in front of the stand. “So, she never called the police on Erik. The fights that you describe between my client and Ms. McMason were not violent and you never heard any threats. Does that sum up your testimony correctly?”

  “That’s right, but-“

  “And isn’t it also true that Ms. McMason was engaged to Yasin Ahmadi at the same time that she allegedly was having sexual relations with my client?”

  “Yes.”

  “And would it be fair to say that Ms. McMason actually didn’t know who fathered her unborn child, and that was why she had an abortion, not because my client forced her into it?”

  “Objection,” Nick said, on his feet. “Calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained. Please rephrase your question, counselor.”

  “Did Shelly ever tell you that she didn’t know who fathered her unborn child?”

  “Objection, hearsay,” Nick said.

  “Statement against interest, your honor,” I said. “If she told Ara that she didn’t know who fathered her child, that would besmirch her own reputation. That makes it a statement against interest.”

  Judge Clarion nodded his head. “I’ll allow it. Please answer that question, Mr. Abayan.”

  “Yes. She did tell me that she didn’t know who fathered her child.”

  “So, then, she actually had an abortion because she didn’t know who the father was of the child, and she didn’t want to admit that fact to her fiancé, Yasin. Isn’t that fair to say?” I knew that I wasn’t going to get away with him answering that question, but I didn’t care. It was out there, and that’s all that mattered.

  “Objection, calls for speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  “I have nothing further.”

  I sat down, and Erik wrote a note. Good job, it said.

  You’re an asshole, I wrote back. A lying asshole.

  Charlize Allen was next on the stand. She didn’t add much, as it turned out. I figured that she was on the stand to humanize Shelly some more. I didn’t object to her testimony, nor did I cross her. She was insignificant.

  Not so insignificant was Yasin Ahmadi. I knew that he, too, was brought to the stand to be more of a character witness than anything else, but I wanted to cross-examine him, anyhow.

  He was just as I pictured him. He was a handsome guy with long curly hair that he wore in a man-bun. He was dressed in a blue button-down with a white t-shirt underneath, blue jeans and work boots. His skin was caramel-colored, and his teeth were perfectly straight. His eyes was large, brown and expressive. I could see the appeal of the man.

  He sat down, and I realized that he looked weary. As if he was working too much, and was dealing with too much stress. Which he probably was. Between being a first-year medical student and dealing with the death of his fiancé, I knew that Yasin had much on his plate.

  The bailiff swore him in and Nick had him state his name for the record, and then he started asking him questions. It turned out that Yasin, like Charlize, was called because Nick wanted to humanize Shelly a bit more. Make the jury see her as three-dimensional and make her death seem that much more tragic. If I wanted to, I could have objected to Yasin taking the stand, because his testimony wasn’t really relevant to the proceedings, but I didn’t object. I wanted to cross-examine him, because I wanted the jury to believe that there was the chance that Yasin was the one who murdered Shelly.

  I got my chance after Nick rested with his questions.

  “Mr. Ahmadi,” I said, approaching him. “You testified on direct examination that you and Shelly were very much in love, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes,” he said, nodding his head. “That is correct.”

  “Were you aware of how her father felt about you?”

  “Yes. He hated me. He hated me because of how I look and what I believe. I’m not Christian and I’m not white, so I wasn’t good enough for his daughter.” He stated this matter-of-factly, with little emotion. Yet, he had to have been angry. Anybody would have been angry under these circumstances.

  “He hated you.” I nodded my head. “And did you happen to know that Shelly was seeing men behind your back? Not just Wells Armstrong, but also my client, Erik. Did you find out about this before she was killed?”

  “No,” he said, looking down at the stand. “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know that until after she died and I started seeing articles in the paper about her life.”

  “And you also weren’t aware that she was pregnant and she didn’t know if you were the father or if my client was the father? You didn’t find out about that?”

  “I did not.” He looked down at the stand again. “I thought that I knew her, but it turns out that I really didn’t.”

  “Now, you loved her, and she was sleeping around behind your back. You say that you didn’t know about that, but if you did, would that have made you angry?”

  “Of course. I would have definitely been angry about that. Who wouldn’t be angry to find that out?”

  “Who, indeed?” I crossed my arms in front of me. “Maybe it would have made you angry enough to kill her.”

  He glared at me and shook his head. “No. I would have never been angry enough to kill her. I loved her. I still do. She was the love of my life. Her father despised us together, and so did mine. They did everything in their power to keep us apart, but we stayed together. We fought for each other.”

  “You were fighting for her, but she was sleeping around.” I nodded my head.

  “Yes,” he said softly, tears coming to his eyes. “That’s right.”

  “I have nothing further.”

  I felt terrible for Yasin. He was a broken man who had lost his fiancé and now was looking, to the jury, like somebody who might have killed her. At least, if I did my job right, the jury was thinking that.

  I still felt sympathy for him as he dragged himself off the stand, his shoulders slumped, and he walked out the courtroom doors.

  The judge looked at the clock. “Okay,” he said. “It is now 4:30. We will adjourn for the day, and everybody must be back here tomorrow right at 9 for day two. I thank all of you again for your service, and I’ll see all of you back here tomorrow.” He banged the gavel, and the members of the jury all stood up and filed out of the courtroom.

  I stood up and, without a word, left the courtroom as well.

  I wasn’t going to deal with Erik right at that moment. Fuck him.

  Chapter 25

  Harper followed me out the door and waited wi
th me for the elevator. The slimy worm Erik was still in the courtroom. I guessed that he didn’t want to hear the lecture from me. That was smart, because I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind, right in front of the jury. Several of the jury members were standing in the hallway with us, waiting for the elevator, too, and I would have given them a show. I had a hard time controlling my temper with guys like Erik, and I just didn’t want to deal with him.

  “You going somewhere tonight?” Harper asked.

  I nodded my head. “My daughter Amelia is in the hospital with the flu.” I still hadn’t told Harper about Amelia’s battle with lymphoma. I didn’t know why I didn’t let Harper into my world. I guessed it was because I was always so closed-off. Being in prison for five years did that to me, in a way. It made me guarded. In prison, if you let people know too much about your life, they would inevitably use it against you.

  “In the hospital with the flu?” Harper said incredulously. “Wow, that must be some flu.”

  I bit my lower lip and watched for the elevator to appear on my floor. I took a deep breath. “You going anywhere this evening?”

  “No. I don’t have any plans.”

  “How about you come to the hospital with me? She’s only going to be in there overnight for observation. I know that she wants some company, and I would love for you to meet her.”

  “Okay.” Harper nodded her head. “I’ll call my nanny, Sophia, to make sure that my girls are fed and they take their baths and do their homework. I’ll be glad to go to the hospital with you.”

  “Good. I need to get away from this place and we need to talk about our strategy. Things obviously changed today,” I whispered, as I didn’t want any of the jury members to hear me. “And we need to maybe rethink things.”

  She nodded. “I was just thinking that myself.”

  The elevator finally arrived and we rode it down. We got to the ground floor and went out the door. It was only 4:30, but the sky was dark and it was cold. It felt like snow, and the weatherman was calling for it. Everything was lit up for Christmas – the trees had lights in them, and many of the downtown buildings did as well. That was one thing that I loved about Kansas City – Christmas felt like Christmas around here. Feeling the Christmas season was something that I didn’t have in prison, nor did I have it growing up with my single mom. I was grateful that I still had Amelia this Christmas. A year ago this time, I didn’t think that she would have lived to see another. Yet, she was getting better and stronger all the time. This latest hiccup not-withstanding.

  “She’s in Children’s Mercy,” I said. “Room 505. You can meet me there if you like.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  I walked to my car, wondering if I was doing the right thing. I was obviously going to have to tell Harper the truth about my daughter. She was going to have to know that my daughter was in the oncology ward. I didn’t know if I was ready for Harper to find out about Amelia. I didn’t want her to give me the sympathy eyes all the time, and I didn’t want to have to constantly answer well-meaning questions about Amelia. I didn’t want Harper to think that she had to treat me differently than she already was. I didn’t want things to change. Unfortunately, once people knew that your child was sick with cancer, things usually did change.

  I got to the hospital, and Harper was already there. She was waiting for me in the lobby of the hospital. She saw me and she linked arms with mine.

  I closed my eyes. She knows. She’s already giving me the sympathy eyes and the sympathy gestures. “Why didn’t you tell me about Amelia?” she asked.

  “Because I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me,” I said. “I hate pity. Things are fine with Amelia. She’s a little sick with the flu, and the flu can be very dangerous for her right now. They’re pumping her with fluids and they’re giving her Tamiflu, and there’s not a reason to get bent out of shape about it.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  We got to the elevator and rode it to the fifth floor. I found Amelia’s room and we walked in.

  She was sitting up in bed, playing with her iPad, when we walked in. Since she was no longer in danger of dying from an infection, she was allowed to have non-sterile items, such as iPads, with her. That delighted her beyond measure. “Daddy,” she said, excitedly. “I was dying to find out how your trial is going. I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

  I chuckled. “You’re six years old and you’re obsessing about my trial.” I shook my head. “You’re a freak, kitten.”

  She looked over at Harper quizzically and then looked down at her iPad. “Who is that?”

  “This is Harper. She’s my boss.”

  Harper beamed at Amelia, but Amelia looked away. I think that I knew why Amelia was so cold to Harper – she could tell that Harper was taking pity on her. Amelia was like me – to her, pity was the absolute worst emotion you could express. Amelia would take rage, jealousy, vengeance or any other ugly emotion over pity, and she would take it gladly. I knew that Harper meant well, but I also knew that she wasn’t going to be scoring any points with my daughter.

  “Daddy,” she said, ignoring Harper. “When am I getting out of here?”

  “Tomorrow,” I said. “I talked to your charge nurse, and she assured me that you will be blowing this place tomorrow.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling. “Does that mean I can make Rosalind bring me to see you in your trial? Everybody’s talking about it today. This case. It’s even shown up on my iPad under Yahoo! News. You’re famous, daddy.”

  I sighed. “Kitten, no. This is an adult trial. In fact, all my trials are adult trials. Maybe when you get older, you can come.”

  “You mean if I get older.” She looked down again at the iPad, and her words struck me like daggers.

  “When you get older,” I corrected her.

  “Whatever. I want to see you try this case,” she said. “That girl, that Shelly, she seemed like she was nice. And your client seems like –“

  “Not so nice,” I said. “I know.”

  “I was going to say he sounds like a douchebag, but okay.”

  I felt embarrassed to hear my six-year-old daughter saying that word, but I felt that words were just words – they didn’t hurt anybody, so I didn’t feel like correcting her for saying things that she shouldn’t. Still, I felt that I should probably correct her in front of Harper. “Amelia, we don’t say those words,” I said.

  “I say that word all the time. It could be worse.”

  Harper laughed and I shook my head. “Anyways, Kitten, you need your rest. I wanted to drop in and tell you that I love you, as usual. I’ll be by tomorrow after my trial to get you out of this place.”

  “Whatevs,” she said.

  I kissed her forehead and Harper and I left.

  “She’s very intelligent,” Harper said. “Not that that’s a surprise, considering you’re her father.”

  “Yeah. She’s 6 years old, going on 26. It is what it is, though.”

  “I hate to pry,” she said. “But what kind of cancer does she have?”

  “Lymphoma. Non-Hodgkin’s. But she’s beating it. She just had a bone marrow transplant, and, so far, so good.”

  “And your son? How is he handling it?”

  “As well as can be expected. I try very hard to not neglect him. That was one thing that my therapist told me – don’t neglect him. I got a family therapist for all of us after Amelia got sick and her mother ran off. It was hard to cope for awhile. But we’ve all turned a corner.”

  Harper smiled. “I was raped when I was in college,” she said. “I figured that since you’re opening up a bit to me, that I should do the same with you. My rape is why I became a drunk.” Then she shook her head. “That’s not true. I was a drunk long before then, but it made me into even more of a drunk. And I white-knuckle my sobriety every day of my life.”

  I nodded my head, feeling that Harper and I had turned a corner. We were maybe trusting one another just a bit. Finally. “Well, I wou
ld say let’s get a drink, but it sounds like that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  She laughed. “I can go to a bar now and not want to drink. I just got back on the wagon, though, so that was very difficult for me for a long time. But I’m okay again. Let’s go. We need to talk about Erik’s case, anyhow.”

  “Erik. That bastard.”

  “Yes,” Harper said. “He’s a bastard for sure. But nothing that we can’t handle. And we will handle it. We have to. Not just because of Sargis’ threats, but also because he’s our client. They threw us a curve-ball today, but we can throw it right back at them. We can, and we will. Bank on it.”

  Harper and I arranged to meet at a bar so that we could talk more about Erik’s case.

  It was an uphill battle, and it was only getting worse.

  But we were going to get through it.

  Chapter 26

  The next day, the prosecutor called several more witnesses, none of whom were terribly consequential. Then it was our turn.

  The show was about to begin.

  “Counselor,” Judge Clarion said, addressing me. “Call your first witness.”

  Harper and I had decided that the best witnesses that we could call would be Wells Armstrong and Andrew McMason. I felt that they would be better bets, as far as alternative suspects, than would Yasin and his father.

  Wells was going to be good for us, because I knew that he was going to be somebody who was going to make Shelly seem less sympathetic. He was going to confirm to the jury that Shelly was somebody who was less than pristine, and sullying her up could only be good for our side.

  “The defense calls Wells Armstrong.”

  Wells came to the stand. He was around 50 years old, with a full head of dark hair. He walked with a straight back, his head held high. He was dressed casually, at least more casually than a CEO of a company would usually dress – he was wearing khaki pants and a yellow button-down, open at the collar.

  I swore him in, and he sat down.