Unconscionable, A Rich Coleman Novel Vol 3

by William Manchee

  Chapter 29

  A Daunting Task

   

  Ever since posting Rich’s bond and bringing him home, Erica had been in a panic. Although Rich and Bruce Pierson seemed optimistic about Rich beating the murder charges against him, she didn’t see how he could escape conviction. She had been lucky to escape conviction by pleading temporary insanity, but now with her notes being made public no jury would believe anything Rich said.

  Because of this ominous feeling about the upcoming trial, Erica wanted to make a run for it and had suggested to Rich on more than one occasion that they should flee to Argentina. When she had brought it up he hadn’t said no, but he hadn’t embraced the idea, either. When Rich came home from the office that night, he surprised Erica by bringing up the idea of running.

  “You know we have considered every possible person who would have had reason to kill your aunt but can’t find any evidence to prove any one of them did it.”

  “I know. It’s so frustrating,” Erica agreed.

  “The only way we’re going to figure this thing out is if I can remember what happened.”

  “Well, if you didn’t remember it twenty-five years ago, how could you possibly remember it now?”

  “I was thinking about that and wondering if I should go under hypnosis.”

  “Hypnosis? Do you think that would work after all this time?”

  “I don’t know. It’s possible, and I’m running out of ideas. I need to know if I’m guilty or not. If I am, then we should escape while we can. I was foolish bringing you back to Dallas the last time and nearly lost you as a result. I’m not going to take that kind of chance again.”

  “I agree. Let’s just pack our things right now and leave.”

  “If I’m innocent and can prove it, we don’t need to run. That’s why I have to find out as quickly as possible. Is there anything you haven’t told me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you found me unconscious, but is that the truth?”

  “Yes, I swear. I don’t know if you killed Aunt Martha.”

  “Then we should go see the psychiatrist as soon as possible and try hypnosis. In the meantime we need to plan our escape. It won’t be easy.”

  “No,” Erica agreed, “but Matt knows a guy who can get us new identities and transport out of the country.”

  “Maybe. If he is still in business. There was some trouble when Matt and his friends left last time. I’m not sure if that connection is still viable.”

  “I’ll call him and see,” Erica said. “You call and see if Herman Beckman is still in business after all these years.”

  “Probably not. He’d be in his eighties if he were still alive, but he had some younger associates, if I recall correctly.”

  Rich went off into the kitchen to check the telephone book for Dr. Beckman while Erica called Matt to invite him to lunch. They met at Dickey’s Barbeque not too far from their offices. She wanted it to be a public place where it was noisy and they’d not likely be overheard.

  “So, this is a real treat to have lunch with you. What made you think of it?” Matt asked.

  Erica cleared her throat and looked around to be sure no one was listening. “Your father and I need your help.”

  “Really? What kind of help?”

  “In case the situation deteriorates we need to have an escape plan in place.”

  Matt swallowed hard. “You’re thinking about running?”

  “Yes. Argentina, maybe. Your father’s not going to rot in prison the rest of his life.”

  “But it’s going to be hard for the prosecution to convict him.”

  Erica shook her head. “No it won’t. They have his DNA at the scene of the crime, and now people think his true crime book is a bunch of lies. Even if he testified, nobody would believe him.”

  Matt sighed. “Okay. You may be right. I’ll call Eduardo and see if he can steer us in the right direction. I’m sure he’s got new people handling that kind of stuff now.”

  “You’ve kept in touch with him?”

  “Uh-huh. We go out and have a few beers from time to time. He’s a good guy once he’s your friend.”

  “Good. Come by the house on the way home if you’re able to get the information. Your father is going under hypnosis to see if he can remember what happened that night. If his memory can be restored, then maybe we won’t have to run.”

  “I hope he figures it out. I’d hate to have to visit you in Argentina.”

  “I know. I’d much rather stay in Dallas, believe me.”

  After they’d eaten lunch Erica went home and found Rich anxiously awaiting her arrival.

  “Dr. Beckman is retired, but his associate Dr. Marcus Rothberg agreed to see me.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes. He had a cancellation so it worked out well. We need to leave now.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  They drove out the back and down the alley hoping to escape the paparazzi, but several cars started up and followed them. Soon they were heading a caravan of media cars and vans. They parked quickly in the parking lot of Richardson Psychiatric Services and went inside immediately before any reporters could accost them. Rich checked in and Erica found them a seat.

  “It should be about ten minutes,” Rich said as he sat down next to Erica.

  “What are we going to tell the reporters we were doing here?” Erica asked.

  “Nothing. Just say ‘no comment.’ ”

  “Then they’ll speculate and think you’re pleading temporary insanity.”

  “Well, what do you suggest?” Rich asked.

  “Just tell them I was getting therapy for all the stress we’re under.”

  “You sure?” Rich asked. “They may make a big deal about it.”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind sending them down a rabbit trail. They deserve it.”

  They continued to talk while they waited, and about thirty minutes later they were told the doctor would see them. Dr. Rothberg was a stout man of medium height, with a receding hairline. He directed Rich to a big stuffed chair, and Erica sat on a brown leather side chair. The doctor took a seat behind a small desk and opened a file.

  “All right,” Dr. Rothberg said. “As I recall from our phone conversation, you would like to try to resurrect some memories in the past through hypnosis.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Erica said. “Dr. Beckman helped me with my temporary insanity defense, but I didn’t actually kill my aunt Martha. The truth is I don’t know who did it.”

  “And I don’t remember anything,” Rich added. “I was found in an alley behind a tavern near my office building. I don’t remember anything after taking a few swigs of Jack Daniels in my boss’s office.”

  “All right, so you would like to know what happened between drinking the Jack Daniels and when—”

  “Ah. When I was found in alley the next morning and taken to the hospital.”

  “Well, of course, there are no guarantees. It has been a long time and memories fade, even if they are repressed.”

  “I understand,” Rich said. “But I need to try.”

  “So, what if you discover you did kill this Aunt Martha?”

  Rich shrugged. “Then I will know not to testify in my trial.”

  Erica had told Rich not to disclose their plans to run to South America to the doctor as Detective Longoria would be sure to question him about their session. She remembered from many hours with her attorney when she was on trial for murder that there was some doctor-patient privilege, but it was limited and might not apply if a new criminal act was being planned. Because she was being allowed to sit in the session with Rich, that could taint the doctor-patient privilege, too.

  Erica thought about waiting outside while Rich was being hypnotized but couldn’t bring herself to leave. She had to make sure whatever Rich remembered was real, and the only way she could make that evaluation would be if she witnessed him being hypnotized.

  “Fair enough,” D
r. Rothberg said, taking out a small penlight. “What I’m going to do then is count to ten, and when I am done you will be back in your boss’s office drinking some Jack Daniels.”

  Dr. Rothberg pointed the light toward Rich. “Focus on the light . . . one . . . two . . . three . . . You’re feeling very relaxed . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . Your eyes are getting very heavy. . . . seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . Now you’re going to wake up and be back in your boss’s office the same night you discovered Erica’s aunt Martha had broken into your apartment . . . ten. Now wake up.”

  Rich’s eyes opened.

  “Tell me what you see.”

  Rich took a deep breath. “It’s dark. I’m on the floor leaning against the wall of the bar in Peter’s office. I have a bottle of Jack Daniels in my hand. There’s a noise. I put the lid on the Jack Daniels and try to stand up. I’m wobbly from drinking too much, but I’m on my feet now.”

  “What’s the noise?” Dr. Rothberg asked.

  “Vacuuming. The janitors are starting to clean the offices.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “I’m getting up and slipping out of the office. I don’t want the janitor to see me because he might call security, so I’m very quiet. Once I’m out of the office I feel very much relieved until I hear the elevator chime. No. I can’t let anyone see me, so I rush to the stairwell and climb down to the street level. Luckily, no one sees me as I rush to my car.

  “Shit! It won’t start. I crank the engine again but all that comes of it is a whine and a clicking sound. I recognize the sound to be a dead battery, so I call Erica on my cell but there is no answer. Then I check my messages and there is one from Erica, so I listen to it.

  “The message says that Erica has gone to see her aunt at the Starlight Motel, where she is staying. I don’t know what to do. I know it could get ugly if Erica confronts her aunt. I decide I need to get there first to stop them from killing each other, so I call a cab.

  “The cab is taking me to the Starlight Motel. It’s late and there’s not much traffic. When I get there the motel is quiet and I wonder if Erica has already come and gone. The message has said she was in room 237, so I’m climbing the stairs and heading for that room number. I see it in the distance and study it for a moment before approaching. Finally, I get up enough nerve to walk up and knock on the door, but I don’t have to. It’s already ajar.

  “Warily, I open the door and look around the room. Oh, my God. It’s Martha. She’s on the floor with her eyes wide open. I rush over and kneel down beside her. I check her pulse but don’t feel anything. Now I’m feeling her forehead. It’s cold and clammy. She’s dead. There’s a shadow coming up behind me. Who’s—”

  Rich slumped over. Erica looked at Dr. Rothberg, who didn’t look concerned. “What happened?” Erica asked.

  “I think this is where he got hit over the head. . . . Rich, I’m going to count to three and snap my fingers. When I snap my fingers you will wake up and remember everything you’ve been exploring in your mind these last few minutes. . . . One . . . two . . . three . . . Snap!

  Rich woke up with a start and looked around, seemingly confused.

  “Do you remember now what happened?” Dr. Rothberg asked.

  “Ah. Remember?”

  “Yeah. Do you remember going to Aunt Martha’s motel?”

  Rich nodded. “Oh, that. Right. I do.”

  “Good. So, does this help you?”

  Erica sighed. “Yes, it helps a lot. It means Rich is innocent. The problem is, however, we still don’t know who killed Aunt Martha.”

  “Well, I am sorry to say I can only help you recall what is in your subconscious mind. If it isn’t buried there somewhere, then you’re out of luck.”

  “I know,” Erica said. “You did exactly what we needed you to do. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Happy to help.”

  On the way back home Erica and Rich discussed what they had learned.

  “So, I was at the crime scene, you were there, and then there was Joe,” Rich said.

  “Right,” Erica agreed.

  “Now, we know I didn’t do it and you didn’t do it, so who does that leave?”

  “Joe,” Erica said reluctantly.

  “Joe. Yes. Joe. I always thought it was quite a coincidence that he showed up just in time to help you move me away from the crime scene.”

  Erica nodded. “I wondered about that, too, but I can’t image Joe killing Aunt Martha.”

  “Why not? He would have lost his job had it come out that he’d helped me do illegal trades with your money. Plus he didn’t want our secret to become public. He obviously cared about us.”

  “True. That’s why I ignored what should have been obvious,” Erica said. “So, what should we do?”

  “We can’t turn him in,” Rich said. “He’s like family.”

  “I know, but what choice do we have?”

  “We can’t turn him in. None of this would have happened to him had you and I not asked him to break the law. It wouldn’t be right. We have enough money to live comfortably in Argentina, so that’s what we’ll have to do.”

  Erica sighed deeply. “I guess you’re right.”

  “But we should confront him with it and see if he’ll come clean with us.”

  “Yes. We need to be sure we’re right.”

  Rich altered his course from home to Joe’s house. They were there in twenty minutes. They got out and slowly walked up to his front door, dreading their imminent confrontation. Joe answered the door and did a double take.

  “Well, you two are the last visitors I would have expected today.”

  “We would have called, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to come by.”

  Joe backed up and let them come in. He directed them to a sofa. They sat and he took a seat in a overstuffed chair across from them. He smiled tentatively. “So, what happened?”

  Rich explained how he had gone to see Dr. Rothberg to be hypnotized.

  “So, did it work?” Joe asked.

  “Actually, it did,” Rich replied. “I learned that I had been at the motel the night of the murder, but that Aunt Martha was already dead when I got there.”

  Joe swallowed hard. “You were there all right. I saw you.”

  “Right. So Erica says.”

  “But how do you know she was already dead?”

  “Because I can remember now checking her pulse and there wasn’t any.”

  “Huh. That’s weird. So, now we still don’t know who did it.”

  Matt sighed. “Come on, Joe. You might as well come clean.”

  “What do you mean?” Joe protested.

  “What he means,” Erica interjected, “is that you got there before both of us and killed Aunt Martha.”

  “No!” Joe exclaimed. “I got there after you.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re not going to turn you in even if you did kill Aunt Martha.”

  “I didn’t,” Joe said meekly.

  “But if you don’t come clean we’ll have to assume you’re telling the truth and keep searching for the killer. If we do that we can’t promise how it will end.”

  Joe shook his head. “I didn’t do it.”

  “You know what I think happened,” Rich said. “Aunt Martha called you to see if you knew where Erica and I were. During the conversation she probably told you she was going to break into our apartment. You knew that if she broke in she’d find out that Erica and I were living together and probably search the place to find out whatever she could.”

  Joe looked down and sighed.

  “Partially for our benefit but also fearing that she’d discover that you were handling my reckless trading in Erica’s account, you rushed over there to retrieve the records before she got there. Unfortunately, she was already there with the police.”

  Joe slowly nodded. “Right. So, I followed her back to the motel. I had no intention of hurting her. I just wanted your records back.”

  “So what happened?” E
rica asked.

  “She refused to give me the records, so I forced myself into her room and tried to physically take them. But she was a feisty little bitch and started beating me with her purse. It hurt like hell. I think she must have had a brick in there.”

  “So, it was an accident?” Rich asked.

  “Her death was an accident. I wasn’t trying to hurt her, but she was definitely trying to kill me, so I had to defend myself. Then she started screaming, I panicked, and one thing led to another.”

  Rich took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Erica turned away and wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Okay. That’s what we needed to know. Like I said, we’re not going to turn you in, so don’t worry about it.”

  “But what are you going to do?”

  Rich shrugged. “We don’t know yet,” he lied. “Hopefully the prosecution won’t be able to prove their case beyond all reasonable doubt.”

  Joe smiled. “Hopefully.”

  They got up, thanked Joe one more time for the confession, and then left. They didn’t tell him their plans to escape, as they feared he might tell someone about it. When they got home Matt’s car was parked in front of the house. He was waiting for them in the living room.

  “So, how did it go?” Matt asked eagerly.

  “Great,” Rich said without enthusiasm.

  “Then why the somber face?” Matt asked.

  “Your father didn’t do it, but that only leaves Joe.”

  “Oh, really? What about your ex-partner, Aunt Martha’s son, and the gay boyfriend?”

  “There’s no solid evidence putting any of them at the crime scene. It’s got to be Joe.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” Matt asked warily.

  “We can’t point the finger at Joe, so we’ll have to run.”

  Matt sank back onto the sofa, shaking his head. “I can’t believe this. You’re really going to have to flee the country.”

  “Yes. Did you talk to Eduardo?”

  Matt nodded. “Uh-huh. He gave me the name of a man.”

  “Good. Just give us his name and number and leave everything to us. The less you know the better.”

  Tears welled in Matt’s eyes. “But I don’t want you to go, and Ryan is going to be crushed if you two disappear.”

  Tears began to stream down Erica’s cheeks. “I know. Tell him we love him.”

  “Being a fugitive from the law is not any fun,” Matt moaned. “Trust me. I’ve been there.”

  “It’s better than languishing in prison, though, right?” Rich asked.

  “Yes, that’s true,” Matt agreed.

  “Then we have no choice.”

  Matt reluctantly got up and embraced Erica and Rich and then left. When he had gone, Rich called the name Eduardo had provided to give them fake passports and transport out of the country. After he made the necessary arrangements, they planned how they would slip away from the paparazzi. By eight o’clock their bags were packed and loaded into Rich’s car. At 8:05 p.m. Erica drove out of the garage in her car and drove to the north entrance of Northpark Mall. The windows in her car were darkly tinted, and at night the paparazzi couldn’t tell who was in the car, so everyone followed Erica to Northpark. When Erica got to the mall she parked in the garage and then hurried through the mall, quickly losing the paparazzi who were now just realizing Rich was not in the car. When Erica reached the south side entrance to the mall she stepped outside just as Rich was pulling up. She got in and they drove off with no one in pursuit.

  They drove to Fort Worth where they stopped at a Holiday Inn. Erica, wearing dark glasses and a wig, checked in using her maiden name and a phony address. Rich snuck in the side entrance so nobody would see him. They stayed there until late Saturday when their passports were ready.

  While they were waiting Rich decided to work on the Cindy Sharp case. If Matt was going to win he had to prove Cindy hadn’t killed Lucius Jones. Matt had told him they had interviewed almost all of the principals in the various affiliated companies that were feeding off RMS’s foreclosures and had come up empty. He thought that if he tracked some of the actual foreclosures that were taking place he might spot something.

  Since he was in Fort Worth, he decided to search some local foreclosures. The firm subscribed to a real-property database that allowed him to search through the Tarrant County Deed Records. First, he pulled up all the foreclosures for the month Cindy had been foreclosed. Then he narrowed his search to RMS foreclosures. Two hundred and eleven foreclosures showed up, and he pulled up the records on each one and went through them.

  Each transaction was nearly identical. First, there was notice of foreclosure signed by the same attorney at Park & Howard PC on behalf of RMS; second, a trustee’s deed conveying the property to RMS or one of the subsidiary companies; and finally, a sale to a new home owner. Everything looked in order except one thing. Of the 211 special warranty deeds conveying the properties to the new home owners, thirty-nine were different from the rest. When Rich saw it he knew who had killed Lucius Jones and why. He emailed the information to Matt and told him how to prove it up at trial.