Murder in the Courthouse

by Nancy Grace

  More fresh pine straw bordered the grass on the side of the walkway nearest the side of the house, and the yard sloped slightly downward as Hailey went to the backyard.

  A white ornamental bird feeder resembling a mini Victorian mansion stood planted in the pine straw on a high, white wooden pole. It was extremely intricate and the sides of the mini-mansion were beveled batten siding sloping up to tiny eyebrow gables that peeked out from a dull green roof. Pausing to look at it in detail, Hailey saw the tiny initials A.T. painted on the bottom right side of the bird feeder.

  He made this? By hand? It dawned on her that Alton Turner was so much more than the mild-mannered paper-pusher others portrayed him as. Staring up at the miniature mansion, she wondered . . . when did Alton have the time or energy to maintain all this?

  Stepping off the flagstone stepping-stones into the pine straw, Hailey ran her fingertips across the edge of the little house. Had he made it for his mom?

  Taking a deep breath, she tried to distance herself from Alton Turner the person and refocus on Alton Turner’s death investigation. The birdhouse was firmly attached to a tall wooden pole about six and a half feet tall. And there, just below Hailey’s line of vision, was a small, round, dark mark smeared on the pole.

  What was that? It almost looked burned. Touching it, Hailey glanced down and saw there in the pine straw built up around the base of the pole was another cigarette butt. It seemed wrong to have a nasty butt just beneath the handcrafted feeder made by a gentle—but dead—man.

  What was worse was that judging by the rounded black smudge, somebody actually stubbed their cigarette out on Alton’s bird feeder pole. Hailey reached down and picked it up and stuck it in her pocket.

  Bending upward, a slight movement, ever so subtle, caught her eye. There, in the window on the side of the house. Had the edge of a curtain moved? Looking carefully . . . what room was that?

  Remembering the layout of the home, this had to be Alton’s office . . . or was it his mom’s bedroom? And who would be in the home? Hailey had definitely looked when she pulled up . . . the garage door was shut tight and there wasn’t a single car parked on the street in front of Alton’s house. The cul-de-sac was empty, too.

  She looked back at the curtain. It was ivory colored, gauzy material with some sort of edging and Hailey was sure, very sure, she’d seen movement. The movement she thought she’d seen out of the corner of her eye was as if someone had pulled the curtain back, spotted Hailey outside, then suddenly let the draped material fall back into place, hanging there at the edge of the window.

  But that didn’t make sense. Remaining completely still, she continued to look directly at the window. With the sun outside and the room dark on the inside, she had no chance of spotting who may be lurking behind the window.

  There was no way crime-scene techs would be here on foot. And why would anyone else be inside a dead man’s house? Hailey’s mind ticked off possibilities.

  Was there a cleaning lady? If so, why would she dart away from the window as soon as she spotted Hailey? And where was her car? And what, for Pete’s sake, would she be cleaning?

  Just at that moment, it happened again. The curtain moved . . . right in front of her. And this time it was in her direct line of sight, not just caught in the corner of her peripheral vision. There was someone in there . . . she was certain of it now.

  The curtain fluttered gently, but this time it kept going . . . it continued to flutter against the windowpane. Unlike before, there was no abrupt movement. And what’s more, now the curtain on the other side of the window began fluttering gently as well.

  Then it dawned on her. Just before the fluttering, she’d heard a clicking sound from around the corner.

  Stepping out of the pine straw bed, she kept her eye on the window as long as she could. Following the neatly laid path of flagstone stepping-stones down the side of the house, she rounded the corner to the backyard.

  Sure enough, big as Ike, there it was. A central heat and air unit was situated at the corner, segregated from dirt and pine straw in a neat, graveled square held in by a low wooden fence. It was humming a mechanical monotone. The gray behemoth was huge. It must serve the whole house.

  Set at a certain temperature, it would automatically turn itself on or off to maintain that specific temperature.

  That explained it. The AC simply kicked on. That’s what she’d seen. There must be a vent centered in the middle of the window that directed an air current toward the drapes. Mystery solved.

  Almost laughing out loud at herself, Hailey made her way across Alton’s backyard. As she expected by now, it was beautifully, and painstakingly, landscaped. The grass was thick and green interspersed with several islands of pink, purple, and white azalea bushes, and pink-blossomed cherry trees were artfully positioned in islands of built-up pine straw.

  Hailey examined not only the grounds but the windows across the back of the house. Only one door, a basement door, apparently, opened onto the backyard. It had a square concrete stoop with clay pots of green plants on either side of the door.

  On instinct, Hailey lifted up the clay pot on the right.

  Nothing.

  Hailey tried under the left pot too, surprised she was wrong on this. She could just imagine the naïve and trusting Alton Turner leaving a spare key under the pot.

  But Alton tricked her! His law enforcement training must have paid off . . . regarding the spare key, anyway. Walking up a low incline, she headed back to the front of Alton’s home.

  There appeared to be no forced entry anywhere around the house, doors, or windows. Or anything else of much interest, at least forensically. So other than picking up some trash, she didn’t really accomplish a whole lot.

  Headed back toward her car, Hailey couldn’t stop herself from going back to the garage door . . . and the bloodstain on the concrete. Gazing down at it, a myriad of thoughts collided in her head. Something was nagging at her . . . but she couldn’t identify it.

  Was it possible she was wrong? Was it an accident after all? She’d been so sure at the crime scene. Hailey felt the dull pang of a headache beginning.

  “Oh, hello there! Helloo!” A woman’s voice called out, cutting through the still air of the previously quiet subdivision.

  Hailey turned to see a lithe young woman dressed in 1980s-style workout gear. Matching neon pink from head to toe, she sported it all . . . at once. Headband, wristbands, kneepads, short runner’s shorts over knee-length tights, all coordinated with a pink and purple lightweight shirt and neon pink sports bra peeking out from the shoulders of her shirt. The ensemble was topped with a vivid pink sun visor.

  It was certainly something.

  “Hi there! My name’s Kacynthia and I’m a walkaholic! I confess it! I exercise in this neighborhood and after everything that’s happened, I feel like Alton and I were best friends! Isn’t it awful? Absolutely awful! I was the one who actually found his dead body and then, I was besieged, positively besieged by the press. Oh, the media! They are truly unrelenting, aren’t they? Just unrelenting! I mean really . . . forget about my own personal privacy. After all, I have no thirst for fame whatsoever! It’s Alton I’m thinking of! No respect for the dead! So what do you think? Was it murder? Or an accident? From what I hear in the neighborhood, Alton didn’t have an enemy in the world! So it had to be an accident . . . right? You’re not the press, are you?”

  As opposed to looking shocked at the thought she was spilling the beans to a reporter, Hailey noticed the woman, to the contrary, looked elated at the prospect . . . eager, as a matter of fact, with a big smile showing a mouthful of cosmetic dentistry. Hailey also noticed the woman was not as young as she’d thought at a distance.

  She had the body of a thirty-five-year-old, but her face, as artfully disguised as it was, belied her body. Creases, especially around her mouth, along with her neck and hands, gave away her age. This was a grandma, possibly a great-grandma and no spring chicken at all.

  And Hailey wa
s convinced she’d seen her before.

  “Hi.” Hailey smiled at the woman who was now approaching her, walking up Alton’s driveway.

  “I can tell . . . you’re the press! 48 Hours? Nightline? 20/20? No, Investigation Discovery? I can tell! No use in hiding it from me! I’m very familiar with the media. Let me tell you. Not to brag, of course, I’ve been in the public eye for years . . . years! Are you familiar with the name Bob Guccione? I was a Penthouse Pet! And not that long ago!”

  It was actually in 1969, but Kacynthia withheld that tiny detail.

  “In fact, my ‘article’ did so well, he invited me back! For a special ‘pictorial.’ But it was really all about the article, you know . . . the content.”

  Hailey nodded.

  The woman in Lycra went on about something she called her “career as a Penthouse Pet” until Hailey interjected. “Do you live here in the cul-de-sac?”

  “Here? In the suburbs? Oh no . . . no, no, no, no.” The woman let out a short, gentle, but derisive laugh. “I’m more of an in-town girl. I just come out here to the sticks to get in my workout! Less exhaust fumes out here. Oh, no. I don’t live here. Have you ever heard of Johnny Mercer? ‘Moon River’? I live over on East Gordon in the historical district . . . beside the Johnny Mercer house. It’s been in loads of movies . . . the Johnny Mercer house?” She repeated it as if she suspected Hailey was hard of hearing. “One of them even caught the corner of my condo building in it!”

  “In what?” Hailey didn’t get it.

  “The movie! A corner of my condo building was actually in a movie! Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil! It won lots of awards!”

  “It must be lovely.”

  Hailey was rewarded for her interest with a broad smile from Kacynthia. Hailey went for it.

  “Did you know Alton Turner?” Hailey kept her gaze directly on Kacynthia’s face.

  One of the woman’s carefully drawn eyebrows, the left one, rose just a twitch as her eyes widened. She drew her right palm and fingertips to the center of her chest, seemingly without thinking, and sidestepped Hailey’s question.

  “Oh, it was awful! The blood! I was just minding my own business when I saw them.”

  “Them?” Hailey continued gazing directly into the woman’s eyes.

  “The legs. Alton Turner’s legs. And the blood.” Her voice had taken on a theatrical whisper and she mouthed the words dramatically, her red, glossed lips enunciating perfectly.

  This woman was meant for the stage.

  “I was the one who found him. I’ll never forget it as long as I live. It haunts me. It absolutely haunts me.” Now, she closed her eyes right there in the driveway as if she were entering a nightmare about Alton Turner’s body at that very moment.

  “And the press was relentless . . . they wouldn’t let me go! I had to tell my story over and over!” It was easy to see the woman was thrilled and, watching her, Hailey finally placed her face. This was the woman Hailey spotted at the edge of Alton’s lawn speaking to the press. Hailey had only seen her from behind, but now that she thought about it, the woman was wearing the same, or a very similar, workout ensemble with long red hair down her back.

  This had to be her.

  “Did you see anyone else around that day? Any cars parked at the house?”

  “No. Actually, I had just parked my car around the corner. It’s the baby blue BMW over on Magnolia, about three blocks from here.” She clearly enjoyed dropping the fact she drove an expensive, luxury import.

  “Oh, those are beautiful cars! And expensive!”

  The shameless fawning paid off. The woman went on without any prodding at all.

  “But even if I hadn’t just gotten here, I can tell you, nobody else was here. Nobody was ever here. Ever since this guy’s mom died, I heard he never had a single car in the driveway other than his own. And that was when he’d bring it out of the garage to wash it in the driveway.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Hailey remained silent. As she’d surmised fairly easily, Kacynthia was the type that couldn’t stand silence in a conversation and immediately filled it.

  “Oh, yes. I think the mom visited so much, she finally moved in. Or else spent a lot of time here. They’d sit out there in the yard on that swing in the evenings. That’s what the neighbors said. She drove an old silver Buick, I think. She’d park it on the street so’s not to get oil on his driveway.”

  “Wow. You really know a lot about Alton.”

  “Well, I’ve come here to walk several hours a day lately.”

  “You sure are dedicated . . .”

  “And it pays off!” Kacynthia turned to the side and patted a completely flat, taut tummy. “This isn’t Spanx, if you know what I mean. As I’ve always said . . . beauty has a price.”

  “Well, you’re in incredible shape!”

  “Thank you! I guess I’m what you’d call a fitness enthusiast!” Kacynthia positively beamed.

  “So, it was just Alton and his mom, then?”

  “Yes. And that day, I didn’t see another soul. Just them . . . the legs.”

  “What kind of guy was he?”

  The woman clearly wanted to talk. No qualms about spilling the beans whatsoever.

  “Well, I’ve talked to a lot of neighbors, let me tell you.” The redhead looked both ways as if someone could possibly be listening. She paused before going on. “He was overly quiet, worked on his car in the garage with the door up a lot. After work. Always working in his yard. Grilled out with his mom a good bit before she passed. Since then, not so much.”

  “Poor guy. Well, it’s nice to meet you.” Hailey gave her another smile.

  “Oh, here’s my contact card if you need an interview, I mean information.” In one fluid motion, she reached down into her workout bra and produced a pale pink business card. Glancing down at it, Hailey saw it had her name, Miss Kacynthia Sikes, her address, and home and cell numbers.

  “Well, thank you. I’ll certainly keep it!” Hailey slipped the card into her pocket along with the trash from Alton’s yard.

  “Lovely to meet you! Lovely! And I’ll see you on the airwaves, Miss 20/20!” Obviously still under the impression Hailey was with the media, Kacynthia Sikes gave a brilliant smile. Dazzling, actually, again displaying a mouth full of expensive dentistry that could not be acquired in just one sitting.

  Turning on her white-heeled Pumas, Kacynthia’s red hair swung around behind her. Chest out, tummy in, back straight, she started pumping her fists furiously before she even got out of the driveway and turned onto the paved asphalt street.

  Taking a last glance back at the house, Hailey headed back to her rental car. She opened the door and got into the driver’s seat. Cranking up the ignition, she reversed down the driveway and put it in drive.

  Just ahead of her, she saw Kacynthia Sikes’s bobbing head dip below a rise in the street and disappear from sight. The woman had never even asked her name, not anything else. She’d been perfectly contented babbling on practically solo.

  Hailey glanced to both sides and in the rearview, taking a last glimpse in search of the ponytailed crime-scene tech. Maybe they could compare notes. But there was no sign of him. But wait . . . since when did a CSI have a ponytail? Not in these parts, anyway.

  At that moment, a tingle went across Hailey’s face and her mouth went dry. The central air hadn’t cranked up outside the first time. When the curtain had dropped abruptly back to the window. She was sure of it. When the curtains began fluttering a few moments later, there had been a loud click, a catch of sorts, when the motor kicked in. Then the curtains had fluttered . . . not before. She didn’t hear a click the first time . . . or the hum of the motor.

  She was sure.

  Or was she? Maybe she didn’t recall it the first time because she was focused more on the Victorian birdhouse mini-mansion. And the black mark on the pole. And picking up the litter. Maybe she hadn’t been focusing on anything else.

  Hailey loo
ked back in her rearview mirror at Alton Turner’s house getting smaller and smaller as she pulled away from it.

  If only those walls could talk.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A thick mist was rising up off the Savannah River the next morning as Hailey drove by. She had a fitful night’s sleep, largely because of her return to the scene of Alton Turner’s death. It even got into her dreams.

  In the dream, she was hovering outside Alton’s window looking in at the photo of Alton and his mom. The old one in black and white where Alton was still just a little boy. And then, the curtains at the window would begin fluttering and obstruct her view. In the dream, Hailey kept reaching out, trying to pull them to the side to see who, if anyone, was standing there.

  In the end, a hotel wake-up call snatched her out of a dream she couldn’t seem to get out of on her own.

  Crossing over the river, she caught sight of the gray water churning on, giving no thought to those passing over it. The sky was early-morning gray as well, still cool before the Savannah sun came out to blister everything beneath it. She pulled the car into McDonald’s.

  “Still on McDonald’s coffee? Still won’t give in and go to Starbucks?” She looked over at Finch in the front passenger seat.

  “Costs too much. And it tastes bitter. Actually, I don’t see how you stand the stuff. I really wanted my Irish breakfast tea before morning session, but the hotel doesn’t have it. So, McDonald’s it is.”

  The two drove through, ordered, and headed downtown on the narrow surface roads leading to the Chatham County Courthouse and the Julie Love Adams trial. But Hailey’s head was still at Alton’s place.

  Alton’s cul-de-sac. She didn’t know why, but thought it was better if she kept it to herself.

  She knew he’d be irate that she went out sleuthing on her own. When they were a trial team, he’d bailed her out often, including one time when she went to see a hostile witness and was met with a shotgun barrel right in her face.

  He’d grabbed her and together, they dove straight off the porch into the dirt, the ringing of the shotgun blast in their ears.