“We don't know who else might have had a reason to kill Katy Jo Schindler. We didn't hear from—”
“Objection!” Holt jumped to his feet again. “May we approach the bench?”
The judge nodded. Holt shot Sandra an if-looks-could-kill glance as he strode up. Sandra put on a simpering smile. What she had said was objectionable. The rules didn't allow her to comment on what someone who did not testify would have said, but heck, she'd be remiss not to try.
Judge Danforth cupped his hand beside his mouth. “You know better, Mrs. Salinsky.”
The hairs on her arms rose as she anticipated his next words.
“Do it again, and I'll sanction you, and you won't like it.”
Holt straightened his shoulders and shot his cuffs.
“Yes, sir,” Sandra said. “I apologize for my slip.” For the benefit of the jury, she nodded with exaggerated sincerity.
“Continue your argument.” Judge Danforth's smile was as phony as hers. “And let me advise you if you see any of the jurors' eyes rolling up in their heads, it's time to stop and take your seat.”
Could he be more patronizing? She calmed herself as she walked back to the podium. The jurors hadn't appeared restless yet. In fact, they looked enthralled. The judge was the one who was restless, eager to get home, no doubt.
“Sustained,” the judge's voice rang out.
Holt plopped into his chair, banging against the bar again, and held up his palms as though it was an accident.
“Now, where were we?” Sandra flipped through several pieces of paper. “The question is, who else had a motive to kill Katy Jo? Any number of people—not limited to those at dinner. For the sake of argument, though, there were four people unaccounted for: the decedent's twin sister, the decedent's boyfriend, the decedent's brother, and the man who wanted their mother.”
Sandra longed to be closer to the jury. Once she returned to Galveston, back to her office, she was going to research whether a judge could restrict a lawyer from moving about during final arguments. The rule in Texas during witness examination, to stand or sit at one's chair, generally was hard and fast, but she couldn't recall a restriction on movement during argument except for touching or laying papers on the bar separating the lawyers from the jurors.
“The room in which Katy Jo died was the master bedroom, the room where Mr. and Mrs. Schindler had slept during their married life. The room was not Katy Jo's room. How could anyone have known BJ Schindler was not in her bed? How could the shooter have known his target was not BJ Schindler?” She inclined her head at BJ. “He couldn't.” In spite of having practiced those words, a shiver ran down Sandra's spine. She imagined BJ felt one, too. Most of the people in the courtroom stared at BJ, and not surreptitiously.
“If you think about it, we're not sure who the target was. If it wasn't Katy Jo, then who would want to shoot Mrs. Schindler? Not Rufina, her best friend. Her other daughter? I think not. What about the two unaccounted-for men—her intoxicated son and her intoxicated, spurned, want-to-be lover, who said he thought Mrs. Barboza was a lesbian?”
Sandra made eye contact with a few jurors again.
“Lastly, I want to talk about the fingerprints. Only one partial, the State's expert testified, could have belonged to Rufina Barboza. Even if you believe the expert, what does that mean? She cleaned and supervised the cleaning of the guns. Wouldn't it have been more surprising if no fingerprints were on the gun? Clearly, the real perpetrator wore some kind of gloves, or wiped off the gun as best he could before dropping it or throwing it on the cottage path.”
Sandra took a deep breath and glanced at her mother, who had clasped her hands and rested them on the table, at Rufina, who finally held her head up, at Mel, who perched on the bench behind the bar as if she were about to spring, and at BJ, whose head hung down to her chest. Sandra’s eyes met Jared’s. He wore a wide grin like he was reading her mind and knew what she would say next. The other people, the onlookers, wore poker faces undoubtedly formed from years of having observed arguments and having been told not to dare flinch inside the courtroom.
“If that's all Mr. Holt has against my client, Mrs. Rufina Barboza, I say to you, members of the jury of Gillespie County, you must acquit and set her free.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After Sandra sat down, after Holt finished his closing, and after the judge sent out the jury, Erma rolled her chair up next to Sandra's. “What the hell is the matter with you?” She breathed hard into Sandra's ear. “You could at least have told me this morning what you planned to say.”
“Back off.” Sandra pushed her mother away a couple of inches. “The jury's out, so you don't have to get so close.”
“Couldn't you have said what you were going to do on the way into town?” With the pout she wore, Erma looked like an oversized baby. “Do I have to remind you I'm second chair?”
Sandra kneaded the knot in her stomach. She should have talked with Erma about what she planned to argue but hadn't wanted a protracted discussion. Once she'd decided, there was no way she would have changed her mind. “I won't lie to you. I just wasn't going to let you persuade me not to do it.”
“Well, it hurt my feelings.” Erma turned her head away and crossed her arms. “I felt like you didn't trust me.”
“How about I let you be lead counsel next time?” Sandra pressed her lips together.
Erma jerked in her chair and spun back around. “What? Very funny. You've made it clear this is your last case.”
Sandra clasped her hands across her middle. Waiting for a verdict always caused stomach upset. “A girl's got a right to change her mind. At least, that's what you've always told me.”
Erma cocked her head like a chicken in a farmyard, eyeballing Sandra. “You mean you're not headed off to work for the enemy?”
“Uh-uh.” Sandra bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.
Erma rolled her chair closer. “You really changed your mind?”
“I never decided for sure that I would. I was just thinking about it.”
Erma removed her glasses and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “What made the pendulum swing back?”
“Don't get all sappy about it.” She reduced her voice to a whisper. “Sitting in this trial, seeing Holt trying to make a case out of nothing. Watching him persecute Rufina. I don't know whether Rex convinced him somehow to do it, or if he's prejudiced against Latinos.” She drew a breath. “When I first decided to go to law school, I wanted to help people, not corporations, not insurance companies. People like Rufina.”
Erma dabbed at her face again. “I'm so relieved.”
Sandra couldn't stop herself from rolling her eyes. “All right. Let's huddle up.” She wheeled her chair around facing BJ and Mel on the front row behind them. “Rufina, come over here with the rest of us. Mom, scooch over.”
When they were all together, close enough that Holt, who stood with an associate near the empty jury box, was out of range, Sandra asked, “So what do y'all think they're going to do?”
Rufina took Sandra's hand, giving it a strong squeeze. “Not guilty. Your argument, it was muy bueno. Gracias.”
A chill ran up Sandra's neck and out the back of her arms.
“Not guilty.” BJ's eyebrows drew together, belying her confidence.
“Not guilty.” Mel smiled about the sweetest smile Sandra had seen on her daughter's face since Mel had become a teenager.
“That makes it unanimous.” Erma wore a shit-eating grin.
“I hope y'all are right. My stomach is roiling. I can hardly stop my hands from shaking. I'm just not sure.” She eyed each of them. They all appeared more confident than she did. “How long's it been since they've been out?”
Mel clicked on her cell phone. “Ten minutes.”
“Crap,” Erma said. “Feels like ten hours.”
“Always does,” Sandra said. “So, y'all don't think Holt swayed them in his closing when he reiterated his previous points and tried to come up
with a story for where Rex and Elgin Burgess were at the time of the shooting?”
All four shook their heads.
“Do you think I raised reasonable doubt when I suggested the gun might not have been found where Doug said it was?”
Mel said, “I thought you were going to point the finger at Doug more than you did.”
“Thought it might be overkill.” Sandra focused on Mel. “I'm hoping the jury will come up with that themselves and wonder about him, too.”
Mel rubbed her hands on her pants. “I think you pointed out lots of holes.”
“Thanks, honey.” Sandra hooked her arm around Mel’s neck and pulled her close.
“I hate to say this, with him being an old friend of the family,” BJ said, “but I think they'll definitely wonder about Elgin. I sure do.” A squeak in the back of the courtroom drew their attention from the discussion. Kathy Lynn stood in the doorway. “What the—” BJ rushed toward her daughter.
“Where in the hell has that girl been?” Erma rose to her feet.
Sandra stopped her from following BJ. “We'll find out once BJ is through with her.”
The door in front of them opened, and the bailiff came in. “All Rise.” Matthew, the court reporter, hurried inside and took his seat.
“What the hell?” Erma rolled her chair back to the table, urging Rufina to do the same. Holt and his associate sidestepped to the prosecution table.
Before the judge had even seated himself, he said, “We have our first note.”
“Oh, shit,” Erma said.
Sandra elbowed her. “Keep your voice down.”
“That can't be good.”
“You don't even know what it says yet.” Sandra met the judge's eyes and forced a weak smile.
“You ready, Matthew?” Judge Danforth asked. The court reporter nodded. The judge read, “'We would like to hear Douglas Christian's testimony again.' The note's dated and has the time and the signature of the presiding juror.” He picked up a pen. “What say you Mr. Holt?”
“Could you ask them to be more specific? I don't want to spend the rest of the day listening to testimony redux.”
“I agree with that, Your Honor,” Sandra said.
The judge wrote something and handed the note back to Deputy Cortez. “I'll be in chambers.” He stepped off the bench.
The bailiff exited. Holt and his associate dropped into chairs. The court reporter picked up his machine and carried it around to the witness stand, where he positioned himself in front of the microphone. Erma pulled on Sandra's sleeve until they stood in the farthest corner from Holt. “I'm not sure if that's good for us or not.”
Sandra glanced at the back door. She wanted to talk to Kathy Lynn. She grimaced at Mel. “We'll find out in a minute.” She leaned against the bar and watched the door to the jury deliberation area, crossing her arms and cupping her elbows with shaking hands.
Rufina got out of her chair and walked the few steps to where they stood. “Do we think that's good or not?”
Erma laid a hand on Rufina's shoulder. “Hard to tell.”
“But Douglas didn't say anything bad.” Rufina's face was scrunched up as if the fluorescent lights hurt her eyes.
“Only that he found the gun on the path to your house.”
“And he didn't say he saw Efrain at your cottage,” Sandra said.
“I don't think anyone asked him that,” Rufina said. “I don't remember if he saw him or not.”
Sandra and Erma exchanged glances. Sandra frowned at that misstep. Nobody's perfect, she thought, hoping that little error wouldn't prove to be monumental.
The bailiff came in again and announced the judge.
They all stood. The judge entered. “Bring 'em in.”
The attorneys and Rufina sat down after the jury did.
“Mr. Presiding Juror, you've narrowed down what y'all want the court reporter to read back?”
“Yes, sir. The part about him finding the gun.”
Matthew said, “I have it right here, Judge. “The judge nodded, and the court reporter began.
“Douglas Christian: 'I was going to the main house to find out what Mrs. S had said to Katy Jo after Katy Jo told her about us. I practically tripped over the gun. It was weird someone would drop a gun in plain sight—well plain sight if it was daylight. I was using the flashlight on my cell phone to see my way to the house.'
Mr. Holt: 'What did you do when you found the gun?'
Mr. Christian: 'I picked it up and carried it into the house to ask Mrs. S what a gun—'specially this gun, which was one of Mr. S's collector guns—was doing lying on the ground between buildings. As I went into the kitchen, I heard screams, so I ran to the back of the house.'“ Matthew glanced over his shoulder. “You want me to go on?” The judge nodded.
“Mr. Holt: 'Were you wearing gloves when you picked up the weapon?'
“Answer: 'No.'
'Pass the witness.'“
“You can stop there,” the judge said. “Jurors, is that what you wanted?”
The presiding juror stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Bailiff, escort them back to the jury room.” The judge swept back through his chambers' door.
After the jurors had gone, the women all collapsed back into their chairs.
Erma said to Rufina. “Don't even ask, because I have no idea what that means.”
Rufina raised her eyebrows at Sandra. Sandra shook her head.
The door opened at the back of the courtroom. BJ stood framed in the doorway with Kathy Lynn behind her. She beckoned to them. Erma said, “You go. I'll stay here in case something else happens.”
Sandra hurried to the back. “Hey, Kathy Lynn.” She tried to keep the ire out of her voice. “We were hoping you'd come earlier in the trial. Much earlier.” Kathy Lynn's eyes wouldn't meet Sandra's.
BJ said, “She has something to tell you.” She frowned at her daughter and corrected herself. “A lot to tell you. I'm not sure what all, but I think we need to find out.”
Sandra's stomach couldn't churn more than it already was. “God, I wish this courthouse had a conference room for the lawyers. We're lucky it's turned out to be a pretty spring day. Y'all go out the first-floor door and meet me behind the courthouse. I'll be right out.” She returned to retrieve her phone and told Erma to call her if the jury reached a verdict. Outside, a mild breeze blew from the north, the crisp air fresh, not recycled like inside. BJ and Kathy Lynn sat on a bench under a huge oak tree. As far as Sandra could see, no one would be in a position to overhear. Cars drove up Main Street. A few people strolled by on the sidewalk, but they were way out of ear shot. Sandra perched next to Kathy Lynn, with BJ on the other side. “While I’m thinking about, BJ, did anyone tell Efrain to go back to the ranch?”
BJ said, “I texted him earlier.”
“Okay, now what's this all about?”
Kathy Lynn turned sideways, facing Sandra, her back to her mother. She rotated her hands in her lap, as though washing them. “All right, well, where do I begin?” Her sky-blue eyes met Sandra's.
Sandra waited, watching Kathy Lynn's face, knowing the young woman wanted to talk, or she wouldn't have shown up. BJ, who had blood-shot, teary eyes, prodded Kathy Lynn's shoulder.
“You can start from today and work backward,” Sandra said.
Kathy Lynn reached behind her and laid her hand on her mother's knee. “Well, I wouldn't be here now if Rex hadn't died.”
Sandra slapped her leg. She knew it. Rex was the key to everything. The muscles in BJ's jaw were flexing.
“Rex had stopped you before?” Sandra asked.
“Yeah.” She sucked in a breath. “I don't why I'm so nervous, since he's dead. I'm just so used to being afraid.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“This whole thing is such a mess—been a horrible mess for years.” She peered over her shoulder. “Mama, I know I've never been much of a daughter. I know everyone calls me the evil twin.”
BJ started to say som
ething, but Kathy Lynn stopped her. “No, don't say anything. It's true.”
Sandra flexed her fingers. Kathy Lynn's face was one big frown.
“Believe it or not,” Kathy Lynn said, “I've changed. I've been in counseling.” She took her mother's hand. “I have a prescription I've been taking that makes me feel different—better.”
“What did you feel like that needed to be different?” Sandra glanced at her cell phone.
“Like I wanted to kill someone.”
Sandra shivered.
BJ tensed. “You're not trying to tell me you—”
“I didn't shoot my sister. I know I didn't act like I loved her most of the time, but I did. I used to get so mad that she was so sweet, and I couldn't be like her.” Her head went back and forth as she spoke. “So I made myself opposite of her. I can't explain it, but my doc thinks I've been depressed for years.”
“How long have you been on medication?” The information was interesting, but if the young woman didn't have anything useful to say, Sandra was going back inside.
Kathy Lynn faced Sandra. “Since Katy Jo died.” She bit the edge of a fingernail. “I didn't feel right. I should have been sadder. I should have felt worse than I did.” She rubbed her hands together. “I joined a grief group to find out what was wrong with me. One day, I had a serious meltdown, and the leader pulled me aside and told me she thought I should be in individual counseling.”
“I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but we have a jury deliberating. I need to go back.” Sandra touched Kathy Lynn's hand. “Can you tell me how this ties in with Rex?”
“Yeah, okay. I hope I won't have to go to jail over this.”
“Just tell me.”
Kathy Lynn turned her head from one to the other of them again. “I had been blackmailing Rex since we were kids.”
Death of a Rancher's Daughter Page 36