by Roy Glenn
“Panthea, when have you ever known us to do a quickie?”
“Today in court,” Panthea said quickly. “That was a quickie.”
Marcus had to laugh because she had him. Just the thought of taking her in the courthouse excited him instantly. He briefly considered agreeing to meet Panthea somewhere. Visions of him walking in the hotel room, without a word he would grab Panthea, rip off her panties and ram himself into her without saying a word. Once he was done, he would leave and still not speak to her.
“Marcus.”
“Huh?”
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m fine. I wanted to tell you this last night and, well, you know how today turned out. But anyway, a man named Harrison Fuller has agreed to testify. That means we might be able to get a judge to subpoena Pascal Larrieux and Scott if necessary, and basically make them testify,” Marcus said.
Panthea listened quietly, but didn’t offer up any response.
Marcus knew she was still on the line because he could hear her labored breathing. He wasn’t sure what she was upset about, but he thought he’d get a different response about the good news he was sharing with her. “Panthea, is everything okay? Are you okay?”
“I’m good. I’m just thinking about what you’re saying. I mean, what exactly does that mean for us?”
“Here’s the reality of it: all the men she was involved with have strong motives for murdering her, and that will help us with reasonable doubt,” he spelled it out for her.
Panthea was still quiet, but she knew reasonable doubt was just what they needed. That meant she could go free, free to be with Marcus. “Well, that’s just wonderful news,” she said, but her voice wasn’t laced with the kind of enthusiasm Marcus had expected. Her subdued reaction left him curious at a time when he was trying to hold on to some sort of hope.
28
When the trial began the next morning, Marcus was feeling good about the way he planned for things to go that day. He got a break the day before when his last minute addition of Harrison Fuller sent the prosecution scrabbling and caused them to ask that the proceeding’s reconvene in the morning.
His first order of business was to try and contain the damage done by Wade’s testimony. Marcus assumed at some point Paxson would have to recall Detective Silver to the stand to establish the evidence or at least the chain of events that led him to arrest Panthea. That would give him the opportunity to not only support what he wanted to do on the stand with Wade, but to used Detective Silver’s professional opinion to get Pascal Larrieux and Scott Daniels to testify about their involvement with Abril Arrington.
Once Wade Long was recalled to the witness stand and reminded that he was still under oath, Marcus approached him. “Good morning, Mr. Long.”
“Good morning,” Wade said.
“I only have a few questions for you this morning, and then you’ll be free to go.” Marcus turned quickly and looked in Paxson’s direction. “That is of course unless Mr. Paxson has more questions for you.”
Paxson nodded his head graciously toward Marcus, and with that, he continued.
“Yesterday, Mr. Long, you told this panel that Mrs. Daniels arrived at your house at eight-thirty, and then you changed it to sometime after nine-thirty,” Marcus said and waited for Wade to respond.
“I did.”
“So Mrs. Daniels arrived some time after nine-thirty. What time did she leave your house?”
“Mrs. Daniels left my house a little before eleven.”
“So she was there for almost an hour and a half. When Mrs. Daniels got there, how was she dressed?”
Wade didn’t answer right away; he paused and had to think about it. “I know it was a long time ago. Take your time, Mr. Long.” Marcus began walking toward Panthea.
Wade looked over at Panthea. “I think she had on a green dress.”
Marcus stood behind Panthea and put his hands on her shoulders. Panthea felt herself getting wet from that simple touch. “Was the dress tight, Mr. Long?”
“I’d say so.”
“Did she have on heels?” Marcus asked.
“Panthea Daniels always got on some pumps,” Wade said and smiled in Panthea’s direction. She let out a little giggle.
“Was her hair done?”
“Yeah.” Wade laughed.
“I hope there is a point to this line of questions, Mr. Douglas,” the judge interrupted.
“There is, your honor,” Marcus assured the judge and walked back to the witness booth.
“More than just you being the fashion police, I’m sure.”
“Most definitely, your honor,” Marcus said and returned to questioning Wade. “What about her makeup? Was her makeup done?”
“For sure—I mean, yes, sir, Mrs. Daniels’ makeup was done.”
“So when Mrs. Daniels arrived at your house at nine-thirty, she was wearing a tight green dress and pumps, her hair was done and her makeup was fierce. What kind of mood was Mrs. Daniels in when she arrived?”
“She was kind of sad, upset.”
“Did Mrs. Daniels look like she’d been in a fight?”
“No, more like she was on her way out.”
“While she was there, Mrs. Daniels told you she’d found out from an investigator that Scott was cheating on her, and she showed you the pictures. You said she was upset, was she mad, angry, could you be more specific?”
“She wasn’t mad or angry or nothing like that. It was more like she was hurt than anything.”
“Did she cry?”
Wade shook his head before answering. “Yeah she cried. Panthea gets real emotional sometimes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Long,” Marcus said and walked away. “One more thing,” he said and sat down next to Panthea. “When did you find out that Abril Arrington was dead?”
“That same night on the news after Mrs. Daniels left,” Wade said.
“How did you know it was the same woman that Mrs. Daniels had been telling you about?”
“Mrs. Daniels left the picture of them at my house. I looked at the picture, and the one they were showing on TV.”
“Did you call Mrs. Daniels to tell her that you had just seen the woman her husband Scott was having an affair with on TV and that she was dead?”
“Yeah, but Mrs. Daniels didn’t answer her cell phone.”
“What did you think about that?”
“I thought Panthea might have killed her.”
“Did that make sense to you?” Marcus asked.
“No, it really didn’t. Mrs. Daniels is a crier, not a fighter,” Wade said, laughing a little.
“So what made you think Mrs. Daniels had done it?”
“When they said they were looking for somebody driving a black Mercedes that was seen leaving the scene.”
“Is that why you lied to the police?”
“Yes.”
“You were just trying to help out a friend in need, is that right, Mr. Long?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Long. I have no more questions for this witness.”
When Marcus returned to the defense table, Panthea wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him wildly for the job he’d just done. Instead she leaned close to him and said, “I think that went well.”
Next, ADA Paxson recalled Detective Silver to the stand. As Marcus expected, Silver had returned to the stand to lay out the murder itself. “—considering the fact that she only recently found out that her husband was having an affair with the deceased, and she had no alibi, she was driving a Mercedes Benz and she fit the general description of the person seen leaving the scene, I felt confident that we had arrested the right person for the murder of Abril Arrington,” Silver explained.
“Thank you, Detective Silver. Your witness, Mr. Douglas.”
Marcus practically leaped from his seat. “Detective Silver, do you recall your initial interviews with Mrs. Daniels?”
“Yes, sir. I do.”
“What time did M
rs. Daniels tell you that she made it to Wade Long’s house on the night of the murder?”
Detective Silver reached in his pocket and took out his notes. He had flipped a few pages, and then he paused with a confused look on his face.
“Is there a problem, Detective?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t seem to have a noted time,” the detective told the court.
Marcus returned to the defense table, and when he came back to the witness box, he had the transcripts of the interviews in hand. “Allow me to refresh your memory, Detective.” Marcus handed Silver the papers. “Would you mind reading the highlighted section please?”
Silver looked over and read the document carefully before he started to read it aloud. “Detective Silver: what time did you get to your friend’s house, Mrs. Daniels? Mrs. Daniels: I don’t know what time I got there. I was just driving, and I ended up there. I needed somebody to talk to.”
Marcus handed the detective another sheet of paper. “Once again, Detective, read the highlighted section, please.”
“Detective Silver: I talked to your friend, Wade Long last night, Mrs. Daniels. He said that you got to his house at eight-thirty. Mrs. Daniels: if that’s what Wade said. I don’t know what time I got there,” the detective said, reading the words that he and Panthea exchanged.
“So based on what you just read, Detective, is it fair to say that Mrs. Daniels never tried to mislead you about her alibi? Is that fair to say?”
“I think that’s fair,” Silver offered. “But even if that was the case, Mrs. Daniels still doesn’t have an alibi for the time of the murder,” he spit out quickly.
“Is that your professional opinion Detective Silver?” Marcus asked.
“Yes, it is.”
“How long have you been in law enforcement, Detective?”
“Seventeen years.”
“Now, Detective, you arrested Mrs. Daniels for the murder of Abril Arrington, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You did this after a thorough investigation of the facts?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Did that investigation lead you to uncover any other facts about the deceased?”
“Objection, your honor,” Paxson said and got up from his chair. “May we approach?”
The judge gave his consent and the two combatants approached the bench. “Mr. Douglas is trying to use the detective to suggest that the deceased was involved in something less than legal in clear violation of your ruling.”
“Your honor, any information that the detective finds as a result of his investigation of the crime I believe is pertinent to these proceedings and was covered in direct examination when Mr. Paxson asked the detective if he investigated the matter and asked him to share his findings,” Marcus said.
“I’ll allow it,” the judges said.
“But your honor?”
“I said, I’ll allow it, Mr. Paxson.”
Paxson returned to the prosecution’s table and reclaimed his seat. Marcus gave him a smug look before returning his attention to Detective Silver. “Once again, Detective Silver, did your investigation of Abril Arrington lead you to any other facts about the deceased?”
“I was able to confirm that the deceased, Abril Arrington was also using the names Adina Banks and Aerona Carter. I was also recently informed that the deceased legal name is Aisha Kaufman, and she was wanted for bank fraud in Maryland as well as being sought as a person of interest in two other homicides. One in Chicago and the other in Houston.”
“Busy girl,” Marcus stated.
“Yes, sir, she was,” Silver agreed.
“Now, Detective, in your professional opinion, what would be the purpose of using so many names?” Marcus asked.
“Objection, your honor,” Paxson said immediately.
“Overruled,” the judge said without waiting for Paxson to explain his objection. “Answer the question, Detective.”
“The only purpose I can think of for her having so many aliases is some type of fraud.”
“Thank you, Detective, I believe that will be all. Your honor, at this time I would like to request that a subpoena be issued for Pascal Larrieux to explain his relationship with the deceased.”
“So ordered.”
Once the prosecution rested its case, Marcus wasted no time in calling Harrison Fuller to the stand.
“Mr. Fuller, thank you very much for coming.” Marcus handed him a picture. “Do you recognize this woman, sir?”
“Yes, sir I do. This is Aerona Carter,” Fuller said.
“Let the record show that the witness has identified the deceased, Abril Arrington, as a woman he was involved with named Aerona Carter.”
“Noted.”
“How long were you involved with Aerona Carter, Mr. Fuller?”
“I believe she was around for two years.”
“And what was the nature of your relationship?”
“I’d give her money to show my appreciation. And I’m a generous man.”
“Appreciation for what, sir?”
Fuller paused for second or two before answering. “Sexual favors.”
“Are you saying that Aerona Carter was a prostitute?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. She told me that she was a real estate broker,” Fuller said.
“What happened to end the relationship?”
“Seven months ago, my wife Connie found out she had gotten my password and was siphoning off five grand a month from my account.”
“How long did this go on?”
“Oh, I started to suspect something about two months in when I noticed an additional debit against the account. Connie told me what she suspected, and a few months later I confronted Aerona.”
“What did she say?”
“She denied it, adamantly of course.”
“Did the woman you knew as Aerona Carter ever ask you to invest in any real estate?”
“Once. But I told her no,” Fuller said. “You know, now that I’m thinking about it, right after that was when the money started going missing.”
“Right after you told her you wouldn’t give her any money, she started stealing it.”
“I guess so,” Fuller said and the look on his face turned sour.
“Where were you on the night in question, sir?”
“I was at the Writer’s Guild Awards with my wife Connie,” Fuller said.
Once Harrison Fuller was cross-examined by Paxson, he was excused. Marcus called Scott Daniels back to the stand.
“That was quite a woman you’d do anything for, Mr. Daniels.” Marcus walked over to the jury box and faced Scott. “You heard Detective Silver tell this court that the woman you knew as Abril Arrington was fact named Aisha Kaufman. You also heard testimony from Harrison Fuller. He positively identified the deceased, the woman you knew as Abril Arrington was using the name Aerona Carter, and he was giving her money for sexual favors. Did you know about this, Mr. Daniels?”
“No,” Scott spit out. “She wasn’t like that.”
“Yes, she was, Mr. Daniels. She was a tramp. A tramp that took you for more than one hundred thousand dollars.”
“That’s not true,” Scott yelled.
“Mr. Daniels you must have forgotten that I’ve seen your bank records. You testified under oath that you were paying for her car note and her mortgage. You were buying her jewelry, giving her cash, you said so yourself. You would have done anything for her. Well, Mr. Daniels, we totaled it up for you, and the grand total is just over one hundred thousand dollars that she chumped you out of.”
“Objection. Your honor, council is badgering the witness.”
“Sustained.”
“My apologies, to you your honor,” Marcus said and bowed. “And to you ladies and gentlemen. I only have one more question for the witness.” Marcus walked over to Scott and leaned on the rail that separated them. “How does that make you feel?”
“How does what make me feel?”
“Ho
w does it make you feel to know that the woman you claimed to love so dearly was taking money and having sex with at least two other men?”
Scott’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.
“How did it feel to be played like a fool,” Marcus demanded an answer.
“It made me mad,” Scott yelled. “Mad as hell. She didn’t have to go to other men for money. I loved her. I would have given her anything.”
“Mad enough to kill her for going to them for money and sex.” Marcus started to walk away. “I have no more questions for this—witness.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Scott yelled.
29
As soon as she got back to Atlanta, Olivia was boarding another plane and on her way to O’Hare airport. She checked into her hotel room for her meeting the following day with a named Bruce Washburn the detective assigned to the case. When Olivia called about seeking information about the murder of Lamar Winston and his alleged relationship between Aisha Kaufman, the detective reviewed his files.
“His death was ruled to be from natural causes, it wasn’t until I had the body exhumed and autopsied that we found traces of the poison.”
“What made you suspect something else and have the body exhumed?”
“To many things didn’t add up, talked to a lot of people who knew him, you know, just followed a hunch,” Washburn said. He agreed to tag along with Olivia while she questioned witnesses about their knowledge of Aisha Kaufman.
Lamar was the owner of a string of nightclubs, both strip bars and dance clubs. He also owned a few other businesses. According to the notes, she breezed through in the back of a taxicab, Aisha and Lamar had split up a month or so before he was poisoned.
Olivia instantly regretted having come to Chicago when her cab pulled up in front of the building at North Pulaski Road. There was a crowd of immigration activists posted outside of the Albany Park District Police station.
“What’s going on here?” she asked the cabdriver.
“Demonstrations—they started Monday,” he reported and looked at her like she was holding up business for him.
Olivia paid the fare and eased out of the cab reluctantly. As she made her way past dozens of demonstrators chanting for justice and denouncing racial profiling, Olivia made her way into the double glass doors.