by Parnell Hall
“She can’t represent you?”
“Not while she’s representing Paula Martindale.”
“Any way you could get her fired?”
“Aaron!”
“Hey, I’m on your side. Anything I could write that Paula Martindale might find objectionable?”
“You are just looking for a story.”
“I’m always looking for a story. I’m not looking for a story that trashes you. Which probably puts me in a distinct minority at the moment.”
The phone on Cora’s bedside table rang. She scooped it up.
It was Becky. “Meet me at the Country Kitchen. Fast as you can get there.”
“Why?”
“Sky is falling.”
Chapter
32
Cora raced down to the Country Kitchen, hurried into the bar. Becky wasn’t there. Cora was torn between leaving and hurling a bar stool through the mirror.
Before she could decide, Becky came in.
“You’re here,” Becky said. “Good. Let’s go.”
“Go? I just got here.”
“You’re just leaving.”
“What’s up?”
“Tell you in the car.”
Becky turned on her heel and was gone before Cora could strangle her. Cora stomped out the door, steam coming from her ears. Becky was halfway across the parking lot. Cora headed for her car.
“Leave it. Ride with me,” Becky said.
Cora rolled her eyes and followed Becky to her car. She got in and slammed the door with more than her usual force.
“Easy,” Becky said. “Small car, could fall apart.”
“What the hell is going on?” Cora demanded.
“Let me get out of here.”
Becky switched on the lights, backed up, pulled out of the parking lot.
“Can we talk now?” Cora said.
“She spilled her guts.”
“What?”
“My client. My all-time-favorite client, Paula Martindale. She went behind my back to the police.”
“She can’t do that.”
“Well, she did. I’m sure Henry Firth will say he advised her she had to have her attorney present. And I’m sure she will say she told him she didn’t care. And I’m sure he got that portion of her statement taken down so he can prove she said it.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going for a ride, and don’t you forget it. If anyone asks, we’re trying to avoid Rick Reed and the local media. We’re certainly not avoiding the police, and we had no idea they were looking for us.”
“Are they looking for us?”
“I can’t imagine why they wouldn’t be.”
“Why?”
“I told you. Paula Martindale made a statement.”
“What did she say?”
“Everything. She told them everything she knows. Including the crossword puzzle.”
“But she doesn’t know we have it.”
“No. If she did, you’d probably be in jail.”
“You’re kidding.”
“It was on your computer. You do the math.”
Cora did the math. Her conclusion was unprintable in most major publications.
“Exactly,” Becky said. “Clearly, you’ve been framed. The question is by whom.”
“That’s grammatically correct.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I know by whom. Your lying, no-good client did it. She figured I was having an affair with her husband, so she killed him and framed me for it.”
“By framing herself?”
“It is a novel twist. But it certainly makes the case against me more believable.”
“How’s that?”
“By making it unbelievable she would have done it.”
“That’s the most convoluted double-think I’ve ever heard.”
“Exactly.”
“Not hers. Yours. That’s going to be your defense? That Paula Martindale framed you by framing herself so it wouldn’t look like she framed you?”
“Well, when you put it that way, it sounds kind of stupid.”
“Well, would you mind putting it so it doesn’t sound stupid? I’ve been mixed up with Paula Martindale too damn long, and I’m sick to death of stupid.”
“Well, if she didn’t frame me, someone else did. Someone sent her a puzzle, someone put it on my computer.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why would they do that? If they actually were framing Paula Martindale, why would they involve you?”
“Oh.”
“Hadn’t thought of it?”
“I haven’t thought of much else. It just keeps going around in my head. It’s not surprising, the way things are working out. They framed Paula Martindale because they wanted to frame Paula Martindale, not because they wanted to frame me. I don’t know why they wanted to frame Paula Martindale, but they did. You have to go back to why they killed Roger Martindale. They either killed Roger Martindale because they wanted to kill Roger Martindale, or because they wanted to frame Paula Martindale. Which sounds like the same thing but isn’t. It depends what the ultimate goal was, eliminating him or blaming her.
“In either event, the framing of Paula Martindale was at least partly to shift the blame, so the real killer wouldn’t be suspected. Framing me is secondary. It’s an afterthought. It serves two purposes. If the case against Paula Martindale falls apart, I’m the backup. The blame shifts to me. I, rather than the actual killer, am next in line.
“That’s one reason. The other reason is he wanted to lure Paula Martindale out of the house so he could kill her husband. He did it with the crossword puzzle, which was diabolically clever. Because he had her burn it. So if she told her story, it couldn’t be proven. But if her story was believed, the crossword puzzle would eventually be traced back to the one on my computer.”
“How did he even know she could solve a crossword puzzle?” Becky said.
“He didn’t, but it didn’t matter. That was the clever part. He wrote a message on the top, telling her to go to the mall and burn the puzzle. As long as she did that, everything was fine. It happened she did solve the puzzle, which was good, because it gave her more reason to go to the mall, but the killer didn’t really care as long as it got her out of the house.
“The killer is watching from the road, with Roger Martindale in the trunk of his car. The minute the killer sees her take off for the mall, he lugs the body inside. He has no trouble getting in, because he has Roger’s keys. He flops him on the living room rug, gets a butcher knife from the kitchen, and stabs him.”
Cora broke off. “Hey. Where the hell are we going?”
“Hang on,” Becky said. “We’re almost there.”
“Almost where?” Cora said. “We’re halfway to Danbury.”
“Yeah, that’s probably far enough,” Becky said. She pulled off the road into a motel parking lot.
“You turning around?” Cora said.
“Yeah,” Becky said. “Just hang on a moment, will you?”
Becky hopped out of the car, went in the office. She was back minutes later. She drove up in front of unit six, slapped a key in Cora’s hand. “Here you go. You’re registered as Susie Benson. Go in, lie down, take it easy, watch some TV. You got all the cable channels, including free HBO. You can call out for pizza, but don’t use your credit card, pay cash. And don’t call Sherry and Aaron and tell ’em where you are.”
“Come on,” Cora said. “What’s the big idea?”
“You’re upset over being publicly accused of having an affair with a married man. You don’t want to be hounded by the tabloids.”
“No, not the reason I claim I’m doing this. The real reason I’m doing this.”
“I’m not your lawyer. I don’t want the cops to pick you up if I can’t protect you.”
“I have to hang out here until you solve the case?”
“No, just until things quiet down.”
&n
bsp; “How long will that be?”
“Probably never.”
“Becky.”
“For the time being, I need you out of circulation. It can’t be helped, but it shouldn’t be long.”
“Can we get away with it?”
“I think so. We’ve got one thing going for us.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m not your lawyer.”
Chapter
33
“I can’t help you.”
Chief Harper frowned. “What do you mean, you can’t help me? I’m the chief of police.”
Becky smiled. “Yes, you are. And I think you’re doing a great job.”
“Don’t mess with me, Becky. I’m not in a good mood. I want Cora Felton.”
“You had her. You released her.”
“That was before your client talked.”
“Funny you should mention it, Chief. Was that violation of my client’s rights all Ratface’s doing, or did you have a hand in it?”
“No one violated anyone’s rights. Your client was advised she didn’t have to talk. If she chose to ignore that advice, it’s not our fault.”
“So you are taking some of the blame.”
“No one’s taking any blame. Everything was strictly by the book.”
“May I quote you on that, Chief? When I get you on the stand, I mean?”
“Your client made a statement of her own free will. She threw Cora Felton under the bus. It seems there’s a relevant crossword puzzle she neglected to mention. You neglected to mention it, too, but I’m sure you’ll claim attorney-client privilege. Which may or may not hold up in court, because Cora was apparently a third party to the conversation. At least that’s Henry Firth’s opinion, and in matters of procedure he’s apt to be right.”
“Can you give me an example of that, Chief? I find myself hard-pressed to think of one.”
Harper grimaced, put up his hand. “Please, I’m not in the mood. Whether you can be compelled to tell about the crossword puzzle is debatable. Whether Cora can is not. She’s a private citizen, she doesn’t have attorney-client privilege. If she withholds material evidence in a murder investigation, she can go to jail.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her, Chief. Though it’s a relatively elementary rule of law, so I imagine she already knows.”
“I’m not asking you to take her a message. I’m asking you to surrender her to the police.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Oh, dear?”
“Sorry, Chief, I can’t do that.”
“You can and you will. Or Henry Firth will get a court order. Then if you don’t you’ll be in contempt of court.”
“I doubt that very much.”
Harper picked up the phone, punched in a number. “She’s here … No, her lawyer … Says she won’t … Okay.” He hung up the phone. “He’ll be right over.”
“Who?”
“Henry Firth.”
“The prosecutor himself? Coming to see little old me? I feel flattered.”
“You won’t when he gets here.”
“We’ll see.”
Henry Firth was there in five minutes. Becky had the feeling he’d been waiting for the call. He was clearly agitated but made every effort to start off calmly.
“Now then, young lady, what seems to be the trouble?”
“No trouble at all. Thanks to Judge Hobbs granting a continuance, I was catching up on my paperwork when Chief Harper asked me to stop by.”
“He mention that I wanted to talk to Cora Felton?”
“I believe the subject came up.”
“Then why isn’t she here?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“I can’t ask her. She isn’t here.”
“Hmm. That would seem to present a problem.”
“It presents a little more than that. Cora Felton is, at the very least, a material witness in a murder investigation. I’ve got a court order requiring you to produce her. Do you intend to do so?”
“Oh, I think not,” Becky said.
“Then you’re in for a rude shock, little lady. Judge Hobbs has a low tolerance for those who play fast and loose with the law.”
“And rightfully so,” Becky said. “It’s disgraceful what some people try to get away with.”
“Yes, yes, very clever,” Henry said. “But you know what you sound like? You sound like someone whistling in the dark. Putting up a good front. It’s what people do when they’re losing.”
“You must have had a lot of practice,” Becky said.
“You have until four o’clock this afternoon to produce Cora Felton in court.”
“Court’s not in session this afternoon.”
“Yes, it is. After he signed the warrant, Judge Hobbs did me the courtesy of going to his courtroom. I don’t want to tell you your business, but if I were you I’d produce Cora Felton as soon as possible, because the longer you make Judge Hobbs sit there, the less likely he’s going to be receptive to your argument.”
“May I quote you on that, Henry? ‘Judge Hobbs is likely to let personal grudges affect his decisions.’”
“That’s not what I said and you know it. Are you going to produce Cora Felton?”
Becky smiled. “According to you, I don’t have to do it till four o’clock.”
“Are you going to let Judge Hobbs sit there all day?”
“Well, Henry, you make a good point. What do you say we mosey over to the courthouse?”
Henry Firth, who had expected more of an argument, said, “Good idea.”
Chief Harper left Dan Finley in charge of the station and tagged along.
Judge Hobbs was eating a sandwich and reading the newspaper. He frowned when they came in. “Ms. Baldwin. Where is your client?”
“Still in jail, I’m afraid. Were you thinking of granting bail?”
“Not her. Cora Felton.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Your Honor, Cora Felton’s not my client.”
“Yes, she is,” Henry Firth said. “You’ve been acting on her behalf. That’s the reason she’s not here now. You told me charge her or release her.”
“Sure, I did. But I wasn’t acting as her attorney. I was acting as a friend.”
“If you’re not Cora Felton’s attorney, who is?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure she has one.”
“If she doesn’t have one, it’s because you are.”
“I don’t follow the reasoning. If she doesn’t have a violin teacher, does that mean I must be it?”
“Your Honor,” Henry Firth said. “Look at the slimy way she’s attempting to squirm her way out of it. If you ask me, it’s sharp practice.”
“Not at all, Your Honor. I’m not Cora Felton’s lawyer because I can’t be Cora Felton’s lawyer. I’m Paula Martindale’s lawyer. I can’t represent Cora Felton, particularly if there is any chance she could be charged with Roger Martindale’s murder. It’s a flagrant conflict of interest.”
Judge Hobbs smiled. “I’m afraid she’s got you there, Henry. If Cora Felton’s in any way a suspect, clearly, Becky can’t represent her while Paula Martindale’s on trial for the crime.”
“Unless you want to dismiss the charges, Henry,” Becky said sweetly.
Judge Hobbs cut short the prosecutor’s indignant denial. “Yes, yes,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “The court notes your disinclination to dismiss.”
“Well,” Becky said. “I’m glad that’s cleared up. If you don’t mind, I do have some trial prep.”
“I do mind,” Henry Firth said. “I want to know where Cora Felton is.”
“I understand your feelings.”
“It’s more than just my feelings. Cora Felton is a material witness in a murder investigation. If you refuse to divulge her whereabouts, that’s obstruction of justice.”
“Oh, my,” Becky said. “And that would be against the law?”
“You know damn well it’s against the law.”
“I could go to jail for it?
”
“You certainly could.”
“That simplifies the situation. In that case, I would have to refuse to answer on the grounds that an answer might tend to incriminate me.”
“Then you know where Cora Felton is?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying I won’t answer your questions. It must be frustrating for you. Try not to take it personally.”
“What about the crossword puzzle?”
“What crossword puzzle?”
“The one your client had.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” Becky said. “Are you referring to a crossword puzzle my client told you about when you questioned her outside of my presence?”
“Your client made a statement of her own volition.”
“When you questioned her outside of my presence?”
“I didn’t question her. She chose to make a statement.”
“Did you have that statement taken down?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“I’d love to see it,” Becky said. “Particularly since you now claim you asked no questions during that statement.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“I asked you if you questioned her, you said no, she made a statement. Which is it? Did you question her or not?”
“Your Honor, I don’t have to submit to a cross-examination.”
“You will when you try to admit my client’s ‘voluntary’ statement in court.”
“It won’t do you any good. Your client specifically declined to have an attorney present.”
“That’s going to be your defense?”
“Defense? I’m not the defendant here, no matter how much you try to cloud the issues.”
“I’m trying to clarify the issues. You keep making statements that are inherently false. Am I supposed to take them as fact just because you’re the county prosecutor?”
“Are we done here?” Judge Hobbs asked.
“Not by a long shot,” Henry Firth said. “I want to know about the crossword puzzle. She keeps changing the subject.”
“Another misstatement of fact,” Becky pointed out.
“Oh, really?” Henry Firth said. “Your client got a crossword puzzle telling her to go to the mall. She claims she went to the mall, burned the crossword puzzle, and waited as instructed. When no one showed up, she went home and found her husband murdered.”