“Having you testify will plant the idea that Global was suspicious from the get-go,” McGraw had told Fox not long after Holly and Jeff had been indicted a few months back. “Not to mention the actual visual image that will be burned into the jurors’ collective brains when we show them your surveillance video. They’ll get a bird’s eyes view of the merry widow dry-humping her accomplice on the front stoop of the murder victim’s own house while her husband was fresh in the grave.”
“He was cremated,” said Fox, “the insured.”
“Well, she was screwing Flaherty while her dead husband’s ashes were still hot.” McGraw laughed to himself. “I have to write that line down. I think I’m going to use it in my opening statement.” For his bluster and arrogance, Fox got the impression that McGraw was also a true believer in such now passé thing called justice.
“In truth,” Miller told Fox, “the DA isn’t offering much. But I don’t think she’d take even a disorderly conduct if it meant putting her lover, that Flaherty guy, away. I guess she loves him that much.”
“Well,” said Fox, “she loved him enough to kill her husband. And while I guess it’d be for the best if we could get her to testify against Flaherty, make the case a lock, I guess there’s part of me that’s glad she’s being stupid. For me, she’s worse than Flaherty. She committed the ultimate betrayal, don’t you think?”
After a moment, Miller asked, “You still looking into that other thing?”
Fox shrugged to himself.
“What? Who sent the emails to Global?”
“Yeah, that.”
“No time,” he told Miller. “Too busy these last few weeks busting one of those fake car accident rings on Long Island. Involves lawyers, doctors, and the mob. Russian mafia, too. A regular dream team of criminal scum.”
“I bet,” said Miller. “So you got no more ideas who blew them in?”
“No,” sighed Fox. “You?”
“Nada.”
Fox scowled. That was still bothering him, like a stone in his shoe. He regretted that Miller had brought it up, reminding him.
“It’s probably what you thought—just some friend or relative or someone who got into Holly’s email somehow and found the message,” Miller said. “Maybe Holly forgot to shut her computer off and this someone happened to start fishing around. I don’t know. Wherever it came from, all you need to know is that it came.”
“Think the defense will make anything out of it?” Fox asked. “McGraw doubts it,” Miller said. “Where do they go with it? The computer guys will give lock solid testimony linking the messages to his and her computers. And some other folks will lock each of them as the only users of those email servers. That’s what Joe McGraw is good at— highlighting the good parts of his proof, while diminishing the negative impacts of the bad. It’s a goddamn game to him, and truth be damned. But it’s the same game the best defense lawyers play. Only this time, McGraw is just as good at that game as they are.”
“Maybe someone planted them,” Fox said. “That’s what I would argue.”
“And then what?” asked Miller. “Maybe there are little green men on Mars.”
“So you think we really got a chance to win this one?” asked Fox.
“With McGraw in the game,” Miller said, “I wouldn’t bet against it.”
Miller told Fox he’d make arrangements for his trip to Buffalo, get him the flight information and reserve a hotel room. At the Marriot downtown, he promised, nice, clean place, near the theater district.
After a moment, Fox asked, “Any luck finding the money?”
“The insurance money?” Miller said. “No, not yet. And the defendants obviously aren’t talking about that.”
“But how the hell can you hide four million dollars?” Miller added. “It’s gotta show up somewhere.”
Fox had done enough investigating scam artists over the years to know that a person and their money could become invisible.
“Not necessarily,” Fox said. “Not necessarily at all.”
Chapter Thirty
Holly’s lawyer, Pete Dobson, laid it out for her while Jeff and his lawyer met in another conference room down the hall. Dobson was a bright kid with an easy demeanor, though a little too boyish looking perhaps to be totally convincing to the old men on a jury. But his good looks, supplemented by a square, athletic build and intense blue eyes, didn’t hurt with the soccer moms, and maybe even some of the old ladies, if he used it right, and certainly would sell to the white trash housewives. Dobson had been practicing out in the real world only five years but already had a solid reputation and, after a string of surprising not guilty verdicts in recent months, he certainly was a budding star.
“They’re offering Voluntary Manslaughter,” Dobson told Holly. “Sentence range is an indeterminate, seven to fifteen years. Most likely, you’ll serve seven. The other part of this deal is revealing where the money is.”
Holly turned away, frowning. The deal meant, of course, that she would have to betray Jeff. Just last night, he had warned her that they were going to offer her a better plea, though this one wasn’t all that much better. Seven years in jail during the prime of her now accursed life. And once out of jail, she’d be broke, having to start over again as a tainted woman.
It was a bad deal, Jeff had told her, because they’d both end up in prison for a long time, and have nothing to show for it when they got out. Certainly, they would lose each other forever. And yeah, she’d be tainted. Forever known as the cruel bitch that had burned her husband to death.
Furthermore, Jeff had argued, ranting at times, the DA’s case wasn’t all that strong, consisting of purely circumstantial evidence, the two ambiguous emails and a two-day surveillance by some insurance company hack investigator that linked them as lovers within a couple days of Jerry’s funeral. So what? On cross-examination, their attorneys would belittle the meaning of all that.
Their attorneys would also easily poke holes in the meaning of the emails. They certainly weren’t confessions, just ambiguous ramblings between two close friends (and perhaps lovers, by then again, so what?).
Furthermore, there wasn’t one speck of DNA or any other physical evidence linking them to the actual, purported crime. Or that even a crime had been committed. The donated cadaver had been cremated leaving only an urn full of ash and the garage had been totally washed out and rebuilt.
But that Assistant DA, McGraw, was supposed to be good, one sharp and tough-minded son-of-a-bitch, Holly had whined, never lost a case or something.
This’ll be his first then, Jeff had snapped.
Holly looked at her lawyer, Dobson, that dull, dark, gray morning. He was so damned handsome, and his eyes were so blue, it was a little hard to concentrate, despite the circumstances.
“So, what do you think,” she asked him, “is it a good deal?” He gave her the usual song and dance that even though he thought the prosecution case was somewhat weak, not the strongest anyway, in various particulars, you never knew what a jury was going to do. It was always a gamble – freedom if the jury acquitted her, or life in prison without the possibility of parole if they bought the prosecution’s story. A guilty plea guaranteed her a specific result, not the best perhaps, but one far less bad than life in prison.
That was the risk. Ultimately, it was her decision.
“What would you do?” she asked Dobson. “If you were me.”
“I’m not you,” he said.
For him, the best thing that could happen was for her to refuse the plea and go to trial. The publicity was already ferocious and a trial would be an absolute circus. Dobson would be a household name by the end of it, and his phone would be ringing off the hook with calls from prospective clients.
As for Holly, thinking wasn’t coming easy. The idea of spending any time locked up in prison, wearing a drab olive green prisoner’s uniform, having to associate with the other women prisoners, most of them lesbians, was simply paralyzing, unreal. She thought of all the prison movie
s she had ever seen and decided that undertaking that life would simply be unbearable.
“Can I speak to Jeff?” she suddenly asked. “Alone?”
Dobson looked at her a moment, then shrugged. He picked up the receiver on a telephone on the table behind him. A minute later, Jeff walked into the room and, without a word, without even a glance, Holly’s lawyer walked out.
Jeff sat down across from her in a heavy way in the same black chair swivel her lawyer had just been occupying. He looked pale and morose, expecting the worst. He remembered the quarrel they had last night, followed by a sleepless night tossing and turning in bed beside her. He knew she had not slept well either, he could feel her awake beside him. At one point, he wondered if making love might do them both a world of good. It had been some time since they had done so with all the stress.
When she just sat there for a time, seeming unable to speak, Jeff decided that he had to break the ice:
“Dan told me that they made you an offer,” he said.
She nodded sheepishly, staring straight ahead at the top of the glossy conference table.
“Yeah, with jail,” she whimpered, barely audible. “I could be out in seven years.” She couldn’t believe she was hearing herself saying that. Seven years in jail was perhaps the best she could hope for. She felt tears coming on but stopped herself with a deep breath. “Plus, I’d have to turn over the money.”
“That’s fucking worse than the jail,” he said and slammed a fist on the table. “Turning over the money— and we don’t have all of it anyway.” He let go of a heavy sigh. “Some deal.” Jeff thought a moment then looked at her. “He tell you to take it? Dobson?”
She shook her head. “Didn’t tell me either way,” she said. “Said the DA’s got a somewhat weak case, but you never know with a jury.”
Jeff nodded. “I still say we roll the dice,” he said.
Holly broke down. She started sobbing and shaking uncontrollably, and Jeff had to get up, go around the conference table, and console her by reaching down and hugging her to his bosom, thinking to himself, like any man would, that a blow job wouldn’t be a bad outcome right now.
“We can beat this, hon,” he whispered into her hair which smelled like fresh bubble-gum that morning. “I know we can.” Finally, she settled down, drew in some deep breaths, and looked up at Jeff. He leaned down and they kissed, and the whole matter seemed settled in that instant. She was going to stay put, go to trial.
“I'll tell Pete to come back in,” Jeff said. “I’ll tell him what we decided. Then we can get Dan and you in here so we can meet on this together. Listen to what their tactics are for when we go to trial.”
The thought of the trial got her shaking again. But she drew a breath and settled down.
When Dobson returned to the conference room, and Jeff had left, Holly asked, “Do you think there will be any possibility, if we reject the plea now, of approaching the DA again with it during the trial?”
“Could be,” he said with a shrug. “Depends on how it’s going. Like I said, this case is no slam dunk. Another move would be to make a counter-offer now, Manslaughter Second, or even Involuntary Manslaughter, so you can get even less time, even though I doubt that prick McGraw will go for that.”
Holly shook her head.
“No, let’s just do it,” she said. “Go to trial. See what happens.”
Dobson reached out his hand and patted Holly’s right forearm.
“Dan and I will do our best to see that you and Jeff are acquitted,” he said. “I have all the confidence in your innocence.”
She nodded weakly, fearing that the jury would see right through her.
Chapter Thirty-One
Jerry had been staring at himself for some time in the full-length mirror in the spacious master bathroom of the four-bedroom ranch-style house in a tidy subdivision just south of Disney World. They had purchased the place, about a month ago at the ridiculously reduced price of $135,000. Five years ago, when it was built, the house had sold for just over $300,000. Property values were certainly not what they used to be in this part of Florida, to the benefit of Jerry and Jade and a whole lot of other buyers.
Jade came in from the back pool deck where she had been working on her tan when she surprised Jerry admiring himself in the bathroom mirror. She stood there smiling a moment before asking him what he was looking at.
“Me,” he unabashedly admitted and stuck his hands out at his reflection. “This handsome creature.” He turned to Jade and smiled.
But in the next moment, Jade turned glum and looked away. “So how are you getting there?”
“One of the cars.” They had two of them, both in the LLC’s name. He planned on taking the inconspicuous, silver Toyota Corolla, that blended in well. She could keep the newer Honda Accord.
“How long you gonna be gone?”
“However long it takes,” he told her. “A week or two I guess.
He had kept tabs on the criminal proceedings through periodic telephone calls to the clerk of the judge to whom the case had been assigned. He had called at least once a week claiming to be a reporter covering the case. That morning, the clerk had told him that jury selection was scheduled to start tomorrow morning. Picking the jury should take no more than a day or so, the clerk had assured him. Then the trial would start immediately.
“And what am I supposed to do when you’re gone?” Jade asked, pouting.
“What you always do,” Jerry told her with a smile. “Sunbathe. Tan. Read those trashy novels.”
He didn’t add that sometimes it seemed to him that tanning, reading trashy novels, sleeping long hours, and fucking, were the only things in life she seemed to be good at. After almost nine months, Jerry had grown a little tired of Jade. She was basic, almost too carnal, in her desires. Not that Jerry felt this was something necessarily bad. It just may not be totally what he was looking for in a woman. He wished that she was a little more cerebral, someone with whom he could make interesting conversation, about a book or theory of life and existence. Then again, maybe all that wasn’t what it was cracked up to be. Take Holly, for instance. She could do all those things, be smart as hell, even smarter than him. And where had that gotten him?
And Jade had served him very well, and loyally, up to this point, as both his front and fuck buddy. He could not have survived, or continue to survive in the world, without her cover, and her sex, and that was certainly something every anonymous man needed. He had a major soft spot in his heart for her, so dumping her certainly seemed out of the question. There was also the very real fear that if he let on to what he was thinking, his misgivings over the depth and longevity of their relationship, she’d run to the police and blow him in.
The real problem, he had come to suspect, was not Jade at all. The real problem was that he still loved Holly. And this nagging feeling was not helped one iota by Jade’s uncanny resemblance to her.
He looked at his reflection again and thought, his transformation was complete.
“Hey hon,” Jerry said. “What’s the matter? Stop being so blue.”
Jerry strolled over and put his arms around her and held her close.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair smelled delicious, like strawberry bubblegum. He moved his hands to her breasts and started massaging them. Despite all his misgivings and second thoughts, Jerry had to admit that he truly did feel something for Jade.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Maybe he did, and maybe he didn’t. All he knew was that he wanted to fuck her right then.
Jerry led her to into the master bedroom and pushed her down onto the wide, king bed, and then crawled on top of her. She kept showing a token resistance. But as Jerry’s tongue found its way into her left earlobe, then down to the back of her neck, and his hands traced a path to the small of her back, then to her ass, Jade stopped resisting and let him go and do what he wanted.
When he was finished, Jerry laid back and stared u
p at the ceiling feeling worse than ever. The fan whooshed around endlessly, with seeming eternal life. The sex had resolved nothing.
“When are you going?” She was laying on her side, looking sad and helpless.
“I should have left already,” he told her.
“So go already.” She turned over, away from him. “I don’t give a fuck.”
Jerry looked across at her and smiled.
She made a face, still trying to fathom what he was up to.
Her insecurity made no sense.
“I just need you to stay here. Be waiting for me when I get back.” He reached out and stroked her hair.
After a long silence, she turned to him and kissed his lips. “Okay,” Jade said. “I’ll be here.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
When the heavy wooden door to old County Courtroom 10-B squeaked open and shut with a hollow thud upon Jerry’s entrance at about ten o’clock that morning, both Holly and Jeff glanced back at him. The prosecution’s first witness in the trial, Dr. Glenn Nguyen, a deputy county medical examiner was on the stand testifying about the condition of Jerry’s purported body upon his initial examination of it. Jerry averted his eyes and tried covering his face by rubbing his nose. He dodged into an empty space along the aisle in the second last row of the spectator gallery. Jeff’s look back at him lingered a few moments longer than Holly’s, but he finally shifted around and focused on the medical examiner’s testimony. Jerry sighed as he settled against the back of the gallery bench, relieved that there had not appeared to have been the slightest hint of recognition in the eyes of either Jeff or Holly.
It surprised Jerry that there weren’t more spectators in the ten rows of mahogany benches, like church pews, split in half by a narrow aisle, making up the spectator gallery of the ornate courtroom in the century-old, granite Erie County Courthouse Building. The trial had garnered its share of circus-like coverage from the local media but nothing like it would have been in a big city like New York, Chicago or LA.
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