Trial by Fire

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “I don’t know,” Stella shrugged. “I just think it’s better to be safe than sorry. What if they exonerate me and then decide to go after you? With Uncle Clem involved, there’s no way of knowing what’s going to happen. If he bombs out trying to pin it on me, maybe he’ll try to pin it on you.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Mario said, stabbing his cigarette out in an ashtray. “For all I care, you can tell them I killed the bastard. I’m going to prison regardless.”

  Mario started to walk off, but Stella called him back. “I’m sorry,” she said, “but when you get involved with drugs, you have to anticipate something like this will happen. Brenda said you had more than just a little coke on you. She thinks they’re going to file on possession for sale. That means you had to have a substantial quantity. Are you dealing drugs, Mario?”

  “No,” he shouted. “There you go again. Every time I see you, Stel, you accuse me of something else. I hear there was a murder in Hermann Park today. Are you going to accuse me of that as well?”

  “Why did you have so much coke, then?” she asked.

  “You know how it goes,” he said. “Some of my friends like a little blow now and then, so I score for all of us. If we buy in bulk, we get more for our money.”

  “It’s nice to know you’re so frugal,” Stella said.

  “I’m not an addict,” he pronounced emphatically. “I can quit anytime I want.”

  “Sure,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m not facing a murder rap.”

  “No, really, Stella,” Mario insisted, “I’m not addicted. I swear. I just get depressed sometimes, and the coke helps. I don’t use every day. Sometimes I don’t use for weeks at a time.”

  “What about Holly?”

  He blanched, taken aback. “What about her?”

  “Brenda Anderson thinks she’s going to offer you a deal if you testify against me,” she said. “Is that true?”

  “What could I tell them?” he said, an anguished look on his face. “I didn’t see anything. I don’t know anything. I was asleep when the fire broke out. That’s not exactly compelling testimony. Even if I do cut a deal, I don’t see how it can hurt you.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Mario,” she exclaimed, realizing he might do exactly what Holly wanted. How could it be possible that Mario would turn against her? She’d always protected him, looked out for him, solved all his problems. Although everything she had done had sprung from her love for him, she realized now that she had done her brother a disservice. She had pampered him in his early years, and now he expected the world to do the same. Mario was looking for the quick fix, the rescue, anything that could keep him out of a jail cell. If he had to sell his own sister down the river to protect himself, he just might do it.

  “Don’t think for one minute they won’t ask you to incriminate me,” she said. “They’ll dictate every word you say. Either that, or they’ll get you up on the stand and get you confused, lead you around in circles until you say things you never intended to say.”

  “So I should just let them send me to prison, huh?” he said, his shoulders squared in defiance.

  “I didn’t say that,” Stella snapped back. “You’re not an attorney, Mario. You don’t understand. Just by the mere fact that you’re cooperating with the prosecution, you’ll make me look bad in the eyes of the jury. You’re my damn brother, for Christ’s sake.”

  Mario’s face flushed. “When you’re in trouble,” he said, “it’s a big fucking deal. But it’s fine for me to get shipped off to prison just so I don’t make you look bad. What? Just because I’m not some hotshot attorney, my future doesn’t count?”

  “I’m on trial for murder, Mario,” Stella said. “I don’t think that’s the same thing as a drug rap.”

  They both fell silent, tension coursing through the air. Stella didn’t understand how their lives had taken such a drastic turn. Mario had been a successful photographer, while she had been at the height of her career. How could they be arguing about which one of them was in more serious trouble?

  Mario took tentative steps toward her and then stopped. Stella saw the dark circles etched under his eyes, the unhealthy pallor, how terribly gaunt he was. “I don’t want us to fight anymore,” she said, the words catching in her throat. “I feel so alone right now. It’s like everyone’s abandoned me.

  Maybe you abandoned me, Stella,” he said. You know how many times you’ve come to see me since I moved back to Houston? What it is?

  “Once, twice. You’re so busy with your career, it’s as if I don’t exist anymore. Every time I try to call you, I get some snooty secretary.”

  “I would have called you back,” she said, sniffling. “All you had to do was leave a message. I can’t pick up every call myself.”

  Mario was standing in front of her now. He extended his hand and Stella accepted it, letting him pull her to her feet. Before she knew it, she was in Mario’s arms. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I did the same thing to you that I did to Brad. I was just so busy.”

  “It’s okay,” Mario said, pressing her head down onto his shoulder. “We’re together now. Nothing’s ever going to come between us again.”

  “Promise,” Stella whispered.

  “I promise,” Mario said.

  Stella strode into the courtroom for the morning hearing exactly at nine o’clock. She glanced over at the counsel table, expecting to see Holly, but the prosecutor had not arrived yet. Since no other hearings were scheduled on the morning calendar, the judge couldn’t move to another matter, and everything came to a screeching halt. Stella hated watching a fully staffed court in limbo. With every tick of the clock, she saw another dollar of the taxpayers’ money go out the window.

  Judge Maddox leaned over and asked her clerk to call Oppenheimer’s office. “Tell Miss Oppenheimer I’m about to hold her in contempt.”

  “She isn’t there,” the woman said a minute later, replacing the phone in the cradle. “They claim she’s on the way.”

  “I guess we’ll recess, then,” the judge said, standing to step down from the bench. Just then the back doors flew open and Holly marched down the aisle.

  “Glad you could join us, Counselor,” Judge Maddox said, snatching the file back from the clerk and retaking her seat. “Five more minutes and you might have been visiting the inside of a jail yourself. Your habitual tardiness must stop, do you understand?”

  “Forgive me, Your Honor,” Holly said, taking her seat.

  Judge Maddox proceeded to call the case. Once they were officially on record, she said, “You were to produce the missing evidence, Ms. Oppenheimer. That’s why we scheduled this hearing, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “We can’t find it,” Holly said, glancing over at Stella. “We’ve searched the entire evidence room and it isn’t there. Allow me to point out to the court that this was a very small item, and over sixteen years have passed.”

  “We can’t proceed without seeing this evidence, Your Honor,” Stella said, her voice loud. “I’d like to request a continuance at this time. Ms. Oppenheimer is withholding this evidence intentionally.”

  “I’ll agree to a continuance,” Judge Maddox said, “but I want to see you both in chambers.” They selected a new date for the preliminary hearing and the judge exited the bench.

  Holly and Stella reluctantly followed, passing through the door behind the bench leading to the judge’s chambers. Her office was well appointed and spacious. A large mahogany desk with a marble top faced out over the room, and a round conference table was situated in the far corner. The two women stood until the judge was seated, then took chairs in front of her desk. “I won’t tolerate a hen fight in my court,” she said. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Don’t look at me,” Holly said, kicking her leg back and forth. “She’s the one tossing out all the accusations.”

  “Let me attempt to explain,” Stella said, speaking softly. “This woman hates me, Your Honor. She has some kind of personal vende
tta against me. It seems to be based on jealousy and professional rivalry. I’m not asking the court to do anything but assure me a fair trial, the same thing any defendant is entitled to.”

  “Baloney,” Holly shouted, red-faced. “She’s making it all up. The only goal I have is to convict a killer. If she wants to call that a vendetta, then I guess it’s a vendetta. I call it doing my job.”

  “Perhaps another prosecutor should be assigned to this case,” Judge Maddox said wearily. “This is a unique situation. I’ve personally never had a prosecutor before my court on criminal charges, and the two of you did work together at one time. That could be construed as a conflict of interest.”

  “You can’t have me removed from this case,” Holly said, standing and leaning over the judge’s desk. “Conflict of interest, my ass. I don’t care if she’s Mother Teresa. What are we going to do? Let all the criminals decide who they want to try their cases? She doesn’t want me on this case because she knows Fm going to convict her.” She pointed at Stella. “She’s a cunning and devious woman. Your Honor. She knows the system like the back of her hand. She’s trying to use this knowledge to her advantage.”

  “That’s enough,” Judge Maddox said, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Ms. Oppenheimer.” Her intercom buzzed and she picked it up, motioning for them to leave.

  chapter

  TWELVE

  Sam was waiting in the baggage claim area at Love Field when Stella and Brenda Anderson arrived on the four o’clock shuttle. Brenda wanted to pick up her car. She had arranged a meeting with Ben Growman to explain what she hoped to accomplish with the forensic animation. As Brenda couldn’t do it alone, it would be expensive, and she couldn’t go forward without Growman’s consent.

  Once they had dropped Brenda off at her condo in Richardson, Sam scooted over in the seat and kissed Stella on the mouth. “I’ve been so worried,” he said. “Can’t you stay in Dallas now? After the incident with your skirt, I’d sleep a lot better if you were here.”

  “The prelim was continued,” she told him, “but we’ll have to go back if they produce the missing evidence. Brenda thinks it could be significant, so we want to conduct our own tests the minute they find it.”

  Sam pulled out into traffic, using the surface roads until he made his way to the freeway. “Isn’t it just a piece of metal?”

  “The question’s not what it is, Sam,” she said, her voice elevating in excitement, “it’s what it might tell us. The original inventory list indicates some kind of writing or inscription was found on the pieces of metal. Brenda was able to make out a few letters, but without the missing piece we can’t figure out what it says.”

  They went up the freeway ramp, but it was rush hour and traffic was barely moving. “Even if this piece is missing,” Sam said, “didn’t they record what the writing said somewhere else in the reports?”

  “No,” she said, “and that’s peculiar. Except for the inventory list, the metal pieces don’t exist. There’s not one word about them in any of the reports we received. The D.A.‘s office either failed to follow through when the case was first investigated, or someone purposely tampered with the evidence since my arrest.” She grabbed his arm. “Don’t you see, Sam? This might be something left behind by the killer.”

  “You mean someone other than Randall?”

  “Right,” she said. “Randall heard my father arguing with a man outside the house the night of the fire. The police think I killed Randall to keep him from testifying, but it could have been the person who was arguing with my father. If this person set the fire, maybe he got wind of Randall’s statements somehow and became spooked that the police would come looking for him. So, he kills the state’s only witness, thinking it will prevent them from reopening the case. Let’s say he knew there was incriminating evidence floating around, but it didn’t matter as long as the case was in limbo. As soon as Randall reappeared, though, he knew there was a chance that I might talk them into reopening the case.”

  “These metal pieces are the incriminating evidence, right?”

  “Yes,” Stella said, watching a car edge past on her side. “Okay,” she said as a thought came to her, “what if the killer left something inside the house that night? He could have lost a ring, a watch, an ID bracelet. All these years he’s been holding his breath, praying no one would put it together.”

  “Wouldn’t he think they’d go after you, Stella?” Sam said. “If he knew about Randall’s statements, he’d know Randall implicated you. By killing him, he actually increased his chances that they would reopen the case and discover this incriminating evidence.”

  “He never thought they’d go after me,” Stella argued. “I’m a district attorney, Sam. Who would ever think they’d prosecute a D.A.? I was shocked when they filed against me. Besides, the killer might not have known that I threatened Randall in front of witnesses two days before he was killed.”

  “Don’t you realize what you’re doing, Stella?”

  Sam said, scowling at her. “You’re doing exactly what this person doesn’t want you to do. You’re making a big stink over the missing pieces, trying to track down the mystery man. If this person killed Randall to keep this from happening, then he’s probably gunning for you now.”

  “Possibly,” Stella said, a slight tremor in her voice. “But I’m not going to back off, Sam. Don’t you see? I can’t. Finding the real killer is the only way to defend myself.”

  As they inched their way through the traffic, Sam gripped the steering wheel, released it, and then gripped it again. “I want you to stay with me, Stella,” he said. “I don’t want you staying in that house by yourself.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, mustering up a smile. “I’ll be fine, Sam. If there’s any danger, it has to be in Houston, not Dallas. I do need your help with one thing, though. I’ve got to raise the money to retain Brannigan.” She turned her head away. “I’m going to call the bank tomorrow and see if I can get a loan on the house.”

  “That’s not going to work,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Brad is still listed on the title. Unless he signs the loan papers, they’ll never approve it. Besides, if they know what’s going on—”

  “Here’s what I want you to do,” she told him. “Prepare a property settlement for my signature. Brad can keep everything except the house. I’ll sign over all rights to the business, no questions asked and no additional accounting. He can even have my BMW if he wants it.” She sucked in a breath. Giving in to Brad was not easy. “I’m desperate, Sam. I can’t represent myself on a case like this. I’m too emotional right now and I’ll make mistakes.”

  Having covered only a few miles in over thirty minutes, Sam steered the Mercedes to an off-ramp and parked on the surface road, deciding to wait until the traffic died down. “I can get you the money,” he told her, turning sideways in the seat. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “No, Sam,” she said, “I can’t take any more money from you. You already put up the money for my bail. As long as I appear in court and don’t leave the country, you’ll get the money back. Whatever money I spend on an attorney will be lost forever.”

  “So,” he said, taking her hand, “it’s only money. Let me help you, Stella.”

  “I can’t, Sam,” she said. “It isn’t right. If you do what I say, everything should be fine. Brad doesn’t have to come up with any cash. All he has to do is sign off on the house and I’ll be able to get a loan against the equity.”

  “There must have been an accident earlier,” he said, seeing the cars on the freeway moving at a faster clip now. Gunning the engine, he headed up the ramp again. “If you’re certain you want to proceed this way,” he said, “I can probably get the papers drawn up tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Stella said, settling back in the seat.

  Sam drove in silence awhile, thinking. “You definitely need an attorney, though. On that, I agree a hundred percent. Do you want me to talk to Brad, or would you rather do it yourself? You m
ight make better headway with him, Stella.”

  “No,” she said, remembering how she’d acted when Brad had come to see her at the Houston jail. “If I approach him, we’ll just end up fighting. He might not agree to sign over the house, Sam. If he refuses, at least try to talk him into co-signing on the loan with me.”

  “Do you really think he’d do that?” Sam asked. “If you’re convicted. Brad would get stuck with the payments. If he was my client, I’d never let him agree to that type of an arrangement.”

  “Do the best you can,” she said, shrugging. “I don’t know what to tell you. Make something up. You have to convince Brad that I’ll be able to repay the loan. Tell him you’re certain I’m going to get off, that we’ve located new evidence.”

  Dropping the subject for the moment, Sam suggested they get something to eat. Stella was tired and eager to get home, so they stopped at a coffee shop for a quick sandwich. Once they were back in the car en route to her house, she looked out the window at the Dallas skyline and the glittering dome next to Reunion Arena. Inside the dome was a wonderful restaurant, but from a distance, it looked like a giant Christmas ornament. Stella couldn’t help but wonder where she would be when the holidays rolled around. Closing her eyes and leaning back against the headrest, she didn’t speak until she heard Sam’s wheels crunching on the gravel in her driveway.

  “I’d ask you in,” she told him, “but I’m really beat. I want to get to the office early tomorrow morning, so I guess I should go to bed and try to get some sleep.”

  “I understand, Stella,” he said, a tender look in his eyes. “If you’re up to it, though, I’d like you to come for dinner at the house tomorrow night. I want you to meet Adam.”

  “Adam?” Stella said, her stomach fluttering. “After he saw them arrest me, Sam? Do you think that’s wise? What could he possibly think?”

  “I want him to know the truth,” Sam said. “Innocent people are sometimes falsely accused. Just because the police arrest someone doesn’t mean they’re guilty.”