Harper Ross Legal Thrillers vol. 1-3

by Rachel Sinclair

  “Yes,” he said. “That is possible.”

  I nodded my head. “Nothing further.”

  “Mr. Malloy, call your next witness.”

  “The state calls Kathleen Harbig,” he said.

  The door of the courtroom opened, and a heavy-set blonde woman walked slowly to the witness stand. This was the cleaning lady who had cleaned up the rectory before the murder. I considered that to be either bad luck on Jack’s part, in that the place was cleaned right before he went into that rectory, therefore only his hair was going to be found in the rectory, or excellent planning on the part of the killer.

  I thought it was probably the latter.

  Kathleen was sworn in and gave her name for the record, and Vince started to ask her basic questions.

  “Ms. Harbig, what is your role at Guardian Angels Catholic Church?”

  “I am the official housekeeper for the priestly rectory.”

  “What are your general duties?”

  “I sweep the hardwood floors, mop them, vacuum the throw rugs and the curtains and the sofas. I also dust and clean the bathrooms by scrubbing the toilets and the bathtub.”

  “When you clean that rectory, how long does it take you?”

  “About three hours.”

  “Three hours.” Vince nodded. “And how big is that rectory?”

  “About 1,500 square feet. It consists of a bedroom, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen and two bathrooms. It’s not very large.”

  “So, you take three hours to clean 1,500 square feet. And you’re working the entire time.”

  I knew what he was getting at – this housekeeper does a very thorough cleaning job when she cleans up. Assuming that Jack was the only person in that rectory after Kathleen cleaned up, then it wasn’t a stretch that his hair was the only hair that was found at the scene, besides Father Kennedy. Kathleen’s testimony therefore negated my argument that there really should have been other hairs and DNA evidence found at a place where Father Kennedy conducted most of his personal counseling sessions, therefore Dr. Young didn’t do such a good job of sweeping the scene.

  “Yes,” she said. “I do a very thorough job. I’m there once a week.”

  “And did you clean that rectory on the afternoon of April 19, 2017?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time were you there that day?”

  “From 1 PM to 4 PM.”

  “Nothing further.”

  I figured that it would be pointless to cross-examine her, so I let it go.

  “Ms. Ross, do you have any questions for this witness?”

  I stood up. “No, your honor.”

  “You may step down,” Judge Greene informed Kathleen.

  “Call your next witness,” Judge Greene said to Vince.

  “The state calls Father Kenneth Mathews.”

  I screwed up my face, knowing that Father Mathews had the possibility of doing some real damage.

  Father Mathews took the stand and raised his right hand.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do.”

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Kenneth John Mathews.”

  “And what is your current occupation?”

  “I am a pastor at Guardian Angels Catholic Church in Westport.”

  “Father Mathews, before you became the pastor at Guardian Angels Catholic Church, what was your prior position?”

  “I was an associate pastor,” he said. “To Father Kennedy.”

  “And as an associate pastor, what were some of your duties?”

  “I helped Father Kennedy write sermons, I counseled some of the parishioners, I helped administer the sacrament to the parishioners and I also helped with outreach. Another duty that I had was to schedule the counseling sessions for Father Kennedy.”

  I knew where this was going.

  “You helped schedule the counseling sessions for Father Kennedy.” Vince paced over to the bench and then paced back in front of the witness stand and made his way over to the jury box, where he put his hands on the railing. He then walked back over to the witness stand.

  He was doing his dance. It was his signal that something important was about to be said, so the jury should pay attention. I knew this dance so well that I saw it in my sleep sometimes.

  “Did you schedule in counseling sessions for Jack Calhoun?” Vince asked.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “How many counseling sessions did you schedule for Jack Calhoun?”

  “Two counseling sessions a week for about three months, and, in the week before Kel, I mean Father Kennedy was killed, I was scheduling in a counseling session for Mr. Calhoun every day.”

  I bit my lower lip. It sounded like Jack might have been obsessed with Father Kennedy, but, then again, it sounded like Jack was just going through something trying and he needed a lot of guidance.

  I actually knew the truth, however – Jack was Mick during this period of time, and Mick was in love with Father Kennedy. I think that this explained, more than anything, the fact that he constantly wanted to be “counseled” by Father Kennedy. He wasn’t being counseled. He was going in there and mooning over Father Kennedy. That was my impression, anyhow.

  “A counseling session every day for Mr. Calhoun in the week before Father Kennedy was killed.” Vince nodded his head knowingly. “Was this unusual? Were there other parishioners who were scheduling so many counseling sessions with Father Kennedy?”

  “No,” Father Mathews said. “For all the other parishioners, I was only scheduling them in once a week at the most.” Father Mathews shook his head. “Father Kennedy was a patient man, and a giving man. If somebody needed his help and guidance, he was there for them, no questions asked. But, no, no other parishioner demanded as much time from him as did Mr. Calhoun.”

  I sighed. This was looking bad, so far. Everything was adding up so nicely for the prosecution. In the meantime, my side of the case was going to consist of one lousy expert whose only job was to try to persuade the jury that Jack’s fainting spell in the church was possibly due to severe trauma, such as the trauma of seeing somebody murdered, and I had to hope that the jury didn’t take that testimony the wrong way and decide that Jack’s traumatic incident, that caused his fainting spell, was the fact that he, himself, murdered Father Kennedy.

  In other words, that testimony was going to surely backfire. I hoped that it didn’t, but I thought that it probably would.

  “I have nothing further for this witness.”

  I stood up to cross-examine him, and I was going to have to do it delicately. I had knowledge that Father Mathews knew that Father Kennedy was afraid of Jack. He couldn’t express that on the stand, though, because the way that he learned about this fact was through Father Kennedy’s own words, and that was hearsay. The last thing that I wanted to do was to somehow open the door for Father Mathews to get that testimony in.

  That would sink our case for sure.

  I hesitated, knowing that it was far too risky to try to cross-examine Father Mathews. There wasn’t much that I could ask that wouldn’t lead to Father Mathews blurting out that Father Kennedy was afraid of Jack. If I cross-examined him to ask him if he saw anything inappropriate about the counseling sessions, he could volunteer that he knew that Father Kennedy was afraid of Jack – even though it would be hearsay, he wouldn’t necessarily know that, and it was too much of a risk that he might go ahead and blurt it out. I could move to strike the answer if he did say that, but the damage would be done. The horse would be let out of the barn and it wouldn’t be going back in.

  I decided that the risk that Father Mathews might blurt out something about Father Kennedy being afraid of Jack was just too great. I decided that it was better to rest.

  “Ms. Ross,” Judge Greene said. “Your witness.”

  I hesitated some more, hating to leave his testimony hanging out there, but knowing that there was the real potent
ial for his testimony to get much, much worse. I closed my eyes.

  “I have no questions for this witness.”

  I sighed as Father Mathews was excused.

  This wasn’t going well.

  To say the least.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Don’t worry about it, doll,” Mick said that evening after Vince put up the rest of his witnesses on this case. “You’ll slay it tomorrow, and if you don’t, you don’t. I’m telling you, we’re going to be okay.”

  I shook my head. “No, don’t say that. Just don’t say that, Mick. We have to be 100% positive that we’re going to overcome this. We do.”

  “Well, after today’s testimony, I’m going to have to say that it doesn’t look so good.” He shrugged. “I’ll just have to find a big burly boyfriend behind bars, one that the other inmates won’t mess with, and I’ll get along fine. Really. By the way, did you notice that amazing alliteration I just did – big burly boyfriend behind bars.” He nodded his head. “That’s pure gold right there.”

  I bit my lower lip. I had a plan. It was a risky plan, but what else was new? This entire case hinged upon one risky plan after another. The centerpiece of my trial strategy was surprising Raymond Mathews with the way I was going to question him – I planned on treating him as hostile and breaking him down with cross-examination questions. He was going to either break or he wasn’t. I was depending on him breaking. If he didn’t, then we were toast.

  The only other thing that I could think of was something that could either work or could go horribly, horribly, horribly wrong. It was something that I was struggling with. I had to say that, when your back is against the wall, sometimes you have to do something drastic to bring yourself back. And this plan was certainly drastic.

  High risk, high reward.

  The problem was that this plan was so high risk that it was borderline suicidal.

  And I couldn’t say a word about it to Mick.

  If things went right, then I would be able to speak with the alter who was in that rectory and I was going to get decent testimony out of Jack on the stand.

  If things went wrong, I could either lose the case completely or have the judge order the trial halted so that Jack could be evaluated for a NGRI plea. I probably would have no choice but to go that route if this were the case.

  It was my Hail Mary pass, and I had to hope and pray that it worked.

  I WENT home and I saw the girls, who were playing a board game on the living room floor. They looked up at me and they both knew that they probably should step lightly. The girls were starting to know my rhythms and my moods, and, while Rina still loved to test me, even she steered clear if I had a certain look in my eye.

  I must have had that look in my eye at that moment, because both of them came up to me and they were both as nice as pie.

  “Hey, mom,” Rina said. “We knew you’d be tired, so we put a frozen pizza in the oven for dinner tonight.”

  I nodded my head, feeling terrible that I couldn’t engage with them, but I knew that, right at that moment, I was so in my head that I couldn’t possibly be a decent conversationalist. “Thanks, Ladybug,” I said. “You guys play your game. I’ll be in my office, okay?” I nodded. “I’m so sorry, but I…” I shook my head. The stress of this trial was getting to me. It was weighing on me like a heavy metal vest. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  “We know,” Abby offered. “Just go on upstairs to your office. We’ll bring the pizza up to you.”

  I smiled. My girls were the best. “Thanks,” I said. “For that.”

  I went into my office and just stared at my computer screen.

  What was I doing? What was I going to do? I was risking Jack’s permanent sanity and the case, all with one move. But yet, I knew that this move was maybe my only option.

  My only option was to bring Steven Heaney into that courtroom and hope that is presence in the courtroom triggered a different alter to come out on the witness stand. This was such a razor-thin gambit, too. I had to hope that a different alter came out, but, more than that, I was going to have to hope that this different alter was the right alter – the alter that was in that rectory and knew what happened.

  I had kept Steven away from Jack ever since he got into town. He was doing remarkably well – I helped him get re-established with a state ID and I helped him get his social security straightened out so that he was receiving benefits. He was able to find a position with a nursery who overlooked the fact that he had no work history whatsoever, because he had an amazing knowledge about botany. He was thriving in this nursery, and he was telling me every day how grateful he was to be getting a second chance.

  Yet, I couldn’t overlook the fact that he was Jackson Heaney’s identical twin. Granted, he was 45 years older than when Jack knew Jackson, but I had a hunch that there was a part of Jack that would never forget Jackson Heaney and this part of him was going to recognize Steven Heaney as being the man that he helped out of that house.

  In short, Steven Heaney was the one link that Jack had to that house. The one link. Jack had forgotten completely about that house, but would seeing Steven trip him back?

  I had spoken with Jack’s therapist again, and he indicated that he thought that this actually would work. That seeing Steven, especially if I sprang Steven on Jack without warning, might cause a break and it might cause a different alter to come out. Probably the alter that would come out would be Eli, or it might be Sam, because Sam was the one who saved Steven.

  You’re playing with fire, Harper. You’re gambling with the life of a man who you love very much. There was a part of me that wanted to stop. Tell Judge Greene the truth, ask forgiveness for the fact that I took up his time and the taxpayer’s money, and ask that Jack be evaluated for a NGRI plea. That would result in Jack disappearing forever, probably, but at least he wouldn’t be in prison.

  There was another part of me that wanted to throw that Hail Mary pass. If it worked, then Jack was going to be acquitted. The stars had to align just-so for that to happen, but, with my current trial strategy, Jack would at least have a chance.

  But what if the price was too high? What if Eli came out on the stand and he just never left? What if Jack had a permanent psychotic break when he sees Steven so that he just gets completely lost? What then? I was risking permanent damage to his psyche. I was also putting Jack at risk of going to prison for the rest of his life.

  There were no easy answers.

  THE NEXT DAY, I was ready. I felt like I was going into battle. Into war.

  Vince had wrapped up his witnesses on the first day, which meant that the second day was going to be all me. It was going to be my side of the story.

  I decided that I was going to get Jack’s testimony out of the way first.

  I went to pick him up, and Mick was waiting for me on the front porch as usual. “Are you ready for this, doll?” he asked me. “It’s do or die time today, you know.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you think that you can break down that Raymond Mathews guy on the stand? You promised the moon to the jury, you know.”

  “I know. And the answer to that is maybe. With the right approach, maybe. If I don’t, I don’t, huh?”

  “Right. If you don’t, you don’t. You’re going to put me on the stand, though, and I’m going to be no help at all. I don’t remember that rectory anymore than Jack does. Just stick to the questions about my relationship with Father Kennedy, why don’t you?”

  “No, that’s not a good idea. I don’t want the jury to know how obsessed you were with Father Kennedy. They don’t need to know that you were in love with him. So far, the prosecutor has not been able to establish a motive for your killing Father Kennedy. I suggest that we don’t give them that motive wrapped up in a silver bow.”

  “So, what are you going to ask me?” Mick demanded. “Seriously, girly, what are you going to ask me on that stand?”

  I was going to have to lie to him. He couldn’t know what I h
ad planned. If he got wind of it, then it might not work. I had to have the element of surprise working in my favor. “I’m simply going to ask you questions about your life. I really just want the jury to get a look at you. I want them to see you as being a calm, kind, nice fellow that would never hurt anyone. Personality and body language go a long way towards convincing the jury that you would never murder somebody, let alone in cold blood.”

  Mick looked skeptical. “You have to be kidding me. Listen, you better prepare me better than this. I feel like I’m flying blind here.”

  “Just relax. I got this.”

  We got the courthouse and went in, finding the elevator and getting to the courtroom at a quarter of nine. We sat down at our table. Vince was already there, pacing the floor and chatting with his second chair, Suzanne Ortega. He nodded to me when I walked in.

  “I guess you have Jack as your first witness,” he said. “And then Raymond Mathews as your second witness. And then your expert on amnesia, trauma and fainting. After that, you’re wrapping, right?”

  “Correct,” I said.

  He nodded his head and looked at me. “It’s not too late to stop this,” he said. “It’s your call, but I would seriously think about it.”

  I sighed. “You’ve been in those facilities,” I said. “Those mental institutions. Believe me, this has been the hardest thing that I’ve ever done, but I think that my Uncle Jack needs to stay out of those places. I have a chance for a full acquittal, and I’m going to go for it.”

  “Okay. Go big or go home, huh?”

  “Right.”

  15 minutes later, the jury filed in, the bailiff announced the judge, everybody stood and Judge Greene took the bench.

  “You may be seated,” he said. “Ms. Ross, call your first witness.”

  My heart started to pound as I looked to the door. I had arranged for Steven to dramatically walk through the courtroom door right at 9:10. That would give me time to get Jack on the stand and situated.

  I gulped, praying that Steven could make it. He said that he would. I hoped and prayed that he could.

  “The defense calls Jack Calhoun.”