You Bet Your Life

by Jessica Fletcher

  “Prosecutor Shelby Fordice objected to being blindsided. But Nastasi said that the witness had just been uncovered by famed mystery writer Jessica Fletcher, a member of the defense team, and that he, Nastasi, hadn’t had a chance to question the witness himself. Fordice fought for a continuance of two days. An increasingly impatient Judge Tapansky gave him two hours.

  “We’ll let you know the dramatic developments as they occur. This is Beth Karas. Back to the studio in New York.”

  The surprise witness, Terry Bencher, took the stand after the lunch recess. She was the first witness for the defense. Vincent Nastasi started his questioning slowly.

  “Miss Bencher, you have testified that you knew both the defendant, Martha Kildare, and the prosecution’s witness, Harriet Elmsley, when all three of you were inmates in the Clark Count Detention Center. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Why were you in jail, Miss Bencher?”

  “I was arrested for drug possession.”

  “Was this your first arrest?”

  “No, sir.”

  The courtroom was packed, the report on Court TV inspiring local viewers to come see the proceedings in person. Nastasi and I had spent the two-hour lunch break in closed session with Terry B. working out what she knew and how to present it. Nastasi wanted to establish Terry B.’s arrest record himself to mute the impact of the prosecution’s using it against her.

  “Did you share a cell with either of these two women?”

  “No, sir. All the cells were full.”

  “Then where did you sleep?”

  “Harriet and I had cots next to each other in the open area. ”

  “When you were in jail with Harriet Elmsley, did she ever talk to you about Martha Kildare?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said Martha was a sap, that someone was setting her up, and she didn’t even know who it was.”

  “Did she ever claim Martha admitted to the crime?”

  “No. She said Martha was probably the only truly innocent person in jail with us.”

  “Would you say you know Harriet Elmsley pretty well?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long have you known her?”

  “I’ve known her since she was a kid, gritting tourists in the casinos.”

  “Objection! Irrelevant.”

  “The jury will disregard the witness’s last statement.”

  “Did you ever live together?”

  “No, sir. But when she got out of jail last week, I let her bunk in with me for the night.”

  “Were you surprised that she was out of jail?”

  “I sure was. I didn’t know how she made bail.”

  “Did she tell you how she made bail?”

  “Yeah. She said some guy had paid her bail, and that he was going to pay for her lawyer and get her off the felony charge, but she had to finger Martha first.”

  There was a collective gasp in the courtroom. Tapansky banged his gavel and scowled at the observers until the room was quiet again.

  “She had to finger Martha. What does that mean exactly?”

  “She had to testify that Martha confessed to killing her husband.”

  “Even though she knew that wasn’t true?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Even though she had told you before that she believed Martha to be innocent?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did she have any regrets?”

  “She said it sucked, but that if it would keep her out of prison, she’d do it.”

  “Miss Bencher, do you know who was willing to pay Harriet for her testimony?”

  “She said he was a wise guy from the Strip. She kept calling him Chappy.”

  “Is he here in the courtroom?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen the guy.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph Ciappino, Chappy to his friends, rise from his seat and move swiftly down the aisle and out of the courtroom.

  “Miss Bencher,” Nastasi continued, “would you tell the jury why you came today?”

  “I saw Mrs. Fletcher on TV yesterday, and she said she was looking for a Terry who knew Harriet Elmsley. I knew she was looking for me.”

  “Did you have any personal reason for coming forward?”

  “I’m working to try to turn my life around, and my counselor said this would be a good first step in my rehab.”

  “Any other reason?”

  “Not really. I like Harriet, but I couldn’t see Martha Kildare getting sent up—or worse—because Harriet didn’t have the bucks for a lawyer.”

  “So it was an altruistic decision on your part to come forward?”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, but don’t make me into any heroine. I just wanted to do the right thing.”

  Shelby Fordice dug into Terry’s drug arrests during his cross-examination, as we’d expected, implying that she was still on drugs, and was being paid off to discredit Harriet. But he couldn’t budge Terry from her story, and she punctured his conjecture by volunteering to take a drug test on the spot to prove she was clean. Overall, we felt the jury had good reason to believe her and to doubt Harriet.

  “The defense recalls Cindy Kildare,” Nastasi said.

  Cindy rose from her seat and walked slowly to the witness stand, not quite as confident as when she was a witness for the prosecution.

  Judge Tapansky cautioned her. “Remember, Ms. Kildare, you are still under oath.”

  Cindy sat down, ran a hand through her blond hair, and fiddled with the ring on the gold chain hanging around her neck.

  “Ms. Kildare, I imagine you’re wondering why we called you back to the stand.”

  “Yes.”

  “We’d like to give you a chance to change your mind about some of the things you said.”

  “Objection! Badgering the witness.”

  “What’s your point here, Counselor?” Tapansky asked.

  “Your Honor, we intend to show that the testimony Ms. Kildare gave in her earlier appearance on the stand was not entirely truthful.”

  “And this has direct bearing on the case?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “It had better. Objection overruled. Proceed.”

  “Ms. Kildare, do you remember what you said in your earlier testimony?”

  “Actually, I’m not sure that I do.”

  “Well, then, let me refresh your memory.” Nastasi consulted a transcript of the trial. “I believe you said that you and Victor Kildare were secretly seeing each other on the days his wife, Martha Kildare, was out of the house at her regular beauty parlor appointment. Is that correct?”

  “If you say so.”

  “No, not if I say so, Ms. Kildare. This is your testimony of last week. You swore to tell the truth. Were you telling the truth?”

  “I was under oath, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes, you were. And under oath, you said that Victor Kildare declared he was in love with you and wanted to divorce his wife and marry you.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Of course, Victor is not here to answer for himself whether or not that’s true.”

  “It’s true. Victor did love me and he planned to ditch her and many me.”

  “I’m glad you remember now.”

  “I remember everything.”

  “Good! Then you’ll remember that you indicated that you were pleased with his desire to reconcile, that you were still in love with him and that you ‘missed him every day.’ I’m quoting now. Do you remember saying that?”

  “I don’t remember the exact words, but yes.”

  “Yes? You still love Victor Kildare?”

  “Yes.”

  “And yes, you still miss him every day?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, Ms. Kildare, how does your husband feel about your still being in love with Victor Kildare?”

  “What?”

  The low sound of murmurs filled the co
urtroom. Tapansky hammered his gavel on the bench. “I want order in this court, or you’ll be escorted out. Understand?”

  Nastasi waited for the observers to quiet down before continuing: “Your husband, Ms. Kildare, what does he feel about your being in love with another man?”

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  “You don’t? I have a photograph here that was taken at your wedding.” Nastasi picked up the picture I’d taken from Betsy’s album of Las Vegas weddings, and showed it to Cindy. “Isn’t that you in the picture?”

  “I don’t know where you got that but you’ve been duped.”

  “This isn’t you?”

  “Yes, it is me, but—”

  “This is not a picture of you getting married?”

  “No. I mean, it looks that way, but it was just a game. We were being silly. Can’t you tell?”

  Nastasi put on his reading glasses and peered at the photograph. “I see you’re in one of our city’s more colorful wedding chapels. I see you’re wearing a pretty dress and this fellow here is dressed nicely, too.” He looked at Tapansky. “May I publish this to the jury?”

  The judge waved his hand and said, “Go ahead.”

  Nastasi handed the photograph to the foreman of the jury, who looked at it and passed it down to the other jurors.

  “We were just kidding around. I don’t know who gave you that, but it isn’t real.”

  Nastasi picked up a piece of paper from the evidence table. “And what about this? This is a copy of a marriage certificate my colleague Jessica Fletcher, obtained at the county clerk’s office. I suppose that isn’t real either.”

  Cindy’s face was ashen. She shifted in her seat, looking toward the back of the room.

  Nastasi read aloud the marriage certificate. “It says here that Cynthia Bascomb Kildare was married to Henry James Quint in September of last year. Victor Kildare was killed in October. And in November, Henry James Quint was offered a partnership in Victor Kildare’s business. Isn’t that so?”

  There was an explosion of profanity from the row behind the prosecution table. Tapansky banged his gavel again. Two officers rushed from the rear of the courtroom to the front.

  “You bitch! You’ve been playing me for a fool.” Oliver Smith was standing, the two officers hanging on his arms, restraining him from charging the witness stand. His face was scarlet, the veins in his temples standing out.

  “Shut up, you moron,” Cindy said in a snarl.

  Tapansky banged his gavel. “What the bell is going on here?”

  “You said we were doing this for us!” Oliver screamed. “You’ve been diddling me for more than a year.”

  “Your Honor, he’s deranged,” Cindy said. “He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

  Oliver turned around, searching the seats behind him. He tried to wrest himself away from the officers, but they had pulled his arms behind his back and were putting handcuffs on him. “Henry, you bastard, I’ll kill you.”

  Henry rose from his seat. “Shut up, Smith. You’re making a fool of yourself.”

  “I won’t let you get away with this,” Oliver roared. “She’s the one, Judge. She planned it all, the gloves, the call to move furniture, framing Martha, everything. She said I didn’t have to do it myself. She had someone else to whack Victor. It was you, Henry, wasn’t it?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Henry shouted. “He’s desperate. Arrest him. Arrest him. He just admitted he conspired to kill Victor.” Henry was pushing his way down the row of seats toward the rear door. As he reached for the handle, four officers pressed through the doors on either side of the courtroom, preventing anyone from leaving. Three more uniformed policemen ran into the room through the door to the judge’s chambers.

  Tapansky pounded on his bench again and again. “I want order. Order!” He slammed down the wooden gavel so hard, the handle broke. “Take them out of here, both of them, and lock them up till we can sort this out.”

  Oliver was dragged backward down the aisle, screaming and cursing at Cindy. He kicked at Henry as he was pulled past him. The officers cuffed Henry and pushed him through the door behind Oliver.

  “Don’t forget this one.” Tapansky said, indicating Cindy.

  Two guards waited while she exited the witness box, and accompanied her out.

  Martha sat stunned in her seat, a trembling hand held over her open mouth. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it,” she chanted in a whisper.

  Betsy was jubilant. She bounced up and down in her wheelchair. “We did it. We did it,” she said.

  “I want order or I’ll clear out everyone in this court,” Tapansky shouted. “Is that clear?”

  The door closed behind Cindy, and although no one said a word, the room hummed with excitement.

  Nastasi had taken his seat beside Martha during the fracas and he grinned at Tapansky.

  “I want the attorneys to approach,” Tapansky said, glaring at Nastasi.

  Nastasi and Fordice went to stand in front of the raised bench, and Tapansky leaned over the top so his head was close to theirs. They kept their voices low and I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Tapansky sat back, his expression unreadable as he scanned some papers before him. The two lawyers returned to their seats.

  Martha had been staring at Tapansky as if she was afraid to take her eyes off him. I took one of her hands, which were fisted in her lap, and held it as the judge looked up.

  Tapansky cleared his throat. “Mr. Nastasi has asked for a dismissal of all charges. Considering the scene we were all witnesses to, I think it’s safe to say that the charges against Martha Kildare are false, and that it would be not only fruitless but also cruel to continue these proceedings. This case is dismissed. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, for your patience and attention. You’re free to go.” As he tapped the bench with the remains of his gavel, a burst of applause and cheers filled the air, with Betsy adding her shrill whistle to the cacophony.

  Martha embraced me and then Nastasi. She was crying again, but this time with relief. She walked over to Judge Tapansky to thank him.

  “Nice job, Fletcher,” Nastasi said to me, extending his hand.

  “Nice working with you, too,” I replied, shaking it.

  “I was the hired gun, but you provided the ammunition. How did you zero in on her? Was it the photograph alone?”

  “That was the piece that put it all together for me. but I should have realized it sooner. I finally recognized the ring she wears around her neck. It’s the same one Henry was wearing when I first met him. And it must have been Henry who made the call to Cindy from Victor’s phone, after he killed him. It was her cell phone he’d called. And that was the only time that number appeared on Victor’s phone records.”

  “You told me she was to inherit a million dollars when Victor died. Do you think that was her motive?”

  “I think she was after much bigger stakes—Victor’s multimillion-dollar business. The two of them knew Tony wouldn’t be able to handle all the business by himself. He’d already proved himself inept before, and Victor had had to rescue him. Henry planned it so that once Victor was eliminated from the equation, Tony would have no choice but to offer him a partnership. But to get rid of Victor, Henry and Cindy needed to get his bodyguard out of the way. They suspected offering Oliver money alone wouldn’t be enough to get him to betray Victor. But they knew he had two weaknesses : He fancied himself a ladies’ man and protector of beautiful women—both his assault arrests came from beating up men who pestered the dancers in the club where he worked—and he desperately wanted to move up in the world, to be treated with respect. He didn’t want to be considered an underling, a servant. He wanted to be on an equal basis with Victor and Victor’s wives.”

  “So Cindy seduced Oliver with the promise of status and respect?”

  “She played on his sympathy and his ego. Here was a beautiful woman who offered him what he’d always wanted, and with herself as the prize. There was a steep pri
ce to pay—turning his back on Victor and setting up Martha—but it was worth it to him. He fell for it.”

  “And Cindy made sure Henry couldn’t double-cross her by insisting that they get married?”

  “Exactly. With Victor dead and Martha convicted, Cindy would have been able to step out of the shadow and reveal herself as Henry’s wife. She would have been as wealthy as she’d been when she was Victor’s wife, but with a man who wouldn’t dare divorce her. She must have figured they could buy off Oliver, counting on the idea that he would never admit to being part of a murder conspiracy.”

  “So was it greed that motivated Henry? Was he seduced by Victor’s millions?”

  “Greed, and a little bit of revenge. Henry needed cash to support his gambling habit. But even more, he resented all the money the partners made while he slaved away in the background. He got rid of Victor, and something tells me Tony might have been his next victim.”

  “You really seem to know what makes people tick,” Nastasi said. “I suppose you get that from creating all the characters in your books.”

  I laughed. “I guess that helps,” I said.

  “You know, of course, that Henry and Cindy’s marriage is going to make it difficult for the prosecution, since a wife can’t testify against her husband, and vice versa.”

  “Isn’t it nice that Shelby Fordice will have Oliver Smith to guide them through the conspiracy?”

  “Yes, it is. I’m going to take off now. Please bring Martha by the office tomorrow and we can clean things up.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want to make sure she’s properly released from jail. She’ll have to go back with the guard to sign out and collect her belongings. You can pick her up in about an hour.”