Death of a Prince

by Susan P. Baker

  “And so did Raymond. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Well, Raymond could have just been mad at Phillip wanting to screw Kitty. Don’t you see?”

  What she saw was Lizzie pointing the finger at everyone but herself. She sat watching while Lizzie filled her plate with more food than she could ever eat and returned to the table.

  “What I see, Lizzie, is a household full of people who may have had reasons to kill the man. Maybe not good ones, but reasons, nonetheless.”

  Lizzie leaned over her food and shoveled it into her mouth. She wasn’t a pretty drunk. Erma wondered if Phillip had been thinking of dumping her for that very reason. Or was she a drunk because Phillip was thinking of dumping her? Those were just a couple of things they needed to discover. She and Sandra had less than a week to try to piece it all together.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Although the temperature exceeded ninety and the humidity was one hundred percent, Sandra needed a few minutes to get her thoughts together before she talked with Raymond. Pulling into the Sonic Drive-In on Broadway, she drove around the back and parked as close to the rear as possible. Several other vehicles were between her and the street. Putting down her window, she pushed the button and ordered a hamburger, fries, a Coke, and heaved a huge sigh. When she got home that night, she would scrub her skin until she got every ounce of Bubba breath off her.

  On her mental list of suspects, Bubba pirouetted on the top. He had the means: any blunt instrument he could put his hands on in the downstairs of Phillip’s house. She couldn’t prove he had the modus because she didn’t know if he had a criminal history which included assaulting people with instruments, but perhaps if she put a bug in Dennis Truman’s ear he’d check Bubba’s criminal background. And opportunity. Oh boy. He sure as hell had the opportunity, coming on and off Phillip’s property in the middle of the night essentially unobserved. At the very least, she would be able to point to Bubba and yell reasonable doubt, reasonable doubt, reasonable doubt.

  When her order came, Sandy breathed in the beef and onion smell before tearing into it, taking a huge bite of hamburger and emptying little plastic packets of ketchup all over the fries. She needed to be careful that she didn’t drip grease on her clothing. If her mother saw it, she’d never let her forget it.

  Phillip Parker and Associates’ offices covered two floors of an 1852 building a block south of The Strand in downtown Galveston. The exterior still looked as it must have when it was built. Sandra parked at a meter, paid for two hours, and hurried inside to the air-conditioning. When she reached the restroom, she darted in, rinsed out her mouth and washed her hands to get rid of the hamburger smell. She never regretted eating them, but she didn’t want to wear a sign that advertised it.

  Carrying her briefcase like a schoolgirl, Sandra approached the front desk and identified herself. Two young, beautiful, very professional-looking women in their twenties stood behind a tall counter. One offered her a drink. The other got on the intercom. There were two of them, so that the front desk was never left unattended. Sandra declined the drink and crossed the thick carpet to sit on a leather chair. She smiled at the one still watching her when she sat down. Most ordinary defense attorneys would never be able to afford two people to staff the front desk. A tiny bit of resentment surfaced, but she swallowed it and waited for Raymond.

  “What are you doing here, Sandy?” Raymond whispered when he showed up. He hurried her down a long hallway and past open doors to his office. “Kitty has called three times from the jail. When are you going to get her out? She’s scared to death.”

  Sandra began to answer as they reached his office but when she entered, she saw Erma sitting across from Raymond’s desk like she owned the place. Erma wore one of her regular office outfits, a variation of a black suit, to-wit: a long black skirt, black vest, and black and white polka dot blouse.

  “Hello, Sandra,” Erma said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to find her in Raymond’s office.

  “What are you doing here?” Sandra asked. Raymond showed her the chair next to her mother’s, but she stood.

  “Well, goddamn, it’s a free country. Least last I checked.”

  Sandra said, “You know what I mean. You should be home, resting.”

  “Fuck that,” Erma said.

  Raymond looked at his feet.

  Sandra sat in the chair next to Erma and dropped her briefcase on the floor. “What is going on here?”

  Raymond said, “Miss Townley came in to set up the will reading, that’s all.”

  “Erma,” Erma said.

  Sandra studied her mother. She knew Erma was up to something. “So if it’s all set up, you can go home. Perhaps you could take a nap this afternoon or at least rest for a while.”

  “Rest for what? For my own goddamn funeral? If it was up to you, I’d stay in bed until I croaked.”

  “No, I’m just worried about you. Your heart attack was only a couple of weeks ago, you know. You could easily have another one. There’s no reason to work so hard when I can do things for you.”

  Erma sat up straighter, the toes of her shoes brushing the carpet. “I’m feeling fine.” She looked at Raymond. “So, Raymond, when you see Stuart, you’ll verify that everything is okay the way I’ve set it up?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Raymond said. “Will Kitty be able to come?”

  “That’ll be up to her attorney, dear boy,” Erma said. “What do you say, Miz Salinsky?”

  Sandra gritted her teeth and swallowed. She couldn’t help but wonder what else Erma had been up to all morning. If she was meddling in the case without checking with Sandra first, they were going to have a come to Jesus meeting. She said, “I filed a writ of habeas corpus yesterday afternoon.”

  “A writ?” Raymond asked. “Why was that necessary?”

  “No bail. Think back to your law school days, Ray. Criminal law. Criminal procedure. The constitution and the laws of the state of Texas permit the defendant to post bail, remember?” She had the strongest urge to stick her tongue out at her mother who she just knew doubted Sandra’s ability to practice criminal law no matter what lip service she paid to her.

  “Oh, right.” He looked from Sandra to Erma. “So how come Kitty didn’t have a bail set?”

  “ ’Cause Edgar Saul is a son of a bitch,” Erma said.

  Before Erma could say anything else, Sandra said, “He talked the judge into not setting one. So I had to file a writ and get a hearing, and Thursday was the earliest I could get it.”

  Raymond bounced out of his chair as though poked in the bottom by a sharp spring. “Thursday! That’s two more days. I don’t think she can stand it that long.”

  “She’s going to have to. I asked the undersheriff if he’d have someone keep an eye on her—to treat her nice. She should be okay.”

  “Oh, my poor Kitty.”

  Erma rolled her eyes. Sandra gave her a warning glance. “She’ll live through it, I promise. It’s unpleasant in there, but it’s not life threatening. It just smells bad and the company is not what she’s used to.”

  Raymond looked lost. “She’ll never forgive me for this.”

  The hackles rose on the back of Sandra’s neck. “What do you mean never forgive you? What has she got to forgive you for?” God, she wished Erma would leave. She just didn’t feel that she could be as effective with Erma hanging on her every word.

  He stared at Sandra and then at Erma like he just remembered they were there. “I meant that I should do something. To help get her out.”

  “Goddamnit, Raymond,” Erma said, “if you have something to tell me—us, you’d better spit it out. Right now.” Sandra swallowed hard. She and her mother were going to have choice words later.

  “No. No. I promised to protect her, to take care of her. Don’t tell anyone this, y’all, but we’re engaged. We’ve been keeping it a secret because she said she had some things she had to work out, but I promised to take care of her always and here she’s in jail. Don’t
you see?”

  “Yes, Raymond. So what? It’s not your fault.” Sandra studied him. “Unless you killed Phillip and are letting Kitty take the rap for it.”

  His face flushed. “No, no, of course not, Sandra. Miss Townley, you believe me, don’t you?”

  Erma said, “Erma.”

  Sandra said, “Then quit with the guilt trip. I’m doing everything I can as fast as I can and, trust me, no one,” she looked at Erma, “no one, could do it any better. Now, I came over here to see if you could help me build our defense. If you want to do something, that’s what we need most.”

  “Yes, that’s what we need most,” Erma echoed.

  “All right. Whatever I can do, you name it.” His nondescript face held just the right amount of solemnity, but Sandra couldn’t help feeling a bit of distrust.

  “Tell me—us what happened last Friday night at Phillip’s beach house after we left,” Erma said.

  Raymond put his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, his eyes sweeping from one of them to the other. “I see. You’re trying to place everyone.”

  “Quit worrying about what we’re doing,” Sandra said, the irritation plain in her voice. “As I was leaving, everyone seemed to be going up to their rooms. Correct?”

  He nodded. “Bubba had finished cleaning up around the bar and had fixed himself a plate when Phillip and Lizzie got into an argument. Bubba went downstairs. I don’t think he liked to see them fight. I’ve always thought he cared for Lizzie and didn’t like Phillip yelling at her.”

  “So Phillip was yelling at Lizzie.”

  “You know how he is, I mean, was,” Raymond said. “Especially you, Miss Townley. He hollered a lot. It was his way. Full of bluster. He didn’t mean anything by it.” Raymond cleared his throat and looked away.

  “Like he didn’t mean anything by pulling you around by your ear?” Sandra asked.

  He cleared his throat again. “You heard about that?”

  “Yes, I heard about it. It wasn’t exactly a secret when he did it at the courthouse. How could you let him humiliate you like that, Ray? God.”

  “Aw, he didn’t mean anything. You had to understand him, Sandy. He was . . . sensitive and high strung.”

  Sandra was convinced he was about to cry. She could see that he loved the man, though she couldn’t understand it. “Tell me what you admired about him so much.”

  He shook his head. “I wouldn’t know where to start. He was like a father to me. You know how he always referred to himself as the Prince of Personal Injury?”

  Erma laughed. “Yes. Prince Phillip Parker. What a mouthful. That was a joke that started probably before you were born, Raymond.”

  Raymond smiled. “Well, he told me that if I’d stick with him, maybe someday I could be the Duke of Damages.” Erma let out a raucous guffaw. “That sounds like Phillip. He could be so full of shit.”

  “Erma, please,” Sandra said. Not that she didn’t think it was funny also. Lawyers and their egos. She cringed sometimes when she remembered she was one. Ridiculous how they did battle to enhance their reputations. Some would spend hours thinking up schemes to make themselves better known. They would compete to see who got the best topic and who wrote the longest paper at continuing education courses. Of course, the other lawyers had to suffer because they had to read their papers and would have much preferred something short and succinct. Well, be that as it may, here she was in conversation with the future Duke of Damages and her not even the Duchess of Defense.

  “Okay, so Phillip was going to make you his heir apparent?” Sandra asked. “So for that you put up with humiliation and abuse? Didn’t it occur to you that it wasn’t necessary?”

  “He didn’t mean anything by it. It was just his way.”

  “But Raymond I’ve seen you. You are such a good lawyer.”

  His Everyman face actually blushed and, staring at the floor, he said, “He taught me everything I know.”

  “Bullshit,” Erma said. “You’re a natural. I’ve even seen you argue. He may have taught you some things, but jurors find you a likable fellow. You have a way with words. Surely you know that?”

  Raymond shrugged. “I guess.”

  Sandra and Erma exchanged looks.

  Erma said, “If someone had ever pulled me down the hall by my ear or nose or hair, I’d have kicked their goddamned butt from here to the ferry landing.”

  He remained silent.

  “Was it worth it?” Sandra asked. “What does it take to rile you?”

  “I don’t know. Phillip never managed to do it, though. I guess my higher goals stopped me from getting angry.” He got up and stuck his hands in his pockets and perched on the side of his desk. “I don’t know, y’all. Can we go back to what you came here for?”

  They were there. He just didn’t know it. Sandra said, “Okay, so Phillip and Lizzie were fighting and Bubba went downstairs. What were they fighting about?”

  “I’m not sure. Actually, when they both drank, they did a lot of yelling and screaming. I mostly wouldn’t pay attention anymore.”

  “So were you around a lot? I mean, more than Stuart and other lawyers?”

  Erma said, “Yes, he was. Phillip liked to have him around.”

  Raymond nodded, glum as an undertaker.

  Sandra realized that Phillip used Raymond as his whipping boy, and the man let him get away with it. “So you were used to it.”

  He nodded again. His eyes shifted toward the window.

  “You went to your room with Kitty,” Sandra said.

  “Yes. We went straight to bed.”

  “And to sleep?” Sandra asked.

  His face flushed pink. “Yes. After we brushed our teeth and washed our faces.”

  “Do you fall asleep quickly?” Sandra asked.

  “Usually.”

  “Did you that night?”

  He stood up, wandered around his office, and began picking up things and examining them.

  “Ray? Do you have something you want to tell us? Or should I tell you what happened?” Sandra said.

  He turned to face Sandra. “What do you mean?”

  “Did you follow Kitty up to Phillip’s room?”

  Raymond crossed to Sandra’s chair and took her hands in his. “But she didn’t kill him, Sandy. I know she didn’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I woke up when she slipped out of bed and put her clothes back on. I guess I hadn’t fallen into a deep sleep. I didn’t say anything to her.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t said anything to her yet.” He held his hands out in a helpless gesture. “I guess I’m just afraid of losing her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole life.”

  “Where did you think she was going?”

  He stared at her face, his eyes burrowing into her own. “To Stuart.”

  Sandra swallowed hard and glanced at Erma. Erma licked her lips and looked as though she were enjoying herself. Sandra said, “Huh. And you didn’t say anything?”

  “No. I should have, I guess, but . . . well, I don’t know. I wasn’t sure what was going on and I guess, if she didn’t want me, I would just let her go.”

  “A real man,” Erma said.

  “So did you follow her?”

  “Not really. I waited a few minutes and when she didn’t come back, I went to Stuart’s room and listened at the door but I didn’t hear anything.”

  “That doesn’t mean nothing was going on.”

  “No. So I went down to the kitchen and got a glass of milk.”

  Sandra gave him a look.

  Erma said, “Goddamn.”

  “I thought it would settle my stomach,” he said to Erma.

  “Yeah. So then what happened?” Erma said, staring into her lap. Sandra could tell Erma was trying not to laugh at poor Raymond.

  “I heard Phillip. I didn’t know where his voice came from, but I knew it was him. Finally I went out to the balcony just off to the right of
where he was and heard him cussing and calling out foul things. I looked down and saw him lying on the grass. I knew he wasn’t hurt too badly by what he said. He yelled up to someone. I heard him call out Kitty’s name so then I figured out she had gone to him, not Stuart.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I went back to my room to see if Kitty had come back.”

  Sandra said, “You didn’t go downstairs and smash Phillip’s face in for saying all those vile things to her?”

  “No. I didn’t do it, Sandy. Miss Townley. I swear.”

  Erma said, “Erma.”

  Sandra wasn’t so sure, but he obviously wasn’t going to confess right then and there. She remembered Kitty saying she had gone back to bed and then Raymond had come in, but she hadn’t gotten any sense of how much later. “Why didn’t you go downstairs and help Phillip?”

  “He didn’t look like he needed any help. And, anyway, Kitty is so high-strung. I knew that if Kitty heard him saying those things to her, she would be upset.”

  “So you went to her instead?” Erma asked.

  “That’s right. But she pretended to be asleep when I got there.”

  Sandra bit her knuckle to stop herself from contradicting him. Kitty hadn’t said she pretended to be asleep. She said they’d talked. Why was Raymond lying? “Didn’t you think that was weird?”

  “The whole thing was stranger than anything. I suppose I should have woken her up—said something to her, but I didn’t know what was going on. Damn, I could kick myself sometimes for being a coward. I just didn’t want to lose her. ”

  “And why would you care if you lost her?” Erma said. “She got up and left your bed, for God’s sake, and went to another man who ended up on the ground cussing her out. Just what the hell did you think was going on?”

  Sandra said, “Erma—”

  “There’s no telling.”

  “Yes, there is,” Sandra said. “And surely you’re dying of curiosity. Or has Kitty already told you?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “Raymond. Raymond. Raymond. You never asked her to explain?” Sandra asked.

  “No. I figured she’d tell me when she was ready.”

  Sandra was having a hard time believing that Raymond was the saint he painted himself as. Would she be able to goad him into a confession? “Did she tell you that Phillip made a pass at her?”