Death of a Prince

by Susan P. Baker

  Jack wore a blue polo shirt and a pair of khaki pants. His feet were bare. “Mel’s not home yet. Connie’s gone to pick her up. They’ll be back in a few minutes.” He was developing a bit of a paunch, but, she had to admit, looked fit and healthy.

  Sandra stood inside the foyer and glanced at herself in the mirror, wondering what Jack saw when he looked at her. “Okay. I guess I’m a little early.”

  “No. No. Come on in.” He beckoned at her to follow him.

  When they got to the den, a football game blared on TV. Some things never changed. “I wanted to talk to you about the child support, anyway. Now’s as good a time as any.” Her stomach lurched. Here it comes, she thought. He was going to hit her up for a big raise. She could just feel it. She had no one but herself to blame. “Yes, what about it?”

  “Connie and I’ve been talking. You know that extra two- fifty you’ve been sending?”

  She could see it coming. They wanted the extra to be court-ordered, in case she got pissed or something and quit paying it. “Yes, Jack, the two-fifty—”

  “Well, we’ve been thinking about it, and we think you should be putting it in the bank for Melinda’s college education.”

  She let out a deep breath and smiled. “I have a college fund set up for her, Jack. Erma and I both do. We put something in every month,” she said, feeling a little irritated that he would think that she didn’t care enough about her kid to have a college savings account.

  “Good, but Sandra, we don’t need that extra thousand a month. That’s an awful lot of money. You already send more than enough. You could do something else with it.”

  “She could have some of it for her allowance.”

  “No. She gets an allowance. If she wants any more than we already give her, and she does, I’m sure, then she needs to earn it herself. She could get a job during the school year on weekends, even at fourteen.”

  Sandra studied his face to see if she could detect an ulterior motive. She never heard of anyone turning down money. He seemed sincere enough. “Well, I agree with you there. So is there anything she wants to do that y’all don’t want to pay for? I mean lessons or go on a trip or something like that?”

  “Tell you what, why don’t you put that two-fifty a week into a car account? By the time her sixteenth birthday rolls around, you could get her a pretty decent car.”

  “First of all, I was going to buy her a car anyway. Secondly, since she’s only fourteen, that’s going to be one hell of a first car.”

  “Well, whatever. We can talk about it some more later. I just wanted you to know that we appreciate the extra money, but we don’t need it.”

  “Okay, Jack. Whatever you say.”

  “You know what you could do though, Sandra.”

  Okay, here it comes, she thought. She folded her arms across her chest and waited for the bottom line.

  “Sandra.” He looked into her eyes and wetted his lips. She knew it must be something serious. “Yes, Jack.”

  “I’m not trying to offend you* really I’m not, but you could try to spend a little more time with Mel.”

  Sandra could almost see the smoke issue out of her own nose. “That’s what I’m trying to do today, Jack. So I tell you what,” she pointed her finger at his chest, “when she gets home, you tell her that her mother will come get her as soon as she gives her a call.” She turned to leave.

  He tugged on her arm. “Don’t get mad.”

  “Just tell her, Jack,” she said, pulling away from him and making her exit.

  “Well, at least wait in the car,” he called.

  She did as he requested, mostly because she didn’t want to drive home and back again. Okay, so she was lazy. She sat in the heat and fumed. She knew she needed improvement as a mother; she didn’t need to be told by her ex-husband. She wanted to be a better mother. She thought about being a better mother. She missed so much about not being a fulltime mother. The trouble was that she really didn’t know how

  to go about improving her mothering. Her only role model had been her own mother.

  At a quarter to twelve, Mel and Connie drove up. Mel jumped out of the car almost before it stopped. “Hi, Mom.” Melinda threw her stuff into the passenger side of the Volvo, climbed in after it, and hugged Sandra. Her hair up in a ponytail, she looked more like ten than fourteen. She wore sandals, walking shorts, and a yellow camp T-shirt.

  “Hi, Mel honey,” Sandra said as she hugged her back. She vowed to start being a more attentive mother immediately.

  “Are we going to Grandma’s?”

  “Over the river and through the woods,” Sandra sang. “What was that?” Melinda asked and laughed.

  “The generation gap.” Sandra drove down Sixty-first Street to Broadway and headed toward Erma’s. “So how was the party last night?”

  “Oh, pretty good.”

  “What’d y’all do? Stay up all night?”

  She snapped her chewing gum. “Yeah, but Susie’s mother let us sleep until ten.”

  Sandra nodded. She should know more stuff to talk about. “How is Grandma taking Mr. Parker’s death?”

  Sandra glanced at her. That was a really thoughtful thing for Mel to ask. Jack and Connie had done a good job with her. “Pretty hard.”

  “Um, did she cry a lot?” Melinda glanced at her sideways. “Not around me, but I’m sure she did.”

  “Did you?”

  “Nah. But I felt sadder than I thought I would.” That was true. Surprised even herself.

  “I cried, Mom. I didn’t know him very well, but he’s one of the first people I’ve known who has died.”

  r

  “Oh, Melinda. I didn’t think about that. I guess that’s true.”

  “Yeah. Makes me feel old. Like, you know when you’re a kid, it doesn’t really register when people die. I mean, you mostly don’t know anybody real well who dies. You know what I mean?”

  “Some kids’ grandparents die when they are little.” “Well, mine didn’t, so for me I guess it was different. Anyway, I felt sad. He was always nice to me.”

  “Who, Phillip Parker?”

  “Yeah. When he was at Grandma’s.”

  Sandra felt sick inside for a moment at the thought that perhaps he had touched Melinda in some sexual way. She glanced at her, weighing whether or not to ask her. Wouldn’t Melinda have brought it up? Wouldn’t she have told her? Maybe she didn’t feel comfortable enough with her to tell her, since she didn’t live with her. Oh, God, she was a worse mother than she thought. She looked at Melinda again. “Mel, honey, were you ever alone with Mr. Parker?”

  “What do you mean by alone?”

  “I mean, when you were at Grandma’s and she wasn’t around, did Grandma ever leave you alone with him even for a few minutes?”

  Melinda pulled a long string of chewing gum out of her mouth and put it back again. “What are you getting at, Mom?” “Well, did she?”

  “Leave me alone with Mr. Parker? What for?” Her forehead wrinkled up.

  “Maybe just to run to the store for something?”

  “Mother, what’s going on? I don’t like how you sound.” “Okay. Okay.” Sandra asked it straight out. “Did Mr. Parker ever, when you were little or even later when you were bigger, did Mr. Parker ever, ever touch you in a sexual way?”

  “Ugh, Mom, no way. Yuck. What’s that about?”

  Sandra felt immense relief. “Don’t tell Grandma I asked you.”

  “Did he touch you like that when you were little, Mom?” “Me?” Sandra laughed. “Nah. If he had, you never would have even met him.”

  “Is that why somebody killed him? That is so gross. Was it because he did something to somebody or their kid?”

  “You know, Mel, you’re really too young to know about stuff like that.”

  “You brought it up.”

  “Yeah. I just thought of it all of a sudden. But I don’t like the idea of your being exposed to stuff like that.”

  “When you were little, you were around
Grandma’s clients. Weren’t some of them pretty bad criminals?”

  Sandra laughed. “Most of them. I just didn’t know it.” “So ...”

  “Times are different these days. People are different.” “Right, Mom. Kids grow up sooner now.”

  She had a point there. But Sandra didn’t want her kid to grow up sooner. She parked in the shade under a large oak tree. “We’ll talk about this later.” Sandra got out of the car and saw Melinda give her an odd little glance out of the side of her eye as she opened her door.

  Melinda ran up to the front door and pushed the doorbell several times. Sandra could see how much she’d sprouted when Erma let them in and Mel bent over to hug her grandmother. Erma wore her ballet slippers, a long black cotton dress, and the scent of garlic and tomatoes.

  When lunch was on the table, Melinda turned to Erma and said, “You know, Grandma, I want to go live with Mom, but she won’t let me. Do you think I could come live with you?”

  Erma gave Sandra a look. “What the hell is that about?” Mel didn’t give her a chance to say anything. “I’ve spent the last ten years with Daddy and his side of the family and now I think I should spend my high school years with Mom and her side of the family. Don’t you think I’m right, Grandma?”

  “Mel, where would I put you?” Sandra asked. “I live in a two-bedroom condo that is more like a one-bedroom and den.”

  “We could live someplace else.”

  “So you want me to move?”

  “Well, goddamn, Sandra, she is your kid.”

  Sandra pointed her fork at Erma. “You stay out of this.” “Yes, Sandra, I am your kid.”

  “Don’t you dare call me Sandra, young lady. Would you tell me why all of a sudden—”

  “I just think it’s time, that’s all,” Melinda said.

  “Is there something going on with your Dad?”

  “You mean like what you asked me in the car?”

  “No, not that.” Sandra glanced at Erma to see how she reacted to that, but apparently it went over her head. “Anything. Are y’all not getting along?”

  “No, Mom. It’s not that.”

  “What about Connie? Or your brother?” Connie and Jack had a son four years younger than Mel.

  “No, Mom. I love Connie and Richard. I just want to come live with you, that’s all.”

  Sandra heaved a big sigh and rubbed her eyes.

  “Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Erma said.

  Sandra gave Erma another look. Maybe if Erma had been a better mother, Sandra never would have sent Mel to live with her father. Sandra knew that wasn’t a fair statement, but she felt confused. She thought she had done the right thing.

  She knew Jack would get remarried and Mel would have a full-time mother. Sandra worked long, impossible hours like her own mother had and didn’t want her kid brought up by housekeepers or around her clients like she had been. Melinda wore such a plaintive look on her sweet face that it was hard to say no, but Sandra wasn’t ready to make that kind of commitment. What if they got a new place to live, Melinda moved in, and then it didn’t work out? Wouldn’t that be worse than just saying no in the first place?

  “We could take a vote,” Mel said.

  Sandra swallowed some iced tea and looked each of them in the eye in turn. “No, we are not going to take a vote. This isn’t a democracy. It’s my life. Our lives.”

  “Mom.”

  “I’m not saying no. I’m saying I’ll think about it over the summer. Okay?” She pointed at Erma again. “You don’t interfere. I’ll think about it.”

  “That means no; I know you.” Mel crossed her arms over her chest.

  “No it doesn’t, it means I’ll think about it. End of discussion. I’ve got a lot of other things going on just now. Let me get past them, and I’ll give it a lot of serious thought.”

  When Sandra let her daughter out at her father’s house, Melinda wasn’t nearly as animated as she’d been a few hours earlier. She kissed Sandra on the cheek before she got out and said, “Think real hard, Mom. Real hard.” And slammed the door really hard.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Call your first witness,” Justice of the Peace Perez told Edgar Saul the following morning.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. The state calls Dr. Henry Michaels, the medical examiner.” Edgar stood next to his chair, stiff as a Nazi soldier at attention.

  Sandra had always thought that Edgar walked like there was a cucumber up his rear and stood rigidly because it pained him to bend over. He observed all the formalities of the court and then some. Pissed off a lot of them who liked to skip formalities in their rush from court to court. Of course, Edgar didn’t hurry anywhere. Always prepared—ever the Boy Scout, early for court, if anything, and never had a schedule conflict. Sandra didn’t know how he managed all that, but it was well known that most of the judges considered him Mister Perfect.

  The good doctor had waited outside in the hall. Most of the witnesses had been inside the courtroom at the beginning. The judge swore all of them in at once. Edgar and she invoked “The Rule.” The judge instructed them not to discuss the case amongst themselves and sent them into the hall. Unlike TV, at least in a Texas courtroom, witnesses did not generally remain inside.

  When Dr. Michaels entered, he scanned the people in the gallery as if searching for his audience. Winking at Sandra when he reached the front of the courtroom, he turned to the

  judge, nodded and grinned, and stepped into the witness box.

  “Be sure and speak into that microphone, Hank,” the judge said, and bent his head over and wrote something down.

  Edgar Saul still stood at counsel table, which they shared: he at the west end, she at the east. Kitty sat on the far side of her, shielding herself from Edgar.

  Mister Perfect ducked his head as though bowing. “May I proceed, Your Honor?”

  “Sure, sure,” Judge Perez said. “Go ahead.”

  Edgar sat, finally. “Dr. Michaels, please state your name for the record.”

  “Dr. Henry Michaels.” He leaned back in the chair and scrutinized the gallery again. Sandra wondered whether he was looking for someone in particular.

  “And, sir, would you tell the court how you are employed?”

  “Chief Medical Examiner for Galveston County, State of Texas.”

  Sandra found that humorous. He was not only the chief medical examiner; he was the only medical examiner. A couple of guys helped him, but he was the only doctor who worked in that capacity.

  “And how long have you been so employed, sir?”

  “Your Honor,” Sandra interrupted as she got to her feet. “The defense will stipulate that Dr. Michaels is, has been, and probably will be the medical examiner for Galveston County for many years. We will also stipulate to his qualifications. Can we please just get on with it?”

  Edgar had stood as well. “The state will accept those stipulations from defense counsel, Your Honor.”

  “Fine, let the record so reflect,” the judge said.

  They proceeded to hear from Dr. Michaels all about his arrival at the Parker house, his initial examination of the body, his subsequent complete autopsy later at the morgue, and his conclusions. His testimony wasn’t necessarily harmful to Kitty, so Sandra had no reason to object to it or cross-examine him.

  “Call your next witness, Mr. Saul,” Judge Perez said. Already a note of impatience had crept into Judge Perez’s voice. He probably wanted to get to his law office. In Texas, an attorney-justice of the peace could practice law in addition to serving as J.P., so long as it wasn’t criminal law. Sandra thought all J.P.s should be lawyers, but the legislature didn’t agree with her. The non-lawyer J.P.s had a strong lobby.

  Edgar had gotten to his feet again. “Thank you, Your Honor. The state calls Elizabeth Haynes.”

  The constable, who had been waiting at the back door, swung it open and went out into the hall. They could hear him call Lizzie’s name. Lizzie hadn’t been there when the rest of the witnesses had bee
n sworn, but Sandra figured that Edgar had probably told her not to come for at least half an hour after they were scheduled to begin.

  A couple of minutes later, the constable reappeared and came down the aisle to the bench. “Judge, there ain’t no lady out there that answers to that name.”

  Judge Perez said, “Approach the bench, you two.”

  Edgar shrugged. They both walked around the table to the bench. It was lower than the ones in district court and they were able to rest their arms on it and lean forward to hear what the judge whispered.

  “This is off the record,” he said to his court reporter. To them he whispered, “I don’t want to wait around for your witnesses, Edgar.” He pointed his fountain pen in Edgar’s face. “I told both of you, and you both know it’s my policy that you

  have every witness ready to testify when you call them. Now if you can’t turn this woman up, you’re just out of luck.”

  Edgar shook his head. “Judge, I instructed her to be here at nine just like the rest of them. I apologize to the court. I’ll call another witness if you’ll give me a moment to arrange for her to be located.”

  “All right, then. Sixty seconds and then I want that next witness in . . . this . . . courtroom.” His eyes glinted. Maybe he was not so enamored with old Edgar after all.

  Edgar said, “Thank you for your indulgence, Your Honor. May I speak to my assistant?”

  The judge nodded. Edgar’s demeanor made Sandra feel like heaving on him as she followed him to the table. He went to the bar and murmured to a young female. Sandra assumed she was a lawyer, since she sat on a chair in front of the bar. Since Sandra had worked with Edgar, she knew that though he didn’t mind having someone second-chair him, he didn’t like anyone sitting right at his elbow.

  “What’s going on?” Kitty whispered. She had kept her own counsel up to that point.

  Glancing at the judge, Sandra cupped her hand over her mouth, “Lizzie hasn’t shown up and the judge is pissed.” Kitty nodded. “She’s late all the time, but you’d think she’d be here to see me fry.”