by Harry Kraus
Claire felt her stomach knotting. “When can I see John?”
“Depends. Maybe in the courtroom if the judge allows. Let’s just hope we can get you out on bail and you can spend all the time with John you want.”
“What do you mean, ‘let’s just hope’? I’m innocent. They can’t just keep me here.”
“Claire, maybe you don’t know how much trouble you’re in. In cases of first-degree murder, there is normally a legal presumption against bond.”
She felt like crying. The look on her face must have prompted Fauls to soften up, because when he continued, his voice was just above a whisper.
“Look, Claire, I know this judge. He should listen to your unique situation. You don’t have a record. You just got married.”
“And I’m innocent,” she sobbed.
He sighed. “I’ll do everything I can.”
“I have to get out. When is my father’s funeral? I have to go.”
“You may want to rethink that.”
“Why? He’s my father.”
He shook his head. “I’d have to get a hearing in front of the judge. The sheriff will come in. He’ll argue he doesn’t have enough manpower for your escorts. He’ll claim they can’t be babysitting you with all the other work they have.”
Claire started to protest, but Mr. Fauls continued, “The commonwealth attorney will argue that the judge can’t possibly let you out to attend the funeral of the man you’re accused of killing.”
“I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Look, I’d be glad to argue it before the judge, but he’s not likely to let you go. If he does, you’ll attend with your orange jumpsuit on, shackled, with a deputy on each side. They’ll let you sit in back, but not with your husband. The media is virtually guaranteed to make a circus of it.”
“Just get the judge to let me out now and we won’t have to worry about the funeral.”
He looked to the side down the hall. “I’ll see you inside. When the deputies bring you before the judge, say ‘Your Honor,’ ‘Yes, sir,’ ‘No, sir,’ and ‘Thank you, sir.’ ”
She nodded.
“I’ll join you at the bench.”
The metal covering clanked against the window. Claire looked back at her holding-cell mates. The older one was staring at her hands, clasping and unclasping them with a continuous tremor. The younger one was sleeping with her mouth open.
Claire slumped against the wall. Alone.
Outside the courtroom, Della, Margo, Grandma Elizabeth, and John gathered with Tony and Christine Cerelli. William Fauls opened the door and slipped out into the hall with them. “I’m sorry. Judge Atwell said no to the bailiff ’s request for visitors. He’s allowed in a few from the media, but that’s it.”
John huffed. “Why? I want to see my wife!”
The attorney held up his palms. “There’s nothing I can do about this, John. It’s best not to press the issue. Perhaps he’ll be in a better frame of mind to grant my bail request.”
John shook his head. “This is crazy. This whole thing is crazy.”
“Look, you can wait out here, or better yet, enjoy the spring weather and sit outside on a bench.” He paused before turning to go back into the courtroom. “It wouldn’t hurt to pray.”
Claire padded forward wearing her orange jumpsuit and rubber slippers, shackles in place and a single male deputy escorting her with a tight grip on her elbow. The courtroom was richly paneled, mahogany or walnut, she thought, with a half-dozen benches. An oil portrait of a white-haired man holding a gavel hung between two windows on the far wall. She took a dozen steps toward a watching crowd before being directed right to walk in front of the judge. She looked up at Judge Atwell seated behind a large elevated bench and flanked by two deputies.
The judge nodded at Claire and looked at the papers in front of him. “Ms. McCall.”
“Your honor, I’m Claire McCall Cerelli. I’m recently married.”
The judge smiled. “Married since this document was prepared?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you understand the charges against you?”
“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” The voice came from behind her. It was William Fauls.
The judge looked over his reading glasses. He had a bushy white uni-brow and a double chin that fell on top of his black robe. “Mr. Fauls.” He motioned for him to come forward. “Are you representing Ms. Mc — uh, Ms. Cerelli?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Very well.” He motioned again. “Mr. Strickler, you may as well join us.”
Claire recognized the commonwealth attorney by his Colonel Sanders goatee. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
“Ms. Cerelli, you have been charged with first-degree murder. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. The second issue we deal with during this first meeting is the issue of representation.” He looked at Mr. Fauls. “But that seems to have been arranged.” He leaned forward, looking over his glasses at Claire. “You are accepting representation by Mr. Fauls, I take it, and you will not need court-appointed council.”
“Yes, sir, Your Honor.”
“The final issue is one of setting a date for the preliminary hearing.” He looked at Claire. “The preliminary hearing is not a trial, Ms. Cerelli. It is merely a hearing to see whether the case has enough merit to be certified to a grand jury.” He opened a book in front of him and ran his finger down a page. “How about June 28?”
Claire gasped. That was nearly eight weeks away.
“We can be ready in one month,” William Fauls responded.
Garland Strickler cleared his throat. “For a case of this importance to our community, it is in the commonwealth’s interest to push the case back a bit, say the second week in July.”
“You’ll be ready by June 28,” the judge responded. “Agreed?”
It wasn’t really a question. The attorneys nodded. “Yes, sir.”
William Fauls placed his hand on the edge of the bench. “I’d like to bring up the issue of bond, Your Honor.”
The prosecutor coughed. “With all due respect to the court, it would set an irregular precedent to allow bond in a first-degree murder case.”
The judge raised his eyebrow in a question. “Mr. Fauls, why should I deviate from a legal presumption against bond?”
“On the basis of the character of my client. She has no prior arrests. She has faithfully served her community as a physician, and, Your Honor, this is a special situation. She was just married Saturday afternoon, and was arrested before spending even one night with her husband.”
The judge quickly covered a smile with his hand. “I see.” He seemed to erase the grin with his hand. When he brought it down again, his face was steel. “Mr. Strickler?”
“This is exactly the reason we cannot deviate from law practice in the commonwealth. No, Ms. Cerelli has not had prior arrests, but she was investigated by the Virginia State Board of Medicine on another accusation of euthanasia. She is not only a danger to the community, but because of her recent wedding, she is a flight risk. There’s no telling where she might wander off to for a prolonged honeymoon.”
“Your Honor,” William Fauls responded, “the accusation of euthanasia was just that, an accusation. The Virginia State Board of Medicine completed an investigation and my client was cleared. It has no bearing in this decision.”
The judge nodded. “I agree. And it does not bear on the decision of this court.” He took a deep breath. “Nonetheless, this will be a highly publicized case, and it would not do to begin granting bond to citizens arrested for murder.” The judge looked at Claire. “Bond is denied. Ms. Cerelli, congratulations on your recent marriage. Your preliminary hearing will be June 28. You will be held in the county jail until that time.” He smacked his gavel on the bench, sending a shot through Claire’s heart.
“Next!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ray Brown sipped black coffee and looked at Monday�
��s Daily News Record. The top story made him set his coffee aside. “Local Physician Arrested on Murder Charges.” “Sue! Look at this!”
Sue left two griddle cakes frying and leaned over her husband’s shoulder. “It’s Claire,” she said, pointing to a picture of a woman in a wedding dress and handcuffs.
Ray read from the article to his wife.
“Claire McCall was arrested Saturday night on charges of murdering her father, Wally McCall. Wally, who was suffering in the end stages of Huntington’s disease, was found dead in his bed at Pleasant View Nursing Home Saturday morning. It is unclear what evidence pointed to his daughter’s involvement. Officials at Pleasant View declined comment. Police have also declined further comment beyond acknowledging that the arrest took place.
“It is known that Claire McCall, a physician working out of the Stoney Creek Family Practice Clinic, was married Saturday afternoon — ”
Ray stopped and lifted his face. “What’s burning?”
Sue rushed to pull the pan from the burner. “Oh me, the pancakes!”
He sipped his coffee and continued, “ — was married Saturday afternoon to John Cerelli of Brighton. The physician was escorted by police from the Brighton Omni while wearing her wedding dress.”
Sue threw the blackened pancakes in the dog dish. “Dr. McCall wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“Her father was suffering. Maybe she couldn’t help him any other way. I wouldn’t want to live like Wally.” He stood up and walked to the calendar taped to the refrigerator. “I thought so. I’m supposed to inspect Claire’s VW today. She wanted me to do it while she was off on her honeymoon.”
Sue poured batter into the skillet. “Some honeymoon she’s having.”
After breakfast, Ray drove the tow truck to his shop as he had every weekday for the past fifteen years. He added water to his drip coffeemaker and settled in at his desk to do an audit of his books. After four hours, he shoved the stack of papers aside and looked up as his shop hand entered. “Afternoon, Len. I need you to drop me off at Della’s place to pick up Claire’s VW.”
Len nodded and walked to the truck.
They drove the three miles with a typical silence between them. Sometimes they would go a whole day with the only communication being the directions Ray gave Len for work.
Ray hopped out at the McCall place and watched Leonard pull away. He thought twice about knocking on the door to find out the real scoop the paper didn’t report, but decided Della probably needed her privacy now more than ever.
The VW was parked on the driveway and unlocked, the keys under the mat as Claire had indicated. As he opened the door, a bad odor greeted him. He lifted his head from the car. How long has this car been shut up? He opened the door wide and went to the other side to open that door as well. He fanned at the air with his hand. He looked into the backseat, expecting to see a bag of rotting fast food. Nothing. Not even a scrap of paper. He squinted through the hatchback window. The inside cover was partially displaced.
Opening the hatch, he recoiled at the sight inside. Stuffed in an awkward semicircle in the trunk was the bloody body of a man.
Della paced her small kitchen, muttering under her breath and stewing over the audacity of the judge to keep her Claire in the county jail. And on top of that, it seemed half the town had called, expressing their support for Claire and their understanding for how she had helped Wally go. Nobody seemed to really have a clue that her daughter could actually be innocent of the charges. She eyed the phone pensively, daring it to ring, and then taking the phone out of its cradle altogether to maintain her sanity.
She turned her head in response to a rapid knocking on the front door. If that’s a neighbor telling me how they understood Claire’s pain, I think I’ ll give them something to pain about! She hesitated to collect herself while the pounding became even more urgent. “I’m coming!”
She opened the door to see Ray Brown with his mouth hanging open and pointing to Claire’s blue Beetle.
“Ray, what is it? You’re white as a sheet!”
“It’s, it’s,” he stammered.
She put her hands on her hips, feeling alarm, but also a bit annoyed to be interrupted on a day like she was having. “It’s what?”
“W – Wally’s body,” he said. “In the car!”
Della gasped and ran ahead of Ray toward the VW. She slowed a few feet from the car and leaned forward, inching her way to see. He was right! What kind of cruel trick was this? She looked closer as the realization hit.
“This isn’t Wally!” She reached forward and touched the man on the shoulder before quickly withdrawing her hand. “He’s cold.”
“Dead for a while, I’d say.” He pinched his nose and stuck his head in over the body. “You’re right. I’m sorry to scare you like that.”
Della shook her head in amazement. It wasn’t Wally, but it was still a crisis.
Ray took off a red cap and scratched his bald spot. “I just assumed it was Wally. I read the paper about Claire killing him and all, so I — ”
“Claire did not kill her father!”
Ray backtracked. “I didn’t mean she really killed him, I just meant I read about him suffering so and I understand, I mean when I saw a body and I heard Wally was dead, so I just thought — ”
“Shut up, Ray,” she said, walking away. “I’m calling the police.”
Ten minutes later, Randy Jensen and Joel Stevens stood in the driveway talking to Della and Ray.
Randy called for a forensics team and the medical examiner. “Any idea who it is?”
Della shook her head. “I didn’t look too close, but I don’t think so.”
“When is the last time anyone used the car?”
“Claire used it to go to Pleasant View to show her dress to Wally on Saturday morning. She left the car here after that. I haven’t used it at all.”
Randy looked at Joel. “Finish the interview with Mr. Brown. Don’t let anyone touch the car until it has been processed by forensics and the ME.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the county jail. I need to talk to Claire Cerelli.”
Garland Strickler leaned back in his leather chair and looked at the calendar on his handheld computer. A high-profile case like Claire McCall’s could be just what he needed to secure reelection as commonwealth attorney.
It appeared to him that Wally McCall’s death was euthanasia. Wally was chronically ill. Garland had testimony from multiple sources that Wally had asked to die and had asked Claire to help him die on many occasions. A vial of morphine traced to her office had been found, and a lethal level of the narcotic was found in his bloodstream as tested in the medical examiner’s office.
Just why Claire had chosen the day of her wedding as the day for a mercy killing was puzzling to Garland. Perhaps they both had agreed to wait until Wally could see his daughter in her wedding gown. Perhaps she thought the wedding activities would provide her with better opportunities for an alibi.
“Lisa,” he said, punching the intercom.
In a moment, a soft knock preceded her entry. Lisa was twenty-nine and had worked for him for four years. She understood the ups and downs of politics and helped place a favorable spin on local events to make her boss look his best. “What’s up?”
“I’ve got an important case coming up. Preliminary hearing June 28. It would be great if the pro-lifers could stage some sort of a euthanasia protest outside the courtroom for that day.”
“I’ll make some calls.”
“Good. It would be good if you could give the media a tip as well. I want the Virginia voters to associate me with the pro-life cause. Virginia isn’t ready for euthanasia.”
She made a note and turned to leave. “Of course.”
“Lisa,” he called to her back, “handle this in the usual way. No one should be able to trace that this office tipped the media or the protestors.”
“Don’t worry. I can be invisible.”
A minute later his inter
com buzzed. “Mr. Strickler, I have Randy Jensen on line two.”
He picked up his phone and said, “Strickler.”
“Mr. Strickler, I’ve just come from Della McCall’s place. We’ve got a second murder to investigate.”
“Della?”
“No, no. A mechanic came out to take Claire’s VW in for an inspection, and he found a body in the hatchback.”
“A body?”
“A man. Probably twenties, but looked older. His hair and beard were dyed white. Looks like he died from a stab wound to the back. Wearing only his boxers. The ME had just arrived when I left a few minutes ago.”
The attorney made a note. “Any idea how long the body had been there?”
“A couple days at least.”
“So Claire McCall could have been involved in this too.”
“Sure looks like it. I’m on my way to interrogate her now.”
An hour later, Claire was escorted in shackles and handcuffs into a small room with concrete walls, a single table, and two chairs. In a moment, Randy Jensen came in.
“Dr. Cerelli,” he said, nodding his head. “I’d like to ask you a few questions. You understand you’re under no obligation to answer without your attorney present.”
“Randy, please tell me what this is all about. I still have no idea why I’m a suspect in my dad’s death.”
“I’m not here to discuss your father. I need to ask you about another murder.”
“Randy, please.” She halted. “You want information from me? Then maybe you should answer some questions for me.”
“A man’s body was found in the back of your car this morning.”
Claire reined in her surprise. “What’s this about? You’re bluffing.”
“Bluffing? Why would I make this up?”
“I don’t know. Make me think you have something worse on me, so I’ll give you something helpful in your investigation into my father’s death.”