03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  “Well, I’d like you to write more damning articles about her. Maybe if there’s enough bad publicity she’ll be convicted. Even if she’s not convicted, it might make her life as miserable as mine has been since it happened. Do whatever you have to do. Thank you for calling and I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

  Luisa hung up and smiled. Finally, finally, justice may be done. She heard her son Carlos wake up from his nap and told his nanny that she’d attend to him.

  CHAPTER 18

  Maria and Jordan met Brian outside the courtroom at nine the next morning. “How are you doing, Maria? I know how hard this must be for you.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed. “To be honest, Brian, I’ve never been so frightened of anything in my life and to top it off, we have another problem. As if things couldn’t get any worse, Jordan was put on ‘administrative leave’ yesterday.”

  “You’re kidding! Why?”

  “Well, it’s a long story. If I told you all of it, we’d never finish in time for my arraignment. I’m sure it’s a huge misunderstanding and he’ll be reinstated at the next Police Commission hearing.”

  Brian looked at Jordan. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “I don’t think so, but thanks. Right now let’s just concentrate on getting Maria through this.”

  “All right,” Brian said, turning to Maria. “As we discussed yesterday, you’re going to enter a ‘not guilty’ plea. The judge will ask how you plead and you’ll say ‘not guilty, your Honor.’ Then the judge will set a trial date. I’ll request that you be granted bail, however as I’ve already told you, this judge never grants bail in a murder case. After that the bailiffs will take you to the women’s jail. You’ll be given a pink jail uniform and taken to your cell. Do you have any questions?”

  “No, but I want this trial over with. I don’t want delays by you or the prosecution. Please get it over with as soon as you can.”

  “I will, Maria. Trust me.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said. “I found the psychologist’s card, you know, the one I met at the Blue Coyote Motel. Here it is. Maybe he can help.”

  “Good. I’ll call him later.”

  They entered the courtroom. Brian escorted Maria to the defendant’s table, where they both sat down. Across the aisle sat the deputy district attorney who had been assigned to Maria’s case. She was overweight, in her late ‘40’s, had a pockmarked complexion, and was very unattractive. Her mousy brown outdated pageboy was streaked with gray and her nondescript brown polyester pantsuit and sturdy brown shoes did nothing to enhance her appearance. She wore no jewelry or make-up.

  Maria was a startling contrast with luxurious dark brown hair surrounding her smooth complexion and big brown eyes. She wore a conservative cream-colored suit with a pale blue silk blouse. Small pearl earrings and a pearl choker completed her outfit. Even though she’d dressed conservatively, at Brian’s request, she was still dazzling. She looked about as out of place in the austere courtroom as a rare orchid in the desert.

  Promptly at 9:00 a.m., the bailiff called out in a firm voice, “All rise.” Everyone stood up as the diminutive black-robed judge made his way to the judge’s bench. He looked at Maria and then turned to the prosecuting attorney. In a strong voice he said, “I’m ready for the arraignment in the case of the People of California vs. Maria Brooks. Counsel, please state your names for the record.”

  “Marsha Sinclair for the People.”

  “Brian Meeks for the defendant, Maria Brooks.”

  “Mrs. Brooks, you are charged with murder for the death of Jeffrey Brooks. How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty, your Honor.”

  “Are you sure that is your plea?”

  “Yes, your Honor.”

  “I’m setting your trial for February 17th.” He looked at the prosecuting attorney and then turned to look at Brian. “Is there any reason why the trial cannot commence on that date?”

  “No, your Honor,” they said in unison.

  “Your Honor,” Brian said, “I would like to request the court to set a reasonable amount of bail for Mrs. Brooks. The defendant is not a flight risk, and is living locally with…”

  “Forget it, Mr. Meeks,” the judge said, cutting Brian off in mid-sentence. “This is a murder case and bail is denied.”

  Two bailiffs walked over to Maria, handcuffed her, and escorted her out of the courtroom. Jordan struggled to catch his breath as she walked by him, stony-faced.

  When she entered the jail, she was escorted to a large room and handed a pink jumpsuit to wear. A female guard came into the room while she changed and then escorted her to her cell, a 10’ x 10’ room with a metal cot bolted to the floor, a stainless steel toilet and sink, and a small window with bars.

  The guard said, “You’re in an isolation cell. Me or one of the other guards will take you to the showers once a week. We’ll stay with you while you’re in there. Meals will be passed through this opening in the bars on the door. See you later.” She turned and walked down the hall between the rows of cells.

  Well, this guy Slade Kelly was right. I don’t have a cellmate. I wonder if I can have Jordan bring me some books.

  She looked around the cell as tears began rolling down her cheeks. Her bodily needs might be met in this sterile, stark environment, but she was certain her soul would die here. She thought of Jordan’s home and the ocean, the beauty of the Provence countryside, and the barren yet beautiful location in the desert where the Blue Coyote Motel had been. Then she looked at the bars and the seatless toilet, trying to figure out how this had happened to her.

  Stop it, she told herself. You can do anything for two months. At least you’re not with other people. You’re safe here and you have a good attorney. This is only temporary.

  It was close to noon. She heard a guard walking down the hall. He stopped in front of her cell and unlocked the small pass-through opening in the bars. “Here’s your lunch. The guard will take your tray when he brings your dinner.”

  “Thank you,” Maria said, realizing how hungry she was. She hadn’t felt like eating since she’d been arrested two days earlier. She looked at the food and her hunger left. It was no better than what she’d been given the night she’d been arrested. She felt like throwing up and could once again feel tears welling up inside her.

  Dinner was horrible, but she forced herself to eat something, knowing she had to keep her strength up, no matter how bad the food was. A little later she lay down on the cot, sure that sleep would elude her for as long as she was in this place. She wondered how anyone could sleep with the sounds of screaming and crying women reverberating throughout the jail. Exhaustion soon won out and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Slade, it’s Brian. Maria was just arraigned. I didn’t want to tell her, but I was afraid of this. The prosecutor is a real bitch who also happens to hate Mexicans because her husband left her for a beautiful young Mexican woman. Every time she looks at Maria, she’s going to see the woman responsible for her divorce. Her name is Marsha Sinclair and her father was the head of the local Tea Party movement in Riverside County. They don’t get any more conservative than him and she was raised at his knee. Not only is she going to want to win, she’s got to win since she’s lost her last three cases. Her future with the DA’s office is pretty shaky right now. This is going to be one hell of a case.”

  “Brian, whaddya think the odds are? I mean, is Maria gonna go to the big house?”

  “Not if I can help it. My reputation’s at stake here too. There have been a lot of rumors that Marsha has an affinity for coke. Never seen her in action, but that’s the talk on the street. She and her husband had a nasty divorce and although he didn’t accuse her of it in court, he told a lot of people her addiction was the reason they got divorced. Don’t know how I can use it, though.”

  “Well, that’s interestin’. Hmmm. See what I can do with that, if anything. Thanks for the heads up, and Brian, gimme
a call from time to time. Need to stay on top of this one.”

  “Will do. Maria gave me a card with the name of some shrink in Denver who might vouch for her. You’re the one who contacted me. Do you know anyone else who could testify on her behalf?”

  “Yeah, but don’t think it’ll work.”

  “Why not? I need all the help I can get.”

  Slade told him about Darya and how she’d met Maria in France. He started to tell Brian that Jordan was the subject of an investigation by the Police Commission for withholding evidence regarding a crime. Brian interrupted him and said, “Yes, they told me about it.”

  “So, ya’ see, it’d be a problem not only for Jordan, but also fer’ Darya. She’d be outted fer’ bringin’ little girls into this country illegally. I mean, some things are above the law, and this is one of ‘em, but that bitch prosecutor and jury might not take too kindly to it. Like the best Maria can do to get people testifyin’ on her behalf are people who are breakin’ the law. Nah, Brian, no can do. I’ll have myself a nice long think and see what else I can come up with. So where do ya’ think this Marsha bitch lives?”

  “I’ve been to her home. She had a big party there awhile back. It was a joint party for the Riverside and Los Angeles County Criminal Bar Association members. Nice old home. Lots of trees, brick, classy. It’s in a wealthy area of Riverside in the foothills. I hear she kept the house after the divorce and she inherited family money. She and her husband didn’t have any children, but the property was big enough for a couple of horses. I remember seeing a barn. That’s about it.”

  “Thanks, Brian. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

  CHAPTER 20

  “This is Sean Moriarty, may I help you?”

  “Mr. Moriarty, my name is Brian Meeks. You don’t know me, but I’m hoping you remember a woman by the name of Maria Brooks who owned the Blue Coyote Motel. I believe you stayed there.”

  “Yes, of course I remember Maria. What can I do for you?” the large grey-haired psychologist asked. He looked around his study and wondered why this man was calling him.

  “Well, this is kind of a long story, but I guess the place to start is at the beginning. I’ve been retained to defend Maria for the murder of her husband, Jeffrey Brooks. She met Jordan Kramer, a detective with the Los Angeles Police Department, Art Theft Division, when he was investigating a case in Provence. They fell in love. He wanted her to come to California with him, but she refused. To make a long story short, he later found out she was a person of interest in the murder of her husband, Jeffrey Brooks.”

  “Let me interrupt you for a minute, please. I liked Maria a lot and if there’s something I can do for her, please tell me.”

  “Yes there is, but I want you to know the background of this before you commit to anything. She returned to California a few days ago to live with him. The day before she returned, a local tabloid did a scathing article on Jeffrey and Maria – all about a cop on the public payroll who harbors a criminal; the classic type of yellow journalism. I guess the phones rang off the hook at the Riverside County District Attorney’s office demanding that Maria be charged with murder. The DA is up for re-election and had no choice but to have her arrested as soon as she landed. She’s been arraigned and is in the Riverside county jail awaiting trial. Here’s why I’m calling. She remembered that you’d given her a business card and told her to call if she needed to talk to you. I could sure use your testimony during the trial that her husband, Jeffrey, appeared to be drifting into insanity. Coming from a psychologist, that would be powerful,” Brian said.

  “I heard she’d gone to France after Jeffrey’s death and disappeared. I’ve thought about her many times. She was a kind, generous woman, and I was sorry to hear she was on the run.”

  “She told me about some other people who stayed at the Blue Coyote Motel over that Memorial Day weekend. Do you remember their names? Maybe you could help me get in touch with them? Anyway, if you can do anything to help her, I know she’d appreciate it,” Brian said.

  “It’s Brian, right?” Sean asked. “That’s correct,” Brian replied.

  “All right Brian, let me tell you about the other guests. There were six of us and we’d all become addicted to the drug that Maria’s husband administered to us through the air-conditioning system at the motel. At the time none of us knew that was happening. We were simply innocent victims. I honestly don’t think Maria knew he was doing it. None of those other guests are presently taking the drug. The five of us have a Skype conference once a week, loosely based on the Alcoholics Anonymous program. I’m happy to tell you it’s worked out well for us.”

  “Let me interrupt. I thought there were six guests. You said the other four and you. What happened to the sixth person?”

  “You’re referring to Jorge Ortega. He was murdered in the Amazon jungle when he went to visit one of the family gold mines. He’d forgotten to take his monthly pill and his wife is certain he was going through withdrawal symptoms and became careless. He walked a few steps away from his bodyguards in the middle of the night to relieve himself and was brutally murdered by local natives.”

  “I’m so sorry and I know Maria will feel terrible.”

  “Yes, it was a tragedy. I won’t go into all of the things which have happened to these people since their time at the Blue Coyote Motel, but I know all of them thought Jeffrey was a monster for what he did to them. We met with him on that Memorial Day weekend and could clearly see he was insane. A brilliant man, but stark raving mad.”

  “Wait a minute. I read the detective’s report and it says that you never met Jeffrey. Is that right?”

  “That’s what I told the detective. I didn’t tell him the truth because I felt that, being a psychologist, what happened during that meeting fell into the realm of professional ethics. I actually texted the others and told them not to return the detective’s phone calls. They were innocent victims and certainly didn’t need to have some drug charge filed against them. Anyway, by that time, they were all more or less my patients.”

  “So, you’re still in touch with the others?”

  “Yes, as I told you, we speak weekly. Let me do this. I think all of them liked Maria as much as I did. I’ll set up a Skype meeting tonight and see if any of them will testify on Maria’s behalf. Do you think that would help?”

  “That would be invaluable. Thank you so much. Let me give you my number. I’ll wait for your call. Thank you, Sean.”

  “You can do something for me,” Sean said. “If I testify for Maria, I’m going to have to say I met Jeffrey. That means I lied to the detective when he called me about it. You’re a lawyer. How can I explain that? And could I be held in contempt or some such thing?”

  “I think I can put your fears to rest. You weren’t under oath when you told the detective that you hadn’t met Jeffrey, so you can’t be prosecuted for anything. Since no one is taking the drug and it’s not even being manufactured now, I don’t think they need to worry about the question of taking a drug. Plus, it was given to them unknowingly. I really don’t see that it’s a problem.”

  “Thanks, that makes me feel much better. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  * * * * *

  Sean and the group met on Skype and all of the motel guests except Louisa agreed to testify. Blood was definitely thicker than water and it was clear that the drug had played a part in her husband's death, a very vital part. If Louisa decided to testify against Maria it more than likely would hurt her chances for acquittal.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Hey, Doll, put me through to Darya, would ya? Tell her it’s Slade.”

  “Slade, Merry Christmas. I’m glad you called. You were on my list of calls to make. I have a little something for you. Any chance you can come by my office this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, great minds think alike. Got a little somethin’ for ya’, too. How about 4:30 or ya’ got big plans for tonight?”

  “I’m completely free. I’ll see you then.”

 
Promptly at 4:30, Slade arrived at Darya’s office, walked up the stairs, and greeted Mahsa. She buzzed Darya. “Mr. Kelly is here. Shall I send him in?”

  “No, I’ll come out and get him.” Darya walked over to the conference table where the wrapped case of 1976 Roederer Cristal Champagne was and made sure the bow and the card were in place. She opened the door. “Merry Christmas, Slade. Come in.”

  Slade followed her into the office. “Doll, yer’ lookin’ good. Course when don’t you? Gonna pretend there’s a little mistletoe hangin’ above yer’ head. Here’s a Christmas kiss for ya’.” He kissed her cheek and handed her a small wrapped gift.

  “Slade, I have something for you, too. It’s over on the table. Why don’t you open yours first?”

  He looked at the large gift on the conference table. “Doll, that’s one hell of a big gift. Never been real good at savin’ paper and bows,” he said as he tore off the gift wrapping. “This here’s the good shit you’ve treated me to before, ain’t it? Wow, thanks!” He opened the attached envelope and read the Christmas card. In a much quieter voice, he said, “Miss R, thank you. I consider meeting you and working with you to be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me.”

  “Slade, hearing that from you might be one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. May I open my gift now?” She looked at him, trying hard to keep her passion under control. She wasn’t successful. Her body betrayed her as her nipples hardened and her cheeks reddened.

  “Sure. Jes’ a little somethin’ I picked up for ya’. Hope you like it. Kept the receipt if ya’ don’t.”

  She carefully unwrapped the gift and saw a blue Tiffany box. She looked up at him. “Slade, what is this?”