03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  Brian and Jordan left the courthouse at the same time. “Oh my God,” Jordan said as he looked at the crowd of reporters.

  Before they could close the courthouse doors, microphones were thrust in their faces. “Mr. Meeks, is it true Maria got four million dollars? Mr. Kramer, did you know that Ralph Martin was in love with Maria? Mr. Meeks, did Maria kill Jeffrey so she could get the money?”

  And so it went. They both said no comment and pushed their way through the crowd of reporters as they made their way to the parking lot. The street was lined with vans belonging to the local television stations. Not only was Maria being tried in a court of law, she was also being tried by the media.

  As soon as Brian got home, he walked into the den and poured himself a drink. The television was on and every channel was showing shots of Brian and Jordan leaving the courthouse and sketches from artists depicting the various witnesses who had testified that day. Even CNN got in on the action. They interviewed a well-known criminal attorney. He said how damning it was that Jeffrey was paid four million dollars when he was fired by Moore Labs. Killing a victim for financial gain is a very common motive in many murder cases, he went on to say. He wondered how the defense could possibly overcome that, in addition to the fact that Maria had fled the country, and changed her name. He went on to say if he was sitting on the jury, he’d find Maria guilty because she certainly had motives for killing Jeffrey.

  “Brian, I was watching before you came home. It’s been like this for an hour. The media is having a feeding frenzy with this. Are you going to be able to get her acquitted?” his wife asked, standing behind him and rubbing his shoulders.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  CHAPTER 36

  The next morning it looked like Marsha hadn’t even bothered to change her clothes or else she had a whole wardrobe of nondescript suits. The difference between Maria and Marsha was startling. Neither wore make-up, but one of them didn’t need any to look beautiful and the other one was so plain that no amount of make-up could have helped her.

  “Detective Lawrence, the death of Jeffrey Brooks was your case. Is that correct?” Marsha asked the first witness of the day.

  “Yes. I received a call from the dispatcher after Mr. Martin called 911.”

  “Would you tell the court what you found when you got to the Blue Coyote Motel?”

  “Ralph Martin told me that there was a body in the basement laboratory and he assumed it was Jeffrey Brooks. I determined that the body was, in fact, him. He had suffered a single gunshot wound to the chest. I found a large butcher knife on the floor next to him. I had a fingerprint specialist come and dust for fingerprints.”

  “Did the specialist find any fingerprints, and if so, whose were they?”

  “Yes. There were numerous prints of Jeffrey Brooks on the knife. Those were the only prints we found.”

  “Did you determine that Jeffrey died from the gunshot wound?”

  “Yes. The autopsy confirmed it.”

  “Based on everything you knew about the case, what conclusions did you draw?”

  “I believe that Maria Brooks shot and killed her husband. The gun was never found. We discovered she left the country the very evening Jeffrey Brooks died. We followed her to Marseille, France. After that he trail went cold.”

  “When did you find out that Maria was returning to California?”

  “I was contacted by Jordan Kramer, a detective from the Los Angeles Police Department who works in their Art Theft Division. He called me a couple of weeks before she arrived to tell me she was coming back to California.”

  “Detective, since you didn’t find the gun, the murder weapon, and Maria left the country that night, do you assume she was the one who killed Jeffrey.”

  “Objection,” Brian said, rising to his feet. “Leading the witness.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Adams said.

  “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  * * * * *

  “Detective Lawrence, thank you for your service to our state. I’d like to show you a butcher knife and ask you if you can identify it,” Brian said, as he handed the detective a large butcher knife which was contained in a clear plastic evidence bag.

  Detective Lawrence removed the knife from the evidence bag and said, “Yes, this is the knife that I found lying next to the body of Jeffrey Brooks on the day I investigated the murder of Mr. Brooks at the Blue Coyote Motel. After the knife was photographed in the exact place where I found it, wearing latex gloves, I picked the knife up and bagged it in this plastic evidence bag, signed my name on it and sealed it. It has remained sealed and in police custody ever since I bagged it.”

  “Your Honor, I would request that the knife be admitted in evidence and marked as defendant’s Exhibit ‘A’.”

  “It will be admitted into evidence and marked as defendant’s Exhibit ‘A’,” the judge said.

  “Detective, you are quite certain that this is the knife that was found next to the body of Jeffrey Brooks? Is that correct?”

  “Yes, absolutely. I have a clear independent recollection of exactly what the knife looked like when I discovered it next to the decedent’s body and it has not been out of police custody since the time I bagged it as evidence to be used in the investigation of the case.”

  “Thank you. You previously testified that fingerprints were found on the knife. Whose fingerprints were found?”

  “Those belonging to Jeffrey Brooks.”

  “Were any other fingerprints on the knife?”

  “No. The only prints on the knife were those of Jeffrey Brooks.”

  “Detective Lawrence, did you find any prescription medications for Jeffrey Brooks from a Dr. Herzog when you searched Jeffrey’s lab and the home behind the motel where he and Mrs. Brooks lived?”

  “No. There were no prescription drugs for Jeffrey.”

  “No more questions.”

  * * * * *

  “Madame Prudhomme, thank you for coming to the United States to testify in this case.”

  “It is my pleasure. Please excuse my English. It is not perfect,” the small chubby white-haired woman said.

  “That’s not a problem. The questions I’ll be asking you are very simple. You live in St. Victor la Coste, France, is that correct?”

  “Oui, I mean yes.”

  “That’s in the Provence area of France. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you know Maria Brooks?”

  “I knew a woman who looked exactly like her, but her name was Elena Johnson.”

  “How did you know her?”

  “It is a little village and everyone knows everyone else. We are very friendly. Madame Johnson came to the village and never made any, how you say, attempts to get to know us. Several of the women asked her to come to their homes for croissants and coffee, but she never would. She lived in a small cottage located on a hill above the village. We heard she was a widow and very rich. We didn’t understand why she went to work at Henri’s Bakery.”

  “So all you knew about this woman was that she did not want to be friends with anyone and that she was a rich widow.”

  “Oui, sorry, yes.”

  “Tell me about Henri’s Bakery and what she was doing there.”

  “Henri’s is a well-known restaurant located in the village. People come from miles away to eat there. The Michelin Guide gave it two stars, which is very good. She was the luncheon chef at Henri’s. We were very surprised that Henri hired her because he had turned many others down. Henri told several of the men that she was very beautiful and that was why he hired her. We always wondered what went on between them.”

  “Objection,” Brian said.

  “Sustained.”

  “Did Elena or Maria, whichever name you prefer, ever entertain people in her cottage?”

  “No one from the village was ever in her cottage, but the American spent nights there.”

  “Tell me about that.”

  “Maybe tw
o months or so after Madame Johnson started working at Henri’s, an American came to the village. At first he stayed at an estate that had been converted to a bed and breakfast. It’s a few miles from the village, but after two days he moved into Madame Johnson’s cottage. We thought that was very fast, but we are French.”

  “Thank you again for coming. No further questions.”

  “I have no questions, your Honor,” Brian said.

  * * * * *

  As the next witness took the stand, Maria gasped and whispered to Brian, “That’s Luisa Ortega.”

  “Well, I’m not surprised. This is not going to be pleasant. I’ll see what I can do. Just keep your composure.”

  “Senora Ortega, thank you for coming all the way from Brazil to testify on the prosecution’s behalf.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  “You and your husband stayed at the Blue Coyote Motel twice, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please tell the court about your first visit to the motel.”

  “Jorge and I arrived at the Blue Coyote Motel on our way from Phoenix to Laguna Beach, California. We were going to my sister’s wedding, but the air traffic controllers union had gone on strike and we couldn’t fly into Southern California. The only flight we could get was from Rio to Phoenix. We were exhausted so we stopped and spent the night at the Blue Coyote Motel.

  “Our marriage had not been going well. Jorge spent too much time in the Amazon at the family gold mines and he always came home tired and tense. I’d developed a nasty habit called bulimia. Food was the only thing in my life I felt I could control. However, after we spent the night at the Blue Coyote Motel, our lives turned around and changed for the better. Both of us felt happy and energized. In fact, our son Carlos was conceived there. We made a decision to move to California and Jorge began commuting to the Amazon, staying with Carlos and me for two weeks at our new home in Huntington Beach, and then going to our gold mines in the Amazon for the next two weeks. Then, everything fell apart. Carlos developed colic, Jorge had become angry and testy, and I was flirting with bulimia again.”

  She stopped and took a drink of water. “Jorge and I felt we needed to go back to the Blue Coyote Motel. We thought it was a good luck charm and things would get better if we spent some time there. We went there during the Memorial Day weekend. Four other people had returned to the motel for the same reason.

  “My husband, Jorge, and a psychologist by the name of Sean, thought it was strange we had all returned for more or less the same reasons. Sean had done a lot of work with people who were taking drugs and said that what we were all experiencing was similar to the classic symptoms of drug withdrawal. Sean had done some research and found out that Jeffrey Brooks was a scientist. He and Jorge talked and decided that if we were being drugged, it couldn’t be something in the water or food. They thought maybe something was in the air. Sean and Jorge went to Maria and told her we wanted a meeting with Jeffrey. She called him and he agreed to meet with us.”

  “Did Maria attend the meeting with you?”

  “No, and I thought that was strange. Anyway, we went down to Jeffrey’s laboratory located in the basement of the motel and he showed us some of the things he was working on. Then he told us he had piped a feel-good drug into our rooms using the air-conditioning system. He called the drug Freedom. He told us he had perfected a pill which had Freedom as well as an anti-aging hormone in it and we could buy it from him for $20,000 a year. I think it was Sean who told him that we needed to think about it and asked him if we could meet him in the morning before we all left.”

  “Did you and your husband discuss it that night?”

  “Yes. We were up most of the night debating whether we should take the drug. We finally decided we would. Jorge felt he was a much better husband and employer when he took the drug. I felt I was a much better mother. I didn’t want to become bulimic again or have Carlos suffer from colic. That night, for the first time, Jorge told me about some of the dangers he experienced when he was in the Amazon. I worried about his safety. As it turned out, I had a right to worry.

  “The next morning we went back down to the basement. It was a very short meeting. I remember that four of us decided to buy the drug. Sam, a Native American pediatrician, and Sean, the psychologist, decided not to take it. Both of them said they had seen too many people ruin their lives because of drug use. Several months later Jorge was on one of his trips to the family gold mines in the Amazon. He had forgotten to take his Freedom pill with him. Without the beneficial effects of the drug, he became disoriented. He was camped out in the Amazon jungle when, in the middle of the night, he got up to relieve himself. He never went anywhere without his bodyguards, but that night he did. Jorge was attacked by some renegade natives and killed. His head was cut off. It was simply awful.”

  “I am so sorry for your loss, Senora Ortega. Why do you think he became disoriented?”

  “I think he was suffering from withdrawal symptoms which affected his ability to think clearly.”

  “Senora, when you met Jeffrey, how did he look to you?”

  “He looked like I would expect a brilliant scientist to look. His grooming wasn’t particularly good and his eyes seemed very bright. He spoke very rapidly, but he was perfectly lucid. I know the defense said in their opening argument that he was going insane, but I never thought he was mad, just brilliant. What a shame such a brilliant man like that was murdered.”

  “Thank you, Senora. One last question. Do you think Maria knew what Jeffrey was doing?”

  “How could she not? She ran the motel. She handled the money. She had to know what he was doing.”

  “Again, thank you for your testimony and I’m so sorry about the loss of your husband.

  * * * * *

  Brian walked over to Luisa and spent a long time looking at her and then at the notes on his legal pad.

  “Senora Ortega, do you hate Maria Brooks?”

  There was a collective gasp from the onlookers. Such questions were never asked.

  “Yes I do. She...”

  “Objection,” Marsha shouted.

  “Overruled. You may continue Senora Ortega.”

  Luisa turned and looked at Maria. “She knew. She had to know. Because of the drug she and her husband gave us, my husband was murdered, and my son will grow up without a father. Yes, I hate her. She is just as responsible for Jorge’s death as Jeffrey was.”

  “Senora, you have no actual proof that Maria knew about Freedom being piped into the rooms, do you?”

  “No. I don’t.”

  “No further questions, your Honor.”

  “You may call your next witness, Mrs. Sinclair,” Judge Adams said.

  “The People have no further witnesses. The People rest their case.”

  The judge looked out at the audience. “Since there are no further prosecution witnesses, the defense will begin after lunch by calling their witnesses. Court will reconvene at 1:30.”

  Brian had told his secretary he wanted the defense witnesses to meet him in the cafeteria at the courthouse. Although he’d spent a great deal of time talking to them earlier, he wanted to make sure each one of them was clear on what they were going to say as well as find out if they had any last minute questions.

  CHAPTER 37

  “As its first witness, the defense calls Dr. Mas Fuchida to the witness stand.”

  “Dr. Fuchida, thank you for taking time from your busy schedule to be here today. Would you tell the court your background and what qualifies you as an expert witness?”

  “Yes. I received my medical degree at UCLA, doing advanced work in pathology. When I received my medical license, I was hired by the County of Riverside and I am currently the Chief Medical Examiner in the County Coroner’s Office. I have conducted over three thousand autopsies and have testified as an expert witness in one hundred and seventy-five trials. My department has been fortunate enough to be equipped with the latest state-of-the-art medical technology.”
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  “Thank you, Doctor. You conducted the autopsy on Jeffrey Brooks, is that correct?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Could you summarize your findings for the court?”

  “Yes. Mr. Brooks died from a gunshot wound to the chest, fired at close range. Further testing revealed a number of drugs in his system, one of which has been found in people who have gone insane.”

  “Dr. Fuchida, could that drug have caused his death?”

  “No. His death was caused by the gunshot.”

  “Doctor, why would someone take a drug if there was a chance of them becoming insane?”

  “The substance in question is one of several ingredients found in a well-known drug which is used to treat people who are manic-depressive. We also found the other components of the drug that is used to treat manic-depressives in Mr. Brooks’ system. He was a scientist, and from what I know, a very brilliant scientist. It is my professional opinion that he may have been trying to formulate the drug by himself and he miscalculated the dosage of the ingredients that can lead to insanity. The chemical I found was fifty times stronger than is clinically recommended. I didn’t know the man, so I can’t speak as to whether or not he was insane at the time of death. However, having chemicals of the type I found during his autopsy at fifty times the maximum dosage level is almost certain to lead to insanity.”

  “Did you find any other drugs, or alcohol, or anything else in his system that led you to believe he was taking mind-altering substances?”

  “No. There was nothing in his system except the ingredients of a drug used to treat a manic-depressive condition.”

  He turned to Marsha. “I have no further questions.”

  She approached the witness stand. “Doctor, you said that Jeffrey Brooks’ death was the result of a close range gunshot wound, is that true?”

  “Yes. That was the cause of death.”

  “So whatever drugs he had in his system did not cause his death. Is that correct?”