He continued with a level of ardor that surprised her. “Yes, awful indeed. His family received monetary compensation from the government, which paid for George’s school loans and allowed him to graduate. Now, he always makes sure that his mother has everything she needs, and the rest of his money goes toward helping other people like his dad... Like me.”
Kate could feel the excitement and hope in Kenny’s voice. She feared what she was about to say would burst his bubble, though. She hesitated before telling him to not get his hopes up. She took a breath and let Luke’s words echo in her mind: “He needs support, he needs hope.”
She decided to keep what she knew to herself for now.
“I’m glad he’s your lawyer. He sounds great, and it’s wonderful that he’s so passionate about helping others.”
“They’ve set the court date for next month,” Kenny said.
Kate stared into her uncle’s eyes, not sure if he was excited or nervous. “That’s good, I guess.”
He shrugged. “Hey, did I ever tell you about Julie?”
“Julie who?” Kate asked.
“Julie Murphy.”
“No, who’s she?”
“My cousin,” Kenny said. “She came to visit Lucy and me about… I don’t know, thirty, forty years ago. You’d like her.”
Kate was racking her brain, trying to recall meeting her as a young child, but that would have been impossible. She still lived with her parents back then. “How old is she?”
“A little younger than me, not sure of her exact age,” he said.
Kate was confused as to why he was bringing her up, so she didn’t say anything and waited for him to continue.
“She’s in Ireland, somewhere around Cork, where we’re from.”
“Okay...”
“When I’m out of here, I’d like us to go visit her. You’d like her,” he said again.
Kate swallowed hard and forced a smile. She knew the odds were against him getting out of jail anytime soon.
Better to impart hope, right?
“I’d like that very much,” she said.
“Yeah, that’s what we’ll do. You’ll love how green and beautiful it is. The spot you keep going to on the seashore has nothing on the Irish coast, I tell you.”
“My spot is pretty darn breathtaking,” she said, keeping things light. “Not sure it’s possible. You’ve never seen it.”
“No, you’re right, but the Irish coast will take your breath away, I guarantee it.”
Keeping up the charade was killing Kate, but she carried on smiling nonetheless. “I can’t wait for us to go to Ireland together. It will be a great trip.”
The conversation reached a natural lull. Kate wanted to hang around and spend more time with him but didn’t know what else to talk about. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, looking around and realizing that there wasn’t.
“No, not really. But maybe...”
“What? Tell me,” she said.
“Could you check by my house once a week or so? And tell my snoopy neighbor, Maude, to keep her nose out of my stuff while I’m here?”
Kate laughed. She’d always wondered if the hate he had toward his neighbor was just latent passion from both sides. Maybe something was going on between them. She made a mental note to drop by his house on her way back to make sure everything was okay. If she saw Maude, she’d deliver his message. He didn’t own any plants that needed watering, but there could be mail to pick up or bills to pay.
“I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry,” Kate said.
Kate spent most of her Sunday on her computer, Googling things and people related to her uncle’s case with a 24-hour news channel airing redundant information concerning the city’s upcoming election in the background. The mayoral candidates were constantly being interviewed, discussing everything from public transit to extra incentives for promoting new business and improving the overall economy in the metropolitan area.
She first looked into George Hudson, the lawyer. He’d been in the papers numerous times. He was good, really good. She found his contact information on a website and left him a voicemail, hoping to meet with him this week to discuss her uncle’s case.
Then, she Googled Paul McAlester, the deceased, again. There was nothing new concerning him, other than a seventy-six-year-old man had been arrested, and the case was to go in front of a jury in the coming weeks.
After that, she decided to look up Luko. He (or another Luke O’Brien) was a member of a Dungeons and Dragons forum called D&D Madness, and that same avatar was also active on a few video game forums. His profile picture looked like a Simpsons version of him.
Still a geek at heart. But he’s grown into a very handsome geek once you take off his thick glasses and outdated clothes.
She could still see his naked chest and strong arms in her mind’s eye. She let out a sigh. He’d freaked out either because he was seeing someone else or because he wanted to act like a gentleman... Or maybe something else happened that she couldn’t remember. But a gentleman could have stayed the night and simply slept next to her. What was the big rush to get out of her place? The “someone else” option seemed more plausible.
Kate told herself she’d try to swing by the lab this week, in between calls if she had a slow day. She could just ask him if he was seeing anyone, plain and simple. No point in wondering or wasting time and energy on this.
She reached for the remote and was about to turn off the TV when the anchorman announced a breaking news story: “A body has been found in Charlestown. A homeless man who appeared to be in his fifties was found dead under a bridge. This is the thirteenth homeless death to occur in Charlestown this year.”
That’s weird.
A police spokeswoman appeared next.
“We do not believe this was a homicide. We suspect the death occurred due to natural causes, but an autopsy will be conducted to confirm our findings. The identity of the man is still unknown, and we ask the public to contact us if they know this person.”
The screen flashed a picture of a Caucasian man with dirty blond hair and nasty-looking scars on his face.
“An expert on social care and homeless programs in Massachusetts will join me in a few minutes to discuss our current system. Could we be doing more to help the homeless and prevent deaths? Stay tuned, and you’ll find out,” the anchorman said.
Although her inquisitive mind wanted to ponder these strange deaths, her heart didn’t want to right now. What a horrible way to go: penniless, miserable, and alone, possibly found by dogs or runners.
The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Her uncle wouldn’t die homeless on the street, but if she didn’t get her shit together and prove his innocence soon, Kenny could die in prison, miserable and alone.
Kate turned off the news. She had some serious thinking and problem-solving to do.
Chapter Six
June 29, 2015
Kate Murphy
George Hudson’s Law Office, Boston
“Have a seat. He’ll be right with you,” the bleached-blonde twenty-something receptionist told Kate. Her smile was decorated by piercings above and below the center of her lips.
Kate walked to the empty waiting area, which consisted of a large, well-worn brown leather sofa, a matching chair, and a small coffee table littered with a selection of magazines. She decided to ignore them and breathe deeply instead. Classical music was playing in the background.
Bach?
Her excitement was mixed with apprehension. She was grateful her uncle’s lawyer was able to fit her in so quickly, just after today’s shift, but no matter how good he was, he would have a hard time convincing anyone that the DNA found at the crime scene wasn’t related to the murder.
Has this lawyer seen—and successfully fought—similar cases before? What if he can’t help Kenny? How many years will Kenny spend in jail?
Before she could go too far down the what-if rabbit hole, a black hand appeared in front of her and b
rought her back to reality.
“Miss Murphy? I’m George Hudson.”
She got up and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. Glad you could make time to meet with me today. Please, follow me.”
Kate had seen pictures of him online, but his stature was much more impressive in person. The light gray linen suit and matching hat he wore served to make him a little less intimidating, but at around 6'2" and well over two hundred pounds, he could have easily worked as a bouncer in a nightclub or as a goon for the mafia.
Kate counted four other lawyers’ offices on the way to his.
As they reached his office door, George waved a hand toward the room, and Kate walked in. George’s office, just like his physique, destroyed all preconceived notions she had of lawyers. Instead of being lined with diplomas, photos taken with famous politicians, or even classic paintings, his walls were covered from floor to ceiling with an eclectic mishmash of family pictures. Some photos were mounted in plain black frames, others in colorful ones, a few were set in antique gold frames that would look more at home in the Louvre than in an office, and one was hand-crafted with dried macaroni.
“They’re my reason to get up in the morning.”
Kate turned to face him. “Who are they?”
“These are the families I’ve worked with, to help them through hard times. I know what most people think of our profession, and unfortunately, many lawyers prove them right. Some do it for the money, but I’m in it for helping people and for righting wrongs.”
Kate returned her attention to the photos on the wall. Some families were small; some were huge. Some pictures showcased over twenty people proudly dressed in their Sunday best, lined up in multiple rows. There were people from all backgrounds: Caucasian, Hispanic, Asian, African-American, Indian, and more. Kate couldn’t believe how many pictures were displayed on this wall alone.
“Did you help all of those people?” she asked.
“I did my best for each and every one, so in a way I did.” The look in his eyes changed for a split second, as if a vulture had cast its inauspicious shadow over a lonesome trekker.
“Some of them were successfully proven innocent, and others... well, we just didn’t have enough to win, no matter how hard we tried. I do my best to keep my batting average as high as possible.”
He pointed to one of the chairs in front of his desk and sat in the chair next to it.
Odd. The chair behind the desk looks much more comfortable.
Kate sat next to him, concluding that he probably wanted her to feel more at ease by sitting at her level. She’d read something about that in a psychology book.
“So, Kenny told me you’re a police officer,” George said.
“Yes, have been for twelve years.”
“How are you doing with all of this?”
“You mean personally?” Kate asked.
“Yes, learning of his arrest must have affected you. I’m sorry for having broken that awful news to you on voicemail. I tried to reach you four or five times before resigning myself to leaving you a message. What are you feeling right now, and how are you coping?”
Kate was surprised by his question, but even more surprised by her reaction to it. Usually, she’d keep her emotions to herself, but she felt compelled to open up and share them with him.
“To be honest, he’s all I’ve got, and I feel like shit for not being able to help.”
“That’s understandable, but you can’t take that burden personally. Let’s see what we can do about it.”
Kate nodded.
“Do you want to know all the details of the case, as they’ve been filed with the court?”
“I believe I know most of them. My district commander arranged for me to sit in on the detectives’ meetings, so I know about the blood and hair DNA. I also heard one possible scenario involving buses, entering the home through a bathroom window...” She paused, trying to remember, “Oh, yes... and a far-fetched motive involving bullying at school.”
“That’s about it. There are no witnesses. What does your gut tell you?”
“I’ve known Kenny all my life. He’s a decent man. Yes, he drinks more than he should, he swears, and he got arrested once for getting in a fight, but that was just after his wife had passed away. Her death was tough on him. He’s not a murderer.”
“My gut agrees with you. And, if you ask me, their description of the attack seems hard to believe, especially after meeting your uncle in person. While I don’t know what kind of physical condition he used to be in, I doubt he’d be able to pull himself up through an open window and have enough force, physically and emotionally, to murder a person with a pillow. That’s what they’re going with.”
Kate shrugged and shook her head. “And I’ve never ever heard the victim’s name. If he was upset with anyone, he would have gone on and on and on. Believe me.”
George let out a light laugh and put on the pair of glasses he had hanging around his neck before flipping through the file folder lying on his crossed legs. “Attended same school in 1952,” he read out loud. “Blah blah blah... Sounds like the victim could have been a bit of a bully as a kid; some testimonials taken by the police at the victim’s funeral confirm that.”
Kate was surprised by that last statement, but then again, two of the detectives were supposed to attend the ceremony, so it made sense.
What kind of person speaks badly about the deceased at his memorial service, though? That was odd.
“I don’t think my uncle would hold a grudge against someone for that long without mentioning him once.”
George took off his glasses, letting them hang on his chest. “How do you think his DNA got to the crime scene?” he asked.
Kate opened up her palms and shook her head once more. “I have no freaking idea. It seems ridiculous for anyone to frame my uncle. What would be in it for them? Why go through the trouble? He’s got no money, nothing that could be used to blackmail him.”
“Exactly, unless the framing was done a bit at random, as a way for the real murderer to walk away a free man,” George said.
“You mean someone somehow got ahold of a drop of blood and a hair from a stranger that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time?”
George nodded. “Perhaps, or someone could have gotten a hold of it from a DNA bank. I know it’s far-fetched, but that’s just an idea that’s been bouncing in my mind, I haven’t fully fleshed it out yet.”
“You mean someone breaking into a lab and stealing samples?” Kate asked.
She remembered seeing Luko go back in behind the glass doors the other day to set up the alarm at his lab. Of course, Luke worked for the Massachusetts State Police crime lab, so they had to use security measures to ensure the chain of evidence remained intact. However, many other labs would do the same as well, for privacy, legal protection, or different reasons. No matter how much she racked her brain, she couldn’t remember hearing anything like that on the news. At least not recently.
“But the police have both a hair and a blood sample,” Kate continued. “Wouldn’t it be difficult to steal both types of samples from the same donor? I doubt labs would keep both in the same fridge or vault, or wherever they keep samples. The person would then have to match them, so only one DNA signature is left at the crime scene.”
“But getting caught would have much more dire consequences.”
Kate shook her head. It didn’t make sense. As much as she wanted to hang on to any possible hope, George’s idea seemed improbable, and as far-fetched as—no, it was farther fetched than—the bully-revenge motive put together by the detectives.
“Don’t worry about it,” George said, closing the file. “It’s part of my process. I think outside the box. I like to bounce ideas off people, especially when facts put us in a very tight corner. My second idea is based on the victim’s career path.”
Kate tried to remember anything she’d read or heard about it, but could only recall him owning
a few collectible cars, as mentioned in some article she’d found on Google.
“What did he do for a living again?” she asked.
“Him, not much. A boring office worker at an accounting firm, but he had recently become a member of a very obscure political party called ‘Green God.’ Excuse the term, but Paul McAlester was a ‘bastard.’ His mom knew who the real father was, but the man never publicly acknowledged Paul as his son. I asked around and found out that his mother claimed his biological dad was a well-known state senator. He passed a few controversial bills that infuriated several groups.”
“What do you mean?” Kate asked.
“I heard that the victim was planning to follow in his biological dad’s footsteps, start a political career, and leave his job as an accountant.”
Kate lifted an eyebrow. “Who’s the dad? What’s his name?” she asked, curious as to why none of this information had appeared when she’d Googled him.
“Senator Dudley. He died in a plane accident two years ago. They never found the wreckage, but they lost signal over the Arctic Circle and abandoned their search effort six weeks into it. Unlikely the passengers and crew would have survived that long, assuming they didn’t die on impact.”
Kate vaguely remembered hearing about that plane crash in the news but didn’t remember what kind of senator he was.
“You said he infuriated a lot of people. How?”
George let out a sigh. “Where should I start?” he asked rhetorically. “He was a strong proponent of taking the theory of evolution out of our school system and teaching creationism as part of the official science curriculum. He was a strong supporter of oil exploration in the Arctic and Antarctic, and he opposed anything to do with research into curing cancer, or any kind of scientific research dealing with genetics. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. He was an extremist on many issues. You may be able to find some of his speeches on YouTube.”
Kate nodded as she listened to George describe the deceased senator’s political agenda. “I get what you mean. Some people would absolutely disagree with him. Do you think both the dad and son could have been murdered?” she asked.
The Last Hope Page 6