Paper Castles

by Terri Lee

Days spent listening to the evidence had worn her down like a nail file chafing against her spirit. The anxiety she suppressed during the day manifested at night. In dreams, she ran to escape chains, iron bars and grotesque faces twisted in laughter. She couldn’t run fast enough. She kept getting stuck in the mud while hounds nipped at her heels.

  Phil looked at her with concern every day, as if he could feel her slipping away. She did her best to don a positive attitude but it kept sliding off her shoulders, like the too-loose skirt sliding around her waist. She didn’t want him to think that she’d lost her confidence in him, yet the growing mountain of evidence against her seemed insurmountable.

  In the final Day of testimony, the psychiatrists would take the stand. Phil thought Dr. Nolan would be persuasive. When the team gathered in the war room, Phil seemed upbeat. Maybe he was just happy the end was near and he could get back to his life in Philly. Pretend he never heard of some crazy broad named Savannah Palmerton, and how she was the first case he lost.

  Cecily was back from her mysterious mission. She and Phil huddled at the end of the table, papers everywhere. Savannah knew enough to stay out of their hair.

  Phil chucked Savannah under the chin as they were heading into the courtroom. “Put a smile on that face.”

  Savannah pasted one on, wondering what on earth he had to be so chipper about?

  The medical testimony was tedious. Jurors squirmed in their seats, looking up at the clock. More than one of them shot looks of disgust at Briggs, who insisted on twenty questions when two would have been sufficient.

  Dr. Thorington told the court that in his expert opinion, Savannah was not legally insane at the time of the murder. He felt the mix of GABA-ergic drugs such as Valium, phenobarbital, and alcohol was a recipe for disaster. Phil let him go without questioning, eager to move on to Dr. Nolan.

  The quiet, professional doctor spoke in plain language, making sure to include the jurors in his findings. They listened as he spoke of Savannah’s medical history of anxiety and her family history of mental illness.

  Savannah closed her eyes, dialing into her mother’s presence. She could feel the support, a thin cord stretching between them. They’d prepared themselves for Nolan’s revealing testimony. Savannah insisted she’d understand if Beverly didn’t want to be present. Beverly drew her own line in the sand.

  “We have nothing to be ashamed of,” her mother said. “I was sick for a long time. Now I’m better. It’s been a long journey and I’m tired of hiding. I’ll be right behind you, just like every other day.”

  Her mother’s presence was like great wings spread around her. Both sheltering and soaring. Savannah reveled in the knowledge it was never too late to fly.

  She glanced at the jury. They seemed captivated as Dr. Nolan presented his findings. He concluded that in his medical opinion, Savannah had suffered from an episode known as psychotic fugue.

  “A fugue state can last from hours to days to weeks,” he said. “A confluence of extremely stressful events set the stage for her lapse of memory. Compounded by her history of anxiety and the mix of prescriptions and alcohol.”

  “So it’s possible it wasn’t the overuse of prescription drugs alone that caused the break,” Phil said.

  “Correct,” Nolan said. “This wasn’t a typical alcohol-induced black-out. Her fragile mental state was a contributing factor. It’s entirely possible those missing hours will never return to her.”

  Nathan Briggs didn’t cross-examine Dr. Nolan, only stood and said, “The people rest, Your Honor.”

  Phil stood. “The defense would like to call Roxanne Murney.”

  A murmur in the courtroom as a pretty young woman made her way to the witness stand, her pregnant belly leading the way. She was sweating and Savannah’s eyes narrowed instinctively, knowing this was nervous sweat and not from the heat of the day.

  Phil walked up to her, smiling, as if they were the only two people in the room. “Will you state your full name for the court?”

  “Roxanne Janine Murney.” She leaned into the microphone.

  Phil smiled. “Is it Mrs. Murney?”

  “Yes.”

  “When is your baby due, Mrs. Murney?”

  “Any minute.”

  Phil winked at the jury box. “I’ll do my best to keep my questions brief.”

  Relieved laughter rolled around the courtroom. Even Judge Houser smiled at the joke. “Where do you live, Mrs. Murney?” Phil asked.

  “New Bern, North Carolina.”

  “Lovely city. Where did you live before that?”

  “Here. In Savannah.”

  “Mrs. Murney, did you know the deceased?”

  “Yes. He was my lawyer.”

  “For what purpose did you hire him?”

  “I received an inheritance. He was helping me with my father’s estate.”

  “Estate law isn’t usually Mr. Palmerton’s area of practice. How did he come to handle your case?”

  “I worked at the Twin Oaks Country Club. I was a hostess at the restaurant. We met there. He offered to help.”

  “As a personal favor?”

  “Yes.” Her voice quivered.

  Savannah leaned forward, fixated on the curve of the woman’s belly, visible behind the witness stand.

  “What kind of car do you drive?” Phil asked.

  She seemed thrown by the question. “A Buick sedan.”

  “Oh.” Phil’s eyebrows came together in a look of surprise. “Well, what kind of car did you drive before that?”

  Roxanne bit her lip. “A Ford Thunderbird.”

  The entire courtroom, including Judge Houser, leaned forward.

  “Blue and white?” Phil asked.

  Her voice was barely audible now. “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I knew it was a popular car. What happened to that car?”

  “I... I mean, we sold it. We needed something roomier for the baby.”

  Phil picked up a photograph from Cecily and offered a copy to the prosecution before handing it to the witness.

  “Mrs. Murney, do you recognize this photo?” Phil said.

  “Yes.” Roxanne’s hands were shaking. “Where did you...” Her voice trailed off as she looked up at Phil then back to the defense table. Her eyes narrowed at Cecily as if seeing her for the first time.

  “Can you tell me about the earrings you’re wearing in this photograph, Mrs. Murney?”

  “They were a gift.”

  “From?”

  “My husband.”

  “How nice.” He strolled back and forth in front of the jury. “What an odd coincidence, Mrs. Murney. You have a set of diamond and pearl earrings that exactly match the custom-made earrings Mr. Palmerton gave his wife for Christmas. Earrings Mr. Feldman described, under oath, as being one of a kind. I don’t know, Mrs. Murney. That might be one coincidence too many.”

  Roxanne said nothing. Savannah thought back to Christmas morning. Price sitting on the arm of her chair, handing over the velvet box. She could feel the soft nap in her hands, and recall the puzzlement. Wondering what it meant.

  In memory, she opened the little box, but it was empty. The earrings were gone. Price took them from her dressing table and wrapped them up as a gift to this blonde woman on the witness stand.

  Everything was worse than she thought. Price was capable of more deceit than she ever gave him credit for.

  “How much money does Mr. Murney make?” Phil asked.

  Savannah watched in fascination as Phil spun the wheel again, it was obvious Roxanne couldn’t catch her breath.

  “I’m...I’m not sure.”

  “Well, we can come up with a good guess. Your husband is in the Navy, correct?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “An Airman, E3 would make roughly three hundred dollars a month. Hardly the kind of salary where one could afford to pay a thousand dollars for a pair of earrings. Even if it was a special occasion.”

  Roxanne was shaking.

  Phil went on. “I�
�m very confused, Mrs. Murney. I did some research and as far as I can tell, the United States Navy has no record of a James Murney in its ranks. Are you aware of that?”

  Phil gave Roxanne time to answer, but she only looked down at her hands.

  “Murney is actually your maiden name, isn’t it?” he said.

  Roxanne looked up eyes darting back and forth, her body tensed as if to flee, before her shoulders rolled forward with her exhale.

  “Yes.”

  “Just one more thing, Miss Murney. On the day of the murder, Price Palmerton wrote a check to you for two thousand dollars.”

  A collective gasp rose up in the courtroom, Savannah’s among it.

  “Your Honor, I am marking this canceled check for identification as Defense Exhibit 2,” Phil said as he crossed the room and handed a copy to opposing counsel.

  Judge Houser looked over his glasses at Nathan Briggs. “Do the people have any objections?”

  “We do not, your honor.” Briggs seemed to fold in his chair.

  “Do you recognize this check, Miss Murney?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you identify this item for the court?”

  “It’s a check Price wrote to me.”

  “And can you tell the court the date on the check?”

  “February fourteenth.” Roxanne held the piece of paper, staring at it, as if the verdict of her guilt were written across it.

  “Your Honor, at this time, we offer Defense Exhibit 2, for identification into evidence.” Phil handed the document to the clerk for submission.

  “Here’s another odd thing, Miss Murney,” Phil continued as he made his way back before Roxanne. “When I looked over the meticulous records Mrs. Lou Ann Graves keeps of office appointments, I saw your name entered eleven times between July 1963 and January of this year. But not once in the month of February.

  Mrs. Graves said she stayed until six o’clock on the fourteenth, the Friday night in question, to enter all the week’s checks into the ledger. The check you hold in your hand was not entered. The cleaning crew was there from six to eight. Mr. Palmerton was at the country club dance from seven until about ten. So when exactly did Mr. Palmerton write this check to you?”

  The room held its breath through a few moments of heavy silence.

  “Please answer the question, Miss Murney,” Judge Houser said.

  Roxanne looked around the room, wild-eyed.

  “Miss Murney—” Judge Houser said.

  “He wouldn’t talk to me.” Roxanne’s voice was a pathetic wail. “He broke it off with me in January, after my birthday. Said he was going to try to make it work with his wife. He promised...” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Did you go to Twin Oaks the night of the Valentine’s dance?”

  She looked up at Phil, as her story dissolved around her. “He wouldn’t see me,” she wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “He said to meet him later at his office.”

  Cecily reached for Savannah’s hand and squeezed hard.

  “And you went to his office, didn’t you?” Phil tugged at the dangling thread of her carefully crafted lies and stood back as the spool unwound.

  “Yes,” Roxanne nodded through her tears. “When I told him I was pregnant, he blew up. He started screaming at me, said I was trying to trap him.”

  Everyone had a front row seat to the undoing of this woman. Savannah watched in a mix of humiliation and vindication.

  “I’d never seen him so angry.” The tears were streaming down Roxanne’s face now.

  “He wrote me a check and practically threw it at me. Told me to go to Mexico and get rid of it. Then he walked across the room and poured himself a drink as if it he hadn’t just told me to kill our baby.” She choked on baby.

  Sympathy rose up in Savannah’s chest. She was well aware of the cold demeanor this woman was describing. It was the same detachment Price had displayed walking out her front door the night of the murder.

  “Something inside me snapped,” Roxanne said. “I remembered the gun he had in his desk drawer. He’d shown it to me before. Showing off. I just wanted to get his attention, make him listen. That’s all. I swear, I never meant... He tried to grab it from me... It was an accident.”

  Judge Houser hammered his gavel on the desk. Briggs had his head in his hands, watching his career dancing out the door. Journalists raced one another out of the room, hoping to be the first with the scoop. Savannah sat back in her chair as the truth literally set her free.

  Court was adjourned and the jury escorted out. Judge Houser called both members of council into his chambers, instructing the bailiff to take the witness into custody.

  Walking out of the court, safe in the huddle of her family, Savannah looked back over her shoulder. She couldn’t help the sliver of pity for the distraught young woman with her arms wrapped around her belly. Roxanne met her glance and the two women locked eyes, acknowledging the connection. Two lives torn apart by one man’s lies. Two women who would never be the same. Savannah’s fear was now Roxanne’s truth: Price had driven her to murder.

  “YOU’RE A free woman, Savannah Palmerton.” Phil picked her up and swung her around the living room. The Kendalls crowded close, voices rising in victory like a gospel choir amidst back slapping, hugs and kisses.

  “Thank you, Phil. I owe my life to you.” She looked up at her savior. Her uptight Yankee lawyer. His grin wide enough to crawl into. He did it, with a Hail Mary pass at the two-minute warning.

  Phil set her down and her legs buckled beneath her. Everyone laughed as Phil led her to the nearest chair. Savannah had to sit down and hold the new found truth in her lap. “I didn’t do it.” She mumbled, head in her hands, rocking back and forth. “I didn’t do it.” Each time she said it, her voice got louder. Stronger. Surer.

  Months of living with the torment of not knowing washed away like yesterday’s rain. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t going to prison. She had her life back.

  “I would’ve loved to save the day with my thunderous closing argument,” Phil said. “But a win is a win. And I certainly wasn’t counting on a witness stand confession. That only happens in the movies. I felt like Perry Mason.”

  “So Roxanne is under arrest, now?” Savannah asked.

  Phil nodded. “You can thank Cecily for that.”

  “So this was your out-of-town assignment?” Savannah turned to the dark-haired assistant.

  Cecily grinned. “Phil’s the one who figured it out.”

  “It started with the check Price wrote to Roxanne,” Phil said. “I was matching up the bank statements to Lou Ann’s records. Something about it didn’t feel right, even though he’d written other checks to Roxanne, dispersing funds from her father’s estate. This check was written from the firm’s account. The fact that there was no appointment entered for Roxanne on that day, and Lou Ann didn’t enter the check into the log for the week was a red flag.”

  “Not to mention Roxanne’s eleven visits to Price’s office,” Cecily rolled her eyes. “Call it a hunch.”

  “So I had Cecil do a little digging on our Miss Murney,” Phil said, waving his arm and giving Cecily the floor. “Don’t be shy, Cecil. Regale them with your exploits.”

  “Turns out Roxanne quit her hostess job on Monday, February seventeenth,” Cecily said. “Told her boss she had to move back home to New Bern to care for her aunt.”

  “And that’s where I sent our illustrious spy,” Phil said, grinning.

  Cecily laughed. “When I got to New Bern, I found out Roxanne had concocted this story about being married to a sailor. A convenient excuse for a missing husband. So I decided to pose as a journalist doing a piece about Navy wives coping with their husbands’ long absences. She invited me to her home for the interview. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw the picture of Roxanne in those earrings sitting on her bookshelf. I swiped it while she was in the kitchen making coffee.”

  “I taught her everything she knows,” P
hil said.

  “Of course, Roxanne had no idea the earrings were at the center of the murder case. That little piece of information hadn’t been leaked to the press,” Cecily said.

  “We filed an emergency subpoena and the rest is history,” Phil said, lacing his fingers behind his head.

  Savannah reached for Cecily’s hand. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure,” Cecily said.

  “What about the car?” Savannah asked Phil.

  “I had someone digging into the list of owners for everyone who purchased that same vehicle,” Phil said. “But we didn’t get the confirmation we needed until the morning Roxanne was set to testify. I was flying by the seat of my pants. My guess is Price gave her the money to buy it as a cover. It worked,” Phil said.

  “Too well.” Savannah shivered, realizing how close Price’s alibi had come to taking her down.

  “And because Roxanne was a Twin Oaks employee her name wouldn’t have been on the roster of attendees for that night,” Phil said. “That damn list of names.”

  He and Savannah laughed now.

  “I think it’s time for a toast.” Kip popped the cork on the champagne then filled the glasses to overflowing, bubbling foam running down the sides.

  Savannah felt it too, as if her joy was bubbling over from within, spilling over the sides and puddling at her feet. Men loosened their ties, women kicked off their heels, and everyone sank into the celebration. Savannah looked around at this family who’d stood by her and she knew she would never be able to drink her fill of this moment.

  After some of the exuberance died down, Savannah found herself in a quiet corner. Beverly slipped up beside her and draped an arm around her shoulders.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “Neenie never heard the truth,” Savannah said aching for the arms that would never hold her again.

  “She knew, honey. Don’t doubt that for a minute. Just like your father and I never doubted. You’re not capable of such a thing. Everyone who loved you knew the truth.”

  “I hope so.” Savannah patted her mother’s hand. “Let’s go call the kids.”

  ANGELA AND PJ would be home in two days. Savannah couldn’t wait to see them, to start over in the assuredness of her innocence, her name cleared and all doubt removed. But in the meantime she and Phil had two glorious days to themselves at the beach.