Josie dropped the hand holding the check. She twisted her neck, eyed the stack of papers, and acted out her thoughts.
"Two odd things happened in sequence. The Greenwood Home received a request for medical records from Lexi dated five days before Tim died. The administrator blamed it on a secretary or on Lexi mistaking the date on the letter. Fine," her head swiveled back to Jude. "I would accept that. I would. However, I would not accept it in conjunction with the deliberate act of cancelling a check. You have to call the bank to cancel a check, Jude."
"And then you write another one. It's a no brainer." Jude stood. He picked up his drink. The ice tinkled in the glass.
"I don't think so. What time is it?" Josie strained to see the clock on the desk.
"Four-thirty," Jude announced. Josie sat up, rustling through the papers around her.
"Where's the phone, Jude? I'll call Greenwood. You get on the other line, and give the bank a call. I want to know if Lexi cancelled this over the phone, in person or online. I also want to know if they still have the records of her other transactions and if they can tell me if this amount was reissued to Greenwood."
Josie found the phone but hesitated before she dialed. Jude was still lounging in the doorway, sipping his drink, looking like he felt sorry for her.
"Come on," she ordered. "There's still time. Here's the check number, Jude. It's not like your place, you know. I don't have a dozen associates to help."
"You sure you want me to do this?" Jude asked.
"Stop with the twenty questions. I'm tired. Hannah's tired. I imagine you're tired, too. Please, just call the bank before they close. Please."
"Okay, but I could find out that Archer was cleaning house and making plans," he warned. "Archer could have signed her name, sent the letter and cancelled the check."
"Then he did, Jude, and I'll work around it. Defense attorneys do it all the time." Josie's fingers hovered over the dial pad. "I'm not kidding myself, Jude. I won't be okay if it comes down to Archer, but right now I don't care what we find. I just want to know who cancelled this check and when they did it. Now, please, go call."
"All right," Jude said softly. "All right."
When she didn't change her mind, Jude took the check and folded it but before he could do as she asked, Hannah appeared. She held up the printouts and said:
"Hey, you guys, I think this is something important."
CHAPTER 38
Josie was awash in a wave of peace. It had come over her the minute she looked at the 'something important' Hannah had found in David Gibson's transferred files. Though she did not know the true importance of the e-mail, she understood that it was significant. She made the contact that night, responding to the e-mail, waiting for a response in return and, finally, the next morning Josie actually spoke to the woman who knew what had happened to Timothy Wren. The answer to what happened to Wilson Page would take a bit longer, but it would come.
In the last week Josie and Jude traveled to a small town seventy miles outside the city limits of Los Angeles. They had met the woman, watched her children run in and out of the house, sipped the tea she had offered and listened to her story about Pacific Park. Hers was not the last piece of the puzzle; it was the first. All the little bits and pieces of motive, opportunity and means that had passed through Josie's hands, entered her mind, and created questions in her heart and soul, fell into place. Until that moment, the information they had was like so many blue pieces of a cardboard puzzle. All were meaningless until put together properly in order to create a glorious and detailed sky.
For five long nights, Josie and Jude put their heads together and laid out the evidence, followed the trail and kept their own counsel. Archer was kept in the dark; Colin was not contacted. Hannah walked on eggshells. Max watched as the two worked feverishly. When they finished, when they had the forensics report, when they had confirmed who had cancelled the check and who had requested the medical records and who had been in Wilson's apartment, Josie called Ruth Alcott and requested a meeting.
She was put on the calendar the next day. Josie had hoped for the next hour but she took what was offered. The night before the meeting, Josie pretended to sleep. She kept her eyes closed and her breathing steady to fool Hannah. In recent days the girl had taken to looking in on her not once or twice, but six or seven times before she was convinced Josie was okay. When Hannah's door remained closed, Josie left the house and walked to the Strand. The Mermaid Restaurant was locked up tight in the wee hours. Burt was long gone home. The town slept, sheltered from the wet cold of the Hermosa night. Only Josie was out.
She put up the hood on her sweatshirt, and walked north toward no particular destination. She looked at nothing and, yet, was aware of everything: the halo of mist surrounding the street lights, the silence that was broken by the sound of waves up close and sirens in the distance in another city. The ocean smelled of salt and creatures. It rolled in and touched the sand as it always had then rolled away again as it always had. She passed the pier and kept her eyes forward. Her sweatshirt hood blinded her to the long desolate stretch of concrete. If she looked, Josie would think seriously of going to the end and walking right off. It would be better than facing Archer with what she knew; it would be better than staying silent and living with what she knew.
And yet. . . .
There was this peace when she stood in front of Archer's old pink building that once belonged to Lexi and before that to Colin. It was November now; full-blown winter by the beach and Josie let thoughts drift through her mind like the wispy morning fog.
Josie thought about mothers: her own, Hannah's, Lexi. Josie couldn't help but think of Lexi and the way she loved her son and how Archer never could. He just never could and that failing, in the end, was at the very core of what had gone wrong.
Josie thought of Jude Getts. He had been so kind when all was said and done. Josie appreciated that. She appreciated him. There were moments when she wondered what they could have been together if things had been different. Then those moments were gone. Soon Jude would be gone, too.
And there was Hannah, wise beyond her years. She wasn't surprised by the truth. She understood that underlying passions led to unspeakable acts. She had put her arms around Josie and Josie had let her. It embarrassed her to think of it now. She wished she could have told Hannah how much she appreciated the effort. Instead, Josie stayed in that girl's arms for no more than a minute but it was a moment unlike one she had ever experienced. She would have liked to share it with her own mother. But Hannah had been there, Emily wasn't, and Josie had stood in Hannah's embrace, unable to say . . .
"Josie. Josie."
Impatiently, Ruth called to Josie. It took a minute but finally Josie composed herself and apologized with a curt 'sorry' to the people around the conference table. She shot a glance over her shoulder. Roger McEntyre looked back, his expression a mix of curiosity and admiration. She knew the reason for this meeting had piqued his curiosity but what did he admire? The answer didn't matter. Josie didn't care. He was here, as were Ruth and Jude, and that was all that was important.
"I'm ready."
Josie pushed in the videotape. There was a click and a mechanical sigh as it settled itself.
"This video was shot by Mrs. Michael Tronowski. She and her husband and their children were behind Archer, Lexi and Timothy Wren as they waited in line for the Shock & Drop on the day of Tim's death."
Enough said.
It was show time.
Mrs. Tronowski was a decent videographer. The camera was steady, lingering where it should, panning over the crowd when she was bored, focusing and closing in tight on anything she found interesting. Mostly Mrs. Tronowski found her children interesting but Lexi, Tim and Archer were caught in every frame. Archer's impatience with Tim's antics was barely concealed. Lexi offered her son water, candy, and a hug. He pulled away. Archer grabbed Tim's arms. They could see him speaking harshly to the boy.
"P
lay that again," Ruth directed.
Josie did as Ruth asked. They all watched Archer discipline Tim, holding the boy's arms tightly to his side, Archer's face turning scarlet with irritation. Ruth looked smug as if this was proof that she had the moral high ground. Dutifully, Josie played the scene twice then moved on.
"I can show you this next part but it's disjointed. Mrs. Tronowski thought she turned off the camera when she hadn't.
The high whine of fast-forwarded filled the room then the tape began to play again. The first frames caught the shuffle of feet. They heard a jumble of sounds: a garble of voices: the child closest to the camera asked to go to the bathroom, the woman said it was too late and, finally, Mrs. Tronowski's motherly cheer rallied the troops as they inched toward the Shock & Drop. The camera panned the line.
We're almost there. One. . .three. . .eight more. . .
She counted the people in front of them. There was a redheaded girl making out with her dark skinned boyfriend, a big, bald man escorting three children, and there was Archer. He had his hands in his pockets, and was disinterested in everything. Lexi and Tim stood behind him.
Lexi's arm was around her son's waist. Her head lay against his shoulder. Suddenly Tim rolled away from his mother; his head lolled sideways then back. For a split second, his unfocused eyes looked directly at Mrs. Tronowski. His arms hung down loosely even as his body jumped with involuntary tremors and twitches. Lexi pulled him back to her and, as she did so, she looked directly at the camera, too. Lexi looked raw and hard. She turned away when she realized the camera was on her. Tim jumped once, his head did that wave movement, and his legs dipped so that he seemed to be collapsing. Lexi whispered something to him and clutched him tight. She held him up, that big boy.
Her big boy.
It was their turn at the Shock & Drop.
Eric Stevens was on tape, motioning them forward. Archer spoke to him. Eric shook his head. Archer put a hand up. He moved Eric out of the way without any real force and tended to Lexi's son. Archer latched the safety harness without ever looking at Tim. He tested it and was satisfied. Mrs. Tronowski tired of the people in line and turned her camera up, focusing on the Shock & Drop.
Oh, look.
Archer, Lexi and Tim came into view.
So high.
They were almost at the top. A long way. Mrs. Tronowski hit a button and the camera adjusted for a close up.
So fun.
Lexi touched Tim's face. She said 'I love you'. All three jolted as the platform reached the top, engaged and then. . .
Oh, My God! Oh, My God!
Recording a memory, Mrs. Tronowski caught a murder on tape.
Shooting straight up, her vertical view was of Tim and Lexi and Archer. From that angle, her camera caught what Pacific Park's horizontal camera had not. Yes, Archer's hand shot out and grabbed at Tim's harness. Yes, Tim's hands came down on top of Archer's. It was hard to tell how much force Tim used, or whether Archer was scratched, or whether Tim, in the state he was in, was able to make a good faith effort to save himself. So much was unclear except for one thing: Each of them knew who released the safety on Tim's harness. It was Lexi.
Her hand had shot out and pulled back almost before Archer could react. This was what broke Josie's heart. A mother – Tim's mother – had sacrificed her son in one, quick, definitive movement and the implication of all that entailed sent a chill through the room.
"Oh, Jesus," Ruth breathed.
Josie played it again and couldn't shake the feeling that watching this was like looking up a woman's skirt. Straight on all you saw was the skirt; looking up you saw the underpinnings, the forbidden stuff, and the titillating reality of the human form. Mrs. Tronowski had lifted the skirt of Lexi's psyche and revealed the desperation of the human spirit: a dying mother so terrified that her son would be alone after her death that she sent him on before her. They would be together in heaven. God would not blame a mother for taking care of her child. God would not be that cruel.
Lexi could not look at what she had done; Archer watched because he could not believe what had happened. It was a matter of perspective: moral, physical, and psychological. The perspective of one silent witness over another; one camera telling the truth it recorded, the other telling the truth as it was.
"Jesus," Ruth said again and then cleared her throat. Back in character, her voice bold now. "So it was a mercy killing."
"No it wasn't," Josie said flatly as she rewound the tape. "Lexi committed premeditated murder."
"The woman was dying," Ruth argued, unwilling to point the same finger of guilt at a woman and mother that she had at Archer. "She was worried about her kid. Her mind was gone. Tim wasn't in any great shape himself. It was a mercy killing."
Josie punched eject and the tape came to her like a well-trained dog. She held it against her middle as if to keep sickness away.
"She knew exactly what she was doing," Josie said again as she looked across the table and gave a head's up. "Jude."
His coat was unbuttoned and, when he stood, it fell open so that the flash of the silk lining could be seen. Today he wore a tie the color of blood. His breast pocket was glued to his shirt by starch and a meticulous maid. His suit was black. It was Jude in all his glory and, yet, it wasn't. His expression was guarded so that no one would see the deep and enduring sadness this exercise had caused him. Josie and Jude had talked, argued and speculated but, in the end, they had come to the same conclusion: love had gone terribly awry and people they cared about had been caught in the wake of one woman's premeditated action. Wilson was dead; Archer was close to losing life as he knew it. Jude handed everyone an overview of the facts. They would leave no question that the victims were the people they loved.
"The killing was premeditated, and carried out despite the fact that Tim Wren was generally in good health. Lexi killed her son because she was arrogant enough to believe that, without her, his life wasn't worth living."
Jude looked at Josie, saw she was settled and let her take over.
"Our independent autopsy showed that the problem with Tim's heart was manageable," Josie began. "For all intents and purposes he was healthy and could live a long life. Doctor Chow could make no decision regarding the quality of that life, but that was not for him or Lexi to say.
"Lexi requested Tim's medical records be released to her five days before his death. They were sent and subsequently destroyed."
There was a rustle of pages as everyone followed Josie's lead and turned to the next page.
"Page two," she intoned. "Three days before Tim's death, Lexi received a form letter from the Greenwood Home and the attached check. A stop payment had been issued seven days before that. We can document a pattern of payment for Tim's care until that day. When Lexi could, she paid in advance for fear that Tim would somehow suffer if she were ever in arrears. Yet, on this date, Lexi deliberately stopped payment on the check that would have assured Tim's care for the next three months because she knew he would not be returning to the Greenwood Home.
"Page three," again the rustle of paper. "A report on the water bottle we found in the bag Lexi carried that day shows Phenobarbital is evident. That is the same drug that was found in Tim's system when he died. The drug subdued him during a forty-five minute wait so he wouldn't make a scene. The doctors believed Tim did not understand cause and effect, but Lexi knew better than to assume. She medicated her son as a precaution. If he had struggled or fought her off, Archer, at the very least, would have known what she was trying to do. We have the bottle from Lexi's bag, a Polaroid of her holding that bottle as she stood next to her son that day and Mrs. Tronowski's video that shows Lexi making Tim drink from that bottle at least twice.
"Page four," Josie went on. "A copy of a list Lexi wrote. Please note that she carefully marked off everything that she had done the day of Tim's death, even going so far as to write 'the end' as the final postscript. Certainly, there is no greater evidence of her premedita
tion."
Josie turned the pages back. She clasped her hands atop them and looked at Ruth Alcott.
"We were working backwards. All the little pieces of information on Lexi and Tim made no sense until we had Mrs. Tronowski's tape showing a different angle of the incident. Once we had that, everything else fell into place. You don't have a case against Archer. You never really did."
"We indicted on good faith," Ruth objected.
"You indicted because someone put a bug in your ear." Josie had no trouble with the accusation. "You indicted because it was sensational and John Cooper gave his blessing to help out an old friend and you couldn't resist something as juicy as this."
"We'll drop the charges; your client will be out this afternoon." Ruth pushed back her chair, unwilling to take the blame for this mistake. "But make no mistake. I do not have the time to indict people just for the fun of it and I don't do favors, even for the DA. Indicting your client was a mistake – a bad one, but a mistake nonetheless."
"Then maybe you should rectify it," Josie suggested. "Investigate Pacific Park. They are the ones that used you, and Mr. McEntyre should be the first one you look at."
"What's she talking about?" Ruth snapped, as she looked Roger's way. "Mr. McEntyre?"
"I don't know." Roger answered.
"Then let me fill you in. I'm talking about obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence and, if our eyewitness and the fingerprint evidence hold up, we are also talking about the murder of Wilson Page. Pacific Park is knee deep and I think it starts at the top," Josie said.
"Isaac Hawkins knows nothing about security issues," Roger answered without a trace of emotion.
"What are you talking about?" Ruth demanded, but Roger only had eyes for Josie. He dared her to lay it out and she obliged.
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