Chapter 33
FROM BAD TO HOPELESS
It was February before I knew it—less than sixty days to Jimmy's trial. Unfortunately, I still hadn't been able to identify the pool man. All the leads that I had developed led nowhere. My best shot at creating reasonable doubt was Amanda's wannabe boyfriend, Phil Smart. He lived on the premises, had a crush on Amanda, and hated Don Baker. The fact he didn't have an alibi and acted like a jerk was a bonus. In my heart, though, I was worried about selling him as the killer to the jury. It was a big gamble.
While I continued to look for the illusive pool man, I decided it was time to develop my attack on the prosecution's case against Jimmy. It was about time to have a serious talk with the prosecuting attorney. The last time I had talked to him I was pissed off that the police were interrogating Jimmy without my presence. Wilkerson probably wouldn't be happy to hear from me but I had no choice but to initiate contact. I called the DA's office and asked for him. He was out so I left a message. Later that day he returned my call.
"You called," he said coolly.
"Right. Our trial date is fast approaching and I thought it was time for us to exchange witness lists and take a look at each other's evidence."
"Yeah. I suppose we gotta do it sometime."
"I think so."
"I'll get somebody working on it."
"I guess you know I used to work in your office."
"So I've been told. What made you go to the dark side?"
"The dark side? Not everybody you indict is guilty."
"The vast majority are. You should have learned that when you worked in this office."
"Maybe so, but it doesn't change the fact that they're all innocent until proven guilty."
"Yeah, right. Is your guy interested in cutting a deal, or not? I might be willing to withdraw our request for the death penalty if he comes clean before I have to waste any more time on this case."
His words cut me like a switchblade. Anger swept over me. I hated Wilkerson's presumptive attitude. He was so sure Jimmy was guilty and that he would squash me like a bug at trial. My head began to throb as adrenalin flooded my system. I'll show that son of a bitch!
"Well, that's very generous of you, but he happens to be innocent, so I'm going to have to decline."
He laughed. "Suit yourself, just trying to simply your life. I'll see you tomorrow."
I slammed the phone down. Stan was walking by and heard me cursing. He rushed in.
"What's wrong?"
"I just got off the phone with Wilkerson. He's an asshole."
Stan smiled. "Got you riled up, did he?"
I nodded. "I don't know why. He just rubbed me the wrong way. He's offering to withdraw his request for the death penalty if Jimmy confesses."
"Hmm. Well, you've got to tell Jimmy about the offer. I don't think he'll go for it, but you've got to tell him."
"I know. I will."
"You getting nervous about the big trial?" Stan asked.
I shrugged and rubbed the back of my aching neck. "I guess so. Up until now it's just been a fuzzy thought in the back of my mind—kind of like my wedding. It didn't seem real. Today suddenly, reality hit me like a Freightliner—I'm going to have to try this case in a few weeks."
Stan chuckled and walked around behind me. I wondered what he was up to. He put his hands on my shoulders and said, "I think you need a massage. You look like you're in pain."
He waited for my response. My pulse quickened.
"Sure, that would be wonderful," I replied.
Stan's fingers sent a jolt of excitement through me I hadn't expected. My tense muscles relaxed as his fingers moved expertly over my neck and shoulders. I moaned. He stopped abruptly.
"Feeling better," he said and moved quickly away.
"Yes, but don't stop. That feels so good."
"Well, I probably shouldn't be—"
I smiled. "It's okay. I won't sue you for sexual harassment—that is, if you get back here and finish your work."
"I would, but Bart—he might not—"
"You let me worry about Bart," I said, enjoying the moment immensely.
Stan finished massaging my neck and then made a hasty retreat. In a heartbeat he had totally changed my mood. How had he done that? Why did he have that effect on me? After contemplating that fact for a while, I decided I better cut short my psychoanalysis and get back to work.
The court had provided us a scheduling order that required us to exchange witness lists and evidence fifteen days before trial. I had only a few more days to comply with this order. I started outlining Wilkerson's case against Jimmy so I could figure out how to poke holes in it. I made a list of the facts that pointed to him as the killer.
1. Betty's unexpected divorce filing
2. The argument on Saturday
3. Jimmy's lack of an alibi
4. Jimmy's use of cocaine and heavy drinking
5. Jimmy's blackouts and memory loss
6. Jimmy's temper
Wilkerson would contend that Jimmy loved Betty and blamed the divorce on Don. The killing was an act of revenge and punishment for Don ruining Jimmy's life. Or he might say that Jimmy loved Amanda and killed both of them in a jealous rage. Or he could say it was a combination of both factors. With Don out of the way all he had to do were patch things up with Betty and he'd control the entire Baker empire.
The thought that maybe the announcement of the divorce was done to provoke a confrontation between Don and Jimmy surfaced again. Betty certainly had much to gain by either one of them killing the other. No matter who survived such an encounter, they would be charged with murder leaving the Baker fortune to her and her mother. Since her mother didn't have the ability or desire to manage the family fortune, it would be left up to Betty. But would she kill her father? I could see her killing Amanda. That made sense, since Jimmy and Amanda had been lovers. Betty killing her father, though, just didn't feel right. Jimmy would never let me play that card anyway, for fear he'd lose Betty forever.
The next day I dropped by the DA's office and met with Wilkerson. I had gotten over my anger and tried to be civil with him. He gave me copies of several forensic reports. One of the reports indicated Jimmy's fingerprints had been found in the bedroom of the condo where the murder took place. That wasn't a big surprise since I knew he went there a lot. What I didn't expect was what Wilkerson claimed was the murder weapon—a hunting knife that he said belonged to Jimmy. Wilkerson claimed it had been found in a dumpster a half mile from the condo. I asked him how they figured it was Jimmy's and his reply was that, according to Margie Baker, Don had given it to him as a birthday present.
I left Wilkerson's office with a sinking feeling—I had stepped in a snake pit and didn't know how to extricate myself without suffering a lethal bite. When I got home, Bart was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper. He got up when he saw me and we embraced. After he got us both a drink, we sat at the bar and talked. I told him about Jimmy's knife, the fingerprints, and the blood.
"The knife doesn't prove anything. If Jimmy did it, why would he use his own knife for godsakes? He's not that stupid. You can just say the killer wanted to make it look like Jimmy did it."
"Yeah, but if it was a crime of passion, which is the way Wilkerson will paint it, Jimmy wouldn't have necessarily thought it through. Or, if he was on one of his cocaine induced episodes, he might not have been lucid enough to worry about the ownership of the weapon he was going to use."
"So, either way it's all speculation. Use that angle. Wilkerson's got his theory and you've got your theory—both are plausible. The fact is you're both speculating and there is no proof as to what actually happened—no witnesses, hence, reasonable doubt."
"Thank you, honey, for trying to cheer me up. The truth is, and you know it, my case sucks."
Bart nodded. "Oh, well. You win som
e, you lose some."
"No. Damn it," I said, slamming my fist on the bar. "I can't lose this case! I won't lose this case!"
Bart grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently. "Come on, honey, relax. You'll figure something out. I know you will."
I smiled and pulled Bart over to me. We kissed. "So, let's get something to eat and then you can show me how to relax."
"That works for me," Bart replied.
After that I forgot about Jimmy Bennett, Rob Wilkerson, Stan Turner, Judge Wingate, and everyone else in my life. I thought only of my fiancé Bart Williams. I hadn't thought about it before, but my name would soon be changing to Paula Williams. Or should I leave it as Waters? I didn't want to hurt Bart's feelings by not taking his name, but I had created a reputation under the name of Paula Waters. I thought about that for a moment and then it occurred to me—I might need to change my name after Wilkerson got through with me.
Black Monday, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 7 Page 33