A Simple Lie

by Mary Bush

  Wearing an orange jailhouse jumpsuit, Colin relaxed in the chair. He possessed an air of arrogance, even in this situation. Thomas noticed that Colin’s hands were damp with sweat when the two exchanged greetings.

  The lawyer barked at Gavin as soon as they were seated. “You’d better not be jerking us around again. If you have something, say what it is.”

  “There’s no time like the present, then.” Gavin opened his folder and started. “Colin, did you know a Francine Donohue?”

  “Who?”

  Gavin repeated the name.

  “No.”

  “What about a Samantha Ritcher?”

  “No.”

  “Never met anyone with those names? Think carefully.”

  “No! I said I never heard of either of them before.”

  “Then can you explain to me why a Samantha Ritcher called you?”

  “I never had a call from her. I don’t know anyone by that name.” Colin didn’t even bother to look at the detective as he spoke.

  “I have Samantha’s phone records. There are three calls to your cell phone.”

  Colin responded dismissively, “It’s probably a wrong number, I get them all the time. Who the hell cares anyway?”

  “She died recently and may have a connection to your wife’s case.”

  “Jesus Christ! What does this have to do with me? I don’t know any Samantha Ritcher.”

  “Why would she be calling you?” This time the question was posed more forcefully.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know her. I told you, maybe it was a wrong number.”

  Warren spoke up. “The first call lasted two minutes and thirty-six seconds, the second, four minutes and thirteen seconds, the last one was almost five minutes. Most of my wrong numbers are over and done with in less than ten seconds. Why so long on the phone, and more than once? Were you helping her place the correct call each time?”

  “Yeah, I’m the goddamn information hotline.”

  “Cute. You’d better hold onto that sense of humor. It’ll win you friends when you’re locked away for the rest of your life for murder,” Warren said.

  “I didn’t kill anyone!”

  “Sure you didn’t. Your name just happens to be linked to several dead women, but you had no role in their death?” Gavin said.

  “What do you mean several dead women?” Colin’s lawyer asked.

  Gavin continued questioning Colin, ignoring his lawyer. “Have you ever been to the Eastville Projects, specifically the residence belonging to a Francine Donohue?”

  “I told you I have no idea who that is.”

  “She was victim number two. Jeanne Coleman was number one, Samantha Ritcher number three, and your wife was the fourth in the string of murders. Three of those women were dismembered and their teeth removed.”

  “I still don’t know who she is.”

  “Can you tell me why a gum wrapper with your DNA was found under this dead woman’s bed?”

  Colin stared in disbelief, not answering the question. Gavin was unwavering. “Colin, were you having an affair with Francine Donohue?”

  No answer again.

  Gavin continued. “Did you murder Francine Donohue?”

  This time Colin jumped up from the chair and began pounding on the table; wildly hitting his fists on the wood. “I’m not listening to this bullshit anymore!” Colin yelled. His lawyer grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down in his seat.

  “This is all circumstantial evidence. It doesn’t prove my client murdered these women. So, he talked to someone who called him. So, a gum wrapper was found. It’s garbage, literally. I can give you a million different explanations for all of this. Do you have anything else against my client?” the lawyer calmly asked.

  “Not yet,” Gavin said.

  Colin smiled smugly, composure regained at the not yet statement. “You have nothing real on me, or you would have done something more by now, something other than this fishing crap. I told you I didn’t know who those women were.” He turned his focus toward Thomas. “With my lawyer and you I should be out of here in time for dinner.”

  “That’s all well and good but I need more information before I decide if I will take your case,” Thomas said plainly. His cool response was a sharp contrast to the heated tension in the room.

  “What the hell do you mean ‘decide to take my case?’ I didn’t fly you here from Boston to shoot the shit.”

  “I said I would meet with you. I didn’t agree to anything beyond that.”

  “I’m offering you a lot of money. You’ll take my case,” Colin said. He sat back in the chair and folded his arms.

  “Listen carefully, Colin. Don’t be cocky with me. I know what your financial situation really is. I didn’t get on the plane without finding that out.” The words were icy and sharp, and meant to pierce straight through Colin and put him in his place. “Now, I will speak and I will tell you what I will or will not do. But first I will start this conversation off with what will happen to you. You will not only be charged with the murder of your wife but perhaps a couple of other people too. The DNA evidence against you is damning. Honestly, Detective Gavin doesn’t need more proof. What he already has against you is not trivial by any means, no matter what your lawyer says.”

  “It’s all circumstantial,” the lawyer stressed.

  “It’s also all damn concerning. Don’t you think?” He turned to Colin, addressing him pointedly. “New York declared the death penalty unconstitutional in 2004. And though you will not die by order of this state you will never walk out of one of its prisons alive if convicted of these crimes. As a presumed serial killer, with DNA evidence implicating you, I would think that someone in your predicament would be a little less… how shall I say this… ass-like.”

  Thomas’s words, “serial killer”, hit Colin hard. His face became ashen. He grabbed his head and pressed his fingers to his skull, growing increasingly despondent. The more Thomas talked the more real the situation seemed to become. Colin was finally taking this seriously.

  “Colin, I’m a busy man. I know the logistics of this case. I know full well the extent of the evidence against you. What I don’t know is, how is it possible that you’re innocent when everything points to the fact that you are not. I’ll know within the first two minutes of your answer to my question if I will take your case. So, don’t waste my time, and yours, on inconsequential or stupid matters,” Thomas said.

  Thomas Hayden had a lifetime of experience reading people. The speech, mannerisms and body language of those questioned usually let him know immediately if he believed someone or not. “Convince me as to why you are innocent. I don’t care that the judicial system likes it the other way around. To me, you’re guilty until I get some type of proof that shows otherwise. This is what I want to know right now and if you choose to waste my time with anything less, I’ll walk out of here taking any hope you have with me.”

  Colin spoke, his voice cracking, “I didn’t kill her or anyone else because I don’t kill people. What in the hell would that do for me?” He looked Thomas straight in the eye and didn’t move. “What would I have to gain from her death or anyone else’s? You want me to say it? I’ll say it. I’m a player. I use women and I get money from them. If they’re dead, I get nothing. That’s why I’m innocent.”

  Thomas placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward. He absorbed what Colin said and deliberated the decision to move further with this interview or not. He sat back in his chair, put his hand to his face and rubbed his chin. The room was silent, waiting for Thomas to say something. He finally spoke. “Okay. Now, tell me what you did the evening your wife was murdered.”

  “She had it all planned to ruin me financially. The house was in foreclosure and her surgery practice was worthless. She owed about five million. As her husband, I get half of what she owns. And owes. I’m also responsible for her debt. I was in for about 2.5 million, is what she told me,” Colin said. “She set this up. She wasn’t poor. Sh
e must have withdrawn the money from the account somehow, hidden it somewhere and then messed around with everything else. The mortgage, her practice… she wanted to make them worthless. She also said that she cancelled her malpractice insurance, that I was getting nothing from that either, but I didn’t believe her. Julia’s lawyer had just met with Lauren and they discussed settling the case.”

  “You said that the property was worthless. Is there any possibility that she was tricking you with this? That maybe she just wanted to scare you?” Thomas asked.

  “She showed me the bills. Collectors were sending her notices. That was real. That’s how she was going to get revenge on me. But she had the money hidden. I know she did.”

  “Didn’t that make you angry?” Jack asked.

  “Of course, I was angry, but I was also screwed at the moment, so I was worried.”

  “What happened next?” Thomas asked.

  “We talked. She was calm. I lied to her. I told her that I wanted to give our relationship another chance. I was hoping to string her along. If she thought I still loved her, she’d back off.”

  “How long did you stay with her?” Thomas asked.

  “About two hours, maybe a little more. I wasn’t looking at the clock. She was alive after I left. I swear she was alive when I left.”

  “There’s a partial of your fingerprint in her blood on the cabinet in the kitchen. If she was alive when you left, why was she bleeding while you were there?” Jack said.

  Colin looked down, studying his hands, locking and unlocking his fingers before he answered. “She cut herself. I was trying to help her. That’s how her blood got on me.”

  “How on earth did she cut herself badly enough to get her blood on you?” Jack’s tone didn’t hide the fact that he was skeptical.

  “I don’t know. It’s all such a blur. I was trying to get her into bed, you know, trying to get her to think I wanted her back. It almost worked. We were just about there when she pushed me away and freaked out. She said I was only acting and I really didn’t love her.”

  “At least she was perceptive,” Jack said. “Let’s get back to the blood. I asked you how she came to be bleeding.”

  “She ran into the kitchen saying what a fool she was. She was crying by the sink. I wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. All I could think about was what to say to calm her down. I didn’t even see her do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “She slit her wrist.” Colin paused. He placed his hand on his forehead, pulling back his hair.

  “Please continue,” Thomas prompted. His full attention on Colin.

  Colin took a deep breath. “She grabbed a towel to try to stop the bleeding. I didn’t even notice what she did until I saw the bloody towel. I tried to look at it but she wouldn’t let me. I reached for her arm but she pulled away. Blood was dripping everywhere. When I opened the drawer to get another towel, she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. I followed her, pounding for her to open up. After a few minutes she answered calmly, saying that she was okay and the cut wasn’t bad. When she came out of the bathroom her wrist was bandaged.”

  “Did you take a look at it?” Jack asked.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “She was a doctor, a surgeon. You want me to question her about how to put a bandage on? I stayed for a while after that. She calmed down and promised to see me the next day to talk more about this. She was alive when I left.”

  “You said that you stayed for at least two hours. You had to have done something else. What you described doesn’t account for two hours.”

  “Like I said, I wasn’t checking the clock.”

  “Do you know anyone who would want to harm your wife?” Thomas asked.

  Colin took his time, thinking for a minute. “She worked with some lunatics, but was mostly worried about her boss, Dr. Phillip Blythe. Julia was reviewing his cases and she found a lot of mistakes. She confronted him one time and he didn’t take it too well.”

  “What kind of mistakes did she find?” Thomas asked. Gavin’s full attention was on the conversation.

  “I don’t know. I left her right after that and didn’t talk to her anymore about it.”

  Thomas Hayden walked out of the prison not completely convinced of Colin’s innocence but intrigued enough to want to investigate further. He hadn’t had a media-worthy case in a while, and if nothing else, this would certainly give him a challenge.

  Jack questioned him on the way out of the jailhouse. “That’s very convenient, isn’t it? It’s a fairly easy explanation for how her blood got on him. Who can argue it? The only other witness is dead.”

  “Yes, too convenient. We’ll have to look into that. I think we also need to get a copy of Dr. DeHaviland’s financial records and her autopsy files—the ones that detail her review of her boss’s work.”

  “So, I’m assuming that we are going to take this case on?”

  “Yes, Jack, I am. It’s quite fascinating.”

  “Shouldn’t we go back in and let Colin know?”

  “No, let him sweat for a while. It’ll be good for him.”

  “Right, then. Where should we start?”

  “We need to talk to the people who knew Julia. Her murder is the center of all of this. She’s tied to Colin, the accused. We need to start here. And that’s going to be with Dr. Phillip Blythe.”

  18

  Val read Dr. Stedman’s autopsy notes and Howie’s report from the investigation at the scene.

  White male, age 25-35. Cause of death: Cerebral Hemorrhage. Manner of death: Accident. A broken bottle of Jack Daniels was found next to where he fell. And shortly thereafter, died. Blood Alcohol content was 0.22.

  So, the idiot fell and hit his head on the pavement after downing a staggering amount of liquor. How could someone be so stupid and end their life like this?

  She noticed the dead man had abrasions on his hands. It looked like he tried to stop his fall at least. What this person needed now was a name and this would be done through his dental records.

  Val had to remove the upper and lower jaws so she could perform the dental ID properly. On the table next to her sat an open textbook depicting the necessary steps on how to do this. She had no choice but to use the book. Hell, she never had to remove a set of jaws before. Howie’s help was rare these days. In fact, she hardly saw much of him at all. Dr. Blythe was continually assigning duties for him that never coincided with her schedule. Without Howie, she was at a disadvantage. How was she supposed to keep pace with Gwen Carmondy without his help and guidance? The simple fact was that she couldn’t.

  After Gwen’s arrival, only a few days ago, Val had been pretty much confined to the morgue to identify people by their teeth when no other means were available. Her job consisted of everything smelly, rotting, and labor intensive. As Howie predicted, she’d grown mostly accustomed to the odor and sights of decomposition and was now unaffected by even the worst decaying corpses. The maggots though, were still hard to handle. Luckily, this victim was pretty fresh and there was no need to worry about bugs. Today Val wore scrubs only, seeing no need for a Tyvek suit. She did have to work in the decomp room though, because this is where the dental equipment was kept.

  Periodically, Val glanced up at the door, hoping no one would come in and see her referring to a book. That’s all she needed right now, to look inexperienced and grossly incompetent, to the point of performing her duties on a learn as you go basis with a step-by-step guide in a textbook for a forensic dental procedure. According to her lie, Oliver Solaris recommend her for this job. Now, more than ever, she needed to be Gwen Carmondy’s equal, not some second-rate idiot.

  Val picked up a scalpel and made an incision from the corner of the dead man’s mouth towards his ear. She repeated this on the other side. The victim had been dead for about 18 hours and was in full rigor. She couldn’t even open his mouth enough to separate his upper and lower teeth, let alone get X-ray film in there. His face might as we
ll have been made out of concrete for all of the movement she was able to get out of the jaws. Removing them from the body was the only way to get the X-rays.

  Now that the slices were made, she placed her scalpel in the vestibule, the area inside the mouth between the gum tissue and the lip. She cut across, separating the bone from the lips and cheek. Val took another look at the open textbook. So far so good, her progress corresponded to the diagram.

  Next, she picked up a large pair of long-handled garden loppers. God, it was six weeks ago when she saw Dr. Chen using the same instrument on a decedent’s ribs. She’d never have thought a pruning tool would have so many uses in a morgue, let alone be the instrument of choice for cutting the bones. Val placed the blade into the area just under the nose on the upper jaw, the maxilla.

  Awkwardly, she stretched out her small arms as far as they would go, attempting to maneuver the large instrument. Gripping the handles and arms widely extended, she didn’t have enough strength to bring the ends of the loppers together. Jesus, Dr. Chen had made it look so easy with the ribs.

  Sweat started to form on her brow from the exertion and her arms began to ache from the pulling. Val glanced at the book again to make sure that she had the technique right. She jumped when the doors opened and Gwen came in. She stopped and stared.

  “You need to bring the handles closer together,” Gwen said. “Here, let me show you an easier way.”

  “I’m doing just fine. I can manage.” Val gritted her teeth and pulled again, desperate to hear the bone snap, desperate to accomplish this in front of Gwen. She grunted and pulled on the ends as hard as she could. After trying several times, she finally let the loppers drop, mostly out of sheer exhaustion.

  Gwen reached for the tool. She placed the long handles close together, only opening the blades wide enough to get them around the jaw. With a quick push, they snapped through the bone. “If the handles are too far apart, you won’t get any leverage.” She held the instrument in place and moved out of the way. “Here, give it try.”