Cactus Island, A Stan Turner Mystery Vol 8

CHAPTER 45

  STUBBORN CLIENT

  On Monday morning I woke up at six and couldn't go back to sleep. Cheryl's trial was on my mind. There was so much yet to do. I got up, took a shower, put on my makeup, and picked out an outfit to wear. Bart was still asleep when I stepped out of the bathroom, so I went into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Bart finally got up at seven and joined me.

  "You're up early," he mumbled.

  "Yes, I've got a lot of work to do to get Stan ready for Cheryl's trial. I still can't believe I won't be trying the case myself. It's so unfair to pull me off it at the last minute."

  "I'm sorry, honey. I know how disappointed you are, but at least you can be there at Stan's side."

  "I sure hope Paul comes up with something useful. Right now we don't have much of a defense. We have to find some evidence that Martin Windsor is alive or we're sunk."

  "Paul will find something. He's a good detective and he knows how important it is to find a connection between Johansen and Martin Windsor. If it's there, he'll find it."

  "I'm sure it's there. There's no other explanation for all of this."

  Bart was being the perfect supportive husband who was doing his best to cheer me up. I kissed him goodbye and headed for the office. An unusually dense fog slowed traffic and made for a long tedious drive to work. As I drove into the parking garage I was surprised to see Stan's 300 ZX. It was unusual to see him there before 8:30, so I was anxious to talk to him to make sure everything was okay. He looked up when I walked into his office. I could tell something was wrong.

  "Paula. How are you feeling?"

  "Okay. You're here bright and early."

  "Right. I couldn't sleep. Peter and I had quite a weekend."

  Stan told me about his encounter with the frogman, the missing hour, and his visit to Dr. Gerhardt. It all seemed surreal. Aliens? Frogmen? Was this some kind of joke? I looked at the calendar—no, it wasn't April Fool's day. He must have sensed my skepticism as he went immediately on the defensive.

  "Listen, you can talk to Dr. Gerhardt. I'm not making this up. I wouldn't have told you any of this if we weren't partners and agreed to be honest with each other. Maybe it was a mistake."

  "No. No. But you've got to admit it's a little hard to swallow."

  "Yeah. I know that. That's why we can't tell anyone else about this. I just wanted you to know so you'd understand my trial strategy."

  "Which is?"

  "Well, Jodie and I have been going through your notes and the evidence, and right now Cheryl's going to be convicted, absent some kind of miracle."

  I nodded. "That's probably a fair analysis of the situation."

  "Right. So, we have to convince Cheryl to let us hypnotize her so she can remember what happened on the day Martin disappeared. Then we'll put her on the stand and she can tell the jury."

  "Do you know what happened?"

  "Not yet, but I'm guessing it had something to do with our alien invaders."

  "Oh, geez. Alien invaders. Come on. This is all too weird."

  "Paula. I'm not joking! I saw a frogman and the alien ship take off from Cactus Island. The blue lightning from the ship must somehow cause a short term memory loss to the people in its path. There must be a portable version of the device that the aliens use for smaller jobs, like eliminating the memory of witnesses at a crime scene."

  "It's just so hard to believe," Cheryl said.

  "I know. I'm sorry, but remember the first thing they taught us in law school—you can't change the facts."

  "Right. Facts are facts. I know. But do you think anyone will believe Cheryl? Won't they just think it's all an act?"

  "Maybe. But we have other witnesses who can corroborate her story."

  "Like who?"

  "Like Barbara Falk and Steven Caldwell. We can even call Doc Verner and the fishermen who saw the spaceship."

  "You're going to stir up all the science fiction and UFO fanatics again. It's going to get nasty."

  "I can't worry about that. Can you think of a better strategy?"

  I took a deep breath. As outlandish as the whole alien business was, if it was the truth, we had no choice but to use it to save Cheryl. I gave Stan a hard look. Was he telling the truth? I still couldn't believe he'd seen a spaceship, but I didn't think he'd lie to me either. Were he and Peter smoking pot out at the lake? I laughed to myself. I knew that hadn't happened. According to Rebekah, Stan hadn't smoked even a cigarette since he was 19.

  "All right," I said. "I'm not 100 percent sold on your theory, but I'll support you if you're sure that's the path you want to follow. Just tell me what you want me to do."

  Stan sighed. "Well, for starters you need to talk to Cheryl and start softening up her resistence to hypnosis. You've got to explain to her that Martin didn't want her to be hypnotized because he knew that her memory could be restored. He obviously doesn't want her to remember what actually happened."

  "I'll try, but I know she's scared. She'll be worried about Martin hurting her or the kids."

  "That's another reason to talk to her about hypnosis. If Martin is somehow monitoring her conversations, this might draw him out. I'm going to have Paul put her under 24–hour surveillance until the trial. If anyone makes a move to hurt her, we'll be all over them."

  "You're going to use her as bait?"

  "More or less, but we don't have any choice. If we do nothing, she goes to jail and she'll never see her children again."

  "All right. I'll go see her this afternoon. Keep your fingers crossed."

  "I will."

  I was dreading talking to Cheryl because I couldn't really tell her Stan's theory without totally freaking her out. Her mental state was delicate, there'd been no progress made in locating her children and she was facing a murder trial in just a few weeks.

  She opened the door and smiled faintly. Her pale face accentuated the dark circles under her eyes.

  "Hey, girl. How are you?"

  She shrugged. "As well as can be expected." She showed me in and we sat at the kitchen table.

  "Sorry about the short notice, but there's been some new developments that we need to discuss."

  "Sure. What is it?"

  "Did you follow the Steven Caldwell murder trial that my partner handled?"

  "Uh huh. It was all over the news."

  "Well, did you know the victim, Jimmy Falk, was Martin's son?"

  She looked away and didn't respond.

  "Did you?" I pressed.

  She nodded. "Yes, of course."

  "Well, why didn't you mention it to me? It could have been important."

  "How? Jimmy died in a car wreck a hundred miles away from here."

  "Doesn't it seem a little odd that father and son died on the same day?"

  "Martin isn't dead, is he?" Cheryl asked.

  "I don't know—died or disappeared—either way it's a hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

  Cheryl swallowed hard and looked away again. "I never thought about it that way."

  "I can't believe you didn't mention it to me. There must be some reason you didn't tell me."

  Cheryl sighed. "Martin told me never to tell anyone about his relationship with Barbara Falk. He was very clear on that subject."

  "So are you going to follow Martin's rules even if he's dead?"

  She looked down. "He's not dead and I'll never see the children if I betray him."

  "Have you heard from him? Is that why you're still scared of him?"

  "No! I don't need to hear from him. I know him. He doesn't make idle threats."

    Cheryl's complete stubbornness was starting to annoy me. How was I going to convince her to let herself be hypnotized when she was so scared of her husband? I finally decided I'd have to tell her about Stan's alien landing theory to get her to cooperate.

  "Cheryl. Do you remember telling me about not remembering your delivery?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, there might be a connection between that and the memory losses you suffered
the day Martin went missing and the day your children were kidnapped."

  "How so?"

  "We think your husband, or someone associated with him, has a device that can cause a person to lose a portion of their memory. Apparently your husband used that device to erase your memory of certain events."

  Cheryl squinted. "I didn't know that was possible."

  "I don't know how it works, but they used it on me in Tortola too, when I inquired about your offshore account. I ended up in jail."

  "What? Are you okay?"

  "Yes and no. I won't be your attorney at trial. Stan will have to defend you."

  I told Cheryl about what had happened in Tortola.

  "Why would Martin want to erase my memory?" Cheryl asked.

  "I don't know yet, but there is obviously something that he's hiding."

  "Like what?"

  "Like maybe, well . . . you know . . . he might not be from this world. I'm not totally convinced of this, but Stan believes it."

  Cheryl turned a shade paler. She looked away.

  "Has that possibility ever crossed your mind?"

  She shook her head. "No, of course not. That's absurd," she said tentatively.

  "Are you sure?" I pressed.

  "Well . . . I mean . . . the thought may have crossed my mind. . . . You know, one of those crazy notions you get, but I never seriously believed it."

   "What made you consider it?"

  She shrugged. "Well, lots of things. His paranoia about doctors for starters. He was always worried about getting into an accident or getting sick and being taken to a doctor without his knowledge and consent. He said it was because he thought most doctors were quacks and he didn't trust them, but I really think his fear was that he might be physically examined by a strange doctor. I often wondered what he was afraid a doctor would find."

  "Right. So that's why you always went to the same clinic for medical treatment including your pregnancies?"

  "Yes, the doctors there were the only ones Martin said he could trust."

  "What about the convenient memory losses?" I asked. "It must have upset you that you couldn't remember your deliveries."

  "I always thought it was just me. There were so many of times I couldn't remember things. I finally just accepted it as my own poor memory."

  "But now that it seems to be a regular occurrence and happens to others, what do you think?"

  "It is odd and kind of scary."

  "Wouldn't you like to know what happened during those missing hours? Doesn't it bother you that part of your life went by without you knowing it?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Well, Stan has been experimenting with this phenomenon with Dr. Gerhardt and they've been able to fill in some of those missing periods for several people."

  Her body became rigid. "Through hypnosis?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  She shook her head emphatically. "Martin said no hypnosis!"

  "I know, but Martin also took your children and stole all your money. You've got to help us out here, Cheryl."

  She shook her head and looked away. I could tell I'd hit another brick wall. Why wouldn't she help us? It defied logic. She wasn't the same woman who had strolled into my office ready to file for divorce and take her husband to the cleaners. She was terrified of Martin and I could only imagine what he had done to her to make her that way.

  When I told Stan that Cheryl was still refusing to consider hypnosis, he said we'd just have to find someone else to hypnotize. Alex came to mind, since he and I had witnessed the children's kidnapping, but I didn't figure he'd be too eager to help us out. I could have been hypnotized myself, but then I'd be a witness and couldn't help Stan with the trial. We had to find someone else, but who? It seemed we'd reached a dead end and Cheryl's defense seemed hopeless.