Second Chair, A Stan Turner Mystery, Vol.4

  Chapter 13

  The Sleep of Death

   

  Snake's refusal to tell me about his wild ideas bothered me. Why was he so secretive? It didn't make any sense. Whatever it was I was too busy to worry about it. So far the Wiggins investigation had gone nowhere. I wondered what to do next. I finally decided to talk to the police detective assigned to the case, Paul Delacroix. Jodie got him on the phone for me.

  "I was just wondering if I could take a look at your witness statements and any reports you generated from the investigation of Bobby Wiggins's death. I'd like to look at the autopsy report too."

  "There wasn't an autopsy report," he said.

  "What? Why not?"

  "Mrs. Wiggins was quite emphatic that she didn't want one and technically Mr. Wiggins died of natural causes at a private home so it wasn't required by law.”

  "Damn, I just assumed there'd be one."

  "No. So why do you want to see this stuff anyway?"

  "I've been sued by Bobby's widow and I want to see if there is anything in your reports that might help me defend myself."

  "Oh. I don't think there is but you're welcome to take a look at them. When would you like to come by?"

  "Today if I can. I'm starting a murder trial tomorrow."

  "Oh, yeah. We've got a detail protecting your family."

  "Right."

  "There are a lot of weird-ass people out there these days. Okay, I'll try to get everything together. Come by between four and five."

  "Fine, thanks."

  The last thing I needed to be doing on the eve of Sara Winter's trial was wading through two dozen witness statements and several police reports. Unfortunately I didn't have the luxury of waiting. The judge in my civil trial had already issued a scheduling order and the discovery deadlines imposed weren't that far off. I knew my insurance defense counsel wouldn't be doing anything anytime soon as he couldn't scratch his ass without permission from his client. If anything was going to happen it was up to me to make it happen and time was of the essence.

  Detective Delacroix escorted me to an empty office to look through the evidence. I started with the witness statements. The one common thread in the reports was that Bobby had been doing some heavy drinking that night. That interested me since his drinking might have been more responsible for his fall than an icy sidewalk. Of course, I could get blamed for letting him drink too much so I wasn't sure that would help.

  Frustrated, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. I felt like I was missing something. It was Bobby’s tone of voice when he asked if he could see me on Monday that really bothered me. He was worried. And that wasn't like the cool, fun loving Bobby Wiggins I had known and grown to love over the years. He was scared about something, and I sure as hell wanted to find out what it was. In all likelihood it wouldn't be relevant to my defense, but then again it could be my salvation.

  After I was satisfied I'd thoroughly reviewed everything the police had in their file, I thanked Detective Delacroix and left. That night I mentioned to Rebekah that there hadn't been an autopsy report.

  "I can't believe that," she said. "They're supposed to do an autopsy in all accidental deaths. Marleen must have put up one hell of a stink to prevent them from doing it."

  "Yeah, you would think she would want to know for sure what caused Bobby's death," I said.

  "Not necessarily, the only thing an autopsy could do is possibly undermine her personal injury claim. Why take a chance on that. She figures you're a rich lawyer with lots of insurance so why not cash in."

  I shook my head. "I always liked Marleen. I thought she was a kind and decent person. I just can't believe she'd do this to us."

  "She was nice to us just as long as you were sending Bobby business but she really didn't give a shit about us, obviously. You are so good to people and now you see how much it's appreciated."

  "A lot of my clients do appreciate what I do for them," I protested.

  "Yeah, like Rob Parker."

  I laughed. "Yeah, right."

  A vision of Joanna Winburn popped into my head. There was one client who appreciated my work. I didn't dare share that bit of information with Rebekah, however. Over the weekend I let Bobby Wiggins go and concentrated on the preparation for trial on Monday.

  On Monday morning I was wide awake by 5:00 a.m. Sarah's trial started at 10 and the adrenalin level in my body was so high my eyes were wide open and my mind was racing over every detail of the case. Rebekah was awakened by my restlessness and rolled over and put her arms around me.

  "Hey Honey, relax. The trial is going to go very well. I feel really good about it."

  "You're lying. You think she's guilty just like the press and everybody else. You're just trying to make me feel better."

  "Okay, maybe so, but I'm sure when they hear your side of the story they'll keep their minds open to the possibility that she's innocent."

  "I hope so for Sarah's sake,” I said. “I really do think she is innocent."

  "As you've said many times, you've just got to trust the jury system. It's not perfect, but it's the best and most reliable legal system in the world."

  "Did I say that?"

  "I think so."

  "Well, I can't sleep, I'm going to go jog."

  Beauty, who had been asleep on the floor next to me, got up, stuck her nose in my face and began licking it. I pushed her nose away and gave her a few pats.

  "No, you're not." Rebekah said. "There's a maniac out there who's already tried to kill you."

  "Oh, he was just trying to scare me. He wouldn't hurt me."

  "You don't know that."

  "I don't, but if he tries, Beauty here will protect me," I said.

  "Yeah, right."

  "Well, then I'm going up to the library and work on my voir dire."

  Rebekah rolled back over and replied, "Okay, I'll fix breakfast in a few minutes."

  I put on a T-shirt and a pair of shorts and Beauty and I went out front to get the newspaper. On the way back in I noticed there was an envelope taped to the front door. I pulled it off and went upstairs to my library, my office away from the office. It was equipped with a typewriter, telephone and all the other items necessary to conduct business. In addition there was a TV, stereo and an overstuffed chair to make working at home a little more palatable. I sat down and opened the envelope. The following handwritten message appeared:

   

  "HE THAT IS BLINDED BY THE BEAST AND NURTURED BY THE SERPENT SHALL SLEEP THE SLEEP OF DEATH. IF ANY MAN WORSHIP THE BEAST AND HIS IMAGE, THE SAME SHALL DRINK OF THE WIND OF THE WRATH OF GOD WHICH IS POURED OUT WITHOUT MIXTURE INTO THE CUP OF HIS INDIGNATION; AND HE SHALL BE TORMENTED WITH FIRE AND BRIMSTONE IN THE PRESENCE OF THE HOLY ANGELS. REPENT, FOR HE SHALL COME ON THEE AS A THIEF, AND THOU SHALT NOT KNOW WHAT HOUR HE SHALL COME UPON THEE. AND THE INNOCENT WHO CLING TO HIM SHALL ALSO BE THROWN INTO THE BOTTOMLESS PIT. DOOMSAYER."

   

  I picked up the telephone and dialed a special number given to me by the Dallas Police department and reported the receipt of the message. A Sergeant Clark took the call and said he would be right over to take a look at it.

  I put down the phone and examined the message further. The more I stared at it the more outraged I became. I wished I could somehow send a message back to Doomsayer and give him a piece of my mind. As I waited for the call from the police, Beauty got up and began whining.

  "Got to do some business, huh? Come on, I'll let you out."

  I went downstairs and let Beauty out the back door. Then I walked back into the kitchen and noticed Rebekah in her shear black nightgown making breakfast. She looked so sexy I was drawn to her. I came up from behind and slid my hands underneath her nightgown and began fondling her breasts.

  "Hey, if you wanted sex you should have done something about it last night when we went to bed."

  "I was too tired to do anything but sleep. Now I'm rested and full of energy. . . . How about a quickie?"

  "Stan Turner, wha
t am I going to do with you? You got a murder trial in just a few hours and you suddenly get amorous."

  "Just seeing your cute little butt when you bent over to get the frying pan out, turned me on."

  Rebekah turned around and smiled at me. Then she put her arms around me and gave me a passionate kiss. "All right, but you better make it fast."

  I pulled Rebekah's lips to mine and began caressing her tongue. Suddenly I heard a horrible whining sound from the backyard.

  "What's that?!" I said.

  "It sounds like Beauty," Rebekah replied.

  I rushed outside and saw Beauty lying on the ground shaking violently.

  "Beauty, what's wrong? What's wrong with her?" I screamed.

  "She's convulsing!" Rebekah replied.

  "What should we do?"

  "There's a 24-hour emergency animal clinic on Custer Road. I'll drive, you carry Beauty."

   "Okay."

  I picked up Beauty and started walking toward the garage. She continued to shake and it was all I could do to hold on to her. Suddenly she became limp in my arms.

  "Oh no, she's not moving. Come on, hurry Rebekah!"

  Rebekah didn't move but just stared at me.

  "Come on, let's go."

  "She's dead, Stan. Can't you see that? She's dead."

  "No, she can't be. She was fine a minute ago."

  "Did you give her that piece of meat?"

  "What piece of meat?"

  Rebekah pointed to a half-eaten piece of raw meat on the ground.

  "I didn't give her anything."

  "Then how did it get here?"

  "Oh God, someone poisoned her. What kind of sick person would do something like that?"

  Just then Reggie and Mark came rushing out of the house. "What's all the noise? What happened?"

  Rebekah intercepted them and gently pushed them back toward the house. "Go back inside. You don't want to see this.”

  "Why? What's wrong with Beauty?" Reggie persisted.

  "Somebody poisoned her! She's dead, honey, I'm sorry. . . . Now get in the house!"

  "What? . . . No. . . . Not Beauty. Can't you take her to the vet? Maybe she's just unconscious."

  "No honey, she's already dead, it's too late."

  Reggie began to cry. Mark, horrified, ran back in the house. Rebekah said. "Who would do such a thing? Was it that Doomsayer bastard?! I hate him!"

  "I don't know," I replied, "but if I ever find out who did this I'm going to shove the rest of that steak down his throat!"

     "You better call the police, Stan. That maniac may be lurking around the neighborhood. No telling what else he'll do."

  “I already called them about the note. They should be on their way. I'll go out front and wait for them.”

  Before long two police cars turned onto our cul de sac. They pulled up in front of the house and Sgt. Robards got out of one of the cars and walked briskly up to the front door where I was waiting.

  "You got another note, huh?"

  "Yeah, and someone just killed our dog."

  "Oh sweet Jesus! You're kidding?"

  "It was Doomsayer. I’m sure."

  "What makes you think that?"

  I handed Sgt. Robards the threatening letter. "This was taped to the front door. He obviously left the message and then went into the backyard and left the meat. If you read the message carefully, I think you'll agree he's threatening my family. Killing Beauty was just a teaser. Next time it will be Rebekah or one of the children."

  I noticed the children sitting on the front porch crying. Rebekah was trying to console them. I walked over and sat down.

  "I'm so sorry kids, I know you guys loved Beauty. I loved her too."

  "Why did you have to take this case?" Rebekah said. "God is punishing you for defending that baby killer."

  "That's nonsense. This is the work of a sick person, some kind of mental case who has lost all sense of reality."

  Reggie began to cry again so I put my arm around him and held him tightly. Rebekah shook her head.

  "I hope you're going to withdraw from this case now."

  "What? I can't do that. I can't give in to a maniac whose trying to deny Sarah a fair trial."

  "What are you going to do, wait for him to kill you or one of us?"

  "I won't let that happen."

  "Sure you won't, like you didn't let him kill Beauty."

  I shook my head and walked away. Sgt. Robards was writing down a message coming over the radio. When he was done he walked over to us.

  "We got a report back on the first message from the FBI."

  "What did they find out?"

  "Not much. Doomsayer got the letters from Life Magazine. He must have worn gloves while he cut them out as there are no fingerprints on them. The glue was a commonly used one available at almost any grocery or convenience store. The only definitive information gleaned from the message was that Doomsayer is probably a male and he's right handed."

  "How did they figure that out?"

  "From the way he cut out the letters I guess."

  "Hmm. That's interesting but I'm not sure it's much help."

  "Well, maybe your luck will change once the trial starts," Sgt. Robards replied.

  "I sure hope so."

  I looked at Rebekah and said, I've got to get to the office pretty soon."

  "You're going to leave us here alone after what happened?" Rebekah said shaking her head in disbelief.

  "What choice do I have? I've got a damn murder trial starting at 10:00 a.m. . . . I'll ask the judge for a continuance, but I'm not sure he'll give it to me. He was pretty adamant that the trial was going to start today."

   I swung by the office to pick up my briefcase and files. When I walked in, I was surprised to see Jodie sitting at my desk.

  "What are you doing here?"

  "Trying to figure out what happened to your trial notebook."

  "What, it was right on my desk last night when I left."

  "I know. I was going to work on it some more before you came in but it disappeared. I thought maybe you had it."

  "Shit, what else can go wrong?"

  "I'm so sorry, Stan. I never dreamed anyone would break into your office and do something so brash."

   Damn it! I just can't believe this."

  "I'll try to reconstruct it for you, as best I can, this morning. You probably won't need it until tomorrow anyway."

  When I pulled into the courthouse parking lot, I could see picketers out front so I entered through a side entrance undetected. As I walked down the hallway to the courtroom, I was quickly joined by several reporters.

  "Mr. Turner, is your client ready for her day in court?"

  "Yes, she's ready to prove her innocence."

  "Has she regained her memory?" another reporter asked.

  I stopped. "Yes, she has somewhat. She doesn't remember everything but she does remember a lot more than she did."

  "Is it true you're going to plead temporary insanity based on the assertion that your client is possessed by demons?"

  I smiled at the reporter and shook my head."Give me a break. Okay, gentlemen, that's all. I've got to confer with my co-counsel. Thank you."

  I entered the courtroom and was relieved that Snake was already sitting up at the counsel table. Having such an experienced criminal defense attorney on my side felt good. I doubt I’d of been able to get out of bed if I knew I’d be in court all alone.

  "I heard about your dog," Snake said.

  "Can you believe it? What a chicken-shit thing for someone to do," I said.

  "I know."

  "He stole my trial notebook too."

  "What?"

  "After he left a threatening note at the house he went to the office, somehow he gained access and then stole my trial notebook."

  "No, you're not serious? Did you lose everything?"

  "Pretty much."

  "Are Rebekah and the kids okay?"

  "Yeah, but they're devastated by losing Beauty."
>
  "I can imagine. . . . Do you want to move for a continuance?"

  "I'd like to get a continuance, but then we'd just be playing into Doomsayer's hand. He obviously doesn't want me to try this case. I just need to get this trial over with and then maybe we'll all get some peace."

  After a few minutes there was a commotion in the hallway. I looked over at the door to the courtroom and saw Sarah and Tom enter. I motioned for them to come up.

  "Good morning Sarah, how are you feeling?" I said.

  "Fine, I guess."

  "Well, unless the Court grants us a continuance, we'll be starting to pick a jury this morning."

  "A continuance?" Tom said.

  "Stan's dog was killed today and someone broke into his office, Mr. Winters. He needs some time to regroup," Snake said.

  "Oh my God! I am so sorry Stan," Sarah said as tears began welling in her eyes. "What happened?"

  "It may have been Doomsayer," I replied. "First he tapes a threatening message to my door and then he drops a poisoned steak in my back yard. When I let Beauty out she obviously smelled it and started eating it."

  "Oh, no. I'm so sorry, Stan. You're going through all of this shit because of me." Sarah closed her eyes and shook her head in despair.

  "It's not your fault. It's just some maniac out there. Anyway, at least the kids and Rebekah are okay."

  "I feel so terrible," Sarah said.

  Another commotion erupted in the hallway and after a minute Howard Hudson and Margie Westcott walked through the door. They made their way up to the prosecutor's table and began setting up. After a minute Snake walked over to them.

  "Good morning, Howie," Snake said.

  "Mr. Hudson to you, if you don't mind," Hudson said.

  "A little touchy aren't we Howie?" Snake replied.

  "This is a court of law and I'll appreciate it if you will show me a little respect," Hudson said.

  "Margie, is he always this hard to get along with?" Snake asked.

  "Listen Mr. Hertel, Judge Brooks isn't going to put up with your little antics during this trial so I suggest you act in a professional manner," Margie replied.

  "Oh, don't worry about me and Judge Brooks, we get along just fine."

  "Is Stan going to ask for a continuance?" Hudson said. "We heard about his dog. I can't believe someone would do something like that."

  "A short one, maybe a day or two. He doesn't want this Doomsayer maniac having any impact on this trial."

  "Well, tell him the state won't oppose whatever continuance he needs."

  Snake smiled and replied, "I'll do that, thank you."

  Snake returned to the defense table where Tom, Sarah and I had been watching and listening.

  "What was the point of that?" I asked.

  "Oh, I just wanted to get Howie steamed up little bit. He's more fun when he's irritated."

  "Thanks a lot, he'll probably be all over me now that you got him riled up."

  "No, on the contrary, he already said you could have your continuance."

  "I heard. How considerate."

  I looked up at the clock and saw that it was 9:58. I showed Tom where he could sit and asked Sarah to sit at the counsel table with Snake and me. At 10:01 the bailiff stood up and said, "Please rise!"

  The door to the judge’s chambers opened and Judge Brooks appeared. "Be seated, thank you."

  The judge went to the bench and sat down. He looked out at the crowded courtroom and then turned to Hudson and said, "Mr. Hudson, what does the state have to say this morning?"

  "Your honor, the state is ready, however we understand that Mr. Turner may have a motion."

  "Mr. Turner, how say you?"

  "Your honor, this morning my dog was killed and my trial notebook stolen by some maniac who would like to dissuade me from defending Miss Winters. I would respectfully request a continuance for a day or two to calm my family and reconstruct my records."

  "You're sure these acts were related to this trial, Mr. Turner?"

  "I think so, Sir, but I don't know for sure."

  "Your honor," Hudson interrupted. "Mr. Turner may not know it but it definitely was connected to this trial."

  I looked over at Hudson curiously. "We've been advised by Beverly Blake, at Channel 2, that she received a message this morning less than two hours after these two incidents."

  "What was the message?" Judge Brooks asked.

  Hudson pulled out a piece of paper and began to read:

   

  “‘The wrath of the Lord has fallen on he who hinders justice; death and mourning are his reward. Doomsayer.’”

   

  "I want a twenty-four-hour guard on the defendant, Mr. Turner and Mr. Hertel . . . and their families. I will not tolerate obstruction of justice. Mr. Turner, your continuance is granted for twenty-four hours, however, tomorrow morning at 10:00 a.m. this trial will start, no matter what."

  With that, he got up and left the courtroom. Bedlam immediately erupted in the gallery. Reporters stormed Sarah and me. The bailiffs rushed over to protect us but it was too late, we were surrounded.

  "Do you have any idea who Doomsayer might be, Mr. Turner?" a reporter asked.

  “No, but I plan to find out," I said.

  "Was anyone hurt other than your dog?"

  "No, thank God."

  "Will this attack on you and your family alter your trial strategy in any way?" a second reporter asked.

  "No, absolutely not, nobody's going to keep me from providing the best defense possible to my client."

  The Channel 2 News team led by Beverly Blake muscled their way into where Sarah was standing. Blake said, "Ms. Winters, are you afraid Doomsayer might try to take the law into his own hands?"

  "She has no comment," I said. "Sarah will be well protected so Doomsayer will not be a factor in this trial."

  "Ms. Winters," Blake said. "We understand that part of your memory has come back. Do you still maintain your innocence?"

  "Yes, she does," I said. "That will be all. Thank you."

  I tried to lead Sarah out of the crowd but Blake got in front of her.

  "Ms. Winters. If you didn't kill your baby, who did?"

  Reinforcements from the sheriff's office downstairs finally arrived and began to flood the courtroom. After a brief scuffle with a reporter and his cameramen they managed to extricate Sarah and me from the melee. I looked around for Snake but he was nowhere to be seen. The sheriff's deputies hustled us out a rear entrance, usually used to escort prisoners out of the courtroom and down to the basement for transport back to the jail. Margie Westcott was waiting there for us. "Are you two all right?" she asked in the most sympathetic voice she could apparently muster.

  "I think so," I said. "What a mess."

  "I can't believe all these people came to see my trial," Sarah said.

  "You're big news," Miss Westcott said. "First the National Examiner article, then the attack on your attorney, the Doomsayer messages and now someone's gone and killed a dog for godsakes. It's a media dream."

  "Thank you for your concern, Miss Westcott, but unless you have something to say we'll be going," I said.

  "I just wanted to assure you that no matter what kind of a three-ringed circus this case turns into, there will be justice. Your client will not get away with murder. I promise you."

  I stared at Miss Westcott coldly. If it hadn’t been for the demonic look in her eye, I would have laughed. "So is that supposed to scare me or make me mad?"

  "Both, I wanted to be sure you had something to mull over tonight while you're trying to sleep."

  I shook my head. "You are a heartless bitch. . . . You were responsible for the attempt on Sarah’s life at the jail, weren’t you?"

  Ms. Westcott smiled, turned and walked back into the tunnel leading to the courtroom.

  “That’s scary,” Sarah said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That a deranged woman like her is spending her every waking hour trying to destroy me.”

/>   I forced a smile. “Yes, that is scary, but we won’t let that happen, okay? Just hang in there.”

  "Right. . . . I wonder what happened to Daddy?"

  "He's probably looking for you out in the hall. I'll get the bailiff to go find him and bring him back in here."

  I went over to the bailiff and asked for his assistance. The bailiff nodded and left. After a few minutes he returned with Tom at his side. Tom opened his arms and Sarah rushed over to him and they embraced. Their love seemed quite genuine yet something bothered me about it. Tom stroked Sarah’s hair as she clutched him tightly. I felt a little guilty questioning the genuineness of Tom’s feelings toward Sarah, but then again, I couldn’t afford to be deceived by appearances.

  "Baby doll, are you all right? I was so worried about you," he said.

  "I'm fine."

  He looked at me and smiled. "I can take care of Sarah now, Stan. You go ahead and get back to your family."

  "Okay, I think I'll do that. See you in court in the morning."

  On the way home I began to wonder what else Doomsayer was capable of doing. As I thought about Beauty and how senseless her death had been, the rage within me grew. I knew I had to find Doomsayer, not only to thwart any future plans he may have, but also to prove Sarah innocent. I knew Doomsayer was the key and I would not rest until his identity was revealed.

  That afternoon I went with the family to the pet cemetery where Beauty was laid to rest. After the ceremony we went to the park where we used to bring Beauty to play. We had a picnic and reminisced about the great times we'd had with her. After dinner I went to my office to prepare for trial. Much to my surprise the office was open and Jodie was sitting at her desk up to her elbows in work.

  "Jodie, what are you doing here?"

  "After the theft this morning I've been doing what I could to reconstruct your files. I knew you'd be coming to the office tonight, so I figured I’d stay to brief you on my progress."

  Jodie’s devotion to her job moved me. How lucky I had been to find her. "That was very thoughtful of you. I'm glad you're here. I could really use your help tonight. After what's happened the past few days I can hardly think straight, let alone prepare for a murder trial."

  "I called and talked to Rebekah today. She told me how devastated she and the kids were. I'm so sorry, Stan."

  "Thank you, but I don't have time for self pity right now. Help me figure out who this Doomsayer asshole is."

  "How are we going to do that?"

  "By the process of elimination. Whoever it is, he’s probably right under our noses,” I said. . . . “Okay, write down everything we know about him."

  "Or her, it could be a woman," Jodie noted.

  "Maybe, but the FBI thinks it’s a man."

  "How do they figure?"

  "I don't know, let's just assume it could be either for now until we get some clarification of their theory."

  "Okay."

  "Let's see. . . . The person is religious or has a religious background. He likes to quote the bible," I said.

  "Okay."

  "The person is intelligent. Everything he has done so far has been carefully planned and orchestrated."

  "Intelligent maybe, but deranged for sure."

  "Deranged is a given but not something we would likely see on the surface. . . . Let’s go on. . . . The person doesn't want me to defend Sarah. They want her to be convicted."

  "Got it."

  "The person has no conscience. He or she probably didn't have a normal childhood, perhaps an orphan or someone who was abused in their childhood."

  "That would explain why he's so interested in this case. Maybe he was abused as a child," Jodie said.

  "Good point. . . . All right, that's four things. . . . Let's start with the last one. Who wants Sarah to be convicted?"

  "The killer obviously," Jodie said.

  "Yeah, who else?"

  "The ones who have been picketing–the Children of God and the other fanatics hanging around the courthouse."

  "Right, who else?"

  "Joyce Winters?"

  "Yeah, I think so, she'd love to get rid of Sarah so she'd have Tom all to her self."

  "The DA."

  "True, he wants to get elected, but I don't think he would stoop this low. I'm not so sure about Margie Westcott though, she's a nuclear bitch. I think she'd prosecute her own mother if the case were assigned to her," I said.

  "No doubt."

  It was an amusing idea that the assistant DA would be Doomsayer, but I doubted I could be so lucky. "Yeah, but I seriously doubt if she'd get involved in something like this."

  Jodie shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me,” she said and then looked down at her notes. . . . “Okay, so we have the killer, the Children of God, Joyce Winters, Hudson, Miss Westcott. . . . Who else?"

  "What about Richard Stein? Since he's a suspect, he'd want Sarah to get convicted."

  "Okay, that's six."

  "What about Tom and Sarah?" I said.

  "Huh?" Jodie replied.

  "I can't rule out anybody," I said. "Tom's a flake if I've ever seen one. There is no telling what's going on in his mind. He puts on a big show about how much he loves Sarah, but I'm not so sure. He may just want to get her out of his hair."

  Jodie frowned. "That's hard to believe. Why did he hire you and why is he spending so much money on Sarah's defense?"

  "What money? I've only seen $2,500 and I understand that came from Greg. He may have planned his check to bounce."

  "Okay, I can see a possibility there, but surely you don't think Sarah is Doomsayer?"

  "Well, look at it this way, if she's guilty she's probably going to get convicted, right?"

  "Probably."

  "Well, her only hope is to cause confusion and create doubt, right? Doomsayer has certainly done that. Besides, look at all the money she's going to make writing a book about all this," I said.

  "Jesus, am I a suspect?"

  I smiled and replied, "Maybe, where were you this morning?"

  "Thanks a lot!"

  ‘Seriously, I’d like to search her apartment to see if we’re missing something. I wonder how she’d feel about that?”

  “I wouldn’t like it,” Jodie said.

  “Right, but maybe if another woman did it. It wouldn’t be so bad.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jodie said.

  I laughed. “Would you really?”

  “Sure, why not. I always wanted to be a PI.”

  “Good. . . . Okay, who do we eliminate on religion?"

  "Maybe Stein, I doubt he knows much about religion," Jodie replied.

  "Who do we knock out on intelligence?" Jodie asked.

  "Hudson for sure."

  "Definitely. Okay, so Doomsayer must be the killer, someone with the Children of God, Tom, Miss Westcott or Sarah," Jodie said.

  "Throw in Greg, he might be Doomsayer for the same reasons as Sarah. As a matter of fact that makes more sense than Sarah actually doing it."

  "So we have five suspects. Now what?"

  "Call Sgt. Fields and see if he can do some checking into the Children of God for us. We'll have to check the others ourselves."

  "How do we do that?"

  "We just find out as much about each of them as we can. Order an investigative report on each of them from Burden Security. We might get lucky."

  "Okay, I'll do that first thing in the morning."

  "Good, I'm just going to go over my questions for prospective jury members and then go home. I don't think I'll be needing you any more tonight. Why don't you take off, it's getting late."

  Jodie didn't respond and made no effort to leave. After a moment I said. "Jodie? You all right?"

  Jodie took a deep breath and then looked at me intently.

  "No, I'm not all right. I haven't been able to sleep the past few days."

  "Why, what's wrong?"

  "Stan, I keep thinking about Sarah on trial for murder for the very thing I did?"

  "What you did w
as perfectly legal."

  "That doesn't make it right."

  "It's over, Jodie. Forget about it."

  "I can't. Do you think I'm a murderer, Stan?"

  "I think it's none of my business."

  "I think about it a lot. Sometimes I dream that I'm holding my baby in my arms. I'm sitting in a rocking chair in front of a fireplace rocking him back and forth and singing a lullaby. Then suddenly I go into a violent rage, grab a pillow and smother it. I scream and cry until I wake up."

  "Maybe you should take another week off. Go to one of those support groups or something."

  "Do you think I'm going to go to hell?"

  "Jodie, come on, this isn't fair. You didn't do anything illegal. I'm not going to pass judgment on you and Rodney. It was your decision, not mine."

  "But you wouldn't have done it?"

  "I don't think so, but Rebekah and I were never in the same situation as you and Rodney. It doesn't make any difference what I would have done."

  Jodie began to cry, "I would have had the baby, but . . . but Rodney wasn't ready to be a father."

  "I know. It's too late to change anything now, so just try to forget about it. God will forgive you."

  I got up, walked over to where Jodie was sitting and put my hand on her shoulder. She clutched my hand and then pulled herself up to embrace me. I sighed. "It'll be all right. You'll get through this Jodie, don't cry."

  Jodie let go of me, wiped the tears from her eyes and said, "I'm sorry I dumped all of this on you. It's just that Rodney won't talk about it and I needed to talk to someone."

  "Don't worry about it. You can always talk to me."

  After Jodie left I went back to my desk and sat down to work on my jury questions. As I worked, I wondered if there was any chance in hell that twelve citizens could be found who didn't already think Sarah was guilty. I had considered filing a motion to transfer venue but quickly dismissed the idea as being futile since the media coverage had gone nationwide. I leaned backed in my chair, took a deep breath and prayed that somehow I'd find twelve unbiased jurors. It was a long shot, but nothing was impossible.