Confessions: The Private School Murders (11 page)

Read Confessions: The Private School Murders Online

Authors: James Patterson

Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Family, #Siblings, #Social Issues, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Love & Romance, #Juvenile Fiction / Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Juvenile Fiction / Family - Siblings, #Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues - Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Juvenile Fiction / Love & Romance

BOOK: Confessions: The Private School Murders
7.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“The defendant has no credible defense, ladies and gentlemen. He told the police that he had an ironclad alibi, that he’d been out drinking and playing poker all night long with friends, that when he got home in the small hours of the morning, he undressed and went to bed in the dark. That he didn’t know Tamara was dead until he awoke the next morning to find her next to him, at which point he panicked and fled the scene. Why didn’t he call the police? Why didn’t he immediately seek justice for the love of his life?”

It was a good question. The very question I’d asked Matthew myself.

“Since that day, Matthew’s alibi for the night in question
has fallen apart. There will be no witnesses to tell you that Matthew Angel was out drinking or playing poker at the time when Tamara and their baby were killed.

“Here are the facts: Matthew Angel is a violent career athlete who believed that his girlfriend had been unfaithful with his own father. In fact, postmortem DNA tests have proved that the child was Matthew Angel’s.

“But Matthew didn’t know that on the night Tamara was killed. And this is what happens when Matthew Angel gets mad,” Nadine Raphael said, rattling the photograph in front of the jury. “He kills the woman who loved him and the baby they made together.”

I brought my fist to my lips and bit down hard to keep from crying out.
He couldn’t have done it!
I wanted to scream.

“We will prove our case beyond a shadow of doubt. And we will ask you to find Matthew Angel guilty of two savage murders.”

19

Hugo took in a big breath,
completely filling his lungs. Seeing that he was about to yell, I clapped my hand over his mouth and held on.

I whispered into his ear, “If you as much as squeak, we will be thrown out of here. Blink once if you understand.”

He blinked, and when he exhaled entirely, I let him go.

Judge Mudge peered down from the bench and said, “Mr. Montaigne. Are you ready to give your opening statement?”

Philippe said, “Yes, Your Honor.”

I grabbed Harry’s and Hugo’s hands again. Phil stepped out into the aisle, and as he buttoned his gray jacket and walked up to the lectern, I felt a sudden rush of love for
him. He was working to defend Matty knowing full well that whether he won or lost, he would likely not be paid a nickel for his time.

Matty did have his own money, separate from the lien against my parents’ estate, but the Gee family had filed a civil lawsuit against him for wrongful death. Who knew if he’d have anything left once that was settled.

I shot a look at Harry, who put his arm around me and said softly, “Courage.” I nodded and swallowed hard as Phil greeted the jury.

“Tamara Gee was a wonderful young woman, and Matthew Angel loved her very much,” Phil began. “Even though Tamara told the press that she was having an affair with Malcolm Angel, Matthew’s father, and that the baby she was expecting was not his, Matthew loved her.

“He loved her so much that whether or not the baby was his, he still wanted to marry her, still bought her a ten-carat heart-shaped diamond ring a week before her death. He still phoned her when he wasn’t with her, and she still phoned him. We will introduce evidence to prove this. But for now, I want to tell you what happened the night in question, the night Tamara was murdered by an unknown killer for reasons we don’t know.

“On that night, Matthew played poker with four of his friends, as he told the police, but he left earlier than
he originally recalled, and instead of going home, as he first claimed, Matthew went out to a bar. He got, in his words, ‘stinking drunk,’ and sometime in the early hours, he came home. He didn’t lock the door.

“He got undressed in the bathroom, then got into bed with Tamara. He never turned on the lights and he never kissed her good night. He passed out.

“The next morning, Matthew awoke and found Tamara, the love of his life and the mother of his unborn child, dead. At that point, Matthew Angel went into shock. He went into denial. He left the house and the gruesome scene the prosecution has just subjected all of you to, hoping against irrational hope that it wasn’t true. That he hadn’t seen what he had seen. Later that day, at home and surrounded by his loving family, he was arrested and charged with murder.

“The investigation stopped right there, ladies and gentlemen. But there are other possibilities. Was Tamara already dead when Matthew got into bed with her? Or was she killed while he was lying beside her, passed out drunk?

“To this day, the police believe that the defendant killed Tamara Gee and her unborn child, but here’s the dirty little secret.”

Phil paused for effect, and when I thought I would go
crazy from waiting, he walked to the jury box and put his hands on the railing. “The dirty little secret, folks, is that while Tamara was stabbed by a sharp object fifteen times, there was no murder weapon in the apartment.

“No murder weapon was found.”

Point, Phil!
He was every bit as dramatic as Nadine, but he didn’t have to rely on shocking, grisly photos to stir up the jury. Phil had facts.

“There were no knives missing from the apartment, no knife in the apartment to match the victim’s stab wounds, no evidence that Matthew had purchased any such knife. There is no proof that Matthew Angel had the means to commit this crime. There are no eyewitnesses to report having seen Matthew Angel commit this crime. Every single piece of evidence the prosecution will submit to you is circumstantial.

“What is true is that this is a classic case of the police rushing to judgment against a bigger-than-life individual without sufficient evidence. We suggest this: Someone came in and killed Tamara before or after Matthew came home, and he took his weapon with him.

“And what that means is that the real killer is alive and well, roaming the streets of New York City.

“Matthew Angel is guilty of getting drunk.

“But he’s not guilty of murder.”

20

After Philippe’s opening,
I pulled my hands up into my sleeves and wiped at my cheeks. Phil was
on
. If he ran the rest of this case with the same passion he’d brought to that opening, he’d win, no question.

Then the prosecutor called her first witness.

The housekeeper answered the questions while looking straight into Matthew’s eyes, which was pretty damn brave. It also made it look like she didn’t feel guilty at all about her testimony—that she believed every word she was saying.

So my heart sank to the floor when she said, “I believe Matthew killed Tamara.”

Phil jumped up with an objection that was sustained,
but the damage was done. The jury members were already shooting one another wide-eyed looks.

Then Detective Ryan Hayes described Matthew’s defiance when he and Caputo had come to the Dakota to arrest him. He said that Matthew hadn’t cried. That he hadn’t asked questions. That he had seemed unaffected by Tamara’s death.

Well, in my humble opinion, Matthew was being judged by people who didn’t know that he had been innocently taking Angel Pharmaceutical’s special emotion-killing drugs for years.

Was it possible that the pills had not only numbed Matthew but had turned him into a cold-blooded killer? With the exception of Harry, everyone in the family had been labeled a sociopath at some time or other. If Matty hadn’t been taking those pills, he might have reacted normally. He might not even be on trial for murder right now if he’d had the simple, God-given ability to show grief.

What had our parents
done
to us?

When court was adjourned for the day, I left Hugo with Harry and ran up the aisle against the tide of spectators and reporters heading for the hall to join the media circus undoubtedly already waiting outside. I reached Matthew and grabbed his hand. He spun around even as a guard was coming to escort him out of the courtroom.

“I just wanted to tell you we’re here,” I said.

He looked into my swollen eyes and tried for a bolstering expression. “Everything is going to be okay, Tandy.”

I nodded as if I believed him, but, friend, I knew he was wrong. I just didn’t know if he was lying to me or to himself. And then I heard shouting: “Matty, Matty!”

Hugo had broken away from Harry and was running toward Matthew, but he never reached him. Before he could throw himself over the barrier and into our big brother’s arms, Matthew was dragged away by the guard.

“Don’t worry, Hugo!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Hear me? I’ll be home soon.”

Hugo’s chest heaved like he was about to start hyperventilating. All around us, people stared, and not in a kind or sympathetic way. I think the court artist was even starting to sketch us.

“Come on, you guys,” Harry said, putting his arms around our shoulders. “Let’s get out of here.”

Of course, the press was waiting for us in a huge jumble in the hallway.

“Tandy! What did you think of the opening statements?”

“Does it bother you that your brother didn’t seem to care that his girlfriend was brutally murdered?”

“Why aren’t you kids in school?”

Obviously, I ignored them, and smirked when I saw
Hugo shoot them his famous middle-finger salute right before Harry bundled us all into the elevator. When we reached the lobby, the crowds of courthouse employees leaving the building unthinkingly surrounded us and we flowed anonymously out to the street.

I took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air, thinking it would calm me, but instead my stomach suddenly heaved. I looked around, desperate, and puked right there in the gutter.

“Tandy? Are you okay?” Hugo asked, alarmed.

I managed to nod as Harry helped me up.

A woman with a large croc handbag handed me a wad of tissues and said, “Shall I call someone?”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” I replied miserably, taking a deep, shaky breath.

“We’re fine,” said Harry, his voice breaking.

Yeah, right. I wondered if we’d ever be fine again.

21

Other books

The Price of Freedom by Jenny Schwartz
Marble Faun & Green Bough by William Faulkner
The 9th Judgment by James Patterson, Maxine Paetro
North by LOUIS-FERDINAND CÉLINE
At Thei rCommand by Scarlett Sanderson
Haunted by Tamara Thorne