Missing Witness (23 page)

Rosetti turned to approach a couple of the crewmen, but in his excitement, Will grabbed his arm and quickly whirled him around.

“You're telling me that the written proceedings up in Williamsburg, in the piracy trial, have this Caesar fellow saying that Joppa was an imprisoned slave on Blackbeard's ship?”

“Look, Counselor, don't get so excited. I gave you the good news. I haven't given you the bad news yet.”

And with that, Rosetti removed Will's hand and then barked out some orders to a couple of his crew members.

“What's the bad news?” Will shouted.

Rosetti turned around and smiled. “The bad news is that it looks like it was all a lie. So what else would you expect from a pirate?

“I don't understand…”

Rosetti took a few steps over and wagged his finger in Will's direction.

“Because one of the passengers in the hold of Teach's ship—a local merchant who was nursing a hangover from a drinking party that Blackbeard had hosted the night before, was still there on the ship at the time of the battle. He was with Caesar. He was also with Isaac Joppa. He testified at the trial that Joppa was not in chains. That he didn't look like any kind of prisoner.”

Rosetti, even from a distance, noted the disappointment that washed over Will's face.

“Sorry about that. I know it doesn't help your case.”

Will was already deep in thought when Rosetti added one further comment.

“This Isaac Joppa was charged with piracy, right?”

“Right. A grand jury that was convened in Bath, North Carolina, heard some testimony, and issued an indictment. The local magistrate signed an arrest warrant for Joppa shortly afterwards.”

“Well, for what it's worth, I find that a little unusual…”

“Why do you say that?”

“See, what they did with the pirate gang in Williamsburg back then is this—they didn't have grand juries convened. Instead, they had the charges issued by the Admiralty Court. Now I don't know how much you know about maritime law…”

“Before this case, less than zero,” Will said with a smile. “But I'm trying to get up to speed.”

“Well, you're the lawyer and I'm not. But at least the way they handled those cases back in the pre–Revolutionary War settlements was to issue charges by the Admiralty Court. It doesn't sound like your guy—this Isaac Joppa—was charged that way. That's a little strange. Anyway, all of Teach's gang were tried by the Admiralty Court in Williamsburg.”

“Interesting,” Will said, not knowing what to make of the fact.

“Look, I'm sorry I didn't have more useful information for you,” Rosetti said. “I got to get back to work here. We'll call that skiff back to pick you up. Good luck.”

As one of the crewmen used the radio, Will sauntered over to the railing and looked at the waves lapping against the side of the ship.

He never could tolerate losing a case, even if it was a difficult one. But his hope for winning the lawsuit for Reverend Jonathan Joppa—and indirectly righting Uncle Bull's mistreatment by Blackjack Morgan—was now in danger of sinking. Any optimism Will had about winning seemed to be completely scuttled just as surely as the remains of the
Bold Venture
, which lay in the shifting sand and silt at the bottom of the ocean.

34

V
IRGIL
M
AC
P
HERSON FELT GOOD ABOUT
the direction of the case. He had just signed off on delivery of an avalanche of mostly useless information to Will Chambers in response to his discovery demand.

MacPherson's only regret was that he wasn't going to be there to see Will's expression when he received it.

The rest of MacPherson's day was spent in the conference room with Dr. Manfred Berkeley, a professor of marine history.

“Dr. Berkeley,” MacPherson continued, wrapping up the meeting with his expert witness, “then you will rely on the grand jury testimony to disprove this possible theory that Isaac Joppa was a kidnapping victim, right?”

“Yes, and although the grand jury testimony amounted to evidence given by only one witness—namely, Henry Caulfeld—I think his testimony is very powerful.”

“Because, he was an eyewitness?”

“Of course. He was aboard the sloop
Marguerite
at the time it was overtaken by Teach and his crew—at the height of Teach's piracy career. Caulfeld saw, with his own eyes, that Isaac Joppa was strutting around on the deck of Teach's ship, apparently giving orders to the crew—the same crew that forcibly boarded the
Marguerite,
manhandled the passengers, and stole all its merchandise.”

After Berkeley was gone, MacPherson made a phone call to another expert witness.

A secretary answered, and after a moment's pause he was connected.

“Dr. Henrietta Clover,” the female voice at the other end said.

“Dr. Clover, this is Virgil MacPherson. The attorney. I left a message for you the other day. I was following up on our conversation…”

“Oh yes, yes. I'm sorry I missed you.”

“Were you able to put together that information? Arrive at some opinions?”

“You mean about the Joppa business?” Clover replied softly.

“Exactly. I'm wondering if you were able to piece that all together.”

“Well, as a matter of fact, I'm almost nearly complete—”

“I know you like to be as thorough as possible,” MacPherson responded smoothly.

“Oh, most certainly. I'll finish this business up in a few days. I've been delayed a little…my niece has been in town…and I visited with her…and I had to give a talk to the State Historical Society…and another little lecture to the Women's Auxiliary of the American Revolution…”

“So can we just say, the way it looks right now, that you'll be able to testify to the opinions you conveyed to me previously?”

“Oh, I believe so. Yes, I feel very comfortable saying that…of course, if there's anything I see to change my mind, I'll let you know.”

Virgil MacPherson stopped drumming on the table. A smile came across his face. The world had just become very bright for him.

“And one other thing, Dr. Clover—just a warning…”

“Oh?” Dr. Clover said with a shade of concern in her voice.

“No, I didn't mean to startle you,” MacPherson said in a reassuring voice. “Just a
reminder
. If you should get a call from anyone asking about your involvement in this case. You agreed that you were not going to be talking about this with
anyone
.
No one,
except me. Anyone calls, you simply decline comment—and then call me immediately. Is that agreed?”

“That should be fine,” Dr. Clover said cautiously.

After hanging up MacPherson was exquisitely pleased. So pleased that he left his office a little early and headed for his favorite French restaurant, where he would enjoy spending a healthy chunk of the attorney's fees Blackjack Morgan had been paying him.

35

R
EVEREND
J
ONATHAN
J
OPPA
'
S PRESENCE
at the Dunes Memorial Hospital was a familiar sight. He would often visit the sick and elderly there. He was at the bedsides of some who were in their final, dying moments. He had a good relationship with the nursing staff and the doctors—though the on-duty unit nurse was unfamiliar to him.

“Which room is Bobby Joppa in—I forgot.” he said casually.

The unit nurse studied him carefully and then looked down at her clipboard.

“I'm sorry, no visitors for that patient. Doctors' orders…”

“Are you new here?”

“Well…sort of…I'm swing shift…”

“I figured. Hi, I'm Reverend Jonathan.” He smiled and reached out his right hand to shake hers. “I'm the pastor of Safe Harbor Community Church. You might say I'm Bobby's spiritual advisor and his dad. It's urgent that I get a chance to chat with him.”

The unit supervisor tapped her pen on the clipboard and then shook her head.

“Sorry. Doctors' orders. Maybe some other time.”

Joppa looked down the corridor frantically. Then he caught sight of a police officer sitting on a chair outside one of the rooms. He scurried down the hallway and approached him.

“I'm Bobby Joppa's dad. Is he being charged with anything?”

The officer's walkie-talkie was squawking something in the background, and the officer reached down and turned it off.

“I'm sorry, did you say you're his dad?”

Joppa nodded.

“He's not charged with anything. Yet. We just want to know where he got drugs. You wouldn't happen to know where your son came into several ounces of highly refined cocaine—would you?”

Joppa shook his head in disgust.

“Sure. I could give you some ideas,” he said bitterly, “they're just suspicions…but I would be right…but then again, the last time I told you guys who supplied my son with drugs, you did absolutely nothing about it. And, as a matter of fact, things got worse…”

“I don't know anything about that.” The officer put both hands up in the air.

Joppa was not in the mood for a dialogue. He turned from the officer and stepped quickly past into the hospital room.

In the room there was a single bed with a single patient.

Bobby had a saline drip attached to his arm, and a monitor. His lips were dry and cracked. His skin was pale, and his long hair was greasy and tangled. There were deep circles under his eyes.

Bobby moved his head slowly. When he recognized his father, he turned his face away toward the window.

“Bobby,” Joppa said in a voice choked with emotion, and fighting back tears, “I love you. No matter what else, you have to know that.”

Bobby slowly turned back.

“I didn't want you here. Who told you?” His voice was weak and almost indecipherable.

“This is a small town. News travels fast. You look rotten. Do you feel just as bad as you look?”

Bobby snorted weakly. He started to say something but did not finish.

“Who did you buy it from?”

After a moment, Bobby summoned his strength to answer his father. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you…”

Jonathan stepped closer to the bed, right next to Bobby's head. “Tell me who you got it from—you can trust me…”

“Really?” Bobby replied faintly.

“You need to trust someone. Let's start with me. Who sold it to you?”

“Nobody.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said…nobody sold it…it was just right there.”

“Where?”

“On my kitchen table. In a wrapper. Sitting there when I got home from work.”

“You have no idea who dropped it off?”

Bobby shook his head slowly. Then he took a deep breath and summoned the strength to say something else.

“Didn't want it…but I was afraid to tell the cops…I was going to flush it down the toilet…I just wasn't strong enough…not to use it.”

Jonathan reached out, put his hand on Bobby's arm, and squeezed it. With his other hand, he stroked the pale, perspiring face of his son.

The pieces fell together.

“You were set up, Bobby…and so was I…”

A young doctor with a clipboard walked into the hospital room brusquely.

“I'm sorry, Reverend Joppa, but you have to go. We have restrictions on visiting this patient.”

At first, Joppa didn't move. He studied the pleading, helpless look in his son's eyes.

“Can't beat this…can't beat this, Dad…”

“You can beat this. And we're going to beat this.” Joppa squeezed his arm again, and then rose to his feet.

Joppa strode over to the young resident.

“You're going to have to change your restrictions on this patient,” he said firmly. “Because I
am
going to be visiting him on a regular basis.” And with that, he turned and walked out into the corridor.

As he walked, Jonathan's legs and ankles felt as if the joints had all been unstrung, like those of a marionette. He was barely able to keep his feet moving, one in front of the other.

In his despair, Jonathan could only wonder at the malignant and evil hand that was pulling the strings.

36

W
ILL
'
S CELL PHONE WAS RINGING
. He had forgotten he had slipped it into the pocket of his shorts just before he and Fiona had gone for a beach walk.

As he grabbed it and took a few steps away from the crash of the surf, Fiona threw him a forlorn, slightly pouty look.