Orchid Beach (9 page)
“Yes.” She didn’t feel like trotting out her credentials.
“You think you could put an officer on checking out the origins of the gun you found and the gun Sweeney claims to own?”
“No,” she said. “We’re not going to do your job for you.”
Oxenhandler nodded as if he had expected that answer. “Well, good to meet you, Chief. I expect I’ll see you around.” He managed a small smile, shook her hand and left.
Holly watched him go. He shambled rather than walked, and he had the stoop that seemed to belong to most very tall people. He reminded her of somebody, but who? Abraham Lincoln, maybe, but he was better looking than that.
H
olly drove the chief’s car home after work. She stopped at the hospital on her way and went to the intensive care unit. Before she could ask for Dr. Green, he walked into the waiting area.
“Oh, Chief Barker,” he said. “I was just going to my office to call you. Why don’t you come in for a moment.” He led her to his office and offered her a chair.
“Has something happened?” she asked, worried.
“Chief Marley has shown signs of regaining consciousness,” the doctor said. “It’s preliminary, but people in comas don’t always just open their eyes and start talking. There’s been some rapid eye movement and some thrashing around, too; we’ve had to temporarily restrain him.”
“And your prognosis?”
“He could wake up at any time, or he could revert to his previous state. I should warn you that even if he does wake up, he may be unable to speak or understand you, and even
if he can speak, he may not remember anything about the shooting. In fact, I would consider the odds of that happening very poor.”
“I understand,” Holly replied. “Who knows about this?”
“Just the shift nurses and me.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it that way for the moment.”
“Of course, and I’ll call you if there’s any change.”
She thanked the doctor and left. She still hoped that Chet Marley would wake up and tell her who shot him and why, in spite of what the doctor had said.
Daisy, who had stayed in the car, began to show some animation as they approached the trailer park.
“Yes, we’re going home, and you’re going to get your dinner,” Holly said, stroking her head. “We’ll be there any minute.” She pulled up at the trailer and let Daisy out of the car. Holly walked around the perimeter of the clearing, looking into the woods, but Daisy seemed unconcerned with intruders this evening. The dog ran to the trailer door and wagged her hindquarters, there not being enough tail to do the job. Holly fed her and let her out for her evening romp, then got herself a beer and the document that Hank Doherty had written about the dog he had trained.
“‘Excellent Working Bitch,’” Holly read aloud. “I love that, Daisy. It describes just about every woman I knew in the army, not to mention me.” It was the first time she had read the document thoroughly, and as she turned its pages her eyes widened. “Jesus,” she said, “Hank should have published this somewhere.” She had just closed the document when her phone rang. She got the cordless and brought it outside.
“Hello?”
“Holly, it’s Eleanor Warner.”
“Oh, hi, how’s it going?”
“We’ve gotten a lot done. Everything is pretty well taken care of, so we’re going home tomorrow morning.”
“I’m glad it went so quickly.”
“Mary is taking all of the furnishings; we’re taking only those things we can get onto the airplane. We’ve listed the house with a broker, and now we’ll just have to wait for it to sell. I’ve made arrangements with a local funeral parlor to take care of the cremation and ship us Daddy’s ashes. I’ll put them on my garden at home.”
“Oh, Eleanor, you’ll be glad to know that the ballistics check went well. Looks like we’ve got the perpetrators. They haven’t confessed to Hank’s murder, but as time passes, they well may.”
“I’m glad you’ve caught them, but I don’t want revenge. I’m a Christian, and that’s against my beliefs. I’ll try to forgive them and leave it to you and the justice system to see that they’re appropriately punished.”
“I think that’s a good attitude to adopt,” Holly said. “I’ve seen anger on the part of victims’ families make things worse for them.”
“Don’t worry about us, we’ll get along just fine. I want to thank you again for the use of your car. We’ll leave the keys at the counter in the terminal.”
“And I’ll send you a check for the computer and Daisy.”
“No hurry. Good-bye, now.”
“Good-bye.”
She sat, sipping her beer and watching Daisy patrol the property, sticking her nose here and there. There was a moment when she flushed a rabbit, scaring Daisy almost as
much as the furry creature. The phone rang again.
“Hello?”
“Holly? It’s Jackson Oxenhandler.”
“Good evening, counselor. What can I do for you?”
He seemed somewhat embarrassed. “I was just wondering if, when this business with Sweeney and his girlfriend is over, if…you and I might…have dinner sometime.”
Holly was caught completely off guard. “Well, I…I don’t know.”
“Oh, I know it would be unprofessional of us to see each other until this case is resolved, but I thought perhaps…” His words trailed off.
“I have to agree with your ethical perceptions,” Holly said. “Tell you what, why don’t you call me when the case is over, and we’ll see?”
“That’s good enough for me,” Oxenhandler said. “And it might be sooner than you think. Good night, Holly.”
“Good night,” she said, and hung up. Daisy came over, sat down and rested her head on Holly’s knee, gazing up at her adoringly. “You’re a good girl, Daisy,” Holly said, “and the only girlfriend I have to talk to. Are you a good listener? Well, I’ve just had a call from a gentlemen of short acquaintance who’d like me to go out with him, just as soon as he’s finished defending the people who shot my boss. Does that seem weird to you? Does to me. I’m not sure just how I feel about that. Police officers don’t much like defendants’ lawyers, but…I think I might be able to get past that.”
Daisy said nothing, but Holly thought she had somehow given her blessing. Holly went back to reading about Daisy.
H
olly entered the courtroom and took a seat in the front row, near the county attorney’s table. She had only rarely been to civilian court proceedings, and she wanted to be here for this one as much for the experience as for the outcome, of which she was certain. In spite of what she felt was strong evidence, she had a queasy feeling that she could not explain, and she hoped that by witnessing this process, she could dispel it.
The clerk of the court stood and said, “This court is called to order, Judge Sandra Wheeler presiding. All rise.” The judge, an attractive woman of around Holly’s age, took the bench and called the court to order. She nodded to Marty Skene, and he stood.
“Your Honor, we’re here for a preliminary hearing in the matter of the State of Florida v. Samuel Sweeney and Tanya Cooper, on a charge of assault with intent to kill.”
“Call your first witness,” the judge said.
Skene called Bob Hurst to the stand. Hurst identified himself by name and rank. Skene questioned him on his arrival at the scene of the shooting of Chet Marley and on the investigative procedures he used. Hurst testified to the chief’s missing weapon and to the impressions of tires taken at the scene.
Next, Skene called the police officer who had arrested Sweeney and Cooper, and he testified to the finding of the missing weapon in their possession. “What was the caliber and make of the weapon?” Skene asked.
“It was a nine-millimeter Beretta automatic pistol.”
“Did you investigate the ownership of this pistol?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did you learn?”
“The serial number of the pistol showed that the weapon was the property of the City of Orchid Beach, and that it had been issued to Chester Marley.”
“Did you then arrest Sweeney and Cooper and impound their vehicle?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Your witness,” Skene said to Oxenhandler.
The lawyer approached the witness stand. “Officer, when you came upon Mr. Sweeney and Ms. Cooper, what were they doing?”
“They were sitting in front of a campfire, and Sweeney was cleaning the Beretta pistol.”
“Did Sweeney make any effort to conceal the pistol?”
“Ah…no.”
“Were the headlights of your car on as you approached their campsite?”
“Yes.”
“So they would have had ample warning that someone was coming?”
“I guess so.”
“And yet Sweeney made no effort to hide the gun.”
“No.”
“No further questions.”
Skene called Hurd Wallace to the stand, and the lieutenant identified himself by name and rank. “Lieutenant Wallace, did you, after the arrest of Sweeney and Cooper, come to conduct a search of their vehicle?”
“I did.”
“Was this a lawful search?”
“Yes, Detective Hurst had obtained written permission from Sweeney for the search.”
“Did you come to search the glove compartment?”
“I did.”
“And what did you find there?”
“A small pistol.”
“Could you describe the pistol?”
“It was a thirty-two-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver with a four-inch barrel.”
“Did you conduct ballistics tests on this pistol for the purpose of comparing a bullet from this gun to the bullet removed from Chief Marley’s head?”
“The pistol was sent to the state crime lab for that purpose.”
“And did the lab issue a report?”
Wallace produced a sheet of paper. “Yes. The lab found that the bullet removed from Chief Marley’s head was fired from the revolver found in Sweeney’s van.”
Skene handed the ballistics report to the clerk. “Entered as evidence. No further questions.”
“No questions, Your Honor,” Oxenhandler said.
“Recall Detective Robert Hurst,” Skene said, and Hurst took the stand again and was reminded that he was still under oath. “Detective Hurst, in your investigations, did you learn that Sweeney’s van had a connection with the crime scene, and if so, how?”
“Yes, I learned that the tread on the right rear tire of the van matched the plaster impression I had taken at the crime scene.”
“Did you interrogate Sweeney and Cooper subsequent to that time?”
“Yes.”
“Did Sweeney admit ownership of a gun, and if so, what kind?”
“Yes, he admitted ownership of a thirty-two-caliber revolver.”
“No further questions.”
Oxenhandler stood. “Detective, during your questioning of Mr. Sweeney and Ms. Cooper, did you mention to them the make of pistol found in their van?”
“I’m not sure whether I did,” Hurst replied. “I told them that we had found a thirty-two revolver in the van, and Sweeney admitted to owning a pistol of the same description.”
“But the description did not include the name of the maker?”
“I’m not sure that it did.”
“Thank you, no further questions.”
Skene stood. “Your Honor, I have no further witnesses.”
“Mr. Oxenhandler, do you wish to call any witnesses?”
“Yes, Your Honor, I wish to call Samuel Sweeney.”
Sweeney was sworn. He was now clean-shaven and barbered, and his clothes looked new.
“Mr. Sweeney, how long have you resided at the campsite off highway A1A?”
“A little over two weeks.”
Oxenhandler took Sweeney through his account of his activities on the evening of the chief’s shooting. “So you were not at your camp between the hours of eleven and eleven-thirty
P.M.
?”
“No, I was not.”
“Mr. Sweeney, do you own a pistol?”
“Yes, I own a
Colt
thirty-two-caliber pistol with a two-inch barrel.”
“When Detective Hurst asked you if you owned a pistol, and you affirmed that you did, was the Colt pistol the one to which you were referring?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Do you own a thirty-two Smith and Wesson pistol?”
“No, I do not.”
“I have no further questions of Mr. Sweeney, Your Honor, but in trial I can produce witnesses confirming his presence on that evening at both the movie theater and the gas station where he left his tire to be repaired. I can also produce a witness who can testify that he changed a tire on or near the spot where Chief Marley was shot, only a few minutes before that event occurred.”
“Any questions for Mr. Sweeney, Mr. Skene?” the judge asked.
“Not at this time, Your Honor.”
“Any other witnesses, Mr. Oxenhandler?”
“One, Your Honor. Call Mr. Everett Schwartz.”
A man sitting near Holly in the front row of the courtroom got up, took the stand and was sworn.
“Mr. Schwartz, how do you earn your living?”
“I’m a gun dealer. I have a shop in Jacksonville, and on weekends I often attend gun shows, where I buy and sell weapons.”
“Do you recognize the gentleman sitting at the defense table?”
“I do.”
“Have you ever sold him a gun?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of gun?”
“A thirty-two-caliber Colt revolver with a two-inch barrel, nickel plated.”
“When and where did you make this sale?”
“Four weeks ago, at a gun sale in Jacksonville.”
“Can you substantiate this sale?”
Schwartz produced two sheets of paper. “Here are a copy of the bill of sale and a copy of the federal form that Mr. Sweeney filled out and signed.”
Oxenhandler handed the papers to the clerk. “Entered in evidence. I have no further questions.” He returned to his seat.
The judge turned to Skene. “Any questions, Mr. Skene?”
“No, Your Honor,” Skene replied.
“Any further witnesses, Mr. Oxenhandler?”
“Your Honor, may counsel approach the bench?”
She nodded.
Holly watched as the two lawyers went to the bench and had a spirited conversation that went on for perhaps three minutes. Oxenhandler was calm and insistent, while Skene seemed outraged.
