Sleight of Hand (20 page)

"I'll come, too," Frank said, and the three of them walked out of the courtroom together.

After the recess Dodgson called Sergeant William Henry. His duty, he testified, was to do a background check on the associates of Jay Wilkins, look into his business affairs, examine his computer, to try to determine if there had been a problem serious enough to consider it a motive for murder. He had the appearance of a million-dollar account manager who would reconcile the statements down to the last penny.

"As part of this investigation, did you do a check on the defendant?" Dodgson asked.

"Yes."

"Please tell the jury the findings of your check."

Since Wally had used his prison experience in his own video, Barbara had agreed not to challenge having it brought up in court. The sergeant told of his results, the youthful pickpocket arrest, and later the arrest and subsequent prison sentence.

"And did your investigation reveal any serious problem or altercation involving Mr.

Wilkins?"

"No, sir. Mr. Wilkins's business affairs were in good order, there were no threats, no enmity among associates or the people who worked for him."

Barbara watched Dodgson with great interest. He had to ask the next question no matter how reluctant he was to bring up the name of Connie Wilkins. A missing wife, a missing boat and a dead husband couldn't be left hanging without some explanation.

He asked it. "Did your background checks include one concerning Mrs. Wilkins?"

"Yes, sir. We had the report that he had called in to say she was missing, and we checked it out. Eventually we concluded that it led nowhere and we abandoned that line of inquiry."

When she started her cross-examination Barbara asked, "Sergeant Henry, you stated that your investigation of Mrs. Wilkins led nowhere. Can you explain what you meant by that?"

He glanced at Dodgson, then said, "We ruled her out as a suspect.

"But please tell the jury why she was a suspect to begin with, suspected of doing what?"

"There was the possibility that she had taken the boat herself," he said deliberately.

"Did the department at any time consider her a suspect in the death of Mr. Wilkins?"

"At one time or another we considered almost everyone who knew him, including her."

"I see. Exactly when did you abandon that suspicion?"

"Around May 8."

"Sergeant, please tell the jury why you abandoned that line of inquiry at that time."

Dodgson objected, then said, "Your Honor, may I approach?"

Judge Wells looked resigned when he motioned them both forward. "All right, counselor," he said to Dodgson.

"Your Honor, the death of Connie Wilkins is irrelevant to this trial. There is an ongoing investigation into her death, and to bring it up in this context could compromise that investigation, and it would certainly muddy the waters and confuse this jury."

"I would think that a missing wife, a missing prized object and a murdered husband has to be explained," Barbara said. "If that is considered entirely irrelevant and outside the scope of this trial, there is no reason for the jurors not to look it up for themselves. And that could leave them even more confused when they learn that her death by murder occurred a week before that of her husband. They just might start talking about it in the deliberation room, wondering on their own if there's a connection."

"He could instruct them not to look her up or discuss it," Dodgson said in a voice that threatened to break into a thunderous roar any second.

"Not if it's irrelevant," Judge Wells murmured. "What next? They can't look up the national debt? This matter is going to be referred to again. I think it's better to clear the air here, today. Overruled, Mr. Dodgson. Let's get on with it."

When they were back in their places, Barbara said to the police officer, "Would you like me to repeat my question?"

"No. The body of a drowned woman was recovered from the ocean and on May 8

she was identified as Connie Wilkins."

"When did she die?"

"Between April 19 and April 21."

"She died a week before Mr. Wilkins. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Was her body in the ocean for all that time?"

He said yes again.

"Have the facts of her death been determined?"

"No. There's an ongoing investigation."

"What department is conducting that investigation, Sergeant Henry."

"The homicide unit."

She thanked him and said she had no more questions. When Dodgson got up for his redirect, he gave Barbara a venomous look before turning to the sergeant.

"On Saturday, the nineteenth of April, did you determine the activities of Mr. Wilkins before his encounter with the defendant at the casino?"

"Yes." In a flat, dispassionate voice he recounted Wilkins's movements for the weekend.

"So his time was all accounted for from the nineteenth until the twenty-first of April?"

"That's right."

When Sergeant Henry was dismissed, Judge Wells called for the lunch break. In the car, heading for his house, Frank said cheerfully, "The trial was just lengthened by a day or two. Now they have to switch to game plan B."

He glanced at Barbara, who appeared oblivious. "I think I'll leave you guys to your lunches," she said, "and take a walk."

"Is anything wrong?" Meg asked anxiously.

"Nope," Frank said. "She does that. Walks and thinks during breaks. She'll catch up with food in a bit."

But something was wrong, he knew. He had sensed an undercurrent of wrongness for days, and while the trial was going almost exactly how they had expected with no surprises yet, the feeling of something wrong persisted.

Chapter 30

"They'll try to stay with game plan A," Barbara had said a week before the trial started. "Keep it simple. Boat, motive, opportunity, there's your case. Verdict, guilty.

If they have to go to game plan B, they'll want to demonstrate that Jay was an outstanding citizen, liked by all, with absolutely no enemies, a man, furthermore, who was devoted to his wife and deeply concerned that she had become suicidal."

And so it came to pass, she thought that afternoon in court when Dodgson called his next witness, a stockbroker, a man of substance and wealth, with an impeccable reputation. He was the first of a succession of such witnesses, each with variations of the same testimony. Jay Wilkins was an all-round great guy, a good sport, generous, easy to get along with. He had dropped out of their social circle when he remarried and devoted his time to caring for his ill wife. It was inconceivable to think that he might have had a real enemy.

Barbara had the same question for each of them and, with variations, the answer was the same.

"Were you an intimate friend of Mr. Wilkins, with a confidential personal relationship?"

"No. He was one of a group of us who got together. We all shared the same interests in sports, or politics, or whatever."

The last witness of the day was Oliver Schaefer, the president of a local bank. In response to a question by Dodgson, he said, "I saw him in March, around the middle of the month. It was a meeting with a representative from the Small Business Administration. Afterward I talked briefly with Jay. I mentioned that I had heard that his wife's health had improved greatly, that someone had seen her out and about. He became very disturbed and said that she was making every effort to resume a normal life, but it wasn't working. He didn't dare leave her alone in the evening, for instance, because that was when she lapsed into the deep depression and despondency that was so alarming. That was the last time I ever saw him."

When Barbara stood up to cross-examine, she returned to her point. "Mr. Schaefer, were you an intimate friend of Mr. Wilkins? One he shared confidences with?"

"No, not really. Ours was a friendly relationship, but hardly in the category of a very close personal friendship."

She had no further questions.

It was a few minutes after five when Judge Wells adjourned for the day.

The jurors filed out behind the bailiff and then the courtroom emptied. Not very many observers had been attending the trial and only two reporters, who had not yet tried to corner Wally or Barbara.

In the corridor, Wally stopped their group and said to Frank, "I've got to hand it to you. In there today, it hit me what a great job you've done bringing up your kid." He took Frank's hand to shake it vigorously. At the same time, he passed a note to Barbara with his other hand as he continued to speak earnestly, "She walks like you did years ago, and even talks like you —calm and cool, and as honed as a rapier."

He grinned and stepped back. "Just wanted you to know," he said. Taking Meg's hand, he turned and they walked out together.

"What was that all about?" Frank asked when they were out of hearing range.

Barbara read Wally's note, then said, "He wants me to meet him in the lounge at the Hilton in twenty minutes. Don't know why."

It was happy hour, and the lounge was crowded when she entered. A piano player was going through a jazz medley. The acoustics in the room were good, though, and the table she spotted near the far wall would do. She had to wait only a few minutes before she saw Wally come in. His mop of glowing white hair made him stand out in most crowds. She waved, and he made his way to the table. A waiter arrived at his heels.

"Pinot noir," Barbara said.

"For me, too," Wally said. When the waiter left he said, "You'd think, leading the life I've had, I'd be a boozer, but nope. I was afraid to start when I was a kid. My mom would have had my scalp. You remind me of her in some ways. She was focused, like you are. I'd make up an elaborate story about something or other and she'd listen, and then home in on the one weak spot, and before I knew it, I'd be saying,

'Mom, I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He chatted easily until the waiter returned with the wine, then he moved his own aside a little and leaned forward with both hands on the table. "I've been looking for a way to get you alone for a few minutes, but Meg's sticking to me like a burr these days. I gave her a foot rub, and she agreed to lie down while I shmooze with guys at the bar for a few minutes. I'm worried about her, Barbara. I know I've handed you a rotten case without much to work with and I just want to say that if it goes sour, that's the way she blows. But, if that happens, I'd like to know that someone's looking after Meg. I keep thinking about last Christmas. There we were in a hotel room, a nice room, mind you, but like a thousand others. We had a little tree that we decorated."

He held his hands about a foot apart. "A real little tree. We began to talk about our Christmases at home, the trees we had, the smells, family, candy and cookies. You know. Anyway when she said let's get a house in the country, it was as if a hammer had banged my head."

His voice was low, but so intense that the other bar sounds, the voices chattering, the piano, seemed to fade, and all she could hear was Wally.

"I realized what I had done to her all those years, and how much she had wanted a little farm, a little garden. A home. A real home. She never said so, and I never gave it a thought, never a thought. But there it was, and once you know it, you can't just let it go. You know?"

She nodded.

"So, anyway, that night I swore that I'd make it up to her, spend the rest of my life making it up to her. Not out loud, mind you. She wouldn't have stood for it. I thought it would be a sacrifice to move out to the country, out of the limelight and glitter, and I wanted to make a sacrifice, absolve myself, but you know what? I love it as much as she does. And I can still go do my thing now and then. It's been good out there, and it gets better. It's something we could have done twenty-five years ago, but I was too stupid to realize it. Except for this hell we've blundered into, it's worked out perfectly."

He stopped to sip his wine, and Barbara took her first sip of her own. She had felt immobilized by his words and his passion.

"She's strong," Wally said. "But this is too much. She has too much guilt over that goddamn boat. After... I mean, in case it goes the wrong way, your dad said he'd help her with financial decisions, things like that, but she's going to need a friend or two besides. She doesn't deserve this now. She never deserved anything like this, but especially now. Seeing a dream come alive, then having it snatched away again, mixed with such guilt... It's a bad combination."

Before she could speak, he glanced about then said in a lower voice, "There's something else. You know, I told you and Frank that I play cards now and then.

Remember?"

She nodded.

"Yeah. Look, it used to bother Meg, but it was never enough for her to get in a panic about or anything like that. But sometimes the stakes got pretty high. Real high. You know, the way we traveled, one section of the country after another. I opened bank accounts here and there. She doesn't know a thing about them. I kept thinking the day would come when I wouldn't be able to do my act, arthritis, an accident, something, and I wanted something extra put away, just in case." He glanced around again. "Anyway, these past few months, I've been closing those accounts, getting cashiers checks, and I stashed them away in a safe deposit box. We opened it together when we came home, but she forgot all about it, and I got hold of her key and kept it. The checks are there, and she'll need them if... Anyway, she might need them, but funny thing is I can't give her the keys right now. You know how she is.

She might think... It might alarm her. I want to give the keys to you, for her, just in case." He drew an envelope from his pocket and put it on the table. "The keys," he said.

When she didn't move, he said in an intense voice, "Put them in your purse, Barbara."

She picked up the envelope and dropped it into her purse, and he lifted his wine and took a long drink. "Thanks." He put his wineglass down.

She reached across the table and put her hand on his. "Wally, we'll never abandon her. I promise. But you can't lose hope. It always looks bad at this stage when the prosecution seems to have all the aces, but I haven't even started my case. Please, don't lose faith now. It would be demoralizing for all of us, you, Meg and me, Wally.

I need your faith in me."

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I said, just in case. You know, a contingency plan, a backup. That's all I mean. I've seen you home in on the weak spots, kid. And you're good, even better than my mom was." He smiled his big gleaming smile. "I'll get on up to the room. See you in the morning, counselor." He picked up the tab, and left swiftly.

She took another sip of her own wine, but she didn't want it now. She stood up and walked out. Wally was already out of sight.

She drove to her office, let herself in and put the envelope in her safe, and afterward she went to Frank's house to tell him about the meeting. She left again almost instantly, without waiting for a comment, without adding one of her own.

It smelled like rain when she unloaded her briefcase and purse at her apartment. It was too early for the leaf-stripping fall rain that generally came around the end of the month, to be followed all too soon by the fogs that persisted through the end of the year. But everything else had gone crazy, she thought, unlocking her door. Why not the weather, too?

She walked from her little office to the kitchen, back, more times than she could count until, exhausted, she sank down into her good chair. Wally s words kept playing in her head: if it goes sour, just in case... Over and over. When the rain started, she got up and watched out the window. It was like an end of the month driving, pounding rain that left the world sodden and beaten down, the summer flowers in tatters, blackened and done for, the trees stripped bare. Then, finally, she thought about something to eat.

Although less than a week ago Frank's stuffed lamb had been delicious, that night it was tasteless, and after a few bites, she gave it up, and drew a bath. Tomorrow, she told herself. Concentrate on tomorrow, the trial. Wally's words kept repeating in her head.