The Advocate - 02 - The Advocate's Betrayal (16 page)

“I spoke with JP last night and his report is a bit disturbing, but there may be a reasonable explanation. It doesn’t mean she’s a murderer,” Bob said.

Sabre stopped before entering the courtroom. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll go talk to her this morning. Can you finish my morning calendar? All I have are a couple of reviews and you’re on both of them.”

“Sure. Do you have trial this afternoon?”

“I do. You want to meet for lunch?”

“Pho’s?”

“Pho’s it is.” Sabre took her hearing cover sheets out of her files and gave them to Bob. “Please just fill in the hearing dates and put them in my box. And thanks for taking care of this for me.”

Sabre hustled out of the courthouse and drove directly to the hospital. Betty moved her bed up into a sitting position when Sabre entered. “You’re looking much better today,” Sabre greeted her.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll be able to go
home
soon.” She snickered. “I’ve never been sick before where I wasn’t eager to get well. Damn, I don’t want to go back to that jail cell.”

Sabre patted her hand. “I’m sorry, Betty. I know the future looks bleak right now, but we’re going to solve this thing.”

“That didn’t sound very promising.”

“Betty, we need to talk.” Sabre removed her hand. “Actually, I need some answers.”

“About what?” Betty seemed hesitant. She pulled back and seemed to stiffen up.

“JP’s investigation brought up some unusual information. First, of all, we know John and Jim are the same person.” Betty sighed and nodded her head in affirmation. “We also know you left the trailer park in Austin in the middle of the night, the trailer park for which you gave us the wrong address, by the way.” Betty sat there in silence. Sabre watched her friend’s face tighten when she said, “Why did you lie to me, Betty?”

Betty pursed her lips. “I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what or whom?”

Betty sighed again. “The IRS. We owed a lot of back taxes and we just got in so deep, we couldn’t get caught up. Then we started running, and I was afraid to say anything different than the story we’d been telling.”

“You were running because of back taxes?”

“Yes, I know it’s stupid, but we just got in a bind.”

“How long have you been running?”

“It started in West Virginia, about six or seven years ago. That’s why we left there.”

“And that’s where you lived before Austin?”

“Yes.”

“Where were you born?”

“Cabin Creek, West Virginia.”

“I thought you said you were from Charleston.”

“Cabin Creek isn’t far from Charleston. Unless you’re a die-hard fan of Jerry West, the basketball player, you probably never heard of it. Most people haven’t. So, it’s easier to say Charleston. Besides, we moved to Charleston when I was very young. I’m sorry if I misled you; things have been so confusing since John died.”

“Did you ever live anywhere else?”

“Not for long. We lived in a few different cities in West Virginia and once in Tennessee for a while, but that’s about it.”

“Never in Wisconsin?”

“No,” she answered quickly. “No,” she shook her head. “Not Wisconsin.” Betty tried to lay her head back, but her pillow was bunched up. Sabre took it out and fluffed it up for her.

“There, is that better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Betty nestled into her pillow. “Sabre, I’m really tired. Do you mind if I rest for a while?”

“No, you go ahead.” Sabre leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll come back later.”

Sabre left the hospital and drove to court. She was out of time and would have to go see JP after her trial.

Sabre’s client, Merriam, a mousy woman with a huge scar on the side of her face, was waiting for her when she reached the courthouse. She escorted her client upstairs to an area where they could have some privacy and went over the social worker’s reports with her.

“They’re willing to return the children to your care, but the attorney representing your children thinks you’ll let your husband back into the home. We have to show you’re serious.”

Merriam handed Sabre some papers. “Here, I filed the divorce papers, along with a restraining order. That ought to mean something.”

“That’ll help.”

“I’m not letting that son-of-a-bitch back into my home. It’s one thing how he scarred me, but the scars he left on my daughter are unforgivable.”

“A lot of women say that, and they really mean it at the time, but then they weaken and let the abuser back in.”

Merriam raised her voice, “I’m not going to lose my children. Not for any man.”

“Okay. You just speak the truth when you’re on the stand and please, when I ask you a question just answer the question that’s asked. Don’t volunteer anything extra. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“And when County Counsel or the other attorneys ask you something, don’t be too quick to answer. Just take your time. It’s okay to pause and it gives me time to object if I don’t want the question answered. And do the same with them; don’t volunteer any extra information. The more you say, the more that can be twisted or misunderstood. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, let’s go.” They stood up, walked downstairs, and Sabre entered the courtroom. Merriam waited outside while the attorneys met to try to resolve some of the issues and shorten the length of the trial.

After some negotiation, the clients were summoned and the matter was called to order. Sabre whispered to Merriam. “We’ve settled. The children are going home with you.” The woman’s eyes lit up. She smiled and squirmed in her chair.

While the judge reviewed the stipulations to the settlement, Sabre’s stomach began to feel queasy again. Her chest tightened.

 “Is your client in agreement?” the judge asked. So many things were weighing on Sabre. She had to figure a way to keep the Kemp children safe and find John’s real killer. “Ms. Brown?”

Sabre looked up, bringing her mind back to the case. “Sorry, yes, Your Honor. My client agrees.”

“All other orders remain in full force and effect.” The judge tapped her gavel and left the courtroom.

“So when do they go home?” Merriam asked.

“This afternoon. The social worker will help you with the arrangements.”

“Thank you. Thank you.” Merriam reached up and hugged Sabre. Her wet cheek rubbed against Sabre’s face.

“Just take care of those kids.”

“I will. I promise. I’ll keep them safe.”

Sabre walked to the parking lot, got in her car, and started to back out.

“Honk! Honk!” Sabre slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a dark green Chevy Suburban. The driver honked and screamed obscenities at her. Sabre waited for a few minutes, took a deep breath, and then drove out of the lot.

She drove to JP’s home office, calling him on the way to make sure he was in. He made a new pot of coffee and was waiting for her when she arrived.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Decaf?”

“Of course. I know your weaknesses.”

“I’d love some. Thanks.”

JP poured each of them a cup of coffee, adding lots of skim milk to Sabre’s. He picked up both cups and led her out on the veranda. “It’s too nice to be inside,” he said. “So, what’s up?”

“I spoke to Betty about your investigation.” She sat down at a small, white wrought iron table. “She said they were running from the IRS.”

“Do you believe her?” JP placed her coffee in front of her.

“I want to, but I think she’s still holding back.”

“Well, that should be easy enough to check out. I can find out if they owed back taxes. Is there something else?”

“She denies ever being in Wisconsin, but she was a little too quick with her response, and then she didn’t seem to want to talk anymore. I don’t know, maybe she was just tired. She said she lived in West Virginia before Austin.”

“Well, so far I haven’t found anything in West Virginia, but I’ll keep checking.”

Sabre remembered. “Oh, and she was born in Cabin Creek, West Virginia, not Charleston.”

“Okay, I’ll try that. She said her maiden name was Johnson. So, I’ll see what I can find for Betty Johnson in Cabin Creek, West Virginia. And I’ll check the tax records for Jim Taylor.”

Sabre sipped her coffee in silence, then looked up at JP. “What do you think, JP? Do you think she’s telling the truth about the tax thing?”

JP turned toward Sabre. “It’s plausible. People get really afraid of the IRS and often do stupid things. She’s definitely afraid of something. What bothers me is her ease at lying. She’s very comfortable with it, like she’s done it a lot. That throws up red flags for me.” JP picked up a report from his desk and handed it to Sabre. “Speaking of red flags and Charleston, West Virginia…that trespassing charge on Kemp had all kinds of them.”

“Like what?”

“The property he trespassed on belonged to an African-American who was killed in a drive-by shooting while Kemp was on his property.”

“What?” Sabre looked puzzled glancing at the police report.

“The police couldn’t find any evidence that connected the two incidents, but knowing Kemp’s background, I’d bet there’s something there. And actually, his being there gave him an alibi.”

18

JP propped his feet, encased in his favorite cowboy boots, up on the stool under his desk and pulled his computer onto his lap. His goal was to find out who Betty really was. He needed to find out for Sabre today; the sooner she new the truth, the easier it would be for her. He had spent most of the morning on the phone trying to come up with some trace of Betty and her husbands, and then the entire afternoon looking for delinquent tax records. He had settled in, knowing it would take a while, but was frustrated with the results. The window beckoned him. He wished he were outside watching the sun set instead of glued to the computer and telephone.

Ding, dong.

JP stood up, stretched his back, and walked to the door, relieved to be interrupted after hours of sitting and glaring at the screen.

“Hi, Bob, come on in. You just come from court?”

“Why else would I be wearing a suit and tie? You know it comes off as soon as I can get rid of it. Besides, not all of us get to work in jeans and cowboy shirts.” He tugged at his tie to loosen it.

“Like you would wear them even if you could.”

“Hey, I have a pair of boots—nice ones, too. I bought them at Marshall’s for twenty bucks.”

“That’s a little over your limit for shoes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I usually won’t pay over fifteen, but these were special.”

“You cheapskate.”

“Hey, I buy Florsheims for that price. You just have to find them on clearance, a sale upon a sale. It’s all in the shopping.”

“Well, you can have the shopping. Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

JP walked over to the bar and poured Bob a vodka on the rocks, more vodka than rocks. He took a bottle of Coors out of the refrigerator for himself. He tipped his head toward the sliding glass door. “Let’s go outside. It’s nice out this evening.”

“I see you’re still drinking Coors.”

“I always drink American. I’m not a traitor like you, drinking that Russian garbage.” They sat down at the little, white, wrought iron table on the deck.

“How’s your investigation going?” Bob asked.

JP took a drink of beer. “Lots of holes in Betty’s story. For starters, there are no delinquent tax records. At least not for the social security numbers I have for John and Betty Smith. John’s social security number matches his name but only goes back four years. There are lots of tax records for John’s alias, Jim or James Taylor, but none with the social security number John was using.”

“So, John found a way to not only get a new name but also a new social security number. That’s kind of sophisticated for the ‘country bumpkin’ he supposedly was, don’t you think?”

“Sure is. I found one ‘James Taylor’ in Austin in the tax records, but the age wasn’t even close, so I don’t think that was him. Nothing in West Virginia quite adds up, although it’s difficult to say without a social security number and such a common name.”

“What about Betty’s birth certificate? Did you find that?”

“Yes…no.” JP shook his head in confusion. “I don’t know.”

“That was perfectly clear.”

“I found a Betty J. Johnson, born in Cabin Creek, West Virginia on the same birth date as our Betty.”

“That must be her then. What’s the problem?”

“She died.”

“Well, that must just be a mistake.” Bob looked up, eyes opened wide. “Wait…you don’t think she killed her and took her identity, do you?”

“No. I mean she died at birth.”

“That’s crazy. There must be another child with the same name.”

“Born the same day?”

“I guess that’s not likely.” Bob sighed.

“No, not likely. And Cabin Creek is a very small town.”

“There just must be some mistake in the records back then. Remember, everything was done by hand. Maybe a wrong box was checked or something. What do you need to do to verify it?”

“I requested some paperwork from West Virginia, but I don’t know how soon I’ll get it, or if it’ll really tell me anything.”

“What about Jim Taylor? Find anything on him?”

“No, nothing. No birth records, nothing around Charleston anyway, but he changed his name once. Maybe he was someone else before he became Jim Taylor.”

Bob squeezed his lips together in agreement, nodding. “It might’ve even been before Betty met him. She may not even know his real name.”

“That’s possible.”

“What’s next?” Bob asked.

“I think I’ll check out something Betty’s friend, Rose, told me when I was in Texas. She mentioned a town in Wisconsin that Betty denied having any knowledge of, but Rose seemed to think she’d been there.”

“It’s worth a shot. Since our client is obviously keeping something from us, I guess we need to go around her.” Bob hesitated. “Between you and me, do you think she murdered her husband?”

JP shook his head. “I don’t know. I want to think she didn’t for Sabre’s sake. I mean, if it were a crime of passion, I’d be quicker to believe it, but this looks like premeditated murder. Yet, she has lied to us at every turn. She’s definitely involved in something besides tax evasion. Is it murder? I just don’t know. I do know that the closer we get to the truth, the guiltier she looks.”