The Lavender Hour (27 page)

“And what else did you do while waiting for the report?”

“We pursued other avenues. We checked with the deceased's insurance company to see if there was an insurance angle, someone who would profit from his death.”

“And what was the result of that line of inquiry?”

“We learned that the deceased did have a life insurance policy but that, during his illness, he had borrowed against it.”

“And what else did you do?”

“We conducted background checks on everyone who was on our list.”

“And did this check reveal anything of further interest?”

“No.”

“And eventually you received the report back from the state lab.”

“Yes.”

“And what did the results disclose?”

“The toxicology report revealed that, at the time of death, there was a massive amount of narcotics in the system of the deceased, specifically Seconal. The cause of death was determined to be acute narcotic intoxication.”

Nelson stopped the questioning to have the lab report marked and entered as evidence; several of the jurors looked over at me.

“Did you receive anything else from the state lab pertaining to this case?”

“Yes. We also received a report that the defendant's fingerprints were on both the medicine vials and the plastic bag we recovered from the scene. The bag also contained traces of Seconal.”

Moody again stopped his questioning to enter the lab result as evidence. He took his time, waiting until after the clerk had completed the paperwork to resume questioning, and I saw how this gave the jury time to sit with the information about my fingerprints. Finally he turned back to Moody.

“And at this time, because of the lab results, what did you do?”

“We focused our investigation on the defendant.”

“Did you have occasion to interview her a second time?”

“I did.”

“Please tell the jury about this interview.”

“Well, I asked her again if the deceased had ever mentioned taking his own life, and she said he never had.”

“And what did you do next?”

“We procured a search warrant and searched the defendant's home.”

“And what, if anything, did you find?”

I knew what was coming. Moody was about to present the evidence
that convinced the grand jury to sign the bill of indictment. Don't worry about it, Gage told me back when we'd learned that I was to be indicted. “The grand jury rubber-stamps cases for the DA's office.” He told me that their threshold for signing a bill was extremely low, lower even than reasonable doubt, that Nelson's case was completely circumstantial. Still, I worried how this jury would react to Moody's answer.

“We found several things of interest in the defendant's home: a man's shirt, later identified by the deceased's mother as belonging to him, and a small oil painting that was reported missing from the deceased's home.”

Again I felt the weight of the jurors' eyes. My pulse throbbed against my wrist, at my throat, echoed in my ears.

“Was there anything else?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What else?”

“In a drawer in an upstairs room, we found an envelope bearing the deceased's name and containing a lock of hair, which later DNA testing confirmed belonged to the deceased.”

There was noise in the room, as if everyone had dragged a shoe across the floor at once. I swallowed.

“You found a lock of the deceased's hair in the defendant's home?”

Gage was on his feet. “Asked and answered.”

“Move along, Mr. Nelson,” Judge Savage said.

“After you found these articles, did you have a conversation with the defendant?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Please recall that conversation for the jury.”

“I asked her how these articles came to be in her possession, and she said the deceased had given them to her.”

“Let me understand,” Nelson said. “The defendant, a hospice volunteer, maintained the deceased gave her a lock of his hair, one of his shirts, and a painting?” Disbelief dripped from his voice.

“That is what she said, yes.”

They have nothing, Gage had said again and again about the DA's case. Some fingerprints on a vial that everyone and his brother had touched. A shirt, a lock of hair, a painting. A plastic bag. I didn't dare even one glance at the jury box.

“I want to enter into evidence Exhibits 3,4, and 5,”Nelson said. He carried Luke's shirt and the painting and the glassine envelope to the clerk, who attached stickers to each; then he brought them to the witness stand.

“Are these the items you recovered from the defendant's home?”

Moody inspected each of the items. “Yes, they are.”

The jurors stared at the envelope containing Luke's hair, as if it alone held the answers to the question of my guilt or innocence.

“And while executing the search warrant, did you discover anything else pertinent to the case?”

Moody nodded. “We found a notebook belonging to the defendant.”

Nelson returned to his table, picked up my sketchbook, and handed it to Moody. “Is this the notebook you are referring to?”

Moody opened the book, leafed through the pages. “Yes, it is.”

Nelson again went through the procedure of having the book admitted as evidence.

“Was there anything about the book in particular?”

“There was.”

“And what was that?”

“Drawings of the deceased. Dozens of drawings the defendant had made of him.”

Nelson retrieved the sketchbook and received permission from the judge to show it to the jury. Looking back later, I would see that that was the moment, three days into the trial, when Luke stopped being the deceased to the jury and became a man.

Nelson addressed his witness.

“Did you have further conversation with the defendant at that time?”

“No, I did not.”

“One more question, Lieutenant Moody. In the course of your investigation, were you able to ascertain who was the last person to see Luke Ryder before his death?”

“We were.”

“And who was that?”

“The defendant. Jessica Long.”

“Thank you.” Nelson turned away. “No further questions.”

I still couldn't look at the jury, afraid of what I might see on their faces. My hands ached. Across each palm, I'd inscribed livid half-moons with my fingernails.

Judge Savage addressed Gage.

“Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Gage stood up. “Lieutenant Moody, the deceased was dying of pancreatic cancer, was he not?”

“I'm not a doctor.”

“But you talked to his doctor several times during the course of your investigation, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you learn?”

“The patient had cancer, yes.”

“And Mr. Ryder had been on pain medication for several months and recently the dosage had been increased, and at the time of his death, he was on a morphine drip, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir, I believe so.”

“Believe so? Or know so?”

“Yes, sir, that is what the medical records revealed.”

“So one might reasonably assume he would have massive amounts of painkiller in his system?”

Moody shrugged. “He would have some, yes.”

“In your investigation, did you learn that Luke Ryder was under hospice care?”

“Yes.”

“To qualify for hospice, a person has to have a doctor's statement they have six months or less to live, is that correct?”

“I believe so.”

“How long had hospice been involved?”

“Since April.”

“So it is safe to assume that the deceased was, in fact, dying?”

“Like I said, I'm not a doctor.”

Gage didn't pursue the question. I knew that Luke's doctor was on his list of witnesses and would be called later to testify. He looked down at his notes. “Now you testified that you found a prescription vial in the home of the deceased, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Where was the vial?”

“In the kitchen.”

“In plain sight?”

“Yes.”

“Where anyone might have seen it or touched it?”

“It was in plain sight, yes.”

“Is it possible that, at some time during the weeks that Jessie Long came to his home, Luke Ryder might have asked her to bring it to him?”

“I guess it's possible.”

“And wouldn't it be appropriate for Jessie, in her role as volunteer, to spend time tidying up the house for Mr. Ryder?”

“It might be.”

“And in doing so, isn't it reasonable to assume she might have moved the bottle?”

“She might have.”

“Were there any other fingerprints on the bottle?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“A number of partial prints, some of which we couldn't identify.”

“And the ones you identified. Who did they belong to?”

“The deceased's mother, the hospice health aide, the hospice nurse, a pharmacist, and the deceased.”

“In your testimony, you mentioned also finding a plastic bag that contained Jessie's fingerprints. Were hers the only prints you recovered?”

“No. The deceased's prints were also on the bag.”

“Any others?”

“Several we could not identify.”

Gage switched gears. “Now, at one point in your investigation, you obtained a court order for a search warrant for the defendant's home, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And on what basis did you obtain the warrant?”

“The request was granted based on the results from the lab indicating that the deceased's death was due to massive amounts of Seconal in his system, that the defendant's fingerprints were on one of the medication vials, and that the bag recovered from the scene contained trace evidence of Seconal.”

“Did you seek warrants for any of the other people whose fingerprints were found on the bottles?”

“No.”

“You did not?”

“No.”

“Prior to your search of Jessie's home, did you have any knowledge of the missing shirt or the painting?”

Moody looked over at Nelson. The DA stared ahead.

“Lieutenant?” Gage said. I knew what was coming. Gage had learned from his mole in the system that Paige had hired a private detective who had at some point gone into my cottage and found Luke's shirt, the painting, and the envelope with Luke's hair. My notebook. I could still recall how ill it had made me to learn someone had been in my home, gone through my things. Gage had told
me the search was illegal and none of those things could have been admitted without the police uncovering them independently, but during a pretrial motion, to Gage's astonishment and anger, the judge had allowed them.

“We received information that an unnamed person had gone into the defendant's home and found these things.”

“Gone into her home or broken into it?”

“Our informant didn't specify.”

“Who was your informant?”

“We never ascertained the identity.”

“An anonymous caller?”

“Yes.”

Gage gave the jury a look of astonishment, as if he was just learning this himself. “So on the basis of an illegal search by an anonymous person, you sought and received permission to search Jessica Long's home?”

“No. The warrant was granted on evidence we had in hand that pointed to the defendant. She was the last person to see the deceased alive. Her fingerprints were on the vial. He died of a Sec-onal overdose.”

“And it had nothing to do with the information obtained in an illegal search by an anonymous person and relayed to you by another anonymous person?”

“That is correct.”

“And you expect this jury to believe that?”

Nelson rose. “Object. Argumentative.”

“Sustained.”

“Approach, Your Honor,” Gage said.

Judge Savage motioned for both attorneys to approach her for a whispered conference. I knew Gage was trying to get the evidence tossed out because it was based on knowledge gained during the illegal search, even though Savage had already ruled on this before the trial. Now she denied it again.

Gage returned to the witness, smiling and acting as if he had
won some point in the conference, although I didn't believe the jury was fooled for a minute. “Lieutenant Moody, did you uncover any proof that Miss Long actually was responsible for the things you found? Could they have been placed there by the same anonymous person who made the call?” Of course, Gage should have quit while he was ahead.

“We didn't believe so.”

“And why not?”

“The defendant's handwriting was on the envelope that contained the deceased's hair.”

“So you say,” Gage said.

Nelson jumped up.

“Withdrawn.”

“Any redirect, Mr. Nelson?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Judge Savage excused Moody and recessed for lunch. The bailiff led the jury out. Gage and I returned to a conference room. Irene brought in coffee and sandwiches, but I couldn't eat. When Gage was busy reviewing his notes, I popped another Xanax and mulled over Moody's testimony, wondering when the small pile of coincidences and circumstantial evidence had become a pile with a force of its own. When we returned to the courtroom, my head was throbbing.

“Call your next witness,” Savage said to Nelson as soon as the members of the jury were again settled in their box.

“The state calls Detective Peter Sakolosky,” Nelson said.

According to Gage, Sakolosky was an ex-marine, and he looked every inch of it, from his gray crew cut and erect posture to his highly polished shoes. He was on the stand for the next half hour, and his testimony corroborated Moody's. There were no surprises for the jury. Eventually Sakolosky was excused, replaced by the Chatham Police officer who had received the call from Paige and had initially called in the State Police. When he was excused, the judge directed the DA to call his next witness.

“The state calls Dr. James Wilber,” Nelson said.

Wilber was quickly sworn in and seated. He was thin, with glasses, and was pale as a soda cracker, as if he lived and slept in his lab.

“Would you please state your name and spell it for the court?”

“Dr. James Wilber, W-i-l-b-e-r.”

“And where do you live, Dr. Wilber?”

“Plymouth, Massachusetts.”

“How are you employed?”