The Undertaker's Widow (21 page)

“Any more witnesses, Ms. Garrett?” Quinn asked.

“No, Your Honor.”

“Then let's hear from your people, Mr. Riker.”

“The State calls Lou Anthony, Your Honor.”

The bailiff went into the hall and returned with the detective. The bailiff gave Anthony the oath, then motioned him toward the witness box. Quinn thought that the detective seemed very uncomfortable and the judge noticed that the witness avoided looking at Ellen Crease.

“Detective Anthony, are you the detective in charge of the investigation into the death of Lamar Hoyt?” Riker asked after establishing Anthony's background in police work.

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you at the crime scene on the evening of January seventh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you interview the defendant and speak to the medical examiner, forensic experts and other investigators?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What conclusion did you come to about the defendant's responsibility for the death of her husband and Martin Jablonski on the evening of the shooting?”

“On the evening of January seventh, I concluded that a burglar, who we later learned was an ex-convict named Martin Jablonski, had broken into the home of Mr. Hoyt and the defendant to commit a burglary and had shot Mr. Hoyt during its commission. I also concluded that the defendant shot and killed Mr. Jablonski to protect herself.”

“Did you believe that Mr. Jablonski was working alone?”

“At that time, yes.”

“Did you later suspect that Mr. Jablonski had been hired to break into the Hoyt estate and shoot Mr. Hoyt?”

“Yes.”

“What caused you to form that opinion?”

“During a search of Mr. Jablonski's apartment, I found ten thousand dollars that his wife said Jablonski received shortly before the break-in.”

“Subsequent to learning about the ten thousand dollars, did you become aware of evidence that called into question the defendant's version of the shooting?”

“Yes, sir. Gary Yoshida, a forensic expert in our crime lab, told me that blood spatter evidence at the crime scene contradicted the defendant's version of the way the shooting occurred.”

“When did Officer Yoshida tell you about the blood spatter evidence?”

“On January 14, a week after the shooting.”

“Did Officer Yoshida tell you he needed to visit the crime scene to confirm his suspicions about the blood spatter evidence?”

“Yes. He said that he had to see the scene in three dimensions. His initial conclusions were drawn from examinations of photographs and he felt that wasn't good enough.”

“When Officer Yoshida informed you that he needed to see the bedroom again to confirm his suspicions about the blood spatter, did you drive to the estate immediately?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you go so quickly?”

“It had been a while since the murder and we had just turned the scene back to the defendant. We were both worried that the scene had been altered. I felt time was of the essence.”

“What happened at the estate?”

“Mr. Allen, the housekeeper, let us in. He told us that the bedroom was going to be cleaned the next day. I asked for his consent to enter the bedroom with Officer
Yoshida so we could find any evidence that might exist before the cleaners destroyed it. He gave his consent and we conducted our investigation.”

“Why didn't you get a search warrant for the bedroom?”

“There wasn't any reason to do that. We are taught about the law of search and seizure at the Police Academy and we get updates from time to time. It has always been my understanding that a warrant was not necessary if someone with the authority to give it consents to a search of the premises.”

“Did you believe that Mr. Allen had the authority to consent to your entry into the bedroom?”

“Yes, sir. He was the housekeeper. He had the key. The defendant was away campaigning. He was the only one home.”

“No further questions. Thank you, Detective.”

“What's your take on Anthony? Is he an honest cop?” Garrett asked Crease in a whisper.

Crease thought about the question before answering. Then she leaned close to her attorney.

“Lou's a straight arrow. He won't lie.”

Garrett looked at the witness.

“As I understand your testimony, Detective, you and Officer Yoshida went to the Hoyt estate, James Allen met you, you told him you wanted to enter the bedroom, he said that was great and he took you upstairs and let you in. Do I have that right?”

“No, ma'am. That is not what happened.”

Garrett looked astonished. “Oh! What part do I have wrong?”

“When I first asked Mr. Allen if Officer Yoshida and I could go into the bedroom, he wasn't sure that he could let us in.”

“In fact, he specifically told you, did he not, that
the room was locked and that Senator Crease had instructed him to unlock the room only for the cleaners?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Did you take ‘no' for an answer?”

“No, because the defendant had no reason to believe we would need to take a second look at the room when she left for eastern Oregon. I assumed that she wouldn't want to block a police investigation.”

“Well, Detective, weren't you also assuming at this time that Senator Crease may have hired Martin Jablonski to kill her husband?”

“That was a theory.”

“If that was true, she would have every reason to impede a police investigation, wouldn't she?”

Anthony hesitated before answering, “I guess so.”

“And every reason to want to forbid you access to the crime scene.”

Anthony did not know what to say.

“I'll assume your lack of response constitutes agreement, Detective,” Garrett said.

“Objection,” said Riker, who was obviously upset by the course of Garrett's examination. “Detective Anthony did not just agree. Ms. Garrett is putting words in his mouth.”

“Sustained,” Quinn said. “Detective, we need a yes or no for the record.”

Anthony looked helpless. Finally, he answered, “I guess she would have a reason to deny us access to the room if she was the killer.”

Garrett's lips twitched. It was bad form to grin in court when you scored points, so she had to suppress a big smile.

“It is true, is it not, that Mr. Allen tried to reach Senator Crease by phone to see if she would agree to let you in the room, but he was unable to talk to her?”

“Yes.”

“He then reiterated to you that his instructions were to keep everyone but the cleaners out of the room?”

“Yes.”

“That upset you, didn't it?”

“I wasn't upset.”

“You didn't become agitated and raise your voice?”

“I … I was concerned about the cleaners and I was certain that … I mean, well, it seemed to me that Senator Crease would have let us in if she was asked. That she wouldn't have objected to the police going in.”

“Even though you just said that she had every reason to keep out the police if she was a murderer?”

“I … Honestly, that didn't go through my mind, about her refusing.”

“You just wanted to get into the room?”

“Yes.”

“So you applied pressure to Mr. Allen.”

“No.”

“You didn't lean into him?”

“I may have.”

“You didn't sound annoyed?”

“I … That may be so. I was concerned.”

“You made Mr. Allen change his mind, did you not?”

“He changed his mind. I couldn't force him. I didn't. It was his decision.”

“You're telling Judge Quinn that you didn't use your authority as a policeman and your size to intimidate Mr. Allen?”

“No. It wasn't that way.”

Garrett hesitated for a moment. Then she said, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

Quinn studied the detective. He sounded a little desperate, but he also sounded like an honest cop. The judge did not doubt that Anthony had applied some pressure
to Allen to convince him to change his mind, but it made a difference if the detective simply used his powers of persuasion as opposed to coercing the housekeeper to open the bedroom door. However, the line between persuasion and coercion could be very thin when the person who wants a result is a police officer.

“Our next witness will take a while, Your Honor,” Cedric Riker said. “This might be a good time to break.”

“Who is the witness?”

“Officer Yoshida. He'll be explaining the basis for probable cause and talking about the exigent circumstances.”

“All right. Let's break for the day. I'll see everyone at nine in the morning.”

Quinn did not want to go back to his barren apartment, so he stayed in his chambers to work on cases that he had not been able to get to because of
State v. Crease
. The corridors of the courthouse were deserted when Quinn turned out the lights in his chambers and locked the door shortly before seven. The courthouse floors were marble and the ceilings were high. The slightest noise was magnified. At night, the silence in the darkened halls was eerie. Quinn walked down the corridor. The elevators were around the corner. When he was almost at the end of the hall, Quinn paused. He thought he heard a footfall. He stopped to listen, but the hall was silent. Maybe a security guard was walking rounds on the floor below. Sound carried in odd ways in an empty building at night.

Quinn turned the corner. There was a bank of two elevators on either side of the wide marble stairs. Just as the judge pressed the Down button to summon one a
scraping sound made Quinn's breath catch in his chest. He stepped away from the elevators and peered down the deserted hallway in both directions. Quinn jumped, then sagged, startled by the bell that signaled the arrival of the elevator.

Quinn took the car to the lobby. The empty courthouse had spooked him and the dark, deserted streets looked threatening. The rain had stopped, but a stiff wind forced Quinn to turn up the collar of his raincoat. He hurried along the three blocks between the courthouse and the garage where the county rented parking spaces for the judges.

During the ride home, Quinn tried to think about the evidence he had heard, but he found himself thinking about Laura and how lonely he would be all evening. Quinn decided to call Laura as soon as he got home. Maybe she was ready to talk about their future.

Quinn opened his door and turned on the light. He shut and locked the door. A man in a black ski mask, turtleneck and jeans stepped out of the judge's bedroom and pointed a gun at Quinn.

“Stay calm,” the man said. “I'm not here to hurt you or rob you, but I will hurt you if you don't do as you're told. If you're smart, I'll be gone in a few minutes and you'll be just fine. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Quinn answered, trying to keep his tone neutral so the gunman would not hear how frightened he was.

The intruder gestured toward a chair that stood in front of a low coffee table. “Sit down.”

Quinn did as he was told.

“How did Andrea Chapman die?” the man asked.

“I told the police that I don't know anything about that.”

The man reached behind his back and pulled a manila
envelope out of his waistband. He tossed it onto the coffee table.

“Open it,” he commanded.

Quinn raised the flap.

“Now, take out the photographs.”

Quinn removed three 8½ by 11 black-and-white photographs. All three shots showed Quinn and Andrea Chapman in the Cove of Lost Souls. Quinn's stomach rolled. The man pulled back the hammer of the gun and pointed the barrel at Quinn's head. Quinn blanched.

“I repeat, how did Andrea Chapman die?”

“She was murdered,” Quinn stammered.

“Yes, but how was she murdered?”

“Drowning. She was drowned.”

There was a slit for the mouth in the ski mask and Quinn saw the man's lips curl into a cruel grin.

“I hear that drowning is a peaceful way to die once you give in to it. Andrea didn't have it that easy.”

The man paused as if recalling a fond memory. When he spoke again, it was in the tone that confidants use with one another.

“Andrea's skin was smooth and her body was very firm. You would have enjoyed playing with her. I did. Oh, she cried and begged at first, but I soon put an end to that. Do you want to know how?”

This time the man's smile was wide and self-satisfied. Quinn's stomach clenched and bile rose in his throat. The man chuckled.

“Don't go in much for rough foreplay, do you? It's one of my favorite things. After a while Andrea was willing to do anything I asked, even to the point of inventing her own little sex games, to avoid the pain.”

The man paused. He eyed Quinn curiously, holding the judge's gaze the way a hypnotist traps his subject. The smile faded suddenly.

“Unfortunately, I had business to attend to, so I
was forced to rape Andrea brutally, several times. Then I selected a very sharp hunting knife and engaged in some creative dismemberment.”

Quinn gagged and fought with all his might to keep from throwing up.

“Don't worry, Judge. You won't have to see any pictures. In fact, if you do as you're told, neither you nor anyone else will ever view my handiwork. But if you disobey me there will be terrible consequences for you.

“Tell me, Judge, what do you think would happen if the St. Jerome Police received an anonymous call telling them where to find the body of Andrea Chapman? What do you think would happen if the St. Jerome Police received copies of these photographs? Did you know that there is an extradition treaty between the United States and St. Jerome? Did you know that hanging is the punishment for murder on St. Jerome?”

Quinn had trouble breathing. He felt as if his body had turned to water.

“What do you want from me?” Quinn managed.