1 A Paw-sible Theory (12 page)

“I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.”

––
Hippolyte Taine

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
:
 
The Defense Stumbles

David Hunter lived in another city but his office was on the peninsula right across the old Broadway Bridge, currently closed to traffic. Pooky was right about open windows in good weather. One particular window in Hunter’s office was low enough for me to see inside if I stood on my hind legs, and the shrubs up against the foundation were large enough to hide me.

The well-appointed, large corner office had plenty of light from the two windows in the room. The plush carpet was a dark shade of green. A mahogany desk faced the door, with two green leather armchairs in front of it, the low credenza for the coffeemaker and coffee mugs behind the desk. A brown leather couch sat against one wall. Bookshelves filled with law books lined the rest of the wall space. The total effect was one of order and success.

Hunter arrived soon after I had positioned myself on the window sill, with a man––lean and muscular with eyes so dark they were almost black. He was handsome, in a rough sort of way, or at least Hunter’s assistant thought so judging from the way she was acting. The scar over his left eye, enhanced, rather than detracted from his good looks.

He stopped at her desk for a moment. “Hi, Dorinda, nice to see you again.”

She smiled at him in a peculiar way. “Hi, Tim, it’s nice to see you too. I’m still waiting for you to tell me how you got that scar. Will you ever tell me?” Dorinda wanted to know.

He winked at her, “Maybe one day I’ll tell you.”

Hunter, waiting in the doorway to his office, rolled his eyes and groaned. “Will you stop flirting with my assistant and come in my office?”

“So what’s up?” the man asked. “Am I here to discuss the case as a professional or as the only friend you have?”

“Both. I want your professional opinion and possibly your help, and I want you to remind me what a great lawyer I am because, frankly, I’m baffled.”

Hunter pulled a file out and set it on the desk in front of him. My guess was that the file was Ethan’s. “Take a look at this and tell me what I’m missing.”

Tim poured himself a cup of coffee, and sat down to review the file while Hunter stepped out to the outer office.

When he walked back in, Tim was refilling his cup. “What about Alyx’s ex-husband? I don’t see anything on him.”

David sat behind his desk and leaned back. Tim sat facing him, legs stretched out in front, his fingers laced in a steeple.

“The ex is the one who hired me; I speak to him often. Nothing there. They only occasionally communicate and, more important, there’s no motive. My understanding is that they’re not the best of friends, but they don’t hate each other either.”

Tim raised a questioning eyebrow. “I didn’t see any transcribed interview for Ethan here in the file. What did he have to say?”

“It hasn’t been typed yet. I have it right here.”

Hunter clicked the play button and skipped it forward. Hunter’s voice and Ethan’s responses poured forth from the machine:

“Your father overheard Maggie talking to someone about moving the store to another location. Did she discuss it with you?”

“Yeah, Maggie called me about it last Thursday. She said a real estate broker contacted her and told her the developer of the condominiums going up down the street was interested in buying their property, offering double what they had originally paid. Maggie thought it was worth thinking about, but Mom just got mad at her. Maggie wanted me to bring it up again to Mom just to explain that Maggie didn’t necessarily want to sell but that the offer should be discussed.”

“How do you feel about selling?”

“Me? I don’t have any say in that.”

“Well, you’re part owner with your mother, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess, but that’s only on paper. I’m not involved in any decision making––and I don’t want to be.”

“Did you talk to your mother about it?”

“No, I didn’t get the chance. I was going to bring it up at breakfast on Saturday, but I didn’t know Maggie was going to be there too, so I probably wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

Pause.

“I know why you’re asking me,” Ethan continued. “I swear the only reason I agreed with Maggie to bring it up to Mom was that I didn’t want anything to break up their friendship or partnership; I’ve never seen Mom happier and I would never do anything to change that.”

“Okay; I know we’ve been over this, but sometimes small details that seem unimportant are left out. Tell me again what happened Saturday morning. Start from the beginning––from the time you left your building and don’t leave anything out, no matter how small or insignificant you think it is.”

“You want to know if I spoke to someone in the parking lot?”

“Yes, who you spoke to, who you saw, what you saw and what you heard.”

“Yea, right. I don’t usually get up before noon on weekends, and I was reluctant to get up to have breakfast with Mom at ten. I took a shower, didn’t shave––didn’t have time to shape the black stubble on my face, soon to be a chinstrap beard.

I left my apartment, going down the outside stairs, taking the steps two at a time. I almost ran into a beautiful girl about my age––tall and slender, with short blond hair and slanted blue eyes, or maybe turquoise. I don’t know. The color is hard to describe. I introduced myself and she said her name was Nikki.

She was lost and asked me for directions, which I gave her. She was looking for the guy who lives next door. You know how that goes; some guys have all the luck.

Before I climbed in my car, I saw this Nikki pause at the top of the stairs and look back. I smiled and waved. She waved back.

When I turned the key in the ignition, I noticed I was almost out of gas. I didn’t have time to stop at my favorite station a couple of miles in the opposite direction, so I stopped, instead, at the one along the way where gas is usually a little higher. Standing there at the pump, watching the dollar amount race along made me think about the mess I had made of my finances even after all the warnings from Mom about spending.

After thinking about it, I decided to swallow my pride and ask Mom for help, telling myself how much worse it would be if I had to move back home because I couldn’t afford to pay the rent.

I was sure that’s what Mom wanted to discuss with me, and my stomach churned when I saw Maggie’s car pull up the driveway. It’s not that I don’t like her; she’s pretty cool. I just didn’t think I could handle both of them ganging up on me.

I turned the knob on the door and took out my key when the door didn’t open. While I waited for Maggie to get out of the car and come to the door, I could hear the cats’ loud, distressed meowing. I had a feeling something was wrong, and I was sure of it when Mom didn’t answer my greeting. I ran to the kitchen and saw her slumped forward on the table. I checked her pulse, pulled a towel from the drawer and pressed on the gash on her head. I told Maggie to call 911 and we waited for the ambulance. And that’s it.”

“According to my notes, the last time we spoke, you said you saw a blue car in front of your mother’s house that drove away as you turned down her street. Was it parked there?”

“I don’t know. All I saw was the brake lights flash briefly and the car driving away.”

“Could you tell the make of the car?”

“Naw; I really wasn’t paying close attention. For all I know, it could have just been going down the street and the driver hit the breaks for whatever reason.”

“Did you see the driver?”

“No.”

“You told Detective Smarts that you found the door locked and used your key to get in. Did you use your key to unlock both locks?”

“What difference does that make?”

“I understand your frustration; please bear with me. If the dead bolt was on, then the perpetrator would have had to have a key to lock it back up when he left, on the other hand, anyone could have turned the knob on the other lock from inside, locking the door behind them. That helps our case because it means anyone else could have entered, not just you.”

“Yeah, I understand, but I don’t know. The door didn’t open when I turned the knob. I was distracted by the cats’ loud meowing; I don’t remember which one I unlocked.”

“Okay, that’s enough for today. I’m on my way to speak to Maggie next and hear what she has to say about the real estate proposal she received. Are you doing okay? Anything you want me to do?”

“I want you to get me out of here. There’s this crazy tattooed man who killed another homeless man, stabbing him ten times because he touched his rusty old bicycle. He rambles on all day and all night… I’m about to go crazy myself. Please, get me out of here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Ethan. I’ll see you soon.” With that, Hunter clicked off the recorder and glanced over at the man Tim. My ears perked up.

“I see you have a note here about Ethan seeing a blue car in front of his mother’s house, and I heard you question him in the taped interview,” said Tim, “but there’s no follow up on it. Why?”

“I wasn’t sure there was enough to pursue it after I interviewed Moresby,” said Hunter. “That interview hasn’t been typed yet either, you’ll have to listen to it.

“There were only two cars in the parking lot of the small stand-alone building when I arrived,” said Hunter, “a blue expensive foreign make, and a red economy one.”

“I walked in and Rupert Moresby––easily recognized from his picture in the real estate ads which is a good thing in the real estate business––stood at the reception desk speaking to the young woman sitting there. I introduced myself, and Moresby, slightly stooped as if carrying a heavy load in his arms, with thinning, dirty blonde hair and a walrus mustache, offered a limp handshake. I assumed other realtors occupied the other three offices, but at that moment we were the only three people in the building.

“He made it very clear that he didn’t know anything about what had happened to Alyx, and didn’t understand why I was there asking questions.

“I asked him who was interested in the Antiques & Designs building, and he said that James Dunne, the developer who’s putting up the condominiums down the street, was interested in buying it and the one next door. Dunne already owns the building next to the Ocean Street Café, and the one on the other side of Antiques & Designs. His plan is to add a third floor and convert the top two floors into condominiums, keeping the bottom floor as retail space. Paying six hundred thousand dollars for one building is a good deal for him when you consider that he’ll be able to sell each unit for at least three to four hundred thousand dollars.”

Tim agreed. “There’s no question he would stand to make a sizeable profit. Was he aware that Alyx didn’t want to sell?”

“Yes, Maggie had told him, and he admitted that he was upset at first.”

“What about Dunne Development? What do you know about them?” prodded Tim.

“Dunne Development is a well-known and respected firm. I know James Dunne, the owner, and we’ve played golf for various charities. I called him right after I spoke with Moresby and chatted about the charity golf tournament coming up next month and business in general.

“I asked him about his involvement with Rupert Moresby. He said Moresby presented it as a straightforward business deal. He told Jim he could deliver the two buildings between the two that he already owned. At first, Jim thought it would only be feasible if he had both buildings but after thinking about it, he realized he could do it by just purchasing one of the buildings. It would cut into his profit, but still come out ahead and so would Moresby.”

“When did he tell Rupert he could still proceed with just one of the buildings?” asked Tim.