Desperate Measures (44 page)

Wrigley's face twisted as if in pain, and in a low voice he said, “I talked to her hours before her death. May I explain?”

“Please do,” Barbara said. She took a step or two back, folded her arms across her chest, and watched him.

“She called, just as I described earlier, and I was brutally rude to her, I'm afraid. I didn't recognize the real desperation she was suffering, and I didn't understand that her words signified that she had decided to end her life. Then, when I read about her death and the significance of her call began to sink in, I was filled with guilt. I should have done something to help her. But I didn't. Over the weeks that followed, I convinced myself that her call had come days earlier than it did, that she had not said in so many words that she would commit suicide, and that there was nothing I should have done—or even could have done—to prevent her death. The police arrested Alexander Feldman, and I believed that she had informed them about what she had seen.” His voice was low and intense, his gaze fixed on his hands. Now he looked up at Judge Mac, then at Jase Novak. “I apologize for my cowardice; I did not deliberately lie. I believed in what I was saying until Ms. Holloway demonstrated the truth of the situation. I talked to Hilde Franz the night she died; she said more or less that she intended to take her own life, and I did nothing to stop her. I'm sorry.”

There was a prolonged silence in the courtroom; Jase Novak looked more mournful than ever, but now there was also a triumphant gleam in his eyes. His boy had come through for him; sad as his story was, it had saved the day. Judge Mac was looking more thoughtfully at Isaac Wrigley, as if weighing statement against statement, and coming to no conclusion.

“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” Barbara asked then.

He motioned her forward; Novak was on his feet instantly, and they both walked to the bench.

“Your Honor,” Barbara said in a very low voice, “I have information concerning the death of Hilde Franz that the investigators have asked me not to reveal in open court. This witness has made serious allegations concerning both my father and me, the truth of which can be neither proved nor disproved, since Hilde Franz is dead, without revealing that information. May we have a conference in chambers to discuss the dilemma in which I find myself?”

“Franz's death isn't the issue in this trial,” Novak said fiercely. “What she said before she died is the important matter, and how the witness regarded her words, a deathbed charge, or not.”

“My father did not learn that Alex Feldman was my client until the day before Alex's arraignment on June thirtieth,” Barbara said quietly. “Hilde Franz had no reason to mention me, much less fear me.”

“We need to talk,” Judge Mac said, silencing whatever Novak had opened his mouth to say. “I'll call for a recess, and you both come directly back to chambers. Bring Mr. Holloway,” he added to Barbara.

37

When the attorneys
entered chambers a few minutes later, Judge Mac was cordial but not happy. He motioned them to be seated, and he took his own seat behind his desk. “Good afternoon, Frank. Before anything else, was Hilde Franz your client?”

“Yes, for many years, and again just before her death.”

“Did she know Ms. Holloway was representing Alexander Feldman?”

“No. I didn't know it until the day before his arraignment.”

“Oh, good heavens! Okay. Let's have it. What about her death?”

Barbara said, “Lieutenant Hoggarth was among the spectators earlier. If he's still around, he can verify that the police are investigating Hilde Franz's death as a homicide.”

Judge Mac rolled his eyes. He stood up and pulled off his robe and tossed it over the back of his chair; then he pressed an intercom button and snapped, “Have someone see if Lieutenant Hoggarth is still hanging around. I want to see him if he is.”

“We have it listed as a probable suicide,” Novak said in a mean voice.

“I can't help what you were led to think,” Barbara said. “It was murder.”

“Can it,” Judge Mac said irritably. “Let's have something to drink while we're waiting for the lieutenant. Coffee? Soda?”

They said coffee, and he hit the intercom again and ordered coffee for three and one Diet Pepsi. Then they were all silent as they waited for the lieutenant.

He arrived soon after their drinks did. His expression did not reveal a thing as he nodded to Frank and Barbara and barely acknowledged Novak. Judge Mac didn't invite him to sit down. “Lieutenant Hoggarth, I have a few questions to ask. I won't ask you for details, but was Hilde Franz's death a homicide?”

“Yes, sir. It was.”

“And has your unit informed the district attorney's office that such is the case?”

“They know we're investigating,” the lieutenant said.

“That was not the question. Did you inform them that it was a homicide, not a probable suicide?”

“I believe the captain reported it as a suspicious death. We're still actively investigating it.”

“And you let Mr. Novak walk into court believing it was a suicide?”

“We didn't see that it was connected to the Feldman trial. And, as I said, we're still investigating.”

Judge Mac shook his head. “That's all, Lieutenant.”

“Judge,” the lieutenant said then, “Ms. Holloway and Mr. Holloway are in possession of information that our department is not ready to reveal. And, actually, if certain facts are revealed prematurely, it could have disastrous effects on our investigation. That's why we've been keeping a tight lid on it all.”

“To the point of excluding the district attorney's office? Thank you,” Judge Mac said. “You want to tie their hands, and mine as well. I can assure you, Lieutenant, that anything said in this room will not be made public.” He motioned for Hoggarth to leave.

Barbara felt sorry for Jase Novak, whose face had become blotched with pink. She could imagine the firestorm raging in him, and even admired his ability to remain outwardly calm. They had let him walk into a bear trap. Probably in the days ahead there would be conferences, meetings, name-calling, some bad language. Of course, the investigators would claim that they never turned over their information until their investigation was complete. The truth was that they knew, everyone in the business knew, that the district attorney's office was a wide-mesh sieve.

Judge Mac was scowling at her. “You can link Franz's murder to the trial we're hearing now, I take it. How?”

“And how does that change anything she said to Wrigley?” Novak chimed in, ready to do battle with a dead tiger.

“Oh, come on!” Barbara said. “He's been lying from the first. They were lovers; their affair had been ongoing for about two years. I have witnesses who can put them in the same hotels, the same rooms, and even describe the elusive Mrs. Wrigley, whose description matches that of Hilde Franz to a T.”

Frank had been watching the judge, and he decided that they had better be forthcoming with something concrete, or poor old Mac might explode. He said, “Let me tell what I can, without getting into the details of the murder, which they want kept quiet.”

He told about Hilde's office visit simply, without embellishment. He told about the attack on him and the break-in.

“We discovered what was missing, and that led to the conclusion of murder. They exhumed her body, did another autopsy, and confirmed it.”

“I don't believe Wrigley was having an affair with her,” Novak said after a moment. “He's got a beautiful young wife, kids, too much to lose. She was too old for him.”

Barbara shook her head impatiently. “This whole case has hinged on appearances. His beautiful young wife didn't conceive for more than six years. They tried a fertility clinic, but there was nothing physically wrong with either of them. They went to a counseling service and tried a different approach. Sort of the reverse of the rhythm method; they had sexual intercourse only on the days she was ovulating and could conceive. Abstain, keep track of her temperature, time it to the second, then perform. Wham, bam! A very good-looking, intelligent woman like Hilde was exactly what he was ready for. No strings, no worry about pregnancy or disease, just good clean fun on demand.”

Judge Mac appeared distressed by her blunt appraisal of the marital situation of Isaac Wrigley. “You were going to tie in her death to the trial,” he reminded Barbara acerbically.

“Yes,” she said. “Hilde Franz was panic-stricken that she would become a suspect. Gus Marchand had threatened to investigate her, and she was afraid her affair with Wrigley would be revealed; she would face a morals charge, and he would be destroyed. Our photographs showed a newspaper left on the sofa the night she was killed. I looked up the newspaper and found an article about the boys who took Daniel Marchand home that day, and I believe that's what she had read that evening. And she realized that their testimony would make it absolutely certain that she could not be considered a suspect. I believe she did call Wrigley that night to tell him the good news, and possibly even suggest that they could reschedule a trip they had canceled to San Francisco, be there together after all. But he thought beyond that; if she became a witness, she would be investigated by one side or the other, or even both, and any real investigation would bring to light their affair. I think he came to realize that he had to prevent it.”

“Jesus Christ!” Novak exclaimed. “You're accusing him of killing her! Over an affair?”

She nodded. “His wife's family set him up in the business of drug testing; they retained controlling interest in his business. When the police reopened the case of Hilde Franz, he had to explain his fingerprints throughout her house, but he might have hoped to be able to save something by the claim of stalking, so she became a stalker. And if he could derail the investigation of her death by reinforcing the possibility of suicide, so much the better. At the same time he saw a way to discredit anything I or my father might unearth concerning him: his claim that Hilde confided in him because she was afraid to tell her attorney, who might betray her confidence. A deathbed charge is given serious weight, especially if it's followed by suicide.” She shrugged. “Apparently, as far as Mr. Novak is concerned, these strategies all worked.”

The flush on Novak's cheeks deepened. “None of this has anything to do with the trial we're hearing. Suppositions, theories, red herrings, that's all it amounts to.”

“No,” Barbara said. “What I'm leading up to has everything to do with your case. That article not only proved that Hilde Franz could not be a serious suspect in the murder of Gus Marchand, it also demonstrated that your case rests on a fallacy, a conclusion which has been verified by testimony in court.”

Judge Mac raised his hand. He looked resigned. “I knew it was too good to be true, the way this trial was progressing. It's nearly four o'clock, and I intend to recess until nine in the morning. We'll meet again in these chambers at four-thirty and hash this out.”

Minutes later, back in the courtroom, defense and prosecution attorneys at their tables, Judge Mac called for the recess. As soon as he left the bench, Barbara turned to her group and said, “That's it for today. Dad and I have to report back to chambers at four-thirty. Alex, Dr. Minick, you're both free for the rest of the day.”

“But what's going on?” Alex asked. “Why a conference now?”

“Perhaps we can wait in town for you to finish your meeting, and find out the details,” Dr. Minick suggested.

“My place,” Will said. “We can go out and have something to nibble on, something to drink, and chew our fingernails while we wait for enlightenment.”

“That's good,” Barbara said. “I don't have time to explain anything. I have to go to the office, and then back here.”

“Bailey can drop you off at the office, then take me home; I'll get the car and swing back by for you,” Frank said. “Later you can direct me to Will's place.” No one mentioned Dolly Feldman.

At four-thirty they were back in Judge Mac's chambers. Novak looked as if he had had a good stiff drink, and felt better for it, and now Judge Mac had a pitcher of iced tea with glasses set up as well as the coffee carafe and cups.

“Help yourselves,” he said. Then he looked at Barbara. “Your show.”

“Your Honor,” Barbara said, “the article I mentioned earlier details how the boys maneuvered the car, starting and stopping twice before they actually got turned around. I have a videotape of that same maneuver on that road. With your permission, I would like to play it. It's only four minutes long.”

He nodded and motioned toward a closed cabinet. “In there.”

Opening the door, she found the television and a VCR; she turned them on and put her tape in. Snow appeared, followed by the scene of a car on Old Opal Creek Road. In the lower corner was a stopwatch that began to tick off the seconds when the car on the screen began to move. Silently they watched the car back into the road, start to turn, move forward, then back again…. At one minute and twelve seconds a second car appeared, and the first one returned to its starting position to let the other one pass.

They watched it begin again; the second car appeared, aborting the maneuver another time, and then it completed the turn. The watch was at four minutes.

“That's when they started to count down the last minute,” Barbara said. “There's just a little more.” After a few seconds of flickering snow, the screen split into halves, with the scene they already had watched on the left side, not in motion yet. On the right side was a map of the area: the road, the car represented by a flashing red dot at the side, a green flashing dot by it. Another dot, yellow this time, was on the Marchand driveway near the house. The stopwatch was centered at the bottom of the screen, reset to zero.

“This dot is Ben Hennessey's car, and this one is Daniel Marchand,” Barbara said, pointing. “This is Leona Marchand's car,” she said, indicating the yellow dot. “Not on the screen yet is one more dot, a blue one that represents Hilde Franz's car. “Now it starts again.”