Sleeping Beauty (25 page)

“Bullshit!”

Judge Shimazu rapped his gavel. “This is a courtroom, Mr. Coleman. Watch your language.”

“Sorry, Judge,” Coleman said. “But this guy is lying.”

“No more swearing, Mr. Coleman,” Judge Shimazu admonished the witness. “You'll restrict yourself to answering Mr. Swoboda's questions and you will not swear.”

“Okay.”

“Mr. Swoboda,” the judge said, “you may continue.”

“You had a forty-million-dollar reason to want Casey Van Meter dead, didn't you?”

“That's…not true.”

“Isn't it? Did you learn that Casey Van Meter was a rich woman before you married her?”

“Yeah. So what?”

“Then she sobered up, wised up, and decided to dump you?”

“I told you, we had problems with our relationship. We just needed some counseling.”

“When you thought about all that money flying away it made you angry, didn't it?”

“No,” Coleman answered, his voice rising.

“So you weren't angry when you grabbed Casey Van Meter's wrist at the pool and called her a bitch?”

“I might have been a little angry,” Coleman conceded grudgingly. “But I never tried to kill her.”

“And I suppose that you're also going to deny murdering Terri Spencer in the boathouse at the Oregon Academy.”

“What!” Coleman said, half standing.

“Isn't it a fact that you followed Casey Van Meter to the boathouse on the night she was attacked?”

“No.”

“Isn't it true that you found her with a witness, Terri Spencer, and murdered Mrs. Spencer because she could identify you?”

“No!”

“Then you attacked Ms. Van Meter, but had to flee when you heard Joshua Maxfield approaching?”

Delilah wanted to object but she didn't, because an objection would just give more credence to Swoboda's outrageous accusations.

“You had forty million reasons to want Casey Van Meter dead before your divorce went through, and you had a motive to kill Ashley Spencer before Ms. Van Meter came out of her coma.”

“Do I have to sit here and take this?” Coleman asked the judge.

“No further questions,” Swoboda said, as he left Coleman half standing and twisted in the witness box.

“That was something,” Jerry said to Miles Van Meter as soon as court recessed and Randy Coleman had stormed out of the room.

“Very bizarre,” Miles answered. “I hope it was also ineffective.”

Ashley was worried. Delilah was standing in front of her, gathering up the documents she'd used during Coleman's examination. Ashley leaned across the railing and tapped the deputy DA on the arm. Delilah turned.

“You don't think any of the jurors bought that, do you?” Ashley asked, trying to conceal her nervousness. She did not know what she'd do if Joshua Maxfield was acquitted.

“Don't worry yourself about Mr. Swoboda's Perry Mason act,” Delilah assured her. “He's probably got the jurors thinking, but Casey will set them straight on who attacked her in the boathouse.”

A
s soon as court reconvened, Delilah Wallace had Dr. Ralph Karpinski educate the jury about comas. He also gave the opinion that Casey's coma occurred when the back of her head collided with one of the timbered supports in the boathouse after she was struck in the face. Next, Dr. Stanley Linscott testified about Casey Van Meter's current physical and mental state.

When Dr. Linscott was excused, the prosecutor called Casey Van Meter to the stand. Every eye in the courtroom followed “Sleeping Beauty” as she limped down the aisle, leaning on her cane. Casey looked wraith-like because she had not put back all of her lost weight, but her pale beauty was electrifying. Her dress was black, and a strand of pearls graced her neck. She reminded Ashley of Lauren Bacall in an old movie she'd watched with Terri.

“Ms. Van Meter, what was your position at the Oregon Academy when the tragedy at the boathouse occurred?” Delilah asked after a series of introductory questions.

“I was the dean of the school.”

“In your capacity as the dean, were you involved in hiring the defendant?”

“Yes.”

“Tell the jury about the hiring decision.”

“It was a hard decision for the school. On the one hand, we had the opportunity to expose the students to a world-renowned author. But Mr. Maxfield had been forced out of his last college-teaching position because he'd made inappropriate advances to a student. We were also aware that Mr. Maxfield had a drinking problem while at the college. In the end, we were persuaded to take a risk by Mr. Maxfield's most recent employer—a high school in Idaho—and by his forthright attitude during his interviews.”

“How did the defendant perform his teaching duties?”

“He was an excellent teacher.”

“At some point after the defendant was hired did you become lovers?”

Casey colored and looked down at her lap. “Yes.”

Ashley was stunned. She had not been allowed in the courtroom until she testified, so she had missed Delilah's opening statement in which this fact had been revealed. Ashley looked at Maxfield for confirmation but he was focused on the dean and she could not see his face.

“When did this happen?”

“A few months before he attacked me.”

“Objection,” Swoboda shouted. “That's not responsive to the question. Ask that the answer be stricken.”

Delilah started to speak, but the judge silenced her by holding up his hand, palm toward her. “Overruled.”

“What were the circumstances that prompted the relationship?”

“I had married a few months before it started.”

“This was to Randy Coleman?”

“Yes.”

“Go on.”

“Very shortly after my marriage I learned that my husband was a criminal. He was also physically and verbally abusive. I filed for divorce and also hired an attorney to see if I could have the marriage annulled. It was a very trying time for me. The marriage was a huge mistake and I was under tremendous stress because of my situation. Mr. Maxfield was very understanding.” She shrugged. “One thing led to another.”

“Let's move to the day of Terri Spencer's murder and the assault on you. When was the first time you saw Terri Spencer on that day?”

“She visited my office late in the afternoon.”

“What was the purpose of her visit?”

“She told me that she was investigating the possibility that Joshua Maxfield had murdered her husband. She asked me to check his personnel file to see if there was any information that would help her prove it.”

“Did you find anything in the file that bore on her concerns?”

“Yes.”

“What did you find?”

“Terri told me that the person who murdered her husband might be a serial killer who had committed murders in other states. There was information in Joshua's personnel file about a New England state where he taught college. One of the murders occurred there. And he taught high school in Idaho, another state she'd mentioned.”

“What did you do after you made this discovery?”

“I called Terri and I asked her to meet me at the boathouse.”

“Tell us what happened in the boathouse,” Delilah said.

Casey took a deep breath. “I was talking to Terri when he came in. He had a knife. He…he stabbed her.” Casey closed her eyes but kept talking. “She screamed. He kept stabbing her.” She put her hands over her face. “I don't remember anything after that.”

“Who was the man who stabbed Terri Spencer?”

“Joshua Maxfield.”

Delilah waited for a few seconds to let the jurors digest Casey's testimony before asking her next question.

“Did you see your husband, Randy Coleman, at the boathouse that evening?”

Casey looked puzzled. “No.”

“You're certain that Randy Coleman did not stab Terri Spencer to death?”

“Yes.” She pointed at Joshua Maxfield. “He did it.”

 

“The State rests,” Delilah said when Eric Swoboda finished a short and ineffective cross-examination of Casey Van Meter.

“Very well,” Judge Shimazu said. “We'll be in recess until one o'clock. If you have any motions, Mr. Swoboda, you can make them then.”

The bailiff banged the gavel. Casey left the witness stand and Ashley intercepted her when she pushed through the gate in the low fence that separated the spectators from the area where the court conducted business.

“Are you okay?” Ashley asked.

The question seemed to puzzle Casey. Then she smiled. The emotion Casey had shown on the stand was nowhere to be seen.

“Of course I'm okay,” Casey answered. “Why wouldn't I be? My testimony should be enough to destroy any hope Joshua has for an acquittal. We've both done our part to avenge Terri.”

Ashley felt odd when she should have been happy. Casey was right. The two of them had sealed Maxfield's fate, but she didn't feel triumphant.

“He'll probably die,” Ashley said.

Casey's eyes narrowed and her mouth tightened. “That bastard deserves to die. He put me in a coma. I lost years of my life. I'm just sorry he'll be getting a lethal injection instead of a more painful death.”

Ashley was shocked. “I know Maxfield is a terrible person.” She remembered her terror as he lay on top of her and her despair when Norman and Terri died. “It's just…I don't know. He deserves what he gets, but I don't feel good.”

Ashley paused. She wanted to tell someone about the emotions that were twisting her up inside, and Casey would have the best chance of understanding the way she felt.

“Do you have some time? I'd like to talk to you about the trial. Do you want to go for lunch?”

“Sorry, dear,” Casey said. “I'd love to but I have a Portland Symphony meeting. But call me. We'll get together soon.”

Casey hurried off and Ashley looked after her, shocked by the way she'd been treated. Terri would never have put Ashley off under these circumstances. Terri had always put her daughter first.

Ashley wanted to cry but she wouldn't let it happen. She had tried to form some kind of bond to her mother, but it wasn't working. The dean still treated her like a potential student she was trying to woo to the Academy. Try as she might, she had been unable to establish an emotional link with the woman who had given birth to her.

A
s soon as Eric Swoboda finished his cross-examination of Casey Van Meter, Joshua Maxfield demanded that they talk. Fifteen minutes after court recessed, Swoboda was seated in the narrow interview space in the courthouse jail and his client was on the other side of the iron mesh partition.

“I want to testify,” Joshua said.

“We've been over this before. If you take the stand, you're fair game for Delilah.”

Maxfield smirked.

“Don't underestimate her,” Swoboda said. “I know you're smart but she cross-examines people for a living, and she's very good at it. And we made a lot of headway when I crossed Coleman. I can argue….”

“Casey said she didn't see Coleman in the boathouse. She said she saw me. So did Ashley. I have to explain what happened.”

“What can you say?”

“Don't worry about that. Just call me as a witness.”

“You don't understand what you're letting yourself in for. Delilah will crucify you.”

“How?”

Swoboda thought for a moment. “The novel, Joshua. Delilah will ask
you about the novel. She'll ask you how you were able to give such an accurate account of murders you claim you know nothing about.”

Joshua squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingertips to his temples. He looked like he was trying to keep his head from exploding.

“That fucking book,” he muttered. He opened his eyes and glared at Swoboda. “I'll say I didn't write it, that it was someone else's book. I'll say I copied someone else's ideas.”

Swoboda shook his head slowly as he tried to figure out how to be tactful with a client who was going over the edge.

“No one will believe you. You printed your name on the top of each page. Don't you see, you'll be committing suicide if you testify.”

“No,” Joshua said as he swung his head from side to side, “it's my only chance. They'll see I'm telling the truth. They have to believe me.”

“I still think….”

Maxfield looked directly at his lawyer. There was steel in his voice when he spoke.

“I don't care what you think,” Maxfield said. “You're my lawyer and you'll do as I tell you.”

 

“The defense calls Joshua Maxfield,” Eric Swoboda said as soon as court reconvened. Delilah could barely conceal her surprise and delight. She salivated like a guest at Thanksgiving dinner when the big, juicy turkey is carried out of the kitchen.

Joshua straightened his suit jacket and strode confidently to the front of the courtroom to take the oath.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Swoboda began when his client was seated in the witness box, “what is your occupation?”

“I am a novelist,” Maxfield declared proudly.

“Have you had a successful career?”

“I would say so.”

“Tell the jury about some of your accomplishments.”

“Certainly. My first novel,
A Tourist in Babylon,
was published to international acclaim soon after my graduation from university. It won or was nominated for several literary prizes not only in the United States,
but also in Europe. The critics loved it, and the reading public made it an international bestseller.”

“Did you publish another novel?”

“Yes,
The Wishing Well.
”

“Was
The Wishing Well
another bestseller?”

“Yes.”

“In addition to writing fiction, have you taught fiction-writing?”

“Yes, at Eton College in Massachusetts and in high school. My last job was at the Oregon Academy.”

“Would you please tell the jurors how you develop the idea for a novel?”

Maxfield smiled at the jurors. He was charming and, despite the charges they were considering, several of the jurors smiled back.

“Ideas come from everywhere, and they come when you least expect them. The idea for the novel I was working on at the Academy was born when I was teaching in Massachusetts and read about a home invasion that resulted in the death of a young girl and her parents. I wondered what sort of person could commit a crime like that.

“Quite by chance, a year later, I learned of another, similar murder. I became fascinated with the concepts of good and evil, much as Robert Louis Stevenson was when he wrote
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
I decided that I would write a book from the viewpoint of a truly twisted mind. I went to the library and read newspaper accounts of the two real cases. I read books about serial murderers and the psychology of sociopathic individuals to learn how these people think and act, so my book would have the ring of authenticity.”

“The prosecutor says that you must be guilty because you wrote about a murder that has certain similarities to the murders in the Spencer home.”

“That's what's most frustrating for me. I find it impossible to believe that I am being condemned for having a fruitful imagination.”

“What about the snack? How do you explain the fact that a real killer ate a dessert while committing murder in Montana, Connecticut, and the Spencer home, and your fictional murderer eats a dessert in between murders in your novel?”

“A writer tries to engage his reader and he also tries to create characters that feel alive. I wanted my readers to be appalled by my narrator. But a cardinal rule of good writing is that you show instead of tell. Rather than write, ‘My villain is a terrible person,' I tried to think up an action that my villain would take that would illustrate his depravity. I toyed with several ideas, like having my character murder a pet or a baby, but I concluded that those acts were so repulsive that they would alienate my readers. I wanted to illustrate a point, not make my readers ill. So I wrote a scene in which my murderer eats a snack in between the commission of several ghastly murders. I wanted the reader to conclude that my narrator was heartless and totally devoid of feeling, and I thought that this would be a wonderful way to do that. It is understated, non-violent, and yet truly horrible.

“Now, am I surprised that my art imitated real life? No, I am not. Anyone who could commit those terrible murders in Montana, Connecticut, and here would be just like my fictional killer—cruel and uncaring. I'm not shocked that he did something so grotesque. And, think about it. Would I include that scene in my novel if I had committed the murders? Would I read Terri Spencer a scene that was identical to something that had happened in her house? It would be insane. The first thing I would expect her to do is go to the police. Why would I commit suicide?”

“Let's move to the murder and assault in the Oregon Academy boathouse. Tell the jury what happened there,” Swoboda said.

“I lived on the Academy grounds in a cottage that the school provided as part of my terms of employment. The grounds of the Academy are beautiful, and I often took walks through the woods in the early-evening hours. That night I was strolling through the grounds, thinking about a problem I was having with my book, when I heard a scream coming from the direction of the boathouse. A second later, I heard another scream. As I ran toward the boathouse I saw a man running away.”

“Could you identify him?”

“No, other than to say that he seemed of average or athletic build. He wasn't obese or short.”

“Could the man have been Randy Coleman?”

“It's possible. I can't swear to that, though.”

“What happened next?”

“I went into the boathouse to see if anyone was hurt. It was dark except for some light from a flashlight that was on the floor. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust. That's when I saw the two women and the knife. Casey Van Meter was on the floor, up against a timber that supported the roof. Terri Spencer was covered with blood. I panicked and picked up the knife for protection. Then I saw Ashley at the window. She ran off and I went after her to explain that I hadn't done anything wrong, but she was too fast for me.”

“Why didn't you follow her to the dormitory and wait for the police?”

Joshua's head dropped. “I should have. But I'd never seen anything so terrible. There was blood everywhere, and poor Terri….”

Maxfield closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he spoke, he seemed shaken and he cast his eyes down.

“I'm ashamed of the way I acted, but I was terrified and I wasn't thinking straight. So I ran.”

Maxfield raised his head and made eye contact with several of the jurors.

“I don't blame Ashley Spencer one bit for what she said about me. She's a very nice young lady who testified to what she saw. I did have the knife. I was there. But I did not hurt anyone.”

“After you were arrested, why did you escape?” Swoboda asked.

“My lawyer told me that the police were going to use my novel as a confession; Ashley was going to testify that I'd killed her mother and beat Casey unconscious. I didn't see any way of avoiding conviction, so I decided to escape so I could find the evidence that would prove that I was innocent.”

“Have you succeeded?”

“I believe so. I suspected Randy Coleman from the beginning. The man who ran from the boathouse was too far away for me to identify, but he could have been Coleman. I knew he had a multimillion-dollar motive for murder and I learned later that he'd been convicted of
assault. I knew from personal experience that he was capable of violence. I'd seen Mr. Coleman attack Casey Van Meter at the pool.”

“What did you conclude happened in the boathouse?”

“I believe that Casey was his target and Terri was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Did something happen that made you certain that Randy Coleman murdered Terri Spencer and assaulted his wife?”

“Yes. Henry Van Meter died and a new guardian had to be appointed for Casey. Miles Van Meter applied to be appointed. I learned that he wanted to take Casey off her life-support system for humanitarian reasons. Coleman also applied. I believe that he too would have asked to have Casey's life support disconnected. In either case, Casey would die. Since she had no will, and Coleman was still her husband, Coleman would inherit all of Casey's estate.

“Then Ashley Spencer returned to Portland and applied to be Casey's guardian. If Ashley had been appointed Casey's guardian, she would have kept Casey alive. That meant that Coleman would inherit nothing. It also became general knowledge that Ashley was Casey's daughter. Under the probate laws, if Casey died Ashley would inherit half of her estate. Whether Casey lived or died, Randy Coleman would lose millions.

“I became convinced that Coleman would try to kill Ashley to keep her from being appointed guardian and to make sure that he would inherit everything. I started following Ashley to protect her and to try to catch Coleman attempting to commit murder.”

“What happened at the Sunny Rest Home on the day you were arrested?”

“I followed Ashley and noticed another car that was following her. I parked on a side street several blocks from the home. Then I concealed myself in the parking lot. It was raining so hard that I didn't notice the police surveillance, but they didn't see me either.

“The car that was following Ashley pulled into the lot shortly after she did. Randy Coleman was the driver. He waited for her to come out. Then he tried to kill her. Ashley got away. I tackled Coleman. When the police came, we were wrestling on the ground, neither one of us had
possession of the knife. The police couldn't tell which of us had tried to kill Ashley. Naturally, they suspected me.”

“Mr. Maxfield, did you murder Terri and Norman Spencer and Tanya Jones?”

“No.”

“Did you assault Casey Van Meter?”

“No. I saved her from Coleman at the pool.”

“Did you attack Ashley Spencer in her home, at her dormitory, or in the parking lot of the Sunny Rest nursing home?”

“No, never.”

“No further questions.”

 

Delilah smiled at her prey. She was feeling good.

“I read your first novel, Mr. Maxfield. I liked it.”

“Thank you.”

“It was a real big success.”

“Yes.”

“But that second book,
The Wishing Well,
that book didn't do so well, did it?”

“It had decent sales,” Maxfield answered defensively.

“Nowhere near what
Tourist
sold.”

“No, but it was a
New York Times
bestseller.”

“Yes, you testified to that. But let me ask you, wasn't
A Tourist in Babylon
on the list for twenty-two weeks?”

“Yes.”

“Your second book was only a bestseller for two weeks because people didn't like it, right?”

“I don't know what
the people
like,” Maxfield replied haughtily. “I don't write to please the average reader.”

“Well, the critics didn't like it either, did they?”

“I had some good reviews.”

“Really? I had my assistant get a complete collection off of the Internet. We can read them to the jury if you'd like. By my count, three reviewers thought your book was pretty good, and there were twenty-eight
bad reviews, some of which were downright nasty. Seems those critics really went to town on you.”

Maxfield colored as Delilah spoke. “The critics were jealous of my success. They're just failed writers who couldn't stand the idea of someone in his early twenties accomplishing something they could only dream of.”

“So the reviews were the product of some conspiracy?”

“I didn't say that,” Maxfield snapped.

“Do you think these reviewers are part of a plot to frame you for all these murders?”

“Objection,” Swoboda said.

“Sustained,” Judge Shimazu ruled.

“Mr. Maxfield,” Delilah said, “you haven't written a book in ten years, have you?”

“No.”

“Were you teaching at Eton College because you couldn't earn a living writing anymore?”