The Accused and the Damned: Book Three, the Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 3) (22 page)

Green turned to the judge. “Your Honor, all we have are hypotheticals. The evidence was destroyed. Mr. Ketcher is entitled under the Constitution to explore and question any evidence brought against him in his defense against the charges.”

Judge Metnick thought about it for a moment then faced the jury. “I’m going to overrule the objection, but I want to make this clear. Mr. Green is asking the witness to make an educated guess. Her answer does not reflect her opinion on this matter.”

Gracie said, “Statistically-speaking, if the writing was true paranormal activity, then yes it’s more likely it was residual in nature.”

“Thank you, Ms. Barbitok. And if it was residual in nature, then, according to your earlier testimony, it was just a recording of sorts. Isn’t that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And if it was a recording, then that means the ghost was not responding to Mr. McCloskey’s questions? Isn’t that correct?”

Gracie must have seen where this was going, but still she hesitated before answering. “Yes, that is possible.”

“You testified earlier that Mr. McCloskey asked the ghost if it killed Alice while everyone was in the living room, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“And it was not until you went into Alice’s studio that the writing appeared?”

“That’s right.”

“How much time do you think elapsed from when Mr. McCloskey asked that question to when the writing appeared?”

“I wasn’t keeping track.”

Green smiled. He looked like a crocodile about to pounce on some unsuspecting gazelle drinking on the riverbank. “I understand that, Ms. Barbitok. I’m asking you to estimate.”

“I don’t feel comfortable guessing.”

“Less than ten minutes?”

”Yes.”

“Less than five?”

“Maybe.”

“Between three and five minutes, is that fair to say?”

“I guess. Yes, probably.”

“So Mr. McCloskey asked the question, and then at least three minutes passed before the writing on the wall appeared. Is that fair to say?”

“I wasn’t keeping track of the time, like I said. This is all guesswork.”

“But some time elapsed, correct? The answer didn’t immediately follow the question, if it indeed was even an answer.”

“That’s right.”

“So the phrase, if it was a phrase at all, that appeared on the wall wasn’t necessarily a response to Mr. McCloskey’s question, asked some three minutes earlier?”

“Ghosts don’t always follow the rules of polite society.”

“No, it appears they don’t.”

“OBJECTION!”

“Counselor…”

“Withdrawn, Your Honor. Ms. Barbitok, would you please answer my question?”

“I already did.”

“I asked if the writing wasn’t necessarily a response—”

“Yes.” An edge in her voice. “It wasn’t necessarily a response to Mr. McCloskey’s question.”

Green turned and went back to his table. Anson was on the edge of his seat. So was most of the jury. Green picked up a piece of paper and appeared to be reading from it.

With his back still to Gracie, Green said, “You used to make money by pretending to be a psychic, did you not?”

Gracie nodded. “That is a matter of public record and I’ve never tried to hide it. As a matter of fact, I let that be known in the beginning of every book I write, every interview I give, and every show we record.”

Green faced her. “But you did try to hide it, didn’t you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When you were posing as a psychic, you were trying to hide your fraud, were you not?”

“OBJECTION!”

“Overruled.” Metnick looked at Gracie. “I want to hear the answer.”

“That is true,” she said. “What I meant was—”

Green cut her off. “How long did you pretend to be a psychic?”

Gracie kept herself composed. Eddie was impressed.

“For about six years.”

“And how much money did you make in that time, pretending to be a psychic?”

“Your Honor, objection!”

Judge Metnick handled this by conducting a sidebar. The judge turned on white noise so nobody could hear what the lawyers were saying. The discussion lasted several minutes. There was a lot of finger-pointing and gesticulations. Judge Metnick watched both lawyers with a cynic’s eyes, then finally cut off the DA and killed the white noise.

The DA sat back down, shaking his head. Green remained standing.

The judge said, “The objection is overruled. Ms. Barbitok will answer the question.”

“I don’t have my tax returns on me. I don’t know off the top of my head.”

Green smiled that lizard smile again. “Just estimate it for me.”

Gracie took a deep breath. “I made anywhere from sixty thousand to a hundred thousand dollars per year.”

Several members of the jury shook their heads in disbelief. The first crack in the beautiful, professional edifice that was Gracie Barbitok had appeared.

“And since then you’ve, for lack of a better phrase, switched sides and now spend your time catching frauds, both spiritual and financial, and debunking paranormal activity.”

“I’ve been trying to make up for my past mistakes. Yes.”

“And how much money do you earn per year now?”

Gracie blushed. “I don’t have any financial—”

“I’m just asking for an estimate, Ms. Barbitok.”

The DA stood up but before he could object, the judge told him to sit down. Spencer shook his head and asked that his objection be placed onto the record so it was preserved. The judge told him it would be.

“I earn between seven and eight hundred thousand dollars per year.”

Eddie immediately started counting the ways he would spend that much money in his mind. He could tell the jury was too.

“And that money comes from your show as well as the sales of all your books, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And isn’t it true you have plans to turn this investigation of yours into a special?”

“We’re considering it.”

“So you stand to profit financially and professionally from your involvement in this case?”

“Just like your expert, Mr. McCloskey, does.”

Green chuckled. “Of course. But Mr. McCloskey doesn’t have his own TV show, does he?”

She frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered in the courtroom and one member of the jury gasped. Green pushed on. It was clear to Eddie that he didn’t want to lose the momentum of his questioning. He was working Gracie closer and closer to the ropes.

“Let me rephrase, Ms. Barbitok. Does Mr. McCloskey have his own TV show?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Aren’t your ratings contingent upon your exposing frauds and debunking hoaxes?”

“In part, yes. I’d say the entertainment factor and production values play as big a part.”

“Well, which is it, Ms. Barbitok?”

“I’m sorry?” She looked to the judge, then to the DA.

“Either you’re after the truth or you’re putting on a show. I’m asking, which is it?”

She blushed. “It’s both of course.”

Green just smiled at her. “But didn’t you say that your audience tunes in to watch you expose charlatans, uncover frauds, and debunk hoaxes?”

“I don’t remember saying that.”

“You gave an interview with People magazine last year, don’t you remember?”

“I remember the interview, but…”

“Your Honor, may I read from the article to refresh the witness’s memory?”

Judge Metnick said, “This article has been provided to the prosecution?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Proceed.”

Green pulled the magazine out of a manilla folder on his table and flipped to an earmarked page. “Question: Why do you think people watch your show? Answer: They want to see conmen and grifters revealed. They watch because they want to see me expose charlatans, uncover frauds, and debunk hoaxes. I like to think it gives them some modicum of peace, to know that my team is out there finding these people.” Green looked up at her. “Those were your words, weren’t they?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason people watch my program.”

“But based upon what you told this interviewer, it sounds like it’s the main reason, isn’t it?”

“I can’t tell you why everyone watches my show, counselor. I’m not a mind-reader like some of these quack psychics claim to be.”

“Maybe I should call a market analyst from your network. Do you think they’d have a better idea?”

“Objection.”

“Withdrawn. But, Ms. Barbitok, uncovering fraud is the basic premise of your show, is it not?”

“That is the substance of the show, yes.”

“So then you have a great financial incentive,
beyond
your compensation for appearing as a witness here, to find that Mr. Ketcher’s claims are groundless?”

“I’m here to uncover the truth.”

“Regardless of that pure motive, though, you do have a significant financial incentive beyond your compensation as an expert witness, do you not?”

“We don’t know if we’ll turn our investigation here into a special. That decision hasn’t been made yet.”

“Your Honor, would you direct the witness to answer the question?”

Judge Metnick’s scowl deepened. “Ms. Barbitok, you must answer the question.”

Gracie was quiet for a stretch. “I have a financial incentive to expose fraud. That’s what I’m doing here.”

“So what will factor into your decision to turn this investigation into a special?”

“Many things.”

“Such as?”

Gracie took a deep breath. Green had really rattled her. “Whether the story will make for compelling television—”

“Excuse me, Ms. Barbitok. But don’t you think the story about a man who claims a ghost killed his wife would make for compelling television?”

“Yes, but that’s not the only factor we would consider. Even the best stories don’t always translate to the medium of TV or fit within the confines of our program. It depends on a lot of things.”

“Come on, Ms. Barbitok. You’re avoiding the question.”

“OBJECT!”

The judge motioned for the DA to sit down, and Green continued his assault. “The real reason you don’t know if this will make for good TV is because you don’t know the outcome of this trial yet. Or how you’ll end up looking to your audience. Aren’t those the deciding factors?”

“No.”

“You mean to tell me your marketing team doesn’t take into account the potential negative publicity you’d get if Mr. Ketcher goes free, or if my expert outshines you here, or if Mr. McCloskey establishes that there was a haunting?”

“The network will consider a variety of factors.”

“But when you come right down to it, Ms. Barbitok, doesn’t this special have a greater chance of airing if you look good?”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“What would be better for ratings, Ms. Barbitok? If you helped the DA get a conviction or if Mr. Ketcher was acquitted?”

“I think both outcomes would make for compelling TV.”

“Yes, but wouldn’t the former add to the Gracie Barbitok legend? Wouldn’t it further bolster your career and ratings?”

“I guess it would. But that’s not my purpose for being here today. I want to see that justice is done.”

“Of course you do.” Green shook his head and chuckled ruefully. “I’m sure you’re not giving your TV special a second’s thought right now, are you?”

“OBJECTION!”

“Withdrawn.”

Before he called his first live witness, Green entered into evidence Lee Oliver’s sworn statement. They’d taken it at the nursing home last week, with both attorneys present, due to Oliver’s mental condition. There was no guarantee he would be lucid for trial so they’d hastily arranged the deposition.

They played the sworn statement for the jury. Almost all of them reacted to Oliver’s account of euthanizing his wife.

Then Green called his first witness.

The Madam’s real name wasn’t Beverly Magloin. Surprise, surprise. Her birth name was Jessica Farnsworth, she was thirty-nine, she’d been a psychic for twenty years, the last fifteen of which she’d operated her own business.

She wore a pretty dress and no make-up and looked every bit the part of respectable citizen as she answered questions on the witness stand.

“Actually, Mr. Green, I have assisted the police before in St. Lewis County. They came to me on a missing persons case and with my insight I was able to point them in the right direction. They ultimately found the child.”

Green let the jury think about that for a moment. Then, “Was Mrs. Ketcher a client of yours?”

“She was.”

“How many times did she come to see you?”

“Fourteen.”

“And why did Mrs. Ketcher come to see you?”

“She believed her house was haunted. As our relationship grew, we also spoke about other things, like her future and her marriage.”

“Why did she believe her house was haunted?”

“She described a tangible presence in her house that would manifest itself and dissipate. There were sometimes inexplicable noises and fuzzy feelings. Later, she found objects that had been moved from their normal place. All of these are classic signs of a haunting.”

“And what did she want you to do for her with respect to the haunting?”

“She didn’t want to believe her house was haunted at first because that conflicted with her deeply held religious views. So our initial meetings were mostly attempts at explaining away the phenomena. Then she started asking me how to get rid of the spirit.”

“And did you tell her how?”

The Madam testified about everything she’d shared with Eddie during his visit. Green sat down, and the DA began his questions.

“Ms. Farnsworth…or do you prefer Ms. Magloin?”

Eddie smirked. It was a nice play by the DA that set the tenor of the cross.

She smiled at him and didn’t seem bothered. “Either is fine.”

“Okay, then. Ms. Farnsworth, you testified a moment ago that Alice talked to you about her marriage, isn’t that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you give her any marital advice?”

“I told her to leave Mr. Ketcher.”

“Why?”

“From what she told me, they weren’t a good match.”

“Did you use your Eye to know this, or did you just base your advice off what Alice told you?”

“I use both whenever I can.”

“I’m asking about this particular instance.”

“It was off what Alice told me. I never gained clear insight on her marriage.”

“Well what unclear insight on her marriage did you gain?”

“I really can’t say. The Eye doesn’t work like that. When it’s confused or unclear, you don’t know what you have.”

The DA grinned ear-to-ear. “So then you gave Alice marital advice in really the same manner a professional counselor would, right? You just absorbed what Alice shared with you and drew your own conclusions?”

“That’s right.”

“Except you’re not licensed as a counselor, are you?”

Ms. Magloin blushed. “No, but I’ve been helping people with their problems for twenty years so I’ve—”

“Do you hold any degrees?”

“…No.”

“You’re not a licensed social worker, correct?”

“No.”

“You’re not a clinical psychologist?”

“No.”

“Have you ever attended a class, formal or informal, on couple’s counseling?”

“No.”

“And yet you still derive a portion of your income from this type of counseling even when your Eye does not assist you, isn’t that right?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

The DA scoffed. “Please, enlighten us.”

“Aside from being a psychic, I’m very good at reading people. We all suffer from the delusion that we’re unique individuals, but that’s not the case. We all fit types. I’ve been reading people all my life so I’m able to discern who they truly are and what they truly want, even if they’ve forgotten it. I help them by sharing that knowledge. To date, no one has ever asked for a refund.”

“Have you heard of that old saying, extraordinary claims require extraordinary proof?”

“Of course.”

“Is there any way you can prove to this jury that you are truly a psychic, as opposed to a mentalist charading as a psychic?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“By all means.”

“Your full name is Cornelius Byron Spencer. Your friends and many of your enemies behind your back refer to you as Yukon. Your mother’s name was Penny, she was red-headed, and she raised you alone after your father left when you were ten—”

“That’s all well and good, Ms. Farnsworth, but isn’t all that information public knowledge?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t look any of that up on the internet.”

Several members of the jury had a laugh. Even grumpy old Judge Metnick did too.

* * * *

Two-thirty in the afternoon. The heavy weight of the August sun. The cloudless sky burning, not really blue.

Giles Tyson in the parking lot stepping out of his hybrid. He wore an expensive, tailored, double-breasted suit that made him look like a flashy investment banker. He looked totally out of place. He always did. He nodded coolly at Eddie and met him at the stone bench under the massive elm.

“Edward.”

“G.”

They shook hands, like they hadn’t seen each other in years and were just now catching up at a funeral of a mutual friend.

Giles put his hands in his pockets and looked more awkward than usual. “Edward, I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you. No matter what happens in there, thank you. You’ve given Anson a fighting chance.”

Eddie chuckled. His stomach was all acid. “We’ll see about that. What are you doing here?”

Giles smiled. “I’m afraid I’ve been reduced to playing the part of a bluff.”

“Green’s threatening the DA with your testimony?”

“Yes. Denard is telling Spencer right now that I had many occasions to observe the marriage between Anson and Alice. The suggestion is that she wasn’t quite the saint everybody thinks she was.”

“Any time you want to switch places with me, feel free.”

Giles shook his head. “I’m no good to Anson on that stand. I have no credibility, Edward, and I’m his good friend.”

“And you’ve got an axe to grind with the DA’s expert witness.”

“Not to mention that. Anything I say contrary to Gracie’s testimony won’t hold up. The DA probably has that episode queued up on his fucking laptop.”

For a moment, Eddie thought Giles was going to cry. He looked away, giving the man a moment to collect himself.

Giles broke the silence. “A man’s reputation is worth more than all the money in the world…I’m afraid mine is gone and I don’t know how quite to get it back.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say. “You’ll find a way.”

Giles cupped Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I admire you, Edward. To be honest, I thought you were lost after your brother died.”

“I was lost before he was killed. I used his death as an excuse.”

“And his killer…I don’t know how you stomach the thought of him sitting in a hospital somewhere. If it were my brother…”

Eddie said nothing. He’d dreamed of vengeance for a long time. His brother’s killer, Eamon Moriarty, was untouchable, sitting in a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane.

Giles continued. “I thought you’d never rebound but here you are. You should be proud of yourself, Edward. Really.”

Yeah, he’d come real far. He had a pile of overdue bills and his career was flatlining less than a year after he’d started his own business. Eddie squirmed under the man’s earnest stare. “Thanks, pal.”

“You’ve got a good thing going. Keep at it and your business will thrive. I know it will.”

The doors of the main entrance to the courthouse opened and Green waved at him to come inside.

Eddie turned to say goodbye but Giles suddenly hugged him.

“Good luck, Edward. I hope you outshine that two-faced bitch.”

Giles released him and sullenly went back to his car. Eddie walked up the front steps and looked back once. Giles leaned against his car and stared into the distance.

* * * *

The reporters were in the hallway again. Eddie had no-commented them non-stop but still they asked him questions. He didn’t answer any this time either. He was fixated on both the present and the future.

He reached the double doors to the courtroom. Green had knocked Gracie Barbitok down a few pegs then laid some serious doubts in the jury’s minds about Alice Ketcher through the Madam’s testimony. There was no need to put Anson on the stand. The DA hadn’t tried to challenge Anson’s defense story factually. He’d treated the novel defense theory with contempt, dismissed it out of hand as if it wasn’t worth the court’s time, focused the jury instead on the overwhelming physical evidence and appealed to their reason. There was no such thing as ghosts, and the house had burned down before anybody could test the writing on the wall. Therefore, that evidence was useless.

As they’d figured all along, everything hinged on Eddie’s testimony.

He took a deep breath and smiled. What the hell, it was only his reputation and career at stake.

He pushed through the doors. Gained confidence with each step. He realized he’d been in worse spots before. Like when he was arrested. Like when he was convicted and put in prison. Like when he’d come to the realization that he was an addict. Later, that he was an alcoholic. Like when his older brother had been murdered. Like when his parents had died in that car accident, twenty years ago.

The one common denominator in all those situations?

He’d persevered and somehow come out better. There was a lesson in there. It probably had to do with the human spirit and the psychology of resiliency. He had a choice. He could look at those failures and think his life had been wasted. Or he could look at those shortcomings and realize how lucky he was. How equipped the human being was to handle adversity.

He was called to the stand and swore the oath and took his seat and examined the faces of the jurors. Mixed eyes: curious, skeptical, judgmental. Anson sat forward at the defense table, his hands clasped in a prayer-like pose.

It was up to Eddie.

The DA had his legal pad and pen ready.

Denard Green stood. “Mr. McCloskey, would you explain your background to the jury please?”

Face the jury. Look them in the eye. Eddie turned in his seat and treated the twelve members like they were his only audience. Like they were close relatives huddled around the dining room table on Christmas Eve, sharing stories both old and new. He met eyes and held gazes. Reminded himself to speak slowly, with authority.

“My name is Edward McCloskey. I’m thirty-three years old. I’ve been involved in paranormal investigation off and on since I was eighteen. My older brother, Tim, showed me the ropes when I was a young man. I was a member of his team for a decade until his untimely passing. During that span, we investigated approximately two hundred paranormal claims. Last year, I started my own ghost-hunting business and in that short time, I’ve handled over thirty claims.”

“What was your most challenging case?”

Eddie didn’t like to brag but Green had impressed upon him the importance of establishing his bona fides. Often the deciding factor was how much experience and prestige one expert had compared to another.

“I was hired to investigate a town-wide haunting allegedly occurring at multiple sites in northeastern Pennsylvania last winter. I had no team, no equipment, and not much help from local law enforcement until the end of the investigation. I was able to expose a multi-layered fraudulent hoax. The process I used in my investigation has been the subject of over a dozen articles in the most respected paranormal journals, and as a result I was asked to present at the Northeastern Conference at the end of year, the largest convention that usually boasts the best paranormal experts.”

“I see.” Green continued to qualify Eddie for the jury, really hamming it up and aggrandizing Eddie’s skills and expertise until the DA objected and the judge told Green to get on with the show.

“Mr. McCloskey, would you begin by stating your ultimate conclusion about Anson’s paranormal claims?”

Eddie took a deep breath and turned in his chair so he was looking directly at the jury. He felt all eyes in the room on him.