The Insanity Plea (13 page)

“Musty” was the word that came to
Dan’s mind as the deputy walked him down the dimly lit hall to the jail
library. A pipe had burst sometime in the past. The inmates did their best to
dry out the books, but they never got rid of the odor. The deputy unlocked the
door and hollered inside, “Hey, Waldo, you got a visitor.”

Dan entered and the door locked
behind him. Waldo was the library trustee. His real name was Ralph Emerson. Some
unknown jailer years ago who was a fan of Ralph Waldo Emerson and his essays
dubbed him Waldo. It stuck. Somewhere between sixty and eighty, he walked
stooped with the aid of a cane. A fringe of white hair framed an otherwise bald
head. Thick glasses covered eyes that seemed to be constantly blinking. He had
been in and out of the jail too many times to count. This time he was in for
two years. He could have been sent to Huntsville or somewhere else in the state
prison system, but he had so many physical problems that much of any sentence
was served in the state prison hospital that was a part of the Sealy complex
down the street. So, the sheriff just let him stay in the county jail.

Besides keeping the library in order,
once a day he would make the rounds of the jail cells and day rooms with a cart
filled with books and magazines. Others offered to do it for him, but he
insisted, saying he could lean on the cart instead of his cane. It was his
daily exercise. Hearing the deputy, he rounded the corner of a bookshelf.

“Oh, it’s you, Dan. That new medicine
must be helping if they’re letting you visit me.”

“Doing a little better, Waldo. You
remember a few days ago, you asked if I still remembered any law. I told you
not much. Now, I’ve got what I need to get into my brother’s computer system. If
you’ll tell me a little more about that problem, I’ll see what I can do.”

Waldo squinted at Dan a minute before
he spoke. “Well, okay. Only, we gotta keep this to ourselves. I’m not supposed
to be letting just anyone on this library computer. The problem is really my
brother’s, younger than me by fifteen years. He’s been in here a time or two. Last
time he got out, he found a steady job and even has a small apartment up on 58
^th
close to Broadway. He ended up with three credit cards that he didn’t pay, and
now all those damn companies are after him, saying they’re going to report him
to the credit bureau. One of them is threatening to tell his boss. He don’t
want to lose his job.”

Dan walked to a table against the
wall and took a seat at an old Dell computer. “Give me the password and I’ll get
into my brother’s Lexis system. It’s computerized legal research. Don’t know
how to use it, but I’ll figure it out.”

An hour later Dan found Waldo at a
small desk with a stack of books he was carefully stamping as returned. “Here
you go. Credit card companies can’t contact anyone who has a lawyer. Tell your
brother to make up a lawyer’s name and address, print out a letterhead and mail
this letter to each of those companies.” He handed a document to Waldo. “Only
we know that lawyer doesn’t exist. I’ve also put in there that if his employer
is contacted, the credit card company will be sued for unfair debt collection
practices. Odds are some damn credit card company in Delaware won’t figure it
out.”

Waldo smiled as he took the letter
and promised to call his brother that evening when he got off from work.

“Now, Waldo, I need a favor in
return. I need to have regular access to your computer. I’m going to open an
email account.”

Waldo frowned.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to do
anything illegal. I just need to be working with my brother on my defense.”

Waldo thought a while and finally
agreed. “Okay, with a couple of conditions. I have to be able to read your emails
every day. I can handle it if everything is on the up and up. Sheriff likes you
anyway. Any hint of something bad and I cut it off. Second, you have to get
away from the computer if anyone else comes in. Don’t you be planning no jail
break.”

Dan reached over the desk and shook
Waldo’s hand. “Deal, Waldo. I’ll also keep helping your brother.”

Sent: April 26, 2013 12:30 p.m.

From: Dan Little

To: Rita Contreras

Subject: Contact

Rita, this is Dan. We haven’t met. I know that Wayne has told you about
me. I’m on some good meds right now and am functioning pretty well. Wayne is
convinced that Debbie was murdered by a serial killer (I hope you know I didn’t
do it.). We’ve turned up five or six similar murders around the country. I’ve
arranged to have use of the computer in the library. Wayne has his hands full
and wants us to work on this part of my defense. I’m actually glad to have
something to challenge my mind now that it’s working a little (At least some of
the circuits seem to be connected. Ha!) He says you know everything about
computers. If you can help when I get bogged down, I’ll do whatever you say. Mainly,
I want to get out of here. I lie awake at night petrified about being on death
row. I’ll wait for direction from you. Meantime, I’ll start doing some research
on how serial killers think and act. We’ve got less than ninety days. Thanks
for your help.

Sincerely,

Daniel Little

Wayne opened the door to his mother’s
house, “Mom, you home?”

“Just a minute, son. I’m on the phone
with Abigail trying to understand for the umpteenth time about when to prune
back azaleas. Give me a minute.”

Wayne and Duke found seats in the
parlor. Wayne said, “Go easy on that chair, Duke. It’s at least a hundred and
fifty years old.”

Duke sized up the chair he was about
to sit in along with the room full of antiques and plopped down on the floor,
spreading his legs out in front of him and leaning back against an antique
couch.

Sarah breezed into the room. “Would
you believe it? I think I finally know how to take care of azaleas. Only took
me fifty years. Duke, what are you doing sitting on the floor?”

“Aw, Sarah, I got a bad knee. Just
stretching it a little.”

“Suit yourself. I’ve got some
liniment back in the bathroom. Make it myself for days when I overdo it in the
yard. Remind me to give you a bottle when you leave. Rub it on that knee
morning and night. Now, how’s Dan?”

“He’s fine, Mom. Matter of fact, he’s
the best I’ve seen him in years. This doc has him on some new meds and they’re
working pretty well.”

“Praise the Lord. Will Harry
reconsider now?”

“Sorry, Sarah,” Duke replied. “There’s
something going on here that we don’t quite understand. Has to do with the
victim’s father. The prosecutor won’t even consider anything other than a
trial.”

Sarah shook off her disappointment
and then replied, “Well, let’s give them a damn trial. We’ll get him off. I’m
going to start a telephone tree this week. I’ll call all of my friends on the
island, and that’s a bunch. I’ll ask them to call ten of their friends. I’ll
have every prospective juror on our side before the trial even starts.”

“Mom, I didn’t hear that. The
prosecution could call that jury tampering,” Wayne said, secretly pleased with
his mother’s response. “Do whatever you think best for Dan. Just don’t tell me
and Duke about it.”

Sarah quickly put her hand over her
mouth, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wayne. All I said was something
about azaleas.”

Wayne had a faraway look in his eyes
and asked his mother if they could go up to the widow’s walk on the roof to
show Duke the view. Sarah readily agreed and led the way up two flights of
stairs. Even Duke had to take them two at a time to keep up with her. At the
landing, she opened a door that revealed another smaller flight of stairs and
they soon were standing at the top.

To their left was the
Carnival Conquest,
a luxury cruise ship,
slowly pulling out of Galveston Harbor on its way to a week of Caribbean fun
for two thousand passengers. In front of them was Ball Street with its
Victorian houses extending to the seawall. Beyond the seawall were sailboats of
all shapes and sizes, tacking into a stiff breeze. In the distance were oil
well platforms, now working at full capacity because of the international oil
demand.

Duke turned and pointed out the top
of the Salvation Army building and the basketball court at the junior high. When
he pointed out the Salvation Army, Sarah directed his attention to the
Rosenberg Library only one block over. After sight-seeing, Wayne leaned up
against the wrought iron rail with the Gulf breeze to his back.
 

“Okay, Mom, here’s the plan. First,
you ought to go pay Dan a visit while these meds are working. We go to trial in
ninety days. Dan thinks he can get computer access in the jail library. If he
can, I’ve got a project for him and Rita on the internet. May turn out to be
nothing, but it’s worth a try. Good news is we’ve got a strong team here and,
as of right now, Dan’s a part of it. Keep an eye on him for me. Tell me if you
see any of that old strange behavior. We’ll be moving down here about ten days
before trial…me, Duke, Rita and Claudia.”

Sarah nodded her approval, clearly
ready to fight for her son’s life.

“I know that we’ve got our local shrink
to testify as to insanity,” Duke said. “They’ve got this god damn Frederick
Parke. He could talk Halle Berry out of her britches in about an hour. We need
someone to go up against him. I’ll find the right guy.”

“Go for it, bro. Remember ninety days
goes fast.”

Wayne and Dan sat across from each
other in the jail. Dan fidgeted in his chair and periodically jerked his head
to the left. Beads of sweat popped from a furrowed brow. This day was not one
for debate about computers and serial killers.

“Look, Dan, just try to relax.”

“That’s…easy…for…you…to…say.” There
was no animation in Dan’s voice and his face was that of a cardboard mannequin.
“This guy, Parke, is going to decide whether I live or die.”

“Not quite, Dan. Since he’s hired by
the prosecution, you can expect him to find that you were sane. Otherwise they
wouldn’t be paying him something north of a hundred grand.”

“Shit, that makes it worse. I don’t
have a prayer.”

“Try to calm down. He’s a shrink. You’ve
seen dozens of them. Just answer his questions. Don’t try to outguess him. Don’t
try to play games with him. We’ve got Dr. Adashek on our side and Duke’s lining
up our own forensic psychiatrist. Parke is going to video the entire interview
and we’ll show it to our own guys.”

“Why can’t you be here while he talks
to me?”

“Rules of the game, Dan. Criminal law
permits him to interview you alone. Not a damn thing I can do about it.”

There was a knock at the door and the
deputy entered.

“That doc from Colorado is here with a
video camera. Ready, Dan?”

Rita burst through Wayne’s door,
climbed the stairs and charged into Wayne’s bedroom, finding him at the
bathroom door, clad only in a towel around his waist and with shaving cream on
his face.

“Oooh, nice outfit if we could get
rid of the shaving cream.”

“Morning, Rita. Now what would you do
if I wiped off the shaving cream and dropped the towel?” Wayne teased.

“You want to try me big boy? Come on.”

“One of these days, but not today. I’m
running late.
 
Not often you drop by so
early on a weekday. What’s going on?

“You seen the
Chronicle
?”

“Nope. Trying to get out of here. Claudia
and I are working on motions on Dan’s case.”

Thrusting the paper at him, she said,
“Take a look at this. There was a woman killed yesterday morning just before
daylight on the Allen Park jogging trail. Young, good looking, throat slit with
a sharp weapon, shorts gone. Same M. O. as our Galveston killer and those
others. Obviously, wasn’t Dan. I think you’re onto something.”

Wayne stepped back in the bathroom,
leaving the door open as he picked up his razor. “Damn sure hope so. Has Dan
emailed you yet?”

“Two days ago. I haven’t replied
because of a report I had to get done for the guys in Chicago. I’ll get back to
him today with this story and start working on some sort of system to track
this guy, assuming its one guy, of course.”

Wayne finished shaving, washed his
face and replied, “Why don’t you make some coffee? I’ll be down in ten
minutes.”

Rita was sitting at the kitchen
counter with two steaming cups of coffee in front of her a few minutes later. Wayne,
dressed in black slacks and a red Galveston Country Club golf shirt, crossed
the room, kissed Rita on the cheek and sat on the adjoining stool.

“How’d the interview with the shrink
go yesterday?”

“Don’t know for sure. Dan was really
upset before he got there. Afterwards he refused to talk to anyone, even me. I’ll
get a copy of the interview video tomorrow along with the original intake
interview when they picked him up. Maybe the posse can watch both this weekend.
I’m particularly interested in everyone watching the intake interview. Dr.
Adashek says it’s important, that it’s the closest thing we’ve got to Dan’s mental
condition on the day of the killing.”

“Tell Duke and Claudia to come by
about mid-afternoon Saturday. I’ll fix spaghetti when we’re ready for a break. Meantime,
I’m going to look for everything I can find about this other murder, Chronicle,
local channels, internet, the usual. I’ll even tap into a couple of my old
friends from HPD that I knew back in my investigator days. May lead to nothing.
On the other hand, it could be important. I’ll keep Dan in the loop.”