The Insanity Plea (15 page)

Wayne knocked on Rita’s door that
evening and then opened it as he hollered, “Man downstairs. Good looking,
intelligent, suave one at that.”

“Then it must not be my next door
neighbor,” Rita said as she came down the stairs, wearing a tight-fitting red
sweater, black designer jeans and running shoes.

“Geez, Rita, the way you look, I’m
glad that Duke’s not going to the Astros game with us tonight. He wouldn’t be
able to keep his eyes off you.”

They boarded the train two blocks
from their condos and rode it to the end of Main where everyone disembarked and
walked past the courthouse complex to Minute Maid Park. They stopped to buy two
beers, popcorn and peanuts and found their way to seats just down the first
base line from home plate.

As they settled into their seats,
Rita asked, “Where’s our big friend tonight?”

“He’s having dinner with a
psychiatric expert he’s lining up for us, some prof at UT medical school. They
were in law school together. The doctor wanted a law degree to expand his
credentials as a forensic psychiatrist. Duke says he’s had a couple of personal
problems over the years, nothing, though that will impact on his professional
credentials or testimony. Anyway, Duke wanted that assignment; so, he makes the
call.”

As the Astros were taking the field, Wayne
added, “And there’s one more thing. The D. A. faxed us a copy of their expert
report today. The shrink says Dan knew what he did was legally wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Hon. Made for a tough
day.”

Wayne shrugged his shoulders. “Well,
yes and no. I didn’t really expect anything else. If they’re going to designate
him as an expert, it’s understood that his opinions are going to support their
position. I was pretty damn impressed with his credentials. He’s a professor at
the University of Colorado, testifies pretty much all over the country, has
written books about the criminal mind and even consults with a bunch of law
enforcement agencies, including the FBI, when they’re trying to profile serial
killers.”

“Remind me of his name,” Rita said.

“Sorry, name’s Frederick Parke. Lives
in Vail.”

“I’ll start doing a computer search
on him tomorrow. If it’s out there, I’ll find it.”

 
“One more thing. Tod has Parke as an expert
against him in a medical case. I’m going to Vail in ten days to take his
deposition.”

Rita turned her head from the field
and took Wayne’s hand. “I’m going with you,” she declared.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me. I’m going to Vail. I
want to sit in on this guy’s deposition.”

“Rita, thanks, but I don’t need you. I
take a hundred depositions a year. It’s nothing new to me. Also, you’re not
with our firm and the rules don’t permit just anyone to sit in on one of these
proceedings.”

Wayne felt flushed as she smiled
coyly, then batted her brown eyes before responding. “Wayne, I don’t recall
asking if I could come. I said I was going. And maybe you forgot that I was
just hired on with the Duncan firm as a dollar-a-year legal assistant.” She
winked. “Remember, I was a private investigator before I got into computers. Further,
I’m a woman in case you hadn’t noticed. A woman’s intuition is better than any
man’s, and mine is better than most of my gender. I’ll wear something low cut
and,” she smiled, “I just might be able to distract him when he’s trying to
answer some of your questions.”

As if to seal the decision, she leaned
over and gave Wayne a soft kiss on the cheek. Wayne shrugged his shoulders,
recognizing that he might as well give up the argument and enjoy the game.

They flew into Denver and rented a
car. Wayne knew that Rita had never seen the grandeur of the Rockies; so, he
remained silent while Rita absorbed the beauty of the drive. It was an hour and
a half later when Rita saw the sign for Vail Pass and spoke for the first time
since Denver. “Wow, was that spectacular! How far are we from Vail?”

“Just around the bend, maybe five
miles. What started as Vail is now known as the Vail Valley. It extends from
Vail through Beaver Creek and on west for miles. The valley has ski trails in
four or five different locations. The summer is for hikers, mountain bikers,
trout fishing, white water rafting and just sitting outdoors, sipping a cool
one and enjoying the sun and mountain air.”

“I’m in love with it already. Maybe
we ought to move here in a few years,” Rita said and then, embarrassed, turned
and gazed out the window.

Wayne smiled and let the comment
drop. “We’re driving through Vail to Beaver Creek about four miles down the
road. We have a suite at the Ritz-Carlton, separate bedrooms, of course. We’ll
check in and have a drink on the balcony. Then, I’ve got us a reservation at
Sweet Basil.”

As they passed through Vail, Rita
asked. “What time is our deposition tomorrow?”

“Starts at eleven. I know this area
pretty well. I’ve been skiing it since I was a kid. Parke’s house is just
across the valley from where we’re staying, fifteen minutes from the Ritz. We
can relax this evening and sleep a little late tomorrow. I’ve already prepared
my questions.”

Exiting the interstate at Avon, they
turned left and drove through the town at the base of Beaver Creek. As they
crossed the Eagle River, Rita exclaimed, “Look! There are two men wading in the
middle of the river.”

“They’re fly fishing. Some of the
best trout fishing in Colorado is right in this valley.”

“Well,” Rita laughed, “where my
family came from, wading a river was just a way to get from one country to
another.”

Designed to emulate a castle in the
Austrian Alps, the Ritz was a mile up the mountain above Avon. Wayne and Rita
were treated as visiting royalty when the valet greeted them at the front of
the hotel.
 
While Wayne checked them in,
Rita wandered into a living room adjoining the bar, four stories high with giant
wooden beams and pillars.
 
Sitting areas
were arranged to face either a twenty foot tall fire place or the southern wall
of glass looking out onto the mountain and the ski area. As she found a seat to
admire the view, a giant Saint Bernard wandered over and settled at her feet,
expecting to be petted.

“I see that you and Bachelor have
become friends already,” Wayne said as he took a seat on the leather couch
beside her. “Hey, Bach, how you doing? He’s the official greeter for the hotel,
has the run of the place. Probably the only Ritz in the world where guests are
encouraged to bring their dogs. Ready to go to our room?”

At the fifth floor Wayne slipped the
magnetic card into the door and opened it for Rita. As she entered she gasped,
“My God, Wayne. Did you just have a rich uncle die?”

The living area was twice the size of
the living room in her apartment. It, too, had a beamed ceiling, leather
couches and chairs, a complete bar and full kitchen. The drapes were open,
revealing a balcony facing west toward the setting sun. Champagne and an assortment
of strawberries, grapes and cheeses awaited them on the coffee table.

“Naw, Tod said to rent this place. He’s
rented this same suite during ski season. Said he’ll charge the cost of two
single rooms to his malpractice client and the rest is a gift from him. Here,
take a look at your room.”

Wayne led her to the bedroom on the
right with a king size four poster in the middle. What delighted Rita the most
was a hot tub in the bathroom.

“Come on, Rita. To the balcony. You’re
about to witness one of the world’s most fantastic sunsets.”

With that invitation, Wayne grabbed
the champagne. Rita carried the fruit tray. The sun was low in the west and a
few clouds blanketed the distant mountains, guaranteeing a spectacular setting
sun. Wayne and Rita sipped champagne, nibbled on the fruit and said very little
as they watched the panorama unfolding before them. The last of the daylight
disappeared and Wayne asked, “You ready for dinner? I’ve got a reservation at
nine.”

As they drove into Vail, Wayne
realized that since they left for dinner, there had been virtually no
conversation. He knew what was going through his mind and suspected Rita was
having similar thoughts. Wayne glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and
wondered what kind of damn fool he was. He knew he wanted her and knew the
feeling was mutual. Still, he resisted. Wayne was on an emotional roller
coaster with Dan and his pending trial. Romantic involvement would have to
wait.

After dinner, Rita and Wayne walked
hand in hand through the almost deserted streets of Vail. Wayne admired the
architecture of the simulated Bavarian village. Rita could have spent the
night, window shopping at stores that might have been on Fifth Avenue in New
York. Finally, Wayne announced that they needed to head back to the hotel.

Back in their suite both felt
awkward. Wayne went to his bathroom, came out, and got a glass of water. Rita
wandered out to the balcony and shortly returned to find Wayne standing in the
middle of the living room.

“Well, I guess we better call it a
night,” Wayne said.

“Yeah, hon, I agree. Thanks for a
wonderful evening. I think I’m going to try out that bath in my room. After
champagne, dinner and a hot bath, I ought to sleep like a baby.”

“You’re welcome. I really do have to
get some sleep. Tomorrow’s an important day.”

“I know, sweetie. Go get your rest.”

Wayne picked up a ski magazine and
rummaged through it while Rita stood beside him.

Wayne finally turned, kissed her on
the cheek, walked to his bedroom and shut the door. Finding herself alone, Rita
did the same.

Thirty minutes later Wayne’s door
opened. He went to the bar where he poured a large shot of scotch with no ice. Quietly,
he opened the balcony door and sat alone with a confusion of thoughts about Rita,
Dan, the deposition tomorrow and Dan’s trial. A brilliant shooting star arced
over the western sky from south to north before burning in the earth’s
atmosphere. He concluded that it was a sign that all of the issues clouding his
brain were going to work out for the best. He returned to his bedroom and was
soon asleep.

The next morning they left the Ritz
with Wayne promising Rita that they would return someday soon, maybe during ski
season. They crossed the valley floor and started the winding climb to the top
of Wildridge until they found a cul de sac with the name of Red Fox Lane. Parke’s
house was on the corner.

Getting out of the car, Wayne
reminded her that she was a legal assistant who was expected to be seen and not
heard. Several cars were already in the driveway, one for the opposing lawyer,
one each for the court reporter and videographer. Dr. Parke had parked both his
Hummer and Corvette prominently outside the garage.

Wayne had originally suggested that
the deposition be taken in Denver, only Dr. Parke made it very clear that he
did not expect to travel for a deposition. If a lawyer wanted to question him,
it would be here on his home turf. Wayne was about to knock on the door, when
it opened and they were greeted by Edward “Teddy” Roberts, a young partner in
one of the better Houston plaintiff firms, one who Wayne encountered on a
regular basis. Unlike his dealings with Capital Kate, he and Roberts maintained
a cordial professional relationship. Dr. Parke stood directly behind Teddy.

“Morning, Wayne. Didn’t know you were
handling this one. Not a bad place to drag you for deposition, huh?”

“Yeah, Teddy. Beats Beaumont by a
hair and is probably even a little better than Brownsville,” Wayne kidded in
reply. “Tod had something else on his schedule, and I’ll take any reason to
visit Vail. This is my paralegal, Rita. And you must be Dr. Parke. Name’s
Wayne. I represent Dr. Morris.”

Wayne avoided disclosing his last
name. He knew Teddy expected to see Tod attend this deposition and hoped that
Parke would not learn his last name and associate it with his brother.

Dr. Parke couldn’t have cared less
about the last name of a young opposing lawyer. His eyes focused on Rita. He
stepped around Wayne and grasped her right hand in both of his.

“My dear, it’s not often I have the
pleasure of having someone as beautiful as you on the other side of a case. Did
the two of you enjoy your stay in my fair valley last night?”

“Yes, sir,” Rita smiled demurely. “We
stayed at the Ritz and Wayne treated me to dinner at Sweet Basil.”

Parke turned to the others, saying,
“Everyone please come in. Let me show you around my house while the court
reporter sets up. The first level has the garage in the back. Here to the left
is my office with two bedrooms adjoining it.” Wayne glanced in to see a twenty
by twenty room with its own fireplace, a large high definition television, a
desk piled with papers and walls lined with bookcases, all filled to
overflowing.

“Now, follow me up the stairs. Here
on the first landing is the powder room.”

As they walked up the stairs, Wayne
noted the walls were lined with diplomas, honorary degrees, plaques designating
Dr. Parke as having received teaching excellence awards from the medical students
and residents at the Colorado medical school, and several letters of thanks
from law enforcement officials around the country for his assistance in
catching killers in their communities.

They turned the corner into the combination
living room, dining room and kitchen area. Windows on three sides provided an
opportunity to view the mountains from almost any direction. The dining room
table easily sat ten and was where the deposition would be taken. At the front
of the room was a sitting area suitable for fifteen with windows from the floor
to the vaulted ceiling twenty feet above them.

“How many people live here, Dr.
Parke?” Rita asked.

“Just me. I’ve never been married and
have no family. I invite friends out from Denver and elsewhere. Maybe you all might
like to visit after this case is over.”

Wayne knew that he had to cover the
basics of Parke’s opinions in Tod’s case. His real purpose was to use this as
an opportunity to size him up as a witness and maybe get some concessions from
Dr. Parke that might assist in the defense of his brother. Wayne went through
the standard drill of getting the witness’s qualifications, which even Wayne
had to concede were impressive. He established that Parke went all over the country,
offering opinions in criminal and civil cases; that he had testified literally hundreds
of times, charging $1,500 an hour for preparation, travel, depositions and
trial. Looking around, it was obvious he was still very much in demand and
extremely well paid.

After the preliminaries, they took a
break. The court reporter went to the powder room. The others helped themselves
to coffee and wandered out to the deck where Dr. Parke, the ever-gracious host,
pointed out the peaks of the New York range across the valley, commenting that
he had climbed nearly all of them, some several times.

Reconvening, Wayne focused on the
malpractice case. The deceased was a schizophrenic, a young man in his
twenties. Tod’s client, his psychiatrist, had discharged him from an
institution after medications had gotten him past a psychotic episode where he
had threatened his parents with a shotgun. Within three days he had quit his
medications and brandished a knife at his father, threatening to kill him
because his father was really Satan. His father tried to talk him down and
managed to get upstairs to his room where he kept a pistol in his nightstand. He
called 911 and was waiting for the police. Then his son kicked open the bedroom
door. When the young man refused to put down the butcher knife and came after
his father, he calmly raised the pistol and shot his own son one time in the
heart. He stepped over the body and went to the front porch to await the
police. Later, he hired a Teddy Roberts to sue the psychiatrist, claiming that
it was his negligence that caused the tragic death of his son.

Dr. Parke offered very strong
opinions that the father had no choice. His son was six feet two inches and
weighed two hundred twenty pounds. The responsibility lay at the feet of the
psychiatrist, who never should have discharged the patient. Wayne got exactly
what he wanted when Dr. Parke agreed that a person with this disease did not
know what he was doing and should not be held responsible.

While Wayne was questioning the
doctor, Rita surveyed the room and concluded that everyone was wrapped up in
the questions and answers. She rose quietly and went down the stairs as if to
go to the powder room. Instead, she passed it by and stepped into Dr. Parke’s
office. Quickly, she went to the desk, pulled her cell phone from her purse and
took shots of the papers there. Then she turned to the bookcases and snapped
pictures of the bookcases and books. She put the phone back in her purse and
was surveying the collection.

What she found shocked her. The
library was carefully organized. She counted three complete shelves with books
on sexual deviation; one entire book case on serial killers; one book case on pedophilia;
several shelves of pornography; one bookcase on the art of torture; two shelves
on mass murders; four shelves on the occult and Satanism and, interestingly,
only a few books on psychiatry.

She was trying the handle on the door
to a closet beside the bookcases when Rita was suddenly aware that she was not
alone. She whirled to find Dr. Parke standing only a foot behind her.

“Do you find something interesting in
here, young lady? I saw you trying to get in my closet. Don’t waste your time. It’s
always locked.”

“Uh, Dr. Parke. Are you guys already finished
upstairs? I was getting bored and libraries always fascinate me. I presume that
you don’t just read these for fun.”

Dr. Parke appraised her, clearly not
buying her story, but carefully hid his anger at this person who was invading
his private life.
 
Then he spoke as
though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “They all are highly
interesting to me, my dear. I read them strictly as a professional. I spend so
much time on the dark side of people’s lives that I must know what motivates
them, how they came to be killers or rapists or perverts. All in a day’s work.”
He smiled, and winked at her. Rita managed to hide the shiver that rippled
through her body. She excused herself and brushed by the psychiatrist. He
grabbed her arm as she did so.

“I don’t recall getting your name,
young lady.”

“Rita.”

“Rita what?”

“Rita Contreras. Now, I need to find
Wayne.”

She turned and hurried up the stairs.

Parke was standing on his deck as the
lawyers, court reporter and videographer got in their cars and left his driveway,
making their way down the winding road to the bottom of the valley. His
thoughts turned to Rita Contreras. He detested anyone invading his personal
space. Wayne said something about her being his legal assistant. Why was she
snooping around his office? He stepped back into the house and took the stairs
down one flight to survey what she might have been doing. It was easy to
explain the books. Certainly, he took a perverse pleasure from reading about
pornography, sexual deviation, serial killers, mass murders and the like. He
had read every one of them, some even two or three times. If such books had
been found in Ted Bundy’s house, they would surely have been evidence in his
trial. But, Parke was a psychiatrist who specialized in such behavior. He must
do his research. There, on his desk, is his latest journal article, not yet
published because of that son of a bitch in New York. Parke didn’t care if she
rummaged through it. In fact, he hoped she had since it would have only
confirmed the depth of his research into the criminal mind.

But, she was trying to get into his
closet where his mementos were stored. It’s always locked, double locked in
fact. Still, he checked to be sure. No, she didn’t get in there. He took his
keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. The mementos brought back memories,
pleasurable memories as he recreated each of his conquests. He pushed the door
closed and locked it, once again worried that he may have stepped over the line
from research to craving, an emotional need for the hunt and the kill.

Still, he thought, he was worried
about this woman. He sat at his desktop and input her name and Houston in
several sites until he found what he’s looking for.
Shit, she’s not a paralegal. She’s some kind of a computer whiz,
working for a company out of Chicago. Why would she and that lawyer lie?
And, there’s more. She, at one time, was a private investigator. If she was
investigating Parke, it could be for only one reason. Somehow, she had figured
something out and talked this lawyer into letting her tag along. Was he being
paranoid? Maybe. Maybe not. Certainly, he needed to reflect on this development
for a few days before deciding what to do.