Truly Married (18 page)

Beverly paused. “Yes. My thoughts were too scrambled to notice it at first when she was on the floor, but when the police came and took her away there was blood all over the front of her dress.”

The prosecutor went over to his table and picked up a large plastic bag. Back at the witness stand he removed a blue garment and showed it to Beverly. “Is this the dress Ms. Sawyer was wearing that day?”

Beverly shuddered at the sight of the rumpled blue dress with large brown stains on the front. “Yes,” she said, and looked away.

Hollingsworth addressed the judge. “We’d like to enter this garment in evidence as state’s exhibit B.”

“So ordered,” the judge said.

The A.D.A. returned his attention to Beverly. “Thank you, Ms. Maitland. Those are all the questions I have for you, but the defense may wish to cross-examine.” He returned to his seat at the table.

What little hope Sharon had clung to was crushed by Beverly’s testimony. How could anybody believe she was not guilty in light of the evidence against her?

Fergus stood. “Yes, I do have some questions,” he said amiably, and walked over to the witness stand. “My name is Fergus Lachlan, Ms. Maitland.”

He had his back to the spectators, so Sharon couldn’t see his face, but she was sure he was smiling, because Beverly smiled, and hers looked like the answering kind. “How do you do,” she murmured.

He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Now, I know this is a frightening ordeal, but I’ll make it as easy for you as I can. Just relax and think about the questions I’ll ask you. Don’t feel rushed or intimidated. I’m not going to try to trick you, or get you to say something you don’t want to. All I want is the truth. Do you understand?”

She smiled again and nodded, and Sharon could see that Beverly was melting under Fergus’s very real charm.

“All right, then, we’ll start with an easy one,” he said softly. “How long have you known Sharon Sawyer?”

“I met her two years ago when I first started working at the Starlight St. Louis. She’d just been promoted to assistant front-office manager.”

“Was Floyd Vancleave front-office manager at that time?”

“Yes.”

“How did Floyd and Sharon get along? Did they quarrel often?”

Beverly shook her head emphatically. “Oh no! Sharon never quarreled with anybody. In fact, she was about the only one who could get along with Mr. Vancleave—”

“Objection,” Hollingsworth said. “Relevance.”

“Goes to state of mind and motive, Your Honor,” Fergus answered.

“Overruled. You may continue, Mr. Lachlan,” said the judge.

“Was Mr. Vancleave a difficult man to work for?” Fergus continued.

“He could be, yes.”

“How so?”

Again Beverly bit nervously at her lower lip. “He was very autocratic, wouldn’t listen to anyone’s opinion but his own. He was good with plans and figures and the business end of management, but he antagonized people. When any of the employees under him had a problem they took it to Sharon. She could usually placate anybody—”

“Objection,” Hollingsworth shouted.

The judge agreed. “The clerk will strike that last sentence.”

Sharon caught the quick smile Fergus flashed at her, and knew what he was thinking. The comment may have been stricken from the record, but it would stay in the mind of the judge and possibly soften her judgment.

He turned back to Beverly. “Would you say that Sharon had a hot temper?”

Beverly’s eyes widened. “No. I never saw her display any temper at all. That’s why people discussed their problems with her. She has a knack for being cool and rational and sympathetic, even when she has to tell them they are in the wrong. Mr. Vancleave was brusque and rude and always assumed the employee was at fault.”

“Your Honor,” the A.D.A. said as he got to his feet. “Mr. Vancleave is not the subject of this hearing. He’s the victim.”

“Yes, Mr. Prosecutor, point taken, although I must remind you that this is your witness. However, the last sentence will be stricken.”

Hollingsworth sat back down, looking frustrated.

Fergus again turned his attention to Beverly. “Do you know what Floyd and Sharon were quarreling about? I mean, of your own knowledge, not hearsay. Could you distinguish what they were saying to each other?”

“No, sir, I had no idea what they were quarreling about. I’d never seen Sharon really mad before, and once she closed the door after entering his office I could hear them shouting, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. The words were muffled.”

“Now, Beverly, I’d like you to tell me about that office,” Fergus said. “Is the door to the outer office the only way in and out of that room?”

“No. The office is on the first floor, and there’s a wide sliding-glass door that opens onto the pool and garden area.”

“Is this area fenced?”

Beverly nodded. “Yes, but there’s a gate that opens onto the street.”

“So it’s possible for a person to leave or enter Floyd Vancleave’s office without ever going through the reception area?”

“Yes.”

Mark one for our side, Sharon thought, as Fergus concluded his cross-examination.

But then Hollingsworth stood. “I have one more question, Your Honor,” he said, and the judge nodded her permission.

“Is that sliding-glass door left unlocked so that anyone can wander in or out?”

Beverly shook her head. “No, it’s always locked. It can be easily unlocked from the inside by just pushing the latch up, but it can’t be unlocked from the outside without a key.”

“Does the door lock automatically when it is shut?”

Beverly lowered her gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“And who has keys to that door?”

“Only Mr. Vancleave and the security department. Mr. Vancleave always keeps his on his key ring.”

“So if anyone left the room through that door, then returned a few minutes later, someone on the inside would have to let them in?” the A.D.A. asked.

Beverly nodded. “Yes.”

Sharon groaned. The implication was only too clear. If Sharon had left and then returned, as she’d told the police, Floyd would have had to be alive to let her in.

Except that wasn’t how it happened. She’d unlocked the door to get out, but she hadn’t slid it shut again. It had still been open and unlocked when she’d returned for her purse, and Floyd was lying on the floor with a sharp letter opener in his chest!

The state called its next witness, Officer Edward Jackson, one of the first policemen to arrive on the crime scene. He looked like a seasoned veteran of the force, and she remembered him questioning her that day, but none of the details.

Once he’d been sworn in and identified, Hollingsworth began his interrogation. “When you arrived at the scene what did you find?”

“There was a man’s body lying on the floor, and a woman in a bloodstained dress, sitting in the chair behind the desk. There were also two uniformed security officers employed by the hotel.”

“Is that woman in the room now?”

“Yeah,” Officer Jackson said, and pointed. “That’s her sitting over there at the defense table.”

“Let the record show that he identified the defendant,” the A.D.A. said, and the judge nodded.

“Were you able to identify that man and woman at that time?”

Officer Jackson said yes, and gave Floyd’s and Sharon’s names and their employment records at the hotel.

“Were there any wounds on the body?”

“Yes, there was a puncture wound in the chest, and we found a bloody letter opener on the floor beside the victim. It was later identified as the murder weapon.”

Hollingsworth walked over to the exhibit table, picked up the small plastic bag and gave it to the witness. “Is this the letter opener you found?”

Jackson nodded. “It is. It has my mark on it.”

“Were there signs of a struggle in the room?”

Jackson thought for a moment. “Only on the desk. The objects on top of it were scattered, and the desk lamp was overturned on the floor. There was a lot of blood on the victim and some on the carpet where he was lying. It looked to me like he was taken by surprise. Like he was stabbed by someone he knew and trusted.”

Fergus tensed, but then settled back again. Sharon wondered for a moment why he didn’t object. After all, that was only the man’s opinion, but then she realized that the officer would be qualified as an expert on such matters.

“Were there fingerprints found on the weapon?” Hollingsworth asked.

“Yes, Mr. Vancleave’s and one other set.”

“And were you able to identify whom they belonged to?”

The officer looked directly at Sharon. “We were. They belonged to Sharon Sawyer, the defendant.”

There was a ripple of voices in the room, and the judge banged her gavel for order.

Sharon felt battered, even though she’d known roughly what his testimony would be. Still, it was frightening to listen to the evidence, so overwhelmingly against her.

Now it was Fergus’s turn to cross-examine, and she tried to pull herself together and pay attention. He walked over to the witness stand and when he spoke his tone was friendly. “Officer Jackson, I understand you’ve been on the police force here in St. Louis for quite some time.”

The officer tilted up his head. “Twenty-one years,” he said proudly.

“I’m also told that you have a number of commendations.” Fergus’s tone was laced with admiration.

Jackson beamed and named off several awards, but Sharon didn’t catch the names.

“Congratulations. That’s an impressive list. You’re very thorough and professional, so I won’t waste the court’s time by asking obvious questions. There are a few things, though, that I need to know. You said that when you arrived on the scene Ms. Sawyer was sitting in a chair, but when Ms. Maitland went into the office earlier she said Ms. Sawyer was kneeling on the floor beside the body. Do you know how she got to the chair?”

“Yes, I do. When Ms. Maitland told me that Ms. Sawyer had been on the floor I asked the security guards about it. One of them said he’d helped her to stand and led her over to the chair so she wouldn’t disturb any evidence.”

“
Helped
her and
led
her?” Fergus sounded puzzled. “Was she injured, too?”

“No,” the officer said. “She was just a little shocked. Disoriented.”

“But why would she be shocked and disoriented if she went to Vancleave’s office with every intention of killing him, as the charge of first-degree murder would indicate?”

“Objection!” the A.D.A. shouted. “Calls for a conclusion.”

Fergus turned and looked at the prosecutor. “But I understood that Officer Jackson was testifying as an expert witness,” Fergus said, sounding perplexed. “In which case his conclusions should be allowed. However, I’ll withdraw the question.”

He sounded accommodating, but Sharon knew him well enough to recognize that he was pleased. Apparently he’d managed to have the testimony he was after inserted into the record.

He turned back to the witness. “In your twenty-one years on the force have you seen many violent crimes?”

“Dozens of them,” Jackson said. “No, make that hundreds.”

“And in all that time have you ever known the persons who either witnessed the crime or were first on the scene to be shocked and or disoriented? Even though they were innocent bystanders?”

The officer nodded. “Many times. In fact, most of the time.”

“So you would recognize someone in that condition?”

“Sure.”

“Did Ms. Sawyer show signs of shock?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“Can you tell us what some of the symptoms were?”

The officer hesitated, as though searching for the right words. “She seemed dazed. Her eyes didn’t focus properly, and at first she didn’t respond to me at all—she just sat there staring down at her hands folded in her lap. Later she started to comprehend a little, but she was confused and had trouble understanding the simplest questions.”

“When you arrested her did you read her her rights?”

“Yes, that’s standard procedure.”

“Did she understand what you were telling her?”

The officer shrugged. “She said in front of witnesses that she did, so we went ahead and booked her.”

Fergus walked over to the defense table and stood in front of it as he continued. “Was the sliding-glass door in the office open or closed when you got there?”

“It was open.”

“Was it dusted for fingerprints?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Were Ms. Sawyer’s prints found on it?”

He nodded tersely. “Yes, they were.”

“Both inside and outside?”

Jackson’s gaze shifted slightly away from Fergus’s. “Yes.”

“And wouldn’t that suggest to you that she had left and returned through that door?”

“Objection,” Hollingsworth said.

“Overruled,” the judge said. “The witness may answer.”

“I suppose she could have,” the officer answered.

“Were there other prints besides Ms. Sawyer’s?”

“Only Mr. Vancleave’s. They were on the inside.”

Fergus hesitated a moment, then moved closer to the witness stand. “Now, about your statement that Mr. Vancleave was probably killed by someone he knew and trusted. How did you come to that conclusion?”

The officer shifted in the chair. “Because the victim didn’t appear to have put up a fight. He was a good-sized man, and muscular. It’s reasonable to assume he would have grappled with a stranger.”

“But isn’t it also reasonable to assume he would have grappled with anyone who threatened him with a weapon, stranger or not?”

“I suppose,” the officer admitted, “but if it were a woman and somebody he knew he’d be more apt to try to placate her.”

“A woman? Are you implying that only a woman could have committed this crime?” Fergus’s tone was low, but sharp.

Officer Jackson looked startled. “Ah...no, but since the suspect is a woman—”

“Then you didn’t bother to look for other suspects, since you had one so conveniently close by?” This time Fergus’s tone was deadly.

“Yes... I mean no!” Jackson was obviously rattled. “Ms. Sawyer was found bending over the body with the murder weapon in her hand.”

“But you didn’t actually see her like that, did you? You testified she was sitting in a chair behind the desk when you arrived.”