Bear Bones Page 20

  “No.”

  “I see. So, while you saw someone get into the dinghy, you didn’t corroborate that with anyone else?”

  “No.”

  Burr looked back at Brooks, who was seething. “For all you know, if they had seen Mr. Lockwood, they could have seen him on an entirely different day.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And, isn’t it possible that when Mrs. Lockwood picked up whoever it was she picked up, that she had dropped him off on the beach earlier?”

  She squirmed. “I don’t know. I suppose so.”

  “And isn’t it possible that whoever was on the boat came over to the island with her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Burr walked over to her. “Of course you don’t know.” Burr put his hands on the railing. “This is all speculation. I have no further questions.” Burr returned to his chair, the waters duly muddied.

  Brooks wasn’t done. “Redirect, Your Honor.”

  The judge raised her eyebrows but nodded at him. Brooks stood and pointed at Tommy.

  “Ms. Flannery, in your opinion, was it the defendant, Mr. Lockwood, who got in the dinghy with his wife?”

  “Yes.”

  Brooks sat, the waters a little less muddy.

  The learned Judge Mary Fisher had finally had enough for the day, but before adjourning, she called Burr and Brooks to the bench. “Gentlemen,” she said, “this is a trial, not a two-man play.”

  “Your Honor?” Brooks said.

  “Enough of the theatrics. Especially you, Mr. Lafayette. Do I make myself clear?”

  The lawyers nodded.

  This is nothing if not theater.

  Burr walked out of the now empty courtroom, his entourage a few steps ahead. When they reached the hallway, he took Tommy by the arm and pulled him into the coat room. He spun Tommy so they were face-to-face, Tommy’s back to a coatrack on wheels.

  “I knew you were lying to me. You never went fly fishing. You took the ferry over to South Manitou and you killed your wife.”

  Tommy took a step back. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”

  “Five people just testified they saw you. You bought a ticket, rode the ferry and climbed in the dinghy. It was all I could do to stop you from being convicted on the spot.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  Burr moved right into Tommy’s face. “You lied to me.”

  Tommy stumbled backed into the coatrack. It crashed to the floor. Tommy tripped over it and fell, too. Eve rushed in. “Don’t shout. Everyone can hear you.” She bent over Tommy. “Let me help you.”

  Tommy scrambled to his feet. “I did go fishing on the Betsie.”

  “After you murdered your wife.”

  “I didn’t kill her.”

  Burr closed in on Tommy again. Eve stepped between them. “Burr, please.”

  Burr glared at Tommy over Eve’s shoulder. “All you had to do was tell me the truth. I can work with the truth. Now, no one will believe me.”

  “People always believe you,” Eve said. “Especially women.”

  “Not now, Eve.” Burr backed up and leaned against the wall. “Tell me what happened, Tommy. What really happened.”

  Tommy stood the coatrack back up, then pushed it away from him. The wheels squeaked when it rolled across the floor. He looked straight at Burr.

  “I’d planned to go fishing after Helen left that morning. I got up and packed, but I decided that Helen and I needed to talk about selling the orchards. I wanted to talk to her right then. So I drove to Leland and bought a ticket for the ferry.”

  “Why didn’t you wait until she got back?” Burr said.

  “I was ready to sell. I knew she wouldn’t listen to me, especially when we were at home. Around the orchards. I thought if we could talk about it away from the farm, it might make a difference.”

  He’s still lying.

  Burr bit his lip. “Go on.”

  “I took the ferry over. I got her attention and she came and picked me up. I told her what I wanted to do, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Burr looked Tommy in the eyes. “You lost your temper and killed her.”

  Tommy shook his head. “No. No. It wasn’t like that. We argued about the orchards. I told her the feds were going to win anyway so we might as well get on with life. She said she’d never give up. I finally gave up, just like I always do with her. She took me ashore, I took the ferry back and I went fishing.”

  He’s still lying, but I’m not sure what he’s lying about.

  Burr paced back and forth in the cramped coatroom.

  Burr stopped and stared at Tommy again “Why didn’t you tell me? It would have made things much easier.”

  “I don’t know. I should have. I guess I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  “I don’t believe you now.”

  “I didn’t think anyone would notice me. I didn’t think they’d find out.”

  Burr nodded.

  This sounds a little more like the truth. Not much, but a little.

  “I’m sorry,” Tommy said.

  “No one would have noticed if Helen hadn’t been killed. It wouldn’t have mattered, but Brooks has it that you went over on the ferry in plain sight, killed Helen, then took the ferry back. If that’s what you did, it was genius. It would have worked if the dog hadn’t dug her up.” He started toward Tommy.

  Eve stepped in front of him. “Burr, please.”

  “Now what do we do?” Tommy said.

  “Now we have dinner.” Burr walked away.

  * * *

  Back at the Northport marina, Burr picked up Zeke, who had been watched over by a generously tipped dock boy.

  Burr met the rest of them – Jacob, Eve, Tommy, Lauren, her husband, Curt, Karen, and her husband, Glenn – at the Happy Hour, which was the only ‘happy’ anywhere in sight.

  Karen asked how Burr thought it had gone today.

  Jacob, who refused to eat “dead cow,” pushed away the macaroni and cheese he had ordered from the children’s menu. “Burr did a magnificent job of confusing things. He’s always been a master of confusion.”

  Eve picked at her chicken Caesar salad.

  “Tommy, there was nothing confusing about you taking the ferry to South Manitou,” Karen said. She picked at her hamburger patty, sans bun, but with onion.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Lauren said.

  Tommy studied his french fries. “I should have. I’m sorry,” he said without looking up.

  “Right now, it looks like you killed her,” Curt said.

  “Stop it, Curt,” Lauren said.

  Tommy looked up from his fries. “She was alive when I left. She dropped me off at the beach. The last time I saw her, she was taking the dinghy back to Achilles.”

  “The dinghy,” Burr said through a mouthful of burger. “Where is the dinghy?”

  “What difference does it make?” Karen said. “We need to find out who got on Achilles after Tommy.”

  “Unless it was Tommy,” Lauren said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Burr and company waited for Judge Mary Fisher to make her grand entrance. The single rose in the bud vase, fresh each day, waited for her on the corner of her rostrum. At last, she appeared, wearing her signature pearl earrings, gliding into the courtroom, her black robe billowing around her.

  The bailiff called them to order.

  Brooks stood and looked at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, as you will recall, we have already established that poor Mrs. Lockwood was murdered with her husband’s pistol. Then we established the fact that the defendant took the ferry to South Manitou Island, where his wife picked him up in their dinghy and took him back to her boat. That was the last time she was seen alive. Alone with her husband on the way back to her boat. Where he mur
dered her with his pistol.” Brooks looked over at Tommy. “I am now going to show you why he murdered his wife.”

  Brooks is already in rare form.

  Burr thought the prosecutor had done a good job so far. Too good. So good that the sisters were beginning to believe Brooks. It was all Burr could do to keep them from running Tommy over in the parking lot of the Happy Hour.

  Brooks looked at the gallery. “The State calls Dale Sleeper.”

  Burr watched the overfed park ranger, in charge of taking private property from unsuspecting landowners, lumber up to the witness stand. He collapsed into the witness chair and the bailiff swore him in.

  Burr thought Sleeper’s eyes, separated by his broad, flat nose, were still too far apart.

  If I could push them closer together, he’d be easier to look at.

  Brooks walked Sleeper through his job, what he did, how long he’d done it, and what he’d gotten done.

  Brooks certainly brought out the best in Sleeper. After all he’s done for the Park Service, he should be up for sainthood.

  Brooks got to the meat in the sandwich. “Mr. Sleeper, do you know the defendant, Thomas Lockwood?”

  “I do.”

  “And how do you know him?”

  “The Park Service has been trying to acquire his late wife’s and her sisters’ orchards for the past seven years.”

  “Seven years.” Brooks wagged his finger. “That’s a long time.”

  “It sure is. Cost the taxpayers a fortune in lawyers.”

  “And, Mr. Sleeper, Mr. Lockwood’s wife was the late Helen Lockwood, who he is accused of murdering. Is that right?”

  Burr, on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The witness may identify Mrs. Lockwood but the second part of his question is inappropriate.” Burr knew it wasn’t much of an objection, but it was all he had, and he was damned if he’d let Brooks put words in Sleeper’s mouth.

  Brooks looked back at Burr. “I withdraw the question,” Brooks said, the damage done to Burr and his client. Back to the witness, “Mr. Sleeper, you knew the defendant and his late wife.”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you were trying to purchase their farm for the new National Lakeshore. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And how would you describe your relationship?”

  “She fought me tooth and nail.” Sleeper pulled up his slacks by the belt buckle, no mean feat for a big man sitting down. “Every step of the way.”

  Brooks smiled at Sleeper.

  This is going swimmingly for both of them.

  “In your opinion, what was Mr. Lockwood’s position about selling the farm?”

  “I’d say he sided with her right along. But after she died, he came to see me. Said he was ready to sell.”

  “Did that surprise you?”

  “You could have knocked me over with a feather.”

  That would take a very big feather.

  “So, Mr. Sleeper, Mr. Lockwood didn’t want to sell the farm while his wife was living, but after she died, he suddenly changed his mind. Is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “In your opinion, do you think Mr. Lockwood murdered his wife so he could sell the farm and get the money?”

  “Seemed that way to me.”

  Burr, on his feet. “Your Honor, I object. The witness is purely speculating. This is outrageous.” Burr looked down at his feet as if he was thinking something over, which he wasn’t. He looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, I move for a mistrial.”

  “Your Honor, I withdraw the question,” Brooks said again, more damage done.

  Judge Fisher sat up straight in her chair. She looked at the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, you are to disregard Mr. Brooks’ question and Mr. Sleeper’s answer.” She took off her glasses and looked down her nose at the prosecutor. “Mr. Brooks, you will stop asking questions that you know are not allowed. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Brooks said.

  He doesn’t care at all.

  “Let me make myself perfectly clear. If this continues, I will grant Mr. Lafayette’s request for a mistrial.” She leaned toward him. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Brooks said, insufficiently chastened. “I have no further questions.”

  Brooks sat. Burr stood. He walked up to Sleeper.

  “Mr. Sleeper, you testified that you were in charge of condemning and taking all of the property from local property owners for the park. Is that right?”

  “I am in charge of land acquisitions.”

  “About how many pieces of real estate have you acquired to date?”

  “Maybe two hundred.”

  “You’ve taken the property of two hundred people. Is that right?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Brooks said.

  “Your Honor, the witness’s job is critical to my questions.”

  “I’ll allow it.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Burr didn’t think it was particularly relevant, but he knew the locals didn’t like the government to begin with, and they all knew someone who had lost their property to the new park.

  “Mr. Sleeper, how long have you worked for the Park Service?”

  “Twenty-nine years.”

  “And how long have you worked on condemning, excuse me, acquiring property for the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore?”

  “Ten years.”

  “And would you say putting this together is the crowning achievement of your career?”

  “I suppose so.”

  “And would you say you had a hostile relationship with Mrs. Lockwood?”

  Sleeper wiggled in his chair. “I suppose so.”

  “Would you say you were enemies?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mr. Sleeper, isn’t it true that the Lockwoods’ family orchard, one of the biggest and most productive orchards in Leelanau County, is the largest piece of property you have yet to acquire?”

  “Yes.”

  “And isn’t it true that the Lockwoods’ orchards are almost two miles from the beach?”

  “It’s the gateway to the park.”

  “What does a cherry orchard possibly have to do with a beach?”

  “Objection, Your Honor. Irrelevant.”

  “I am about to show the relevance, Your Honor,” Burr said.

  “Do so quickly,” the judge said.

  “Mr. Sleeper, isn’t it true that you hated Mrs. Lockwood? Isn’t it true that you fought publicly?”

  “We were adversaries.”

  “You were adversaries.” Burr paced back and forth in front of Sleeper. “You hated Mrs. Lockwood. You wanted that farm so much it became personal. Didn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “Do you ever go to South Manitou?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you go the day Mrs. Lockwood was killed? Did you hate her so much you killed her?”

  “No.”

  “I have no further questions,” Burr said, his own damage done. Burr sat down.

  I can’t believe I got that in.

  “Redirect, Your Honor.”

  “Go ahead.”

  Brooks stood at his table. “Mr. Sleeper, did you go to South Manitou on the day Mrs. Lockwood was killed?”

  “No.”

  “I have no further questions,” Brooks said.

  Judge Fisher looked at Burr. “Counsel?” Burr shook his head.

  Brooks stood back up. “The State calls Consuela Rodriquez.” The longtime housekeeper walked slowly toward the witness stand. She looked this way and that, as if she were about to be eaten alive, which, of course, she was.

  After the bailiff swore her in, she sat primly, hands clasped together on her lap. Burr thought she was trying to keep them fro
m shaking, which she almost succeeded at doing.

  Brooks picked up on how she was feeling and started out slowly.

  He’s no fool.

  “Ms. Rodriquez, you were the housekeeper for the Lockwoods. Is that right?”

  She nodded.

  Brooks smiled and put a hand on the rail to the witness box. “Would you please answer so the court reporter can get it on the transcript?”

  Consuela nodded again.

  “With your words, Ms. Rodriguez. Yes or no.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “For the record, that’s a ‘yes’,” Brooks said. “Ms. Rodriguez, you are still the housekeeper for Mr. Lockwood.”

  “Yes,” she said, softly.

  “Another ‘yes’,” Brooks said. “Ms. Rodriguez how long have you worked for the Lockwoods up through today?”

  “I don’t know. A long time.”

  “More than twenty years?”

  “Sure,” she said, a little louder and with a smile.

  “Did you ever overhear Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood talk about selling the orchard?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did they say?”

  Burr stood. “Objection, Your Honor. Hearsay.”

  Consuela looked at Burr.

  Brooks lost his avuncular style. “Your Honor, Mrs. Lockwood has been murdered and obviously can’t testify. I assume the defendant will choose not to testify, as is his Fifth Amendment right. This is an exception to the hearsay rule.”

  The housekeeper looked at Brooks.

  “This is inadmissible hearsay,” Burr said.

  She looked at Burr.

  “Your Honor, as I’m sure you know, the purpose of the hearsay rule is to make sure that witnesses who actually said something, testify. So that we know what the person actually said and not get it second-hand. Because Mrs. Lockwood has been murdered, she can’t testify. The law allows hearsay in these situations.”

  Consuela looked at Brooks.

  She’s going to get a stiff neck if she keeps twisting her head like that.