Chapter 13

After a long good-bye, Theo came back to Earth. He practically ran up the stairs to the second floor, then to the balcony, where he found Ike in the front row. He slid in beside him. It was almost 5:00 p.m.

The witness was the insurance agent who'd sold the $1 million policy to the Duffys just over two years earlier. Clifford Nance was slowly walking the agent through his dealings with the couple. He carefully made the point that two policies were purchased, one insuring the life of Mrs. Myra Duffy, and the other for Mr. Peter Duffy. Both were for $1 million. Both policies replaced existing policies that would pay $500,000 in the event of either death. There

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was nothing unusual about the transaction. The agent testified that it was rather typical - a married couple wisely increasing their coverage to protect each other in the event of an untimely death. Both Duffys knew exactly what they were doing and did not hesitate to upgrade their policies.

By the time Clifford Nance finished with the direct examination, the $1 million payoff sounded far less suspicious. Jack Hogan threw a few punches on cross examination but nothing landed. When the agent was finished, Judge Gantry decided to call it a day.

Theo watched the jury file out of the courtroom as everyone waited, then he watched the defense team huddle around Pete Duffy and offer smug smiles and a few handshakes for another productive day in court. They were very confident. Omar Cheepe was not present.

"I don't want to talk around here," Ike said in a low voice. "Can you run by the office?"

"Sure."

"Now?"

"I'm right behind you."

Ten minutes later they were in Ike's office with the door locked. Ike opened a small refrigerator on the floor behind his desk. "I have Budweiser and Sprite."

"Budweiser," Theo said.

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Ike gave him a Sprite and popped the top of a can of Bud for himself. "Your options are limited," he said, then took a sip.

"I figured."

"First, you can do nothing. Tomorrow is Friday, and it looks like the defense will rest by midafternoon. Rumor is that Pete Duffy will testify, and go last. The jury might even get the case by late afternoon. If you do nothing, then the jury retires to the jury room and considers its verdict. They can find him guilty, or not guilty, or they can split and not be able to reach a verdict. A hung jury."

Theo knew all this. In the past five years he'd watched far more trials than Ike.

His uncle continued: "Second, you can go to this mysterious witness and try to convince him to come forward immediately. I'm not sure what Judge Gantry would do now if confronted with this kind of testimony. I'm sure he's never been in this position, but he's a good judge and he'll do what's right."

"This guy is not about to come forward. He's too scared."

"Okay, that leads to your third option. You can go to the judge anyway, and without revealing the name of the witness -"

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"I don't know his name."

"But you know who he is, right?"

"Right."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"The general area. I don't know his address."

"Do you know where he works?"

"Maybe."

Ike stared at him as he took another sip from the can. He swiped his lips with the back of a hand. "As I was saying, without revealing his identity, explain to the judge that a crucial witness is missing from this trial and his absence will likely lead to the wrong verdict. The judge, of course, will want details: Who is he? Where does he work? How did he become a witness? What, exactly, did he see? And so on. I suspect Judge Gantry will have a thousand questions and if you don't answer them, then he might get upset."

"I don't like any of the three options," Theo said.

"Nor do I."

"Then what should I do, Ike?"

"Leave it alone, Theo. Don't stick your nose into this mess. It's no place for a kid. It's no place for an adult. The jury is about to make the wrong decision, but based on the evidence, you can't blame them. The system doesn't always work, you know. Look at all the innocent people who've

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been sent to death row. Look at the guilty people who get off. Mistakes happen, Theo. Leave it alone."

"But this mistake hasn't happened yet, and it can be prevented."

"I'm not sure it can be prevented. It's highly unlikely that Judge Gantry will stop a big trial that's almost over just because he hears about a potential witness. That's a stretch, Theo."

It did seem unlikely, and Theo had to agree. "I guess you're right."

"Of course I'm right, Theo. You're just a kid. Butt out."

"Okay, Ike."

There was a long pause as they stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak. Finally, Ike said, "Promise me you won't do something stupid."

"Like what?"

"Like to go the judge. I know you two are buddies."

Another pause.

"Promise me, Theo."

"I promise I won't do anything before I talk with you."

"Fair enough."

Theo jumped to his feet. "I need to go. I have a lot of homework."

"How's Spanish?"

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"Great."

"I hear that teacher is really something. Madame, what's her name?"

"Madame Monique. She's very good. How do you know -"

"I keep up, Theo. I'm not some crazy recluse like everybody thinks. Are they offering Chinese yet in this school system?"

"Maybe in the upper school."

"I think you should start Chinese, on your own. It's the language of the future, Theo."

Once again, he was irked that his uncle was so free to give advice that was not asked for and certainly not needed. "I'll think about it, Ike. Right now I'm pretty loaded."

"I might watch the trial tomorrow," Ike said. "I kind of enjoyed it today. Text me."

“You got it, Ike.”

***

Boone & Boone was quiet when Theo made his appearance a few minutes after 6:00 p.m. Elsa, Vince, and Dorothy were long gone. Mrs. Boone was at home, no doubt skimming the pages of another bad novel. Her book club would meet at seven, at the home of Mrs. Esther Guthridge, for dinner

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and wine and a discussion of almost everything except their book of the month. The club had ten women in all, and they took turns selecting the books. Theo could not remember the last one that his mother enjoyed, not even the ones she'd picked. Each month she could be heard complaining about whatever book she was supposed to be reading. It seemed an odd way to run a club, at least in Theo's opinion.

Woods Boone was stuffing his briefcase when Theo entered the upstairs office. Theo often wondered why his father crammed files and books into his briefcase and hauled it home every night as if he just might work until midnight. He did not. He never worked at home, never touched the briefcase, which he always placed under a table in the foyer near the front door. And there it sat, all night, until Mr. Boone left early in the morning for breakfast and then to the office, where he unpacked the briefcase and flung its contents onto his terribly disorganized desk. Theo suspected that the stuffing was always the same--same books, files, papers.

He had noticed that lawyers seldom go anywhere without a briefcase. Maybe to lunch. His mother hauled hers home, too, but she occasionally unlatched it and read some of its contents.

"A good day at school?" Mr. Boone asked.

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“Great.”

"That's good. Listen, Theo, your mother has book club tonight. I'm going over to Judge Plankmore's for a little while. The old guy is fading fast and I need to sit with him for a couple of hours. Won't be long before there's a funeral."

"Sure, Dad. No problem."

Judge Plankmore was at least ninety years old and dying from multiple causes. He was a legend in the Strattenburg legal world and most of the lawyers adored him.

"There's some leftover spaghetti you can zap in the microwave."

"I'll be fine, Dad. Don't worry. I'll probably study here for an hour or so, then go home. I'll take care of Judge."

"You're sure?"

"No problem."

Theo went to his office, unloaded his backpack, and was trying to concentrate on his Chemistry homework when there was a slight knock on the back door. It was Julio, for the second day in a row.

"Can we talk outside?" he said, very nervous.

"Come on in," Theo said. "Everyone's gone. We can talk in here."

"Are you sure?"

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"Yes. What's up?"

Julio sat down. Theo closed the door.

"I talked with my cousin an hour ago. He's very nervous. There were policemen at the golf course today. He thinks you've told them about him."

"Come on, Julio. I haven't told anyone. I swear it."

"Then why were the police out there?"

"I have no idea. Did they want to talk to your cousin?"

"I don't think so. He disappeared when he saw the police car."

"Were the policemen wearing uniforms?"

"I think so."

"Were they driving a car that was obviously a police car?"

"I think so."

"Look, Julio, I gave you my word. I haven't told the police. And if they wanted to talk to your cousin about the murder, they wouldn't be wearing uniforms and they wouldn't be driving a car with the word police painted on the doors. No way. They would be detectives, with coats and ties and unmarked cars."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Okay."

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"I guess your cousin gets pretty nervous when he sees policemen, right?"

"Most illegals do."

"That's my point. Tell your cousin to relax."

"Relax? It's hard to relax when you might get arrested any day of your life."

"Good point."

Julio was still nervous, his eyes darting around the small room as if someone else might be listening. There was a long, awkward pause while each waited for the other to say something. Finally, Julio said, "There's something else."

"What?"

His hands were shaking as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled out a clear plastic bag, a Ziploc. He laid it carefully on Theo's desk as if it were a gift he never wanted to touch again. In it were two objects, white in color, slightly worn, and wadded.

Golf gloves.

"My cousin gave me this," he said. "Two golf gloves, worn by the man he saw go into the house where the lady was killed. One for the right hand, one for the left. The right hand is new. The left hand has been used."

Theo gawked at the gloves in the bag, but couldn't move

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and for a moment couldn't speak. "Where did he find -"

"When the man came out of the house, he took the gloves off and put them in his golf bag. Later, on the fourteenth tee, he placed these gloves in the trash bucket next to the water cooler. My cousin's job is to empty the trash twice a day. He saw the man and thought it was strange that he was throwing away good gloves."

"Did the man see him?"

"I don't think so. If he had, I don't think he would have left the gloves behind."

"And this is the man who's on trial now for the murder?"

"Yes, I believe so. My cousin is pretty sure. He saw him on television."

"Why did he keep the gloves?"

"The boys out there go through the trash, looking for stuff. My cousin took the gloves, and within a couple of days he was suspicious. I guess there's a lot of gossip around a golf course and there was talk about the dead woman. So my cousin hid the gloves. Now he's scared and he thinks the police are watching him. If they find him with the gloves, who knows? He's afraid he might get in trouble."

"The police are not watching him."

"I will tell him this."

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A long pause, then Theo nodded at the gloves, still afraid to touch anything. "And what do we do with these?"

"I'm not keeping them."

"That's what I was afraid of."

"You know what to do, right, Theo?"

"I have no clue. Right now I'm wondering how I got in the middle of this mess."

"Can't you just drop them off at the police station?"

Theo bit his tongue, preventing a phrase or two that would certainly be taken as sarcastic or cruel or both. How could Julio be expected to understand the system? Sure, Julio, I'll just run by the police station, give the receptionist a Ziploc with two golf gloves, explain that they were worn by the nice man who's now on trial for killing his wife, and who in fact did kill his wife because I, Theo Boone, know the truth because I, for some reason, have talked to a key witness no one else knows about it, and, please, Miss Receptionist, take these to a detective down in Homicide but don't tell him where they came from.

Poor Julio.

"No, that won't work, Julio. The police will ask too many questions and your cousin could be in trouble. The best thing to do is to take these gloves with you and I'll pretend I never saw them."

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"No way, Theo. They now belong to you." And with that, Julio jumped to his feet, grabbed the doorknob, and had one foot outside when he said, over his shoulder, "And you promised not to tell, Theo."

Theo was behind him. "Sure."

"You gave me your word."

"Sure."

Julio disappeared into the darkness.

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