Norma glared at him. It didn’t seem to make any difference though. “Then at least show me where. Let me take a peek for myself.”
“Oh, Ms. Breen, if I did that—”
“If you don’t I’ll have you subpoenaed and you can testify about it in open court.” Grrrr, take that!
He winced. “The entrance, then. Only if anybody asks me, I’ll say you found it yourself.”
“It’s a deal.” Norma smiled. “Now show me.”
CHAPTER 103
THE TWO OF them followed a winding path all the way around to the far side of the clubhouse. There was a heavy wooden door there that looked like it would only be used by the maintenance staff. J.C. Frazier had a key.
“This is it, huh?” Norma asked. It was cold and dark on that side of the building. Like the black hearts of the lousy bastards who come here to get their kicks.
Inside, Norma found it was comparable to the rest of the exclusive club. She and J.C. walked back through a deserted billiard room. There seemed to be a gauzy haze hanging in the air.
They entered a surprisingly elegant barroom with mahoghany paneling everywhere. Norma knew that this was the place. The club within a club. The rich boy’s playroom.
“This is where they met, right? It’s where they had their sex parties?”
“Yes ma’am,” J.C. muttered. He seemed serious and withdrawn.
Norma could almost picture “the boys club.” Their expensive clothes, the best whiskeys, their high-and-mighty demeanor, their prostitutes. She wasn’t sure about it, but she sensed that this room might be central to Maggie’s defense. She believed there was even the possibility that one of the club members had killed Will Shepherd.
Had Will finally fucked the wrong wife? Or screwed one of these powerful men in a business deal? Done something else to get himself murdered? Norma thought it was very possible that he had.
“Pour yourself a drink, J.C.,” she said to the grounds-keeper of the Lake Club, “then plop your butt down. We have to talk. We’re going to talk.”
He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
Norma pointed her hand at the much taller and larger man. “Listen, you, and listen good. Maggie Bradford might yet be convicted of murder, but not because you held the truth back. You talk to me, now, or you’ll lose your job for sure, and you’ll lose a whole lot more than that. That’s a promise I’ll keep.”
J. C. Frazier walked to the bar and he poured himself a shot of Maker’s Mark.
“Good choice,” Norma said. “Make that two shots, one for me. Then you can tell me exactly who was part of this club within a club. I want the names. I want every name that you know.”
J. C. Frazier poured Norma Breen a drink, then they both sat at the wood-paneled bar. Finally, J.C. began to talk. He even cried.
When he was through, Norma couldn’t believe what she had heard. She could not believe it. Jesus, capital H, Christmas!
Everything just changed, Norma thought. My God, the whole world just moved. The enemy blinked. Gotcha, you lousy bastards. Gotcha.
CHAPTER 104
HOW GROWN UP she is, how composed, and close to being a woman, I thought as Jennie walked to the stand to begin her testimony in court. Her face seemed to glow; her long blond hair was shining. Jennie looked so confident and serene. I wished I could say the same for myself.
Nathan led her through her story with extreme care. How Will came to see her on that fatal night. How he was standing at the foot of the bed, “leering” at her, when I came in.
“ ‘Jennie and I were just about to have some fun. Care to join us in bed? Ménage à trois!’ That’s what he told my mother. I don’t know why he said it, but he did,” she told the jury. There was no way they couldn’t believe her.
And as Jennie repeated Will’s words, I felt the same paralyzing rage that had overcome me then. I’m glad he’s dead, I thought. It’s horrifying, but I am glad.
Nathan took less than forty minutes with her. That was our agreement, and he had practically signed it in blood. He finished, and then he sat down next to me. He took my hand and I squeezed his. “Thank you, Nathan,” I whispered to him, “for being so patient with me.”
“Thank you for trusting me,” Nathan whispered back.
The jury’s faces remained impassive, but I could see that the women at least were touched by Jennie.
I had not killed in self-defense, I had killed defending my daughter. Now they knew. Jennie had done what she’d meant to do.
Unfortunately, now came the bad part. Dan Nizhinski slowly approached the witness stand. A killer whale, I thought, about to eat a minnow. He’s doing this to get famous. That’s all this is to him: instant fame and celebrity status.
“Miss Bradford—Jennie,” he began softly, almost apologetically.
“Please don’t call me by my first name.” Jennie met his stare and did not waver. “You don’t know me, Mr. Nizhinski.”
The prosecutor sighed. Score one for Jennie.
“You have a good friend by the name of Millie Steele?” he asked after the briefest pause. It was hard to knock Nizhinski off his game.
Jennie seemed surprised by the question. “Yes, I do,” she said.
“She’s your best friend, isn’t she?” the prosecutor continued. He was being unusually nice.
Jennie hesitated, then she finally nodded. I could see her mind working, trying to figure out where he was heading with the questions.
“You’ll have to answer the question verbally, Miss Bradford,” Judge Sussman spoke from the bench. “Is Millie Steele your best friend?”
Nathan Bailford slowly rose from the defense table. “Objection, Your Honor. I don’t see what Miss Bradford’s relationship to Miss Steele has to do with this case. Need I remind everyone, Miss Bradford is only fifteen years old. This trial, especially this testimony, is an unbelievably painful experience for her, and it should be kept as brief as possible.”
“Your Honor,” Nizhinski responded, “the jury will soon see exactly where this line of questioning is leading. It’s an important point, I promise you.”
“Proceed,” Sussman said. “I’ll hold you to your promise though. Tread very lightly.”
Nizhinski moved closer to Jennie, and I flinched. I didn’t like that one bit. I could tell Jennie didn’t either.
“You talk to Millie Steele a lot? At school? Sometimes after school?”
“Yes, sir. Before school too,” Jennie said and she smiled. So did everyone on the jury.
I could see she was still puzzled though. Where was he leading her? Watch out! I wanted to call to her.
“Would you ever lie to your friend? Have you ever lied to her, that you can remember?”
“No. Millie and I don’t lie to each other.”
“Then listen to this, Jennie. On the thirteenth of October, your best friend Millie Steele made the following statement at the Bedford Hills police station—” He paused, and opened the thick binder he had carried with him to the witness stand. The binder was intimidating in itself, thick, with a black leather cover.
“ ‘Jennie was in love with her stepfather. She told me time and time again she wanted—she wanted—well, she wanted to go to bed with him, and would try anything to seduce him.’“
Nizhinski closed the folder gently. “Did you tell Millie Steele that you were in love with Will Shepherd?”
What’s he doing to her? I thought as my stomach clenched. Yes, she had a crush on Will.
“Yes, but—” Jennie tried to answer the question he’d asked.
“Just answer yes or no, please. Were you in love with your stepfather?”
He’s torturing her! He should be stopped right now. “Nathan?” I whispered.
“Wait, Maggie. Listen.”
“I had a crush on Will. Yes, sir.”
“Did you ever try to seduce him?”
“Not really.”
“That’s not answering my question, Miss Bradford. Yes or no: Did you try to seduce him???
?
“Yes. In a way I guess.”
“Did you go to bed with him?”
“No! You’re such a bad person! No!” Jennie told the prosecutor. “No!”
No! Thank God! Now let her go.
“Then where did you make love with him? Millie Steele says that you did!”
“We never made love!”
“Forgive me, but that’s difficult to believe. You’re an attractive young woman, Jennie. Will Shepherd was susceptible to attractive young women. We’ve heard that again and again in this courtroom. Are you telling me that even though you threw yourself at him, he refused? His reputation says otherwise!”
Jennie finally began to cry. Her sobs were the only sounds in the courtroom. She was a young girl again.
“Nathan, please,” I whispered again.
Nizhinski, relentless, moved even closer to Jennie.
“In fact, isn’t it true that you and he had been lovers for months? That the defense contention your mother killed him to protect you is therefore nonsense. That your mother killed him for revenge?”
“I didn’t throw myself at him! He never touched me! He never did anything indecent, like you’re doing now.”
Nizhinski took a step back and stared at her. “Do you know what perjury is?”
She nodded.
“Answer yes or no, please. The court stenographer can’t record a nod.”
“Yes.” Her voice was faint.
“Do you know what the penalty is for perjury?”
“Not exactly. Will you unjustly put me in prison—like you did to my mother?”
“The penalty for perjury can mean jail, but there’s no injustice here, Miss Bradford. Your mother killed Will Shepherd because she thought the two of you were having an affair.”
Nathan was on his feet beside me. “Objection! Objection!”
“No further questions,” Dan Nizhinski said and walked away from Jennie.
The courtroom erupted all around us. It took minutes before the banging of Judge Sussman’s gavel caught anyone’s attention.
Jennie was led from the witness box. She was crying. I reached my arms out to her, but I couldn’t touch her.
“It’s all right, Mom,” she said. “Nobody can hurt us. Nobody can hurt us anymore.”
I only wished that were true.
CHAPTER 105
NORMA BREEN CHEWED on Rolaids, tasty, orange-flavored ones, as she sat in court and listened to the closing arguments. She had a secret, an absolute mindblower, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from blurting it out.
Maybe we can throw out this bullshit trial, Norma thought as she sat in the back row of spectators. Or maybe, despite all the evidence, Maggie will be acquitted. Maybe the jury will see that she had to kill—and let her off on a technicality. Or at least give her the lightest sentence permissible under the law, the least punitive verdict. And maybe Mel Gibson will call me for a date while I’m sitting here on my oversized rump. You never know, right?
Norma had decided that her best strategy was to wait for the verdict. And now, as she listened to Nathan Bailford’s rebuttal, a spark of hope glimmered in her heart. This is a good woman. Spare her. It’s only right. Do the right thing, huh.
In his redirect, Nathan had interpreted the facts so succinctly that Norma was left feeling that Maggie was the victim, Will the killer.
Still, the defense lawyer couldn’t change the fact that Will was dead, Maggie alive. And he couldn’t solve the other important question—if Maggie hadn’t, then who had killed Will?
The prosecutor got up and immediately dismissed Nathan’s case as a smokescreen. Murder was murder. That’s what it was; there was no other name for it. Murder with a single motive: revenge. And because Maggie had picked up the gun, brought it knowingly into her daughter’s room, it was premeditated murder, and deserved the maximum penalty: a life sentence.
Yet with it all, Norma considered, something is terribly wrong about this trial.
She was still uncomfortable. It was the gut feeling she’d had from the very start. Maggie did not kill Will Shepherd. She was convinced of that. Will had committed suicide, hadn’t he? According to Maggie, and even Palmer, he’d been threatening to do it for years. This was his final, terrible revenge against Maggie.
Maybe if they had put Maggie on the stand, a reason would have emerged. Norma had reluctantly agreed with Barry and Nathan that such a strategy was a mistake. Maggie could only verify her statement to the police—that she didn’t know for sure what happened, that she might have killed him—but it was a close call, and now Norma was second-guessing everything about the defense effort. Everything.
Ah well, it was too late for second guessing. Nathan Bailford finished his closing statement and wearily sat down.
The forty-six-day drama was finally over.
It was next to impossible to read the jurors’ faces.
Yet Norma could guess: Maggie Bradford was going to be convicted of murder.
And then, she thought to herself, the real fireworks can begin.
CHAPTER 106
“NEVER IN DOUBT. It wasn’t even close, sports fans. To the victors! To us!”
Dan Nizhinski sat back in his chair, took a big sip of pilsner, and beamed at his three associates.
“To the victors!” the group chanted.
“What was it?” he asked, as if he didn’t know the answer, “the all-time record for fastest verdict in a major murder case?”
“Not to suck-ass too much, but you did a great job, Dan,” Moira Lowenstein, his youngest associate, said. “You got the jury to waive their emotions and look hard at what actually happened. No mean feat. You got them to realize that if they let her go, they subverted the whole system of justice.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you all,” Nizhinski said, insincerely, leaving them with the impression he could have succeeded just as well with anyone else.
“What’s next for you, boss?” Bob Stevens, Nizhinski’s closest associate, helped himself to his fourth beer in less than an hour.
Nizhinski grinned. He was still performing, couldn’t turn it off. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t made up my mind. The exposure during the trial won’t hurt. I have to admit that, I guess.”
“And the state could use some cleaning up,” Moira added. Peter Eisenstadt, the third associate—the quiet one—glared at her. Yeah, and guess who wants to go to Albany on your shirttails, boss?
“I’ll decide in due course,” Nizhinski said. They all knew he would run for something big. “For now, let’s enjoy the moment.” He raised his beer can. “To a great victory.”
“To victory,” his colleagues echoed, and they all drank, laughed, congratulated one another.
Then the phone rang.
Dan Nizhinski picked it up himself. “Nizhinski.”
“Kahn,” the caller said. “Barry Kahn.” Something in his voice chilled the prosecutor. “Norma Breen and I are coming right over to your office. She’s discovered something that might interest you.”
CHAPTER 107
GUILTY.
Guilty.
The word rang in my head like a religious chant. No, it was more like a dirge. Guilty. I’ll go mad in prison. I’m already half-mad.
Norma and Barry came to see me as soon as I was transported back here from court today. They were full of smiles and secrets. Don’t worry, they told me. They would start appeal proceedings immediately in a higher court. Everything was going to be all right.
How could it be? A life in jail isn’t “all right.” Trust me on that.
I know there are appeals, and that my fate won’t be decided for months, probably years. Still, the chances for reversal are small, no matter what anybody says. My chances are terrifyingly bad.
So why was Norma hopeful and cheerful? Why did Barry press me so hard to remember exactly what happened the night I shot Will when I’ve gone over it, and gone over it? Simple answer: They wanted to try and take my mind off what had just happened
.
Guilty.
The Scarlet M still emblazoned on my chest.
I guess I never really expected this. I’d hoped that in the end I would go free. It just didn’t happen that way.
Guilty.
CHAPTER 108
THAT NIGHT IN my cell, I stayed up until two, maybe three in the morning. I lay with my eyes closed, trying futilely to recapture lost images of my life on the outside. Allie. Jennie. Concerts I’d had. Finally, exhaustion overcame frustration. I fell asleep.
I didn’t dream. It was as though I had fallen away into nothingness. The long, long fall from grace continues. A bottomless pit.
I awakened to a shock.
A gray parade of police officials was standing outside the cell, led by Warden Serra herself.
I glanced at my clock.
It was quarter past six in the morning.
I didn’t get it, didn’t understand.
I blinked, blinked, blinked.
Warden Serra and the others were still there.
Why were they here? What had happened?
Was I going to be moved to another prison?
Was I actually awake, seeing what I thought I saw?
I doubted it. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d confused a dream and reality in here.
Warden Serra?
All these other people?
“Aren’t you a little early?” I finally asked. My eyes were slowly adjusting to the harsh light of the corridor.
“Please get dressed, Mrs. Bradford,” Maureen Serra said. “We’ve received a call from the courthouse. Something’s come up. You’re wanted in Judge Sussman’s chambers immediately.”
CHAPTER 109
I FELT COLD and was shaking all over as three guards led me through the empty courthouse. I didn’t understand what could be happening. Neither did anyone from the prison.
What was going on now? What could this be?
There were four people in the judge’s chambers when I arrived. Judge Sussman sat behind a large mahogany desk. To his right sat Nathan Bailford, looking somber, but successful, as always.