WILL OF

JUSTICE

PETER O’MAHONEY

Will of Justice: A Legal Thriller

Peter O’Mahoney

Copyright © 2017

Published by Roam Free Publishing

3rd edition.

This book was originally published as the short story Criminal Will. It has now been re-written and re-edited as the novel Will of Justice.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher. This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Also by Peter O’Mahoney

The Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:

Redeeming Justice

Fire and Justice

The Tom Whiskey Mystery Series:

Whiskey Justice

The Max Harrison Legal Thriller Series with Patrick Graham:

Criminal Justice

Defending the Innocent

The Paid Juror

Burning Justice

The Girl on the Road

Available to download and buy now.

WILL OF JUSTICE

PETER O’MAHONEY

CHAPTER 1

Despite the anger raging through her veins, the young woman that storms into attorney Bill Harvey’s office has an air of elegance around her.

Her red hair flows gently over her shoulders, her movements are graceful, and her clothes speak of class. The well-dressed woman is closely followed by Bill’s assistant; the frantic Kate Spencer.

Both women stand at the entrance to the large office, staring down at Bill as he raises his eyes from the file he’s working on.

“May I help you?” he questions.

“Bill, I’m sorry,” Kate apologizes. “She just stormed in here. She—”

“Are you Bill Harvey?” the girl snaps, staring hard in an attempt at intimidation.

“I am.”

“Then you and I need to talk.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because I need your help. Urgently. And I’m willing to pay a lot for it.”

He smiles at the girl’s efforts to first bully him, and then buy him off. It takes a lot to intimidate Bill Harvey. As a man that casts a large shadow, he isn’t the type that responds well to threats.

During his twenty years working in Los Angeles, first as a hypnotherapist and now as a criminal defense attorney, he has seen it all, but this new generation of young adults still surprises him with their enormous amount of self-focus. He wouldn’t be surprised if the young lady removed her phone and snapped a selfie in his office, just to document it on her social media life journey.

“And why do you so desperately need my help, when there are many other things I can be working on?”

“Because I’m having trouble with my grandfather’s will.”

“I’m sorry, Miss…?”

“Miss Anna Lempare.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Miss Lempare, but I’m a trial lawyer. I don’t deal with cases relating to wills. I do, however, know a very nice lawyer who does specialize in—”

“This will be a trial.”

Bill grins at her abruptness. Despite her lack of respect to his office schedule, despite her brashness, he likes her.

She has sass.

Leaning back in his chair, he takes a long, slow, deep breath.

“Bill?” Kate queries, still waiting at the door, looking like she wants nothing else but to escort this girl straight back out of his office.

“It’s fine. Thank you, Kate. I’ll handle it from here.”

The disappointment doesn’t escape Kate’s face, but she nods, fakes a smile to Anna, and walks back out the door. Bill waits a few moments before he proceeds further with his potential new client.

“And what makes you think that the case of a will may go to trial? Cases that relate to a will rarely get to that stage. Usually, any disputes are solved out of court.”

“Trust me, Mr. Harvey, this will go to trial. It will go there because the person who administrates the trustee is no longer fit to do so.”

“And why is that person no longer fit to do so?”

“Because I don’t like her.”

He has a solid chuckle. “I’m afraid that won’t hold up in a court of law as a reason to dismiss a will or its trustee.”

“I don’t care about what will hold up in a court of law. That’s your job. That’s why I want you to help me. If I could solve this problem myself, I would. I wouldn’t need you if I could figure out a way to get her off the will, but I can’t. I’ve googled everything. Nothing seems to work.”

“Some things cannot be solved by googling the right search terms, Anna.” Bill smiles. “That is why experience is an invaluable asset.”

He loves how this generation has absolute faith in being able to learn anything by typing a collection of words into an Internet search engine.

“I need someone to help me out of this mess. I’m here because the Internet says that you’re the best lawyer in this town. They say that you can read people with amazing precision, and solve problems that nobody else can solve. You’re the guy that’s a former hypnotist and now works as a lawyer. You’re the one that hypnotizes the court to get the result he wants.”

“I must stop you there, Anna. I do nothing of the sort. Yes, I was once employed as a hypnotherapist that convinced people to stop their addictions – whether that was smoking, or alcohol, or hard drugs. It’s where my skill lies, but I don’t hypnotize anyone anymore. It wouldn’t be ethical for me to try and hypnotize a juror.”

“But people don’t know they’ve been hypnotized. I mean, how do I know that you haven’t hypnotized me right know?”

“People come in and out of what is referred to as hypnotic states all the time – think about when you drive your car, or catch the train, or brush your teeth. You’re not aware of the moment. Hypnotism is merely leveraging that moment. When a person is in a new situation, such as a courtroom, they are fully aware. For most, the courtroom is a new experience, and they are in no way able to go into a hypnotic state. However, what I do very well, is read people. I read their movements, their posture, and their body language. It tells me so much more than any statement.”

“That’s all you do?”

“That is all I need to do, Miss Lempare. For instance, the second you walked in here I recognized that your posture, clothes, and grooming reflect a life of privilege. However, the lines on your forehead at such a young age show that it has been a young life full of stress. But with the tone of your voice, I don’t hear pain. There is no desperate agony in your voice. So, I assume that the stress is created by protesting against everything. You seek out things to feel stressed about, and then you become passionate about them. And you do this because you feel guilty that you grew up with money and your friends didn’t.”

Anna stares blankly at Bill. “Did you just hypnotize me to get all that?”

“No, Anna.” Bill replies. “I merely read your body language.”

“Well… it’s not my fault that I grew up with money and my friends didn’t. That’s not my fault. I didn’t ask to have that money. And I join protest movements because I feel passionate about those things. It’s what I do.”

“Of course.” He knows that her desperate need to explain herself means he has gotten his assessment correct.

Bill Harvey came to Los Angeles from a small farming town to seek adventure and thrills in the big city. He was first employed as a hypnotherapist, but he found that nobody outside his profession trusted him. He turned to studying law after a close friend was thrown into prison for a crime they didn’t commit, and he fell in love with the drama of the courtroom.

Ten years after graduating from law school, he has built a reputation as a man who has the ability to win the impossible cases.

“So you went from hypnotist to being a lawyer?”

“Well, I had a job collecting leaves before becoming a lawyer. I was raking it in.”

Anna’s face is expressionless.

“It was a joke, Anna.”

“Oh,” she replies, still trying to work out the joke. “So, if I hire you, I can expect a lot of jokes? Great. My life is about to be turned upside down and you’re making jokes. Do you make legal-related puns as well?”

“Guilty.” Bill chuckles. He pauses for a few moments, and when Anna doesn’t laugh, he continues his line of questioning. “I assume the will is in order?”

“It is,” Anna replies, still shaking her head.

“And has it been through probate?”

“It has. I have the copies here.” She aggressively removes the files from her large black Chanel handbag, slamming the documents down onto the desk.

“At least you came prepared.” He grins. “Very well. What are the conditions that are so trying for you?”

“I have to complete ten weeks of the United States Army Basic Training before the age of twenty-five to receive the full amount of my inheritance.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then one-hundred percent of the funds go to my grandfather’s favorite charity – Recovering Veterans. Although it’s quite a small charity, it’s a good place, and it does good things for people who need it, but it doesn’t deserve all my inheritance.”

“The conditions don’t sound overly taxing, Miss Lempare. Ten weeks of your life isn’t a long time.”

“You don’t understand, Mr. Harvey. Completing Army Basic Training goes against everything that I stand for. I have amazing respect for the men and women that serve our country, but I have no respect for the people that create these wars. None. The politicians that create this chaos never send their own children. I have lost too many members of my family to war – all because somebody in Washington thinks that oil is worth fighting for. War is not the answer, Mr. Harvey. It never is.”

“If you complete the Army Basic Training, then I assume you’ll have to serve time in the army?”

“No way. The will says that I have to complete the training. That’s all it says. If I did it, which I won’t, I would quit after I complete the training, and would be dishonorably discharged.”

“That’s not very admirable.”

“I don’t care about honor, Mr. Harvey. I just want what is rightfully mine.”

“And what is it that you do instead? Do you work, Miss Lempare?”

“Sometimes, but mostly I travel. I’m an adventurer, Mr. Harvey. Although L.A. is my home, I don’t stay here long, and I only come back for a few months at a time. I travel the world, learning about other cultures. I have just been to Africa, and I’m going to go to Australia soon. There’s so much of the world to see.”

Bill remembers the time when he used to be so idealistic. As age has come to him, he has understood that the world is a lot more complicated than he first thought.

And usually, money is at the heart of those complications.

“And who runs this charity?”

“Two men – Frank Matthews and Bud Morgan. They’ll do anything for the veterans, and I’ll always respect that. My family was an army family, so I know what they have to go through. Veterans will always have my respect.”

“What if you enroll, but don’t finish the training before you turn twenty-five?”

“The funds are held in trust until I finish. But if I don’t finish within one year of my first enrollment, one-hundred-percent of the funds still go to the charity.”

Calmly looking through the pages of the will on the table in front of him, Bill ponders his thoughts for a while. “I see here that your aunt, Jessica Lempare, is the trustee. If she isn’t able to administrate the will anymore, is there someone else listed?”

“No. If anything happens to my aunt before I turn twenty-five, then the inheritance will be split equally between the charity and me.”

“There is no other family member that could take on the role of trustee?”

With sadness, Anna looks to the ground in front of her. “No. My family… we’re a military family. Well, we were. I have lost my paternal grandparents, my father, my mother, and my brother to the horrors of war. That’s almost my entire family, Mr. Harvey. Because of that, I’ll never do what some politician wants me to do. Never. I’ll never join the army. My family has given enough. My aunt… she’s the only surviving member of my direct family still alive. Everyone else has passed.”

“How are you and your aunt related?”

“Through my father. My father is Jessica’s brother.”

“And your grandfather is from your mother’s side of the family?”

“That’s correct. Although they weren’t related, my grandfather had a lot of trust in my Aunt Jessica. He liked her sense of discipline.”

“This aunt of yours, is she ill or mentally unstable?”

“No. She still has her health. And she’s not a nice person, but she’s stable.”

“And the only way that the will can be changed is if your aunt and the charity committee agree that it should be changed?”

“That’s right. But they will never agree to what I say. The charity wouldn’t survive without the funds they receive from the estate. The charity receives a large donation each month from the amount of interest that the estate generates. It’s the only real source of funds that they receive.”

“Will your aunt agree to change the will?”

“No. She hates me. She hates everything I do. She’s a really horrible person, Mr. Harvey. She tries to ruin my life just because she can.”

“How old are you now, Anna?” Bill redirects the conversation back to the facts. As a man who has spent years dealing with innocent people, desperate criminals, and smooth liars, Bill knows that his focus needs to be on the facts.

“I turned twenty-four one month ago.”

“So, the urgency is that you have eleven months until you’re required to enroll with the intent of completing the Army Basic Training course?”

“Yes… or eleven months for my aunt to die of old age.”

“And is there any chance of you enrolling to complete this course?”

“Absolutely not. No way. Not a chance. I’m not in the slight bit interested in becoming an army cadet. I’m my own woman, and I want to live my own life. I’ll not submit to an old-fashioned clause for the sake of money. And… I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I have the most respect in the world for those that serve, but… I can’t do that. I don’t have it in me to kill a person. I couldn’t that. Not after what war has done to my family. My whole family is gone, Mr. Harvey. There’s no way I can join the institution that took my family away.”

“I see. How long has your grandfather been deceased?”

“Ten years.” Anna looks around the room, impressed with the number of law books that line the walls. “So, what are you going to do, Mr. Big-Shot-Lawyer?”

“I have to warn you, Miss Lempare, my fees are very expensive…”

“The will is currently worth twenty million dollars. If you win me the right to my money, I’ll pay you one million dollars, no questions asked.”

Drawing another long, deep breath, Bill slowly leans back in his chair.

This is the type of business that he needs. The police force has been downsized in his area over the past twelve months, and that means fewer arrests. Fewer arrests mean fewer people to defend.

He has been looking for that one big case to keep him going.

“Then I guess the first step is to review the documents and meet with your aunt.”

“Her number is there. She’s waiting for your call.” Anna leans forward, tapping the precise place where the number sits on the front page of the document. “I’ll be back tomorrow. I hope this is sorted by then.”

“It won’t be, Anna.” Bill laughs out loud. “But I like your style.”

CHAPTER 2

Ms. Jessica Lempare was indeed awaiting a call from Bill Harvey’s office and seemed quite content with arranging a time to sit down with him. Her apartment was only thirty minutes’ drive from Bill’s downtown L.A. office, and due to the hefty sum offered by Anna and his lack of current cases, he decided to take the trip that afternoon.

“Impressive,” Bill whispers under his breath as he enters the foyer of the exclusive Los Feliz Palace apartment building.

Filled with old Hollywood charm, the art deco building stands proudly on Los Feliz Boulevard with a backdrop of the Hollywood Hills. Built in 1924, the building radiates a sense of charisma from a past era. The commitment to conserving the cultural integrity of the building is evident. The paint work is impeccable, there are no fingerprints on the door handles, and the windows are spotless. The building is full of class and style, and Bill is sure that Ms. Lempare will be no different.

After two heavy knocks on the door of apartment 312, the criminal defense lawyer doesn’t have to wait long until the door opens.

“I assume that you’re Bill Harvey,” a thin older lady questions with a stern tone.

“I am. And you must be Ms. Lempare?”

“Yes.”

He smiles at the woman who reminds him of his dear Aunt Rebecca.

Both women are small with a light frame but clearly feisty. He can tell this woman would never back down from a fight. In fact, she most likely thrives on it. His Aunt Rebecca was the same. She was the one that taught him the true power of intimidation. There was nothing like the back of a wooden spoon to send chills up the spine of a six-year-old.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Lempare.”

“I imagine this meeting should settle a few things,” she quips, while still standing in the door opening.

“How so?”

“Anna is a very difficult person to reason with, Mr. Harvey. I cannot possibly just have a normal conversation with her. I have tried numerous times to have discussions with her about this will, but she’s so single-minded that she cannot see my point-of-view.”

“I’m sure that she isn’t the only one in her family that is single-minded.”

Ms. Lempare stares at Bill, trying to decide if his statement was offensive.

“Please, do come in,” she states in a tone that isn’t at all welcoming.

The apartment is exactly what Bill expected – full of stylish 1950’s décor with a smell of mothballs. Apart from being classy, this woman obviously has an ability to keep things very well-maintained. Even the best police forensic team in the country wouldn’t be able to find a speck of dust in her apartment.

The majority of the furnishings in the apartment are delicately white, contrasting against the dark wooden floorboards. Despite the age of the furnishings, they look like they have hardly been touched.

In an attempt to build rapport, Bill tries to create small talk between them. “This is a very lovely place, Ms. Lempare. I love the décor that you have selected here. You have a very good eye for detail.”

“I love this building, Mr. Harvey. I have lived her for many years, and I have never felt the need to move. It’s my piece of Los Angeles,” she replies. “But I’m sure that you’re not here to talk about the importance of selecting the correct décor inside my apartment.”

“You’re correct, Ms. Lempare.” Bill nods. “Let us talk about your niece, Anna Lempare, and the conditions of the will that relate to her inheritance.”

Ms. Lempare motions for Bill to take a seat on the large regal couch in the living room. He sits on the hard cushion with an open posture; his legs spread wide and his arms resting on his lap to subconsciously show Ms. Lempare that he’s the alpha in the room.

Ms. Lempare gracefully sits down on a white armchair opposite him, delicately crossing one leg over the other, sitting with a perfect posture. It’s a posture that was practiced many times in her youth and has stuck with her for her entire life. As such, she detests anyone who doesn’t take pride in their posture.

“I would offer you a coffee. However, I don’t imagine that this discussion will last that long,” Jessica states without a hint of embarrassment.

“I wouldn’t want to put you out.” Bill laughs at her abrupt statement.

“Anna is trouble. She always has been. Even as a child, she was trouble. And I knew that she would be trouble as an adult. She’s always off with the fairies dreaming about one thing or another, traveling to this country or that country. If she was blonde, you might say that she’s a ‘bimbo.’” Ms. Lempare is uncomfortable with the word. “It’s impossible to talk to her about anything, let alone the technicalities of law. She won’t even allow me the pleasure of a five-minute discussion about the will. Hopefully, you can get through to her in that regard and advise her that the will isn’t up for negotiation. Her grandfather wrote the will with her best interests in mind, and I intend to see his wishes sustained. And… well, it might help sort out a few other things.”

“What things?”

“Anna’s misbehavior.”

“Misbehavior? I’m sorry, Ms. Lempare, but you’ll have to explain that further for me.”

“That young lady is always finding a way to get herself into trouble. She’ll chase it until it has nowhere else left to hide. When she isn’t running around the world, she’s protesting about the most ridiculous things. Last month, I saw that she was in a protest about the use of pig meat. Can you believe that? She was protesting about the cruelty to pigs. Well, I have never heard of such a thing. How ludicrous. She lives a terrible life, Mr. Harvey. She doesn’t contribute to society at all. Anna really does need more discipline in her life.”

“And you believe that if Anna enrolls in Army Basic Training, it will teach her that discipline?”

“It’s not about what I believe, Mr. Harvey. This is about what is written on a legal document that was penned by her grandfather. Regardless, I agree that enrolling in Army Basic Training will instill discipline into her psyche. It will teach her more restraint, and then she can take those skills with her for the rest of her life. And I must say, I’m not sure why she’s so against the training. It’s only ten weeks of her life. She can make that sacrifice. Our family has certainly made more of a sacrifice than what is asked of her.”

“I’m not sure that Army Basic Training will suit her personality,” Bill quips. “And your family has made enough of a sacrifice for this country. I can understand that after losing most of your family to war, she’s reluctant. She doesn’t believe that war solves problems.”

“War doesn’t solve any problems. I don’t believe in war. My brother and his wife’s father did, and that is why they gave the ultimate sacrifice. I have a lot of respect for that. While war will not solve Anna’s problems, Army Basic Training will. Anna is impulsive and lacks discipline. Her grandfather would be so disappointed if he saw her today.”

“Are you disappointed?”

“Oh, no. I’m quite happy in fact. I would happily give all the inheritance to the Recovering Veterans charity. They do a lot of work for vulnerable people, and my family’s history is one of service to our country. My parents were in the war, and my father needed support when he returned home. Back then, there was nobody there for him. If he had a support network like the Recovering Veterans charity, then he will have been better equipped to return to normal life. And of course, I lost my brother and my sister-in-law to war, may they rest in peace.”

“Do you have a lot to do with the charity?”

“Of course. Have you even read the will, Mr. Harvey?”

“I have had some time to familiarize myself with it.”

“Then you would understand that I donate the amount of interest from the money that the trust generates to the charity each month. There is a small fee paid to the bank, but other than that, all the interest from the twenty million dollars is donated to the charity, along with some of the funds. Despite the decrease in interest rates, it’s still a sizable sum each month. I’m told that the estate is their biggest contributor.”

“And so, you know the employees of the charity quite well then I imagine?”

“John Morgan is the head of the charity, and he’s a very nice man who would do anything for me. He’s also known by his nickname, ‘Bud.’ He even organized a small birthday party for me last week. The other fellow there, Frank Matthews, is also a lovely person.”

“I may have to meet with them at some point.”

“I can also tell you that while they are lovely men, they would also not be happy that you’re here discussing the terms of the will. They are very proud of the work that they do, and without the funds from the estate, they would struggle to perform the tasks that they do.”

“Are they veterans?”

“Yes… well, yes and no,” Ms. Lempare mentions.

“What do you mean by that?” Bill questions.

“Everyone has their secrets, Mr. Harvey.” Ms. Lempare pauses before she continues. “But while they are lovely men, both men do have a history of violence. That happens a lot to men that return from war. I would be careful where you step.”

“Is that a threat, Ms. Lempare?”

“Oh, no,” she replies. “Please don’t interpret my comments like that. All I’m saying is that they are the kind of men with a history of violence. While they might have their moments, they also are such generous men. Nothing like you.”

“Like me?” Bill questions with a smile.

“Oh yes. You’re unsophisticated, upfront, and while you seem very intelligent, you’re quite rude.”

“And how have you come to that conclusion?” Bill laughs, amused by her comments.

“I’m a very good judge of character.”

“It appears, in this case, that you are not.”

“Oh no. Please don’t mistake my ability to make judgments on one’s character as rudeness. That isn’t my intent. However, I do have complete faith in my judgments. It’s a skill developed early in life, and I have rarely been mistaken.”

“You have a lot of confidence, Ms. Lempare.”

“I do.” She dwells on that thought before continuing. “I should also let you know that I’m up for a fight, Mr. Harvey. It was entrusted to me to maintain this will, and that is what I’ll do. I’ll work hard on this matter and ensure that the conditions are met. If you want to come up against me, then you must be prepared for a fight.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Bill laughs again.

For the first time in a long while, Jessica smiles genuinely. “How is it that I can help you today, Mr. Harvey? What is it exactly that you want to know? I’m sure you haven’t come here just for a chat. So, quit stalling and get to the point. What would you like to ask me?”

“Certainly. The will states that the trustee can change the conditions of the will, with the conditional support of the Recovering Veterans charity. However, if their support isn’t provided, then the trustee may change the conditions of the will if your decision can be legally satisfied to be in the best interests of Anna Lempare. With that in mind, is there any chance that you’ll consider an agreement to change the conditions of the will?”

“No.”

“Perhaps we should at least have a discussion about the conditions before you provide such a closed answer.”

“No, Mr. Harvey. The conditions written by my sister-in-law’s father were for Anna’s benefit. He entrusted me with the estate, and he knew that I would see the conditions of the will through. I have no interest in dishonoring his memory by changing it, and I’ll ensure that his wishes are followed.”

“You’re not even open to a discussion?”

“No.”

“May I ask why not?”

“Because the conditions of the will are very clear.” Ms. Lempare becomes frustrated. “Any man off the street could read that will and understand the conditions. Just because Anna doesn’t agree to the conditions doesn’t mean that we should change them. Her grandfather earned that money, and he rightfully set the conditions. It’s not up to me to negotiate the terms. If her grandfather wanted it to be flexible, he would have stated as such. But he didn’t. That is clear in the will.”

“And you believe that the military training will be in the best interests of Anna?”

“This isn’t about what you or I believe,” she argues strongly. “This is what Anna’s grandfather thought was the best thing for his granddaughter. Even when she was a child, we could tell that she had a rebellious streak. Her grandfather knew that and decided that if she enrolled in Basic Military Training, then it would increase her discipline. That is for the best interests of Anna.”

“I believe the intent of the conditions was education, not restriction. It was her grandfather’s intent to educate her, not tie her down. I’ll argue that the intended purpose of the conditions was to benefit Anna, and those intended conditions can be achieved in other ways.”

“And as the trustee, I believe differently. That is my right.”

“And if we were to prove that Anna’s grandfather believed that military training wasn’t the best thing for his granddaughter?”

“Good luck proving that. Her grandfather has been dead for ten years.”

“I see that you were mentioned in his will, and that along with some money, he also left all his other possessions to you.”

“That is correct.”

“Did he keep any diaries or notes?”

“Yes, he did.”

“May I see those notes?”

“Why should I consider helping you, Mr. Harvey? I’m under no obligation to assist you.”

“I’m not here to attack your character, Ms. Lempare. I’m here to make sure this case doesn’t go to trial. If it does, I’m sure that all manner of things will be discussed out in the open. That may not be to the benefit of your family.”

Ms. Lempare pauses, ironing her hands over her skirt, smoothing out any potential creases. “I have no skeletons in my cupboard. But I do understand what you’re saying. Our extended family history is… interesting.”

“Do you know where he would have kept his notes?”

Jessica sighs, standing up from the armchair, an air of elegance in her movement. “It appears that I was mistaken about you. You’re very clever. Please follow me this way.”

Following Jessica through her apartment to a spare bedroom, Bill guardedly enters the room where she has stored a large number of parcel-sized boxes. She studies the names on some of the boxes, and eventually, chooses one. “Please, Mr. Harvey, can you remove this one?”

With a manly grunt, he lifts two heavy boxes from the pile and then removes the selected one, placing it on a small office table in the room. Slowly, Jessica removes the lid and glances inside.

“Yes. These are his notes. He kept a number of diaries over the years, and he wanted me to keep them. You may review them as much as you want, but I cannot imagine that you’ll find much in there.”

“Thank you.”

“However, I would actually like to know if you find anything. I haven’t looked through all of them. I have only flicked through a page here or there. He was an interesting man, but he had terrible handwriting. I cannot stand terrible handwriting, and reading those diaries gave me a headache.”

“I’ll review these notes and let you know.” Picking up the box, he starts to head towards the exit to her apartment.

“Mr. Harvey.” She stops him. “I must admit something before you leave.”

She draws a long breath, looking to the floor.

“Go on,” Bill indicates.

“One year ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Anna doesn’t know that. She has already lost so much of her family, and I didn’t want to worry her any further – not that she would worry anyway. I have only been given a short time to live. Maintaining this estate is all I have at the moment, and I intend to see the conditions through. Donating the interest to the charity each month provides great satisfaction in my life.” She pauses and then sighs. “I have nothing against Anna. I don’t like her as a person, but I wish her all the best in the future. After all, we’re the only family we both have left. If you can prove me wrong about her grandfather’s objective, then I’ll be happy to change my decision, but I’m doing what I think was her grandfather’s intention.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Ms. Lempare. I’ll keep you informed about what I find.”

“Good luck.”

He provides Ms. Lempare another smile, exiting the apartment with a box full of history.

CHAPTER 3

When Bill arrives at his office the next morning, Anna is waiting for him, sitting patiently next to Kate’s reception desk. Anna has the same posture as her aunt; her legs crossed, hands on her knees, an uncomfortably straight back.

Smashing her fingers aggressively on her computer keyboard, Kate has a look of disdain for Anna, and it’s obvious that their personalities clash.

“Anna is here,” Kate snaps as Bill walks in the door. “But you have another appointment in twenty minutes. I told Anna that you can’t possibly fit her into your schedule this morning, and she’ll have to wait until this afternoon to meet with you, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Good morning, Kate. And yes, I can see that Anna is here.” Bill grins, turning to Anna. “Good morning, Anna.”

“How did it go?” Anna asks, jumping up eagerly as Bills walks through the reception area and towards his office. “What did my aunt say? Is it sorted already? Did she just keel over and say yes to everything? Please, tell me that she did.”

“I can see why you need a lawyer to press ahead. Your aunt isn’t a very reasonable person to negotiate with,” Bill states. “We had a discussion about the will, but it wasn’t very productive. Please, Anna, come into my office, and we will discuss it further.”

“But Bill,” Kate complains. “You can’t fit her in. Your schedule is full today. You have a meeting with Mrs. Jonas in twenty minutes, and she really doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Bill glances at Kate, and he can see the loathing on her face. “I’m sure I can fit her in,” he says. “Mrs. Jonas won’t mind waiting for a few moments.”

“I’ll make a note of it,” Kate grumbles as she starts bashing on her computer keyboard. “But Mrs. Jonas isn’t going to be happy.”

“Thank you, Kate. You do a wonderful job.” Bill winks.

“There were no cracks in her armor?” The young girl questions as she follows Bill’s broad shoulders into his office. “Surely, the great Bill Harvey would have seen a crack in my aunt’s personality? After all, that is what you’re known for – reading people like a book. Couldn’t you have hypnotized her and convinced her to change her mind? Isn’t that what you do?”

“That is not what I do. I’m a lawyer. I do things by the book, and I work hard at finding solutions. That is what I’m known for,” Bill states as he places his briefcase on his desk, gazing out to the view from his office window. From the tall window behind his desk, he can see the urban sprawl of Los Angeles stretch deep into the horizon. He loves this view. It’s his view, his place to think. “And I must say that your aunt seems like the perfect citizen.”

Anna exhales loudly, slumping into the leather chair like a spoiled child who has been told that they cannot have any more ice cream. All the form has gone from her posture, and she sits like a rebel; her legs wide apart, her shoulders slumped, face looking dejected.

“She’s always been the perfect citizen. She’s always had that wall up. It’s like an impenetrable roadblock to prevent anyone from knowing who she really is. I hate it. I’ve tried to get close to her, but she’s so determined not to show any emotion that I can’t possibly know who she really is. I’m sure that if I got to know the real woman behind the wall, I might even like her. But I guess that’s why she’s a sixty-two-year-old unmarried spinster.”

“Just because she’s unmarried doesn’t make her any less capable of administrating the will. If anything, it might make her more suitable.” He sits down behind his large Oakwood desk, looking off to the law books on one side of his office, and then back to the psychology books on the other side. This is where he finds his inspiration, and they remind him that he can make a difference in the world. “She seems to be the perfect person to administer this estate. Unless there are skeletons in her cupboard, there is no way that I can dispute her capability in a court of law.”

Anna crosses one leg over the other, sitting up straighter. He makes a mental note of her chameleon capabilities; this is a woman who can change her attitude to fit into almost any situation, with the exception of the army. There is no way that Bill could imagine this idealistic girl slugging it out in the mud of Army Basic Training.

“My aunt and I have always had a personality clash. It’s always been that way. Some of my earliest memories as a child are arguing with her. We’ve had so many arguments over the years. She was my guardian after my father died, and I had to live with her for a while. It was a hard time in my life, and she copped the brunt of my emotions. But I’ve never seen her be nice to people - she isn’t good with kids, or adults for that matter. She’s extremely prim and proper… and I’m… not.”

“She’s quite rude as well.”

“Very rude. You should see how she treats her cleaner. She treats him like a piece of dirt. She doesn’t even acknowledge that the man exists most of the time. She even put a hidden camera in the living room to make sure he wasn’t stealing any of her things. But if I had told you how bad she was earlier, I don’t think you would’ve believed me. I thought it was better if you formed your own opinion of her first.”

“I certainly have formed my own opinion about her.” Bill laughs. “Tell me, is there anyone with influence over your aunt? Anyone we could try and get in the ear of to convince her to change her mind?”

“Possibly. There is a man named Frank Matthews who she has a lot to do with. He’s the deputy CEO of the Recovering Veterans charity, but he also dated my aunt for a while. It was the only relationship I ever saw her have. And I hate to say anything bad about a veteran, but he… he’s a little off. I have nothing but respect for the people who fight for our country – my grandfather taught me that – but Frank is… a total creep. He’s tried to seduce me a few times, but I wouldn’t go near someone like him. Even if he were good-looking, which he isn’t, I wouldn’t go near him. There’s something off about his personality.”

“And do you think he will be able to provide us with any information about your aunt?”

“I’m not sure, but he’s the person closest to my aunt. He obviously appreciates all the money she gives to the charity and he thanks her directly for it. My family’s estate is the greatest contributor to the charity, and I must admit, I like that. I like that my family helps people that need it. I wish that charity no ill harm, but…” Anna shakes her head. “My grandfather left that money to me.”

“I understand.”

Removing his legal pad from the top drawer of his desk, Bill begins to jot down points about the case. Anna waits in silence as Bill scribbles on the page, even though she isn’t sure what he could be writing about.

“Do you have any other possessions from your grandfather?”

“No. He left all of his possessions to my aunt. I loved my grandfather, but I was still young when he died. I was only fourteen, and I didn’t know that much about him.”

“Do you know anything else about your grandfather that may assist us in disputing the will?”

“No.” Anna shakes her head. “War turned him into a loner, and the only people that helped him were his close family. Nobody else knew anything about him. He made his money through the stock market, but he sold all his shares before his death because he believed in cash. He thought cash was the future. He was wrong.”

“Hmmm…” Bill stops writing to ponder his thoughts for a moment. He taps his pen on the notepad, placing his hand on his chin.

“What is it?” Anna asks, her voice now anxious.

He takes a deep breath. “I reviewed the will more closely overnight, and I couldn’t find any holes. The best angle that we could push for was to say that your grandfather put that condition in the will for your benefit. If we could prove that this was his sole intention, then we could dispute the will. Your grandfather had notes that he scribbled down and he left those notes in the possession of your Aunt Jessica. I have reviewed those notes thoroughly, and I haven’t been able to find anything of significance. There was nothing there that could help us dispute this will. There isn’t a lot that we can build on so far, Anna.”

“Wait, what are you saying exactly?”

“This will is watertight, Anna. My job as your lawyer is to give you the best advice available. And as your lawyer, my advice to you would be that if you want that money, you should enroll in Army Basic Training.”

“What? Didn’t you hear me when I said I would only pay you when the will is paid? Did you miss that piece of information?”

“I heard you. That is why I suggest you enroll in the Army Basic Training, and complete it. Then if you wish to withdraw, you’ll be dishonorably discharged. That is your best chance of receiving the inheritance. That is my legal advice.”

“I thought you could solve anything, Mr. Harvey? People say that you’re a wizard at reading people! I thought you were the man that could sort out my will?”

“I am that man. As far as I’m concerned, as your lawyer, I advise you to complete the Army Basic Training. Ten weeks of your life is the sacrifice that you need to make to receive that inheritance.”

“No, Bill. The army is against everything that I stand for. I lost both my parents to the horrors of war. Do you know what that is like? I have lost almost my whole family to war. Our family has made enough sacrifices. I won’t do it. I won’t be another martyr for the decisions of crooked politicians.”

“That is your decision to make.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Anna leans forward, desperate to have her voice heard. “My family is almost all gone because of war. War has taken everything from my family. And it’s the politicians that are to blame. They are the ones that send our innocent men and women to fight for their ideals. The politicians sent my family to die in war. Do you know what it’s like to lose your family when you need them the most? You couldn’t possibly know the pain that I went through. I will not enroll in the army! I will not be another statistic! My family has given enough.”

There is passion running through Anna’s veins. This is something that she desperately believes.

Her brow is furrowed as she looks to Bill for his reaction. She anxiously wants him to understand. She wants him to know that she cannot commit to an institution that has stolen everything away from her.

Talking about the past brings up unresolved emotions for Anna.

When her mother committed suicide after a tour of Afghanistan, she felt discarded. She felt like she didn’t matter enough. The pain of her mother abandoning her at just six years old left her deeply scarred. Two years after her mother’s death, she lost her older brother to war when he was just eighteen. And when her father died in a training accident only three years later, Anna felt the tragic pain of desertion.

The pain of losing her family soaked into her soul. The people she loved the most were taken from her too early.

Nobody could comfort her.

The life she knew was taken by suicide, war, and the unfortunate crash of a training helicopter.

After the death of her father, Anna was left in the care of her closest relative, Jessica Lempare, her mother’s sister.

The army looked after her, but Anna wanted nothing to do with the organization that took her family. They provided financial support to her guardian, but it mattered little to Anna. She had money, but she didn’t have a family. And there was no love in her Aunt Jessica’s apartment.

Jessica’s cold wall of detached emotion only drove a distressed Anna further away.

She tunneled that pain into protecting others, protesting against anything that took advantage of those less fortunate. She protested against everything; from the poor treatment of animals to the excess spending of the big banks.

In protesting against the establishment, she found a family. She found people that embraced her passion for life and accepted her for who she was. She felt at home with the people who shared her pain.

But even with the consideration of her past, Bill Harvey is firm.

“Anna, that will isn’t going to change. If you want that inheritance, then you must make the sacrifice of ten weeks of your life. That is my advice to you.”

“No.” She has tears in her eyes as she stands, heading towards the door.

There is no chance that someone as determined as Anna will complete the training, but Bill Harvey is interested in her next move. He needs to know if Anna is disputing the will for the money, or if she’s doing it for her disgust of authority.

Fascinated in her next move, he watches her closely as she slowly walks out of his office.

What she does next will determine how he approaches changing the will.

CHAPTER 4

“So, what are the options?” Bill’s reliable investigator Jack Grayson asks as he takes a large mouthful of his coffee. The coffee is bland and watery, but Jack likes this diner. Its 1960s décor reminds him of the diner his mother used to take him to as a child. They were some of the only positive memories of his tough childhood.

Jack Grayson is tough, muscular, and slightly mentally unstable. He has a history of violent acts, and his dark eyes portray a hard life, but his heart is in the right place most of the time.

Jack first walked into Bill’s hypnotherapy office as a twenty-one-year-old who looked like he had seen more than his fair share of intensity in his life. He had his first swig of alcohol at twelve, started using hard drugs at fifteen, and was locked up at eighteen. His thick arms are covered with many tattoos that display a past life full of aggression.

But it wasn’t the life that he wanted.

He knew that he wanted to change his life, and by the time he met Bill, he had spent the past year looking for a way to change his old habits. He walked into the hypnotherapy office wanting instant change. Something inside of Jack drew Bill to his cause.

Bill showed Jack that it wasn’t about tricking his mind to change – it was about accepting his current circumstances, and acknowledging that it was a part of his life. Under Bill’s guidance, Jack learned the value of gratitude, mindfulness, and appreciation. The change to Jack’s life was powerful.

He started a job as a security guard, kicked all his addictions, and went back to school at night to study fine art. He started painting, and for the first time, he found peace in his life.

Their paths crossed again ten years later when Jack was looking for a higher paying job opportunity. When Bill Harvey saw Jack’s name on the application form, he stopped the employment process, hiring Jack on the spot. He knew that he could work with this man.

The job of an investigator for a criminal attorney suited Jack perfectly, and he has never looked back. From quietly breaking into offices to tailing people, to finding a small error in a hundred pages of a file, Jack thrives in his job.

He is the perfect mix of brains, brawn, and bravado.

“There are not a lot of options for us in this case. As it stands, the will is watertight. I have reviewed the document over and over, but there are no cracks. Not even the smallest fracture. All the responsibility rests with the aunt. It’s all very clear-cut. This will was drafted in such a simple fashion that cannot be misinterpreted.”

“So, what have you advised the girl?” Jack swirls the last of his coffee as he looks around the diner, and waves to the waitress. She quickly comes over, refills his mug, and then gives him a small wink. He pretends to wolf-whistle as he watches her walk away before turning his attention back to Bill.

“I have advised Anna to complete the ten weeks of Army Basic Training if she wants the money. That is the simplest way to achieve the conditions of the will.”

“So, like an easy thing to do.”

“Maybe for you and I it is. But for this girl, it’s a lot harder. She lost a lot of her family to war, and she hates the idea of going to work for the people that she now considers the enemy.”

“She thinks the US Army is her enemy?”

“Not quite. She has great respect for the individuals of the US Army, but she hates the people that control the military. She hates the politicians that send innocent people to war. They are her enemy. She sees them as taking away her loved ones. That’s where the hatred lies.”

“So why do you need me? Sounds pretty cut and dry at this point,” Jack questions.

Bill considers Jack’s request to help before answering. “The advice that I gave Anna is going to push her into a corner. It will be interesting to see what she does next. This isn’t over yet. In her mind, her options are now to complete the training, or go and see her aunt to discuss the will. We know that she isn’t going to complete the training, so it means that she’ll try and negotiate with her aunt. Anna isn’t stupid, so she’ll try a different approach to negotiation than she has in the past. Although the aunt is quite reserved, I don’t think she’s unreasonable. The situation I have put Anna in means that she’ll go and see her aunt with her tail between her legs and try and negotiate. That’s our best option.”

“I’m sure that isn’t the only thing that’s been between her legs,” Kate suddenly quips, appearing at their table.

Disappointed, Bill shakes his head. “Hello, Kate. I think it’s quite clear that you don’t like Anna.”

“I just think that she’s trouble, Bill. I have seen many girls like her before. They have a sense of entitlement and aren’t willing to work for it. I mean, really, ten weeks isn’t that much of a sacrifice. I don’t see why she can’t just go and do the training.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Kate.” He places his hand down firmly on the table.

Kate waves to the waitress to order her morning coffee. “Jack, here’s the file that Bill asked me to give to you.”

“I need you to look into the Recovering Veterans charity, Jack,” Bill preempts Jack’s next question. “They are receiving a large donation from the estate each month, and they have a strong interest in how this will is structured. For any change to the conditions of the will, there needs to be an agreement between the trustee and the charity. While Anna is working on negotiating with her aunt, we should be focused on strengthening our position with the charity.”

“You really don’t think this is over yet, do you?” Jack questions as he opens the manila folder. He looks through the first few pages of the file, reviewing the details of the charity. “You think that Anna is going to be able to negotiate with her aunt?”

“I do. I think her next discussion with her aunt will lay the groundwork for our next move. There is going to be a lot of negotiation to come and the stronger our position is, the higher chance we have of retaining most of the inheritance for Anna.”

“So, you’re asking me to find some dirt on the charity?”

“Yes, or the people in the charity. I need you to look for anything that will help strengthen our negotiating position. There will be something that we can use to strengthen our discussions with them.”

As Jack continues to look through the file, Kate’s phone starts ringing. “Excuse me, I need to take this.”

While Kate walks off to the side of the diner to answer the phone, the men continue their conversation.

“So, any change to the will requires the support of the charity?”

“It requires the conditional support of the charity. As the trustee, the aunt has the final say, but if she had the support of the charity, then we could push any change through really quickly. Otherwise, we may need to go to court and plead our case in front of a judge. I don’t want to do that as that’s a long process. Our easiest option will be if all the parties agreed on a change.”

“What would happen if the aunt died before Anna turns twenty-five?” Jack asks before he’s interrupted by Kate returning to the table.

Both men turn to look at Kate, standing by the booth, with a pale, shocked look on her face.

“That appears to be the case. Jessica Lempare has been murdered,” she states. “And Anna has been arrested as the primary suspect.”

CHAPTER 5

Despite the warmth of the meeting room, Anna Lempare is shaking as she sits on the metal chair.

Her world has been thrown upside down.

One moment, she was binge watching her favorite television series in her apartment, and the next, she was being taken away by LAPD Detectives for the murder of her aunt, Jessica Lempare.

Her body has been in shock ever since.

“Hello, Anna,” Bill states as he enters the room, placing his briefcase on the small desk. “Are you okay?”

Anna stares at him with cold, dark eyes. Her arms are folded across her chest, her shoulders are slumped forward, her hair a tangled mess.

Anna goes to answer Bill’s introduction, but no noise comes out. She runs her fingers along the edge of the small table in the middle of the room, trying to get comfortable on the solid metallic chair.

The meeting room is tight and windowless, and the concrete walls trap the heat inside. With very little space in the room, Bill is thankful that he’s not claustrophobic.

“Are they treating you well, Anna?”

Anna shakes her head repeatedly. “She’s dead. My Aunt Jessica is dead. She’s dead.”

“That is why I’m here.” Bill slows his speech pattern down, using a lower tone of voice to create a sense of calm in the room. It’s a technique that he learned while studying hypnotherapy, and he has used it often to calm people in different situations. His deep voice resonates around the small room, and he can see that it’s affecting Anna as her shoulders start to loosen. “Anna,” he continues slowly. “We’re going to have to talk about what your options are and what happens from this point forward. I need you to listen to what I say to you.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening. Nobody is talking to me. They all want me to keep my mouth shut like a good little girl and do as I’m told. That’s not me, Bill. I won’t play their stupid little games. They have these rules that aren’t supposed to suit someone like me. They aren’t designed for me. I want to break all their rules.”

“Anna.” He waits for her eyes to look at him before he continues. “This is the situation that we’re in. I need you to take a long, slow deep breath before we talk any further.”

She looks at him, closes her eyes, and inhales until her chest is full. When she exhales, her shoulders drop further from their height of tension, and she places her hands, palms down, on the table in front of her.

“I’m listening.”

“You’ve been arrested and charged with the murder of your aunt, Jessica Lempare. That much we know. Why don’t you take me through what happened?”

“I didn’t do it, Bill,” she says as her eyes plead with him. “I didn’t kill my Aunt Jessica. I didn’t do it.”

“There’s evidence to suggest that you did. That’s why you have been arrested. I have had a brief look at the file on your arrest, and a witness places you there around the time of the murder.”

“I didn’t do it,” she insists. “I wasn’t even there. It wasn’t me. Aunt Jessica was alive when I saw her last. She was alive.”

“I imagine that you’ll plead Not Guilty to this charge then?”

“Yes! Of course! I am innocent.” She shakes her head again. “This is horrific. I didn’t do it. How could the police get this so wrong? I didn’t do it.”

“Yet, you don’t appear to have been crying? You don’t seem overly upset about the death of your aunt? You seem more concerned about the fact that you’ve been arrested, rather than the fact that you’ve lost a family member.”

“I’m upset,” she argues. “She was my Aunt. As much as we didn’t see eye to eye, the old bat was still the last surviving member of my family. Do you know what that is like? To be the last person from your whole family? Generations of history rely on you. Do you know how that feels?”

“No. I don’t.”

She looks down at the table, running a finger over the hard metal edge. “What happens now?”

“You’ve been charged with murder in the first-degree. There will be a grand jury to determine whether there is sufficient evidence to indict you on a felony charge. If you plead Not Guilty, then we will begin the trial process. There’ll be discovery between the prosecution and the defense, and we’ll discuss a plea bargain. If nothing is resolved at this point, then the case will go to trial. It’s the trial where we will try and prove your innocence.”

“That sounds like a long process. Do I have to stay in jail the whole time? I don’t want to stay in here. I’m innocent. I’m innocent,” she repeats. “I don’t want to have to wait in here until it’s all over.”

“Anna.” Opening his briefcase, Bill calmly removes his notepad. “Have you been convicted of any criminal offense before?”

“No. Never. I’m innocent.”

“Not even something that is connected to your protesting?”

“No. Not arrested. I’ve been held, but no charges were ever laid. And I was questioned about pushing my aunt years ago, but again, no charges were laid.”

“Then we’ll apply for bail if you don’t want to wait in here. I must warn you that the state of California sets bail at a minimum of one million dollars for cases of first-degree murder.”

“Do it. I’ll put my apartments up for the collateral. They are worth more than one million dollars. I’ll put them up for the bail money. I just can’t stay in here.”

Quickly, he scrawls handwritten notes. “The prosecution will argue that you’re a flight risk due to the amount of travel you have done in the past, so the court will most likely choose to confiscate your passport.”

“They can’t have my passport. That’s my freedom. I don’t want to give them my passport. That’s as much a part of me as my heart. I’m not giving that to anyone.”

“It’s either that or stay in here. You won’t be given bail unless you surrender that passport.”

As the thought of spending the rest of her life in prison crosses her mind, the color drains from her face. “Take my damn passport. They can have it.”

“That’s the first step in this process, and there’s no guarantee that bail will be granted. However, I think that with your lack of criminal history, and the lack of really strong evidence, we should be able to achieve that.”

“What evidence could they have? I wasn’t there!”

“What we know at this point is that your aunt was strangled in her apartment yesterday afternoon. There are witnesses that place you in her apartment around the time of her death. The neighbors even heard you arguing with your aunt around the time of her death. The police state that you have a motive as a copy of the will was found on the floor next to her body. She had been handling the will before she was strangled. The police state that it’s a motive for the murder. They’re currently processing the DNA evidence of the crime scene, and as you don’t have an alibi for the time of death, they’ve charged you. I expect that there will be more evidence to come, but we will have to deal with that when it happens.”

“No.” Anna shakes her head again. “None of this is ‘evidence’. None of it. I didn’t do it. I was at home watching television.”

“By yourself?”

“Yes. I was by myself,” Anna snaps. “I was watching television by myself. That’s perfectly normal behavior!”

He stops taking notes, staring at the young lady for a moment. “I’m on your side, Anna. I’m here to do what’s best for you. You will hold that attitude and treat me with respect.”

“Yes, sir.” Her eyes look back at the table in front of her.

Staring at her for a while longer, Bill waits before he continues taking notes.

“Anna, I have all the information I need for now. We will take this to the arraignment hearing, and that will be your first court appearance. There, the prosecution will detail the charges against you, and it’s there that you’ll enter your plea. After you plead Not Guilty, we’ll apply for bail. As you don’t have a criminal record, and you’re not likely to be a risk to public safety, bail may be granted. Within ten days after this, we will have a preliminary hearing. Do you understand that, Anna?”

“I think so.” She provides a gentle nod. “Does that mean I have to spend some more time in here?”

“Yes.”

“This is just a misunderstanding. I’m innocent. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just watching television. This will all be sorted out quickly, won’t it?”

Placing his notepad in his briefcase, he slowly closes the leather top. “No, Anna. This is a long, drawn out process. My suggestion to you is to settle in and be ready for the long haul. There’s a lot of work ahead of us.”

CHAPTER 6

“Good shot!” Kate Spencer calls out as her son, Connor, smacks a baseball into the outfield. “Now, run! Run those little legs!”

Kate loves her Sunday afternoon Little League baseball games. She loves sitting in the stands, with the sun on her face, cheering on her eight-year-old son to do what he loves. For her, this is what motherhood is about.

It isn’t about the fights for child support payments with her ex-husband, it isn’t about the custody battles she has had over the years, and it isn’t about the amount of times she has to explain to her son why Daddy has another new girlfriend.

This is a place where she can forget the last five years of fighting, and simply enjoy being a mother.

Bill Harvey sits next to his friend, and office assistant, laughing at the amount of passion that she has for the outcome of a Little League game.

“Good throw.” She claps as she cheers on the other team as well. Kate doesn’t want to cheer for the other team, but she knows she has to, just to appear like she isn’t a crazy sports parent. When the crowd hears her cheering for both teams, they accept her little bit of loud craziness.

“Did you see him hit that ball?” She grabs her friend’s arm. “He’s getting better every week. He’s really starting to smash that ball now. Wow. I’m so proud of my boy.”

“He’s growing up fast, Kate, and he’s getting stronger every week. Before you know it, he’ll be a young man running around that field.”

“Oh, don’t say that. I don’t want to think about the day my boy no longer needs his mother.” She frowns.

“Here he goes again.” Bill gestures to the outfield as Connor starts to run between bases.

“Good run, Connor!” Kate cheers again as her son sprints to home base with desperation. “Great job, Connor! Great run!”

As Connor high fives his friends on the bench, mostly ignoring his loud mother, Kate turns to Bill.

“I’ve got a joke for you,” she says.

“Go on,” Bill says as he starts to smile.

It’s their usual Sunday afternoon routine – they trade their best jokes of the week in an attempt to bring humor into their weekend.

“I bought my friend an elephant for his room the other day. ‘Thank you,’ he said. I said, ‘Don’t mention it.’”

“Ha!” Bill laughs. “That’s good. Alright… Did you know that I left my first job in sales because I couldn’t work for the boss after what he said to me?”

“What did he say?”

“You’re fired.”

“Ha!” Kate laughs. “Apparently, someone gets stabbed in L.A every 65 seconds… poor guy.”

“That’s a good one.” Bill grins. “Kate, did you know that I’m very good at making up words? Do you want to hear one that I have just made up?”

“Sure.”

“Plagiarism.”

“Hahaha!” Kate laughs out loud. “That’s comedy gold. I’ll give you the win this time.”

Bill smiles, happy with himself, but it isn’t long before his thoughts drift back to his current case, and the smile vanishes from his face.

“You’re thinking about Anna still, aren’t you?” She questions when she sees the serious look on his return.

“I’m trying not to.” He rubs his hands together. “But she’s gotten into my head. Her world fascinates me, Kate.”

“And what are your initial thoughts?”

“Not Guilty.”

“Really?” Kate laughs freely. “Don’t you think that it’s all too much of a coincidence? Think about it. A spoilt little brat comes to your office to say that there’s a dispute in the will. You advise her that nothing can be done, and then the trustee of that will shows up dead. That’s more than just what you would expect would happen in the normal course of events.”

“Do you know what a magician does, Kate?”

“Trick people really badly.”

“Misdirection. The key to a good trick is misdirecting the audience to think something has happened other than what has actually happened.”

“You’re saying that a magician killed the aunt?”

“No.” He chuckles. “I’m saying that if everyone is looking in one place, then they miss things that are happening elsewhere. That’s the misdirection. You have to see behind the magic, and look at what has really happened.”

“What do you think really happened?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m working to figure it out.”

“Did she make bail?”

“Just. She put up her two apartments to match bail, and it was granted. She’ll be in the office tomorrow morning, so I would like you to be nice to her.”

“Of course. I’m always nice.” Kate grins. “Go! Go!”

Kate stops their conversation suddenly to yell at the kids on the field, clapping even louder.

“Everyone needs a passion in life,” Bill comments to the people next to him, who are staring at the noisy mother cheering on the team.

When the game has finished, Connor greets his mother with a large smile.

“Well played!” she shouts, squeezing Connor into a tight, motherly hug. “You were fantastic. I loved the way that you hit that ball!”

“Thanks Mom,” he replies, still buzzing high on the sports win. “Can I go around to Harry’s place for a play?”

“Of course, if it’s fine with his Mom, then I don’t have a problem with that.”

“She said I could go around.”

“Ok. Just be back in time for dinner, and take your sweater. I don’t want you to get cold.”

“And if you get too cold, just go and stand in a corner,” Bill comments.

Kate and Connor turn, staring at Bill. “Why?”

“Because it’s always 90 degrees in a corner.”

Connor bursts out laughing, and Kate shakes her head with a smile. “Have a good time,” she says to her son, kissing him on the forehead.

After Connor has run across to his friends, she turns her attention back to Bill. “You know, Connor has a school project on law at the moment.”

“He’s learning about law as an eight-year-old?”

“Just the basics, Bill. Arrests, prison, court – that sort of thing. One of the dads in his class is a policeman, and he’s going in to talk with the kids. The teacher has asked if anyone else would be interested in coming into class to talk with the children. It would be really great if you could go in and talk about the law.”

“Me? I’m not his father.”

“But you have been a big part of his life, Bill. And he adores you.” Kate beams. “Plus, his father is a deadbeat. The only thing he could talk to the class about would be how to avoid paying child support. And… I would really like it too if you were to make it in there.”

Bill sits up proudly. “I’ll have to ask my assistant if I have room in my calendar to make it.”

“I hear that your assistant is very good, Bill. I’m sure she can make room for it.” Kate winks.

Sitting in the stands overlooking the baseball field, Bill feels a wave of satisfaction wash over him. He looks at Kate with love as she continues fervently congratulating her son’s baseball team, wondering when he will have the bravery to tell her how he feels.

Maybe when this case is over, he reasons with himself.

CHAPTER 7

The Anna that walks back into Bill’s office the following morning isn’t the bright, young, determined girl that walked in there the first time.

No, this Anna is broken.

She looks defeated; as if a part of her life has gone missing.

Her shoulders are slumped, her feet are dragging, the fire gone from her eyes. Her shirt is unironed, her jeans are dirty, and she doesn’t look like she has slept in the past five days.

“Please sit down,” Bill says with a gentle tone. “How are you doing?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

Bill raises his eyebrows at her. “Really?”

“No!” she snaps. “Things are horrible. My only family member is dead! I’m accused of her murder! And the courts have taken the one thing away from me that I love more than anything.”

“And what’s that?” Bill questions.

“My passport!” She almost bursts into tears. “They’ve taken my passport. That’s my life’s work. That’s my passion. And now it’s gone. It’s all gone. And I’m innocent, Bill!”

The fire is back. Bill only needed to poke her once.

Leaning back in his office chair, he doesn’t answer her aggression.

“I’m not going to prison. I couldn’t even bear the thought of being stuck in the army. Even that seemed too restrictive. Not being able to go wherever I want, whenever I want, scares the life out of me. I couldn’t think of anything worse. It hurts me to the core. Jail… jail… that’s something else. There’s no way I’m going to do that.”

“You might have to.” He’s blunt in his statement.

As much as he works for the best outcomes for his clients, he’s also a realist and makes sure that his clients are aware of their possible future.

“I can’t do it.” She nervously scratches her arm. “I can’t do it. I’m not going there. No way. No way.”

“Anna, we have a very strong case against us. We—”

“Bill.” She interrupts, her eyes thinning as she stares at him. “If it looks like we’re going to lose this case, then you need to give me plenty of warning. If you think this case is sinking, then you need to tell me sooner rather than later. Promise me that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m not spending my life rotting behind bars. I can’t live like that. I just can’t do it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’ll take any opportunity not to spend time behind bars,” Anna states with a sinister look in her eyes. “I’m saying I’ll do what it takes to never go back there.”

He nods with understanding. “Please don’t tell me any more than that. If the worse case scenario happens, then I won’t be able to tell the police what I don’t know. Don’t tell me where you’ll go. I don’t want to know that information, but as my client, I’ll tell you if it looks certain that we’re going to lose the case.”

“Thank you.”

“When is the funeral for your Aunt Jessica?”

“The police have released her body, and it’s booked in for tomorrow morning. It’s a cremation. That’s the way she wanted to go. The ceremony is going to be held at the White Hat Funeral Center tomorrow at nine a.m. You’re welcome to come if you like. I’m sure there will be room in the chapel for you. My Aunt Jessica didn’t have many friends. In fact, it’s likely to be me, and the two guys from the charity. She lived a very lonely life.”

“Were you aware that your Aunt Jessica had cancer?”

“What? How would you know that?”

“She disclosed that to me when we met. She said that you didn’t know. She was frail and on her last legs, Anna. I didn’t tell you because she said that she didn’t want anyone to know.”

“And yet, she told you.”

He sighs. Anna still has a lot of deep resentment towards her aunt. Years of rejection can do that to a young woman.

“Take me through what happened that day. I want to know all the details about the day that your aunt died. I want to know where you were, who you were with, what you did, and even what you ate. The more information that you tell me, the more likely it’s that we will be able to discover what really happened.”

“Alright… I saw my aunt on the afternoon that she died. I talked to her.”

“Where?”

“At her apartment. I went there to discuss the will. After you had told me that the will was watertight, I wanted to go there and be nice to her. I thought that now it had gotten serious and I had hired a lawyer, then she might change her mind. I went in and was really nice and soft, and we had a nice chat about life. It’s strange, but it was the first real chat we have ever had. And I thought that I might have been able to convince her to do something different. The funny thing is, I think she started to listen to me. I think that I was starting to get through to her. And then… we got into another argument.” Anna draws a deep breath. “Look… I’m a redhead, and we’re known to have a temper.” She seems genuinely embarrassed in admitting it. “Sometimes when things don’t go my way, I can get fiery.”

“Ahh… the fiery redhead defense.” He smiles.

“Quite. I knew that I had to negotiate with her and so I had to calm myself down before I went to talk to her. I went to a bar near her apartment and had a couple of drinks – nothing outrageous – just a couple of quiet drinks to relax. I wanted to be calm before I talked with her.”

“Did you talk to anyone in the bar?”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but I saw one of my father’s old army buddies, and we exchanged pleasantries. I asked how his wife was and he asked how my travels were going. We had a good chat, and I said that I was going off to see my aunt.”

“This man served with you father?”

“Bud Morgan served in the army with my father. They both went to the Gulf War. I know him because he works for the Recovering Veterans charity.”

“Bud Morgan…” Bill ponders for a moment. “Go on. What happened after you left the bar?”

“I left the bar and went to see my aunt. She was in a grumpy mood – as always – but after a while, we were talking amicably. She was starting to acknowledge my point of view on the Army Basic Training. She actually looked like she understood what I was saying. She truly looked like she understood me. And then she said that we wouldn’t have this problem if I weren’t so lazy and that just set me off. It was like a trigger. I just lost control. I didn’t plan on getting angry, but the more she spoke, the worse it got. She wouldn’t see any sense to anything that I said. She was just being a stubborn old cow. And she was always like that. I should’ve expected it to continue.”

“And what was said?”

“We talked about the will.” She avoids eye contact. “I was just trying to talk to her nicely.”

“But you didn’t?”

“We did at the start… but not in the end. I told her that my grandfather left the money to me. Apart from the two of us, I lost my entire family to the army. My father, my mother, my brother, my uncle – everyone that I was once close to died because of the army. I couldn’t support an institution that did that to my family. I love the veterans, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t commit to that institution. You understand, don’t you?”

“It’s not up to whether or not I understand. That decision was up to your aunt. Was she willing to negotiate?”

“She was from that generation where everything was supposed to be done right. You were supposed to serve your country, get married, have kids, grow old. That was the ideal lifestyle. That was their picture of perfection. My aunt had never even traveled to Canada. She didn’t even own a passport, the stupid old bat. She didn’t have any idea what travel teaches you. So, I tried to tell her my point of view… and I truly think that she was starting to listen to me. I know I shouldn’t have got angry. I should have left the apartment when things were going good, and she was listening to me.”

“Did you shout at her?”

Anna shoots him a glare. “Like I said, I have a mean temper when wound up. I can get pretty wild.”

“So, you shouted at her?”

“Yes, we were shouting at each other. We were both shouting loudly.”

“Loud enough for the neighbors to hear?”

“Probably. They’re a nosey bunch anyway. They’re all in each other’s business all the time because none of them have anything better to do. One of the neighbors was waiting in the hallway when I stormed out of her apartment. The man from next door.”

“And what did you say to him?”

“I told him to go back into his apartment and mind his own business. I was angry. No doubt about it. I punched a wall as I walked down the hallway. The man from next door would’ve seen that.”

“Did the neighbor go into your aunt’s apartment after you left?”

“No, he did what he was told. He walked back into his apartment.”

“And how do you know this?”

“When I was getting into the elevator, I turned around and saw him walking back through his door. I shot him an evil glance as the doors to the elevator closed. I reckon that man told the police that I did it.”

“I think that the police made the connections all by themselves, Anna. It seems pretty clear-cut from where they sit. The man from next door is the one that discovered the body. One hour after you left, he went to check on your aunt. She didn’t answer the door, and so he used a key to get in. And that’s when he found your aunt dead on the floor with a copy of the will next to her body.”

“Are you on their side too?” Anna snaps.

Bill takes a long, deep breath. “Did you hit your aunt?”

“No! I didn’t touch her, I swear. I shouted at her because I was angry, but I didn’t lay a hand on her. I didn’t touch her. This wasn’t the first time we have had an argument. It’s just the way we communicate. It was nothing unusual.”

“Have you ever hit your aunt?”

Anna’s eyes divert away, and she doesn’t answer the question.

“Anna? Have you ever hit your aunt?” Bill repeats.

“I never hit her… but… I pushed her once.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was seventeen at the time. My parents had passed away, and Aunt Jessica was my legal guardian. I was living with her, and she hated having me in her apartment. She was a real bitch to me while I lived with her. She was jealous of me and the freedom that I had. She thought I wasn’t living life the right way, and she took all her hatred out on me. And one day we got into a big fight about nothing. She could just push my buttons; you know? She deliberately used to say things just to get me angry. I’m sure of that. And she said something really hurtful about my father, so I pushed her. I didn’t plan on pushing her, it just happened.”

“Was she hurt?”

“She went to the hospital with a cut on her arm. She fell on a wine glass, but she didn’t need stitches.”

“Did she report it to the police?”

“The police came over because she went to the hospital. They had a chat with me, but my aunt didn’t press charges. I didn’t push her hard. It was just a little shove. She would’ve been fine if she hadn’t of fallen onto that damn glass.”

Bill takes his time, writing down his thoughts on his notepad. He then turns his attention back to Anna. “The timeline so far is that your aunt’s neighbor heard you arguing that afternoon. One hour later, he goes into your aunt’s apartment and finds her strangled to death. He called the police, and they arrived within twenty minutes. The police found there was no sign of forced entry or a struggle, which suggests that your aunt knew the murderer.”

“So, they arrested me because she didn’t know anyone else?”

“You also have a very clear motive for your aunt’s death. You’ll receive half the inheritance because her death occurred before you turned twenty-five. You have made it very clear that you had no intention of completing the Army Basic Training, and you still wanted the money. Half the amount – ten million dollars – is a very strong motive to see your Aunt die.”

“I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill her.” Anna scratches her arm again. This time, it’s more aggressive. “I went back to Jessica’s apartment looking for the hidden camera, but it wasn’t there. Somebody took it, Bill.”

“Hidden camera?”

“My aunt didn’t trust her cleaner, so she set up a hidden camera to spy on him. She wanted to make sure that he wasn’t stealing anything. She hid it in the living room, behind a book. When I went back to the apartment yesterday, it wasn’t there. I searched the entire house, but the camera wasn’t there.”

“There is no mention of a camera in any of the police reports, Anna, which suggests that your aunt moved it before her death or the killer took it with them. Who else knew about the camera?”

“Everyone. I’m sure that the cleaner even knew. She didn’t hide it very well. If we find that camera, it will prove that I didn’t do it.”

Bill nods again, scribbling more notes.

“Anna, I like to be honest with my clients to set realistic expectations of the outcomes. We don’t have that camera and nor do the police. In reality, this case isn’t looking good. There’s a lot of evidence building against you. We have a motive and a witness that places you at the scene of the crime. You have a history of angry outbursts, even directly against your aunt, and the neighbor saw you that afternoon. He reports that you were furious.”

“I know it looks bad, but I swear, I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t kill her. You have to believe me. I didn’t do it. I didn’t want her to die. The system is supposed to charge criminals, not innocent people. I’m innocent. I can’t go to jail for something I didn’t do.”

“You’re also not that upset by the death of your aunt. That isn’t going to work in your favor if this case makes it to trial.”

“I know I don’t look upset, but I feel alone now. Do you know what that’s like? To be the last remaining member of your family?”

“No.”

“It’s horrible. Really horrible. I feel totally alone in the world.”

Although he has spent much of his life reading people’s actions and emotions, he’s uncomfortable with the raw passion that Anna is displaying. Her eyes have drawn him in, but he reverts back to the cold realities of the case.

“At this point, we only have two options that can clear you of the crime. We can either find a problem with the police investigation – maybe some contaminated evidence or a missed step in your arrest or…”

“Yes?”

“If you didn’t do it, Anna, then somebody else did.”

CHAPTER 8

“Mr. Thomas Feeble, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Thomas Feeble opens the door to his apartment next to Jessica’s, looking up at Bill with weak, empty eyes. Bill is a big believer in embedding words into the subconscious, and he feels that a surname like Feeble would have set Thomas up for a fragile life.

“I’ve been told to be careful what I say to you,” Thomas Feeble states in a shy, submissive voice. “The lawyer told me not to talk too much with the defense.”

“I’m sure that you have been told that.” Bill nods. “I’m going to come in for a few moments to talk about your case. You wouldn’t mind that, would you?”

Bill frames his words in such a way that Thomas feels like he has no other choice but to agree to Bill’s statement.

“Okay.” Thomas opens the door wide enough for Bill to enter. “But only for a few moments. We can’t talk for long.”

“Of course.”

As Bill walks into the apartment, he stands close to Thomas, making sure that his physical ascendancy in the situation is clear. Intimidation is a factor when questioning a person, and he needs Thomas to know that he’s a man that will do what it takes to get the information that he needs.

With an open hand, Thomas points towards the living room, offering Bill a seat. Although his apartment is next door to Jessica Lempare’s apartment, his home has a completely different feel. While his apartment is the same size, the furnishings are modest, at best.

It looks as though Thomas has ordered a house full of furniture from late night television, and has put it all together himself. The couch looks flimsy, and it has Bill worried that it might give way under his weight.

The curtains are still drawn despite it being midafternoon, and the layout of the entire house seems to be pointing towards the television. As he glances into the kitchen and the main bedroom, Bill notices a television in each room.

Thomas Feeble follows Bill into the living room; his arms crossed, his shoulders slumped, his eyes darting everywhere. With a mix of Mexican and English heritage, he never felt comfortable in his own skin. He never fit into the right social circles at school, and that rejection has left him scarred for most of his adult life.

With his closed body language, it’s clear that this is a man who is keeping a secret.

“This is a nice apartment,” Bill comments. “And it’s a very beautiful building."

“My apartment does the job.” He sits opposite Bill on a sofa that looks like it folds out to form a bed. “It’s the place where I live.”

There is one picture of Thomas’s family hanging on the main wall, a picture of a dog on the other wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Bill notices a black and white cat amble down the hallway.

“Do you like animals, Mr. Feeble?”

“I do. I have three cats, and I used to have a small dog, but she passed away four years ago. Animals are very non-judgmental, Mr. Harvey.”

“I read that you’re the head of the resident’s body corporate for this building?”

Feeling his privacy has been invaded, Thomas stares at the defense attorney.

“What do you want, Mr. Harvey?”

“I’ve come to ask you a number of questions regarding the death of your next-door neighbor. Let’s start with your relationship with Jessica.”

“Like I said, I’ve been told not to tell you too much.”

“We can either have our discussion here, or our discussion will be on the stand in the courtroom. It doesn’t matter to me which you choose. However, I feel that it would be in your best interests to have the discussion here.”

Looking carefully at the table in front of him, Thomas almost looks like he’s searching for the answer ingrained in the wood.

“I didn’t get along with Jessica, if that is what you’re asking. But that is nothing unusual,” he says, defending himself. “Nobody got along with her. She was very selfish and very rude. I would see her in the hallway sometimes, and I would say hello, but she would turn her nose up at me. I hated that.”

“Did you ever tell her that you hated it?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I never talked to her long enough to tell her that.”

“Tell me what happened on that afternoon.”

“I’ve already told the police everything I know. It’s all in the police report.”

Leaning backward on the couch, Bill spreads his arms out to the side, widening his legs apart. He’s taking up space to assert his dominance in the room, letting Thomas know that he’s in control of this situation.

“Yes, Thomas. I’ve reviewed the police report, and I’ve found some things that deserve further questioning. There are particular things that don’t make sense to me, and I would like you to explain them.” He looks Thomas straight in the eye. “The police report states that there was no forced entry into the apartment, and you used a key to get into her place. Do you have your own key to her apartment?”

“Um, yes.”

“And was she aware of this?”

“Yes,” Thomas says as he brushes his nose, covering his face with his hand.

It’s obvious to Bill that this is a lie.

The reason he can tell that Thomas has told a lie isn’t magic; rather it’s science. During his years training in hypnotherapy, Bill learned that when avoiding the answer to a direct question, there are certain tell-tale signs that a person will display.

A direct question creates a spike in anxiety when an honest response would be incriminating. This apprehension triggers the body’s nervous system to dissipate the anxiety, draining blood from the surfaces of the face, ears, and extremities, which in turn creates a sensation of cold, or discomfort. Without the person even realizing it, their hands are drawn to those areas, and their body language answers the question for them.

“Do you expect me to believe that someone who has just stated that they have barely had a conversation with their next-door neighbor, also had their own key to her apartment?”

“Um, sure.” Thomas shrugs.

“Was there anyone else in your apartment at the time that you heard someone having an argument with Jessica?”

“No.” Thomas’s answer is snappy, direct and sudden, and it’s clear that he’s again lying.

“Really?”

“It was just my cats and me.” Thomas’s response is deadpan.

Bill isn’t sure if he’s being funny and he should laugh, or if he’s being serious. When Thomas doesn’t laugh, he continues. “Thomas, I’m going to ask you a direct question, and I’m going to study how you react,” Bill states firmly, staring intently at Thomas. He’s deliberately applying pressure. “Did you kill Jessica Lempare?”

“Me? No.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t do it.”

The nerves in his voice are clear, and Bill is trying hard to work out if it’s because he’s lying about the murder, or if he’s hiding something else.

Thomas’s arms fold tighter as Bill stares at him. There is no doubt that Thomas is hiding something, but he can’t figure out what that is.

“Have you ever been in Jessica’s apartment?”

“Um.” He thinks his answer over. “Before last week, I had been in there twice, I think. Once when I had to check the windows for body corporate and the second time…” Thomas takes a long pause. “The second time I went in there when she was screaming at someone. We went there to see if she was okay.”

“We?”

“Sorry?” Thomas looks at Bill confused.

“You just said ‘we’ went next door. Who is ‘we’?”

“Um, Carlos. He’s a friend of mine. Just a friend.”

“Did Carlos know Jessica?”

“Yes… Carlos is Jessica’s cleaner. He goes there twice a week to clean her apartment.”

Bill makes a mental note that Carlos is likely to have a key to Jessica’s apartment. “And what did you hear when there was screaming?”

“I’m not sure. It was very loud shouting, and it was really aggressive. I don’t hear much through the walls, but I could hear this argument really clearly, so I was worried for her safety. Carlos and I went and knocked on the door while they were still screaming at each other. It was very loud screaming, and I was worried about her. Jessica answered the door pretty quickly.”

“And Jessica was okay?”

“She was fine. She told us to go away and mind our own business. We waited out in the hall for a few moments, you know, just to make sure that everything was fine, but the old guy left pretty quickly. I had seen him around before, but not for a long time. I figured they were friends, or that it was her boyfriend.”

“And how long ago was this?” Bill continues.

“I’m not exactly sure. About a month, maybe two months ago. I can’t be exactly sure.”

“And you’re good friends with Carlos, Jessica’s cleaner?”

“Yes, but we’re just friends. Just friends. He comes around sometimes, and we hang out. There is nothing more to it than that. We are just friends. He likes to watch wrestling, just like me. Sometimes we just sit here and watch the wrestling for hours.”

It’s clear that he’s hiding something. But Bill can’t work out whether it’s because he’s guilty, or if it’s the natural state of his hesitant personality.

“Tell me what you saw when you entered the apartment?”

“When?”

“On the day that Jessica Lempare died.”

“Oh. Um, it was quite distressing, you know? I was just checking that she was okay, and then after I went in there, I just saw her lying on the ground. She was just lying there. I tried to check her pulse, but I could not find one. That is when I ran in here and called the police.”

“Did you enter the apartment again after that?”

“No way. I was too scared. I waited in the foyer until the police arrived.”

“Did you enter the apartment again with the police?”

“No. I waited in the corridor until they confirmed she was dead.”

Staring at Thomas, Bill searches for any hint of a lie. Thomas’s eyes avoid direct contact with Bill’s, but he can’t determine whether it’s because Thomas is telling a lie or if it’s because he’s the killer.

Time will answer that statement for Bill Harvey.

“Thank you for your time, Thomas. You’ve been of great assistance.” He stands. “And I’m sure that we will talk again.”

CHAPTER 9

The entrance to the Recovering Veterans charity is not what Bill expected.

He expected a small broken door in an outdated shopping mall, but instead, he’s riding a clean elevator to the top floor of a large inner city office building.

When the doors to the elevator slowly open, he’s even more surprised.

The space alone must have cost a lot of money – not to mention the modern art all over the office walls. There are large glass doors, and the space resembles more of an expensive corporate office than it does a charity office. However, surprisingly, there is no signage for the charity.

Jack Grayson was able to build a thick file on the Recovering Veterans charity. Their history has been filled with controversy, mostly relating to money. The financial status of the foundation is closely guarded and well-hidden, protecting it from even the best investigative journalists.

The deeper Jack dug into the evidence, the more it became clear that there was a lot of questions about the operations of the charity.

“May I help you?” a young, pretty, blonde secretary asks as Bill walks into the foyer of the office. Everything in the foyer is slick, with freshly painted walls and glass doors leading to separate offices.

“Good morning. My name is Bill Harvey, and I have an appointment to speak with Mr. John Morgan, the CEO of Recovering Veterans.”

“May I ask what it is regarding?”

“It’s about the death of Jessica Lempare. I’m representing Anna Lempare as her lawyer.”

The young lady smiles politely, and then types something into the computer in front of her.

The door to the main office quickly swings open, an older man stands at the entrance. Despite Bill’s height, he’s forced to look up at the man, whose strong, weathered and large hand rests on the doorframe.

“Hello.” The voice is laced with creepiness. “I’m John Morgan, but most people call me Bud. So please, call me Bud.”

Although he’s close to seventy years old, Bud Morgan stands with a rigid, straight posture. It’s a posture that’s been practiced many times with the benefit of army training. His square jaw and tense focus instantly project an image of a life-long army officer. His jeans have been ironed, his shirt is neatly tucked in, and his hair is perfectly clipped – this is a man whose life has been run by routine.

“Hello, Bud,” Bill greets the man, shaking his hand in a solid handshake. “My name is Bill Harvey, and I’m the attorney for Anna Lempare.”

“Jessica Lempare’s death was a sad, sad occurrence.” Bud’s eyes drop to the floor as he shakes his head. “I’ll miss that woman.”

“Shall we discuss that in your office, instead of standing in the reception area?” Bill directs.

“Of course. How rude of me, Mr. Harvey. Please, come into my office.”

Following Bud through the door, Bill enters a large corporate space, complete with modern furniture, new carpet, and floor to ceiling windows. It feels like he has just stepped into the pages of a business sales catalog. Bud walks behind the large desk, resting in his almost regal office chair.

“Mr. Harvey, this is Mr. Frank Matthews – a decorated veteran, and the deputy CEO of this charity,” he says, introducing the other man sitting in Bud’s office. “We were actually just discussing Jessica’s unfortunate passing.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Matthews.” Bill offers his hand to shake.

The result of ten years practicing hypnotherapy means that Bill isn’t able to meet anyone without making an instant judgment on their character. Frank Matthews stands to greet Bill with tense shoulders, like they are reaching for his ears. He’s hiding something.

Over the years, he has learned that all mental issues display themselves physically. Tense shoulders mean that he’s either nervous about the situation or he’s hiding something about his personality. There is something that Frank isn’t proud of, something that he wants nobody else to know.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss what is needed,” Frank states almost with an air of disappointed authority.

“No, please, Mr. Matthews, I would like to discuss this with you as well. I was hoping to catch both of you at once.”

Frank offers Bud a glance and Bud thinks for a moment, then nods, and Frank sits back down.

“This is a very nice office, Mr. Morgan. It must be expensive,” Bill comments as he walks over to the windows and looks down at the view of the parklands below. “Impressive view as well.”

“This office does the job,” Bud’s reply is flippant.

“More than required perhaps.” Bill shrugs his shoulders. “Do you meet clients in this office?”

“Here? No.”

“The veterans would hate this place,” Frank adds. “We go out to meet them. It’s part of the service that we provide. We work hard to bring our services to the veterans and save them the trouble of having to find parking. They have enough going on without having to worry about traveling Downtown to see us.”

“Why isn’t this office listed as your charity’s address?” Bill questions, although he already knows the answer.

Bud shakes his head at the question. “Like I said, we go out to meet the veterans. It’s what they prefer. We also have another smaller office that we use if the veterans would like to meet with us. Our charity service is all about making the veteran’s comfortable. We use our smaller office for the meetings that we hold.”

“Interesting,” Bill quips. “And may I ask how many people you assist on a day-to-day basis?”

“Before we get into that, Mr. Harvey, can I ask what the exact purpose of this visit is?” Bud stops the questioning progressing any further.

“As I mentioned, I’m representing Anna Lempare about the unfortunate death of her aunt.”

“Is Anna pleading Not Guilty?” Frank asks.

“Yes.” Bill nods. “And this all seems to tie back to the will that I imagine you’re very familiar with as your charity receives sizable donations each month from the trustee. I would like to discuss that with you.”

With a sigh, Bud sits down at his large professional desk. He’s more comfortable behind the desk as it provides a physical barrier between himself and Bill. “I’m very familiar with the will. Please, Mr. Harvey, sit down. May I offer you something to drink?”

Bud indicates towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk, next to Frank.

“No, thank you,” he replies as he places his briefcase down on the floor and then slowly sits in the chair. “And you were familiar with the trustee?”

“Jessica and I knew each other quite well, yes.”

“Frank, did you know Jessica?”

“We have a past.” Frank squirms uncomfortably. “We used to date many years ago, and we have kept in touch since. Obviously, we appreciate the monthly donations from the estate.”

“The donations from the estate are our largest,” Bud interrupts. “And as you would be aware, with the untimely death of Jessica, the will leaves half the amount of the estate to the charity.”

“Her death is rather timely. Your charity would have suffered greatly if Anna was to complete the conditions of the will.”

“Ha.” Frank chuckles. “I think that we all know that there is no way that little girl was going to enroll in the Army Basic Training course. And if she did enroll, then there would be no way that the precious girl would have completed it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Bill adds, watching for a reaction from either of the men. Neither show any emotional reaction, although the emotion was beaten out of both of them years ago. “What exactly does this charity provide?”

“We help those who helped us,” Frank says proudly. It’s the first time that Bill has noticed truth in his words. “That’s our motto. We provide services to those who served – including mental health support, help for those who returned with a physical disability, and emotional support for those who need it.”

“Our main focus is support,” Bud talks over the top of Frank again. There is still a clear ranking structure between them. “We act as a conduit between the veterans and various support options – and they may be psychologists, counselors, physiotherapists, or any number of options. We pay for a lot of their services as well. Mostly, though, we organize support groups, where men and women can gather and support each other.”

“How many people are employed here?”

“There is myself, and Frank, obviously,” Bud responds. “And Nicole, our secretary, who you met on the way in.”

“And how many veterans have you helped?”

“Too many to count.”

“Do you keep those numbers available?”

“Not readily.”

Bill is frustrated by the evasiveness of the details of the charity.

“You’re a veteran also?” Bill turns to the man next to him, attempting to build rapport with Frank.

Frank’s eyes flick up and to the left. He’s accessing the thinking part of his brain. “The Gulf War.”

“What division?”

“Are you a veteran, Mr. Harvey?” Frank counter asks, leaning forward to move his glass of water on the table slightly to the left.

Bill Harvey learned a long time ago that when facing an anxious situation, people may dissipate that anxiety through physical activity in the form of grooming oneself or the immediate surroundings.

When responding to a direct question, a dishonest person may adjust their physical appearance; for example, they may move their tie, or move a few strands of hair behind their ear, or straighten a piece of clothing, or adjust their surrounds. If the question is laced with pressure, suddenly the glass of water is in the wrong place, or the book on the table isn’t lined up correctly.

“No, I didn’t serve. However, I have great respect for those who did.”

“Then look, Mr. Harvey, no offense, but I find it hard to talk about it with anyone who hasn’t experienced war,” Frank responds. “There is… there are things that happen in war that words can’t convey. It’s hard to understand.”

Bill nods with understanding, but the air of uneasiness in the room remains. He can tell that Frank’s words are lacking truth.

“Mr. Morgan, can you tell me anything of interest about Jessica Lempare?”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to?”

“I would like to know how close you were to her. In the past few months, were you and Jessica friends? Or more than friends?”

Bud laughs. “We were friends, Mr. Harvey. If she needed my help, then I would help her. We were certainly not anything more than that. We had known each other for many years, and of course, she attended all our functions as our main benefactor. I had great respect for that woman, and I’m saddened that she has passed.”

“Where were you on the afternoon of May 1st?”

With a sharp glare, Bud turns. “I’m not sure what you’re asking, Mr. Harvey?”

“It’s a simple question.”

“But it’s one with a lot of implication.” He leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk. “When I first heard that Jessica had been murdered, my first thoughts were of Anna. They didn’t like each other – everyone knew that. They argued a lot and that Anna has quite a temper.”

“Mr. Matthews.” Bill turns to the man next to him. “When did your romantic relationship with Jessica end?”

“Many, many years ago, Mr. Harvey. We still saw each other occasionally, mostly because I felt sorry for her. She lived a lonely life, and a lot of what she did was with me. Some weeks, I would be the only other person that would talk to her. But it was all her own making – she wouldn’t go out, or do anything new. That was the world that she wanted. Other than her housekeeper, Carlos, who came in twice a week, she wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Not that she really talked to Carlos either. She hated him. She didn’t trust him at all. She even bought a small video camera to hide in her living room, just to make sure he wasn’t stealing anything.”

“And you were saddened by her death?”

“Of course,” Frank snaps. “Once upon a time, I loved that woman, but she drove me insane. She was very needy and very rude.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bill notices Bud is squirming in his seat. He’s clearly trying to stay out of this conversation.

“I’m not sure I like the tone of this conversation, Mr. Harvey,” he states, clearly evasive. “We have welcomed you into our office, and you’re treating that welcome with complete disregard. We are not on trial here, Mr. Harvey. The police have arrested Jessica’s murderer, and ten million dollars is a very clear motive.”

“Ten million dollars is a very clear motive. That’s why I’m here.”

Both men stare at Bill, unsure what to say next.

“I’m interested in where you men were on May 1st.”

Frank looks to Bud, who shakes his head.

“I think this discussion is over, Mr. Harvey.” Bud stands up from behind his large desk, walking towards the door. He holds the office door open, waiting for Bill to move. “It’s time for you to leave.”

Picking up his briefcase, Bill nods to Frank, before turning towards the exit.

“Both of you should be aware that I have evidence that Anna is innocent,” he bluffs, attempting to cause anxiety for the real killer. “And as Anna is innocent, that means there is a killer still walking free.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Harvey,” Bud whispers as Bill walks out the door. “We’re all killers here.”

CHAPTER 10

“Your thoughts?” Jack Grayson hands a pint of pale ale across the table, and Bill takes a long, hearty sip before he answers. He takes his time to taste the hops and the heavy flavor of the locally crafted beer, then gives a nod of approval; not to anyone in particular.

“She didn’t do it,” he states as he looks around the bar.

The bar is half-full with people yelling at the basketball game on the television hooked up in the far corner of the room. In general, he prefers bars without televisions as there is too much testosterone floating around when a game is on, but he likes this place. The lighting is dim, the décor is outdated, and the bar is understaffed, but it’s close to his apartment.

“Really? You think Anna is innocent? Why?”

“She might be a fiery redhead who didn’t like her aunt, but I don’t think she was wild enough to strangle her. I can’t see it in her. I can’t see her as a murderer, Jack. She’s just not that type of person. Maybe if it was a gunshot that killed her aunt, I might think differently. A single gunshot could be a moment of suspended disbelief, almost an accident. But strangulation is different. That is a determined process where she would have had to look her aunt in the face for a minute, perhaps two. I don’t think that Anna Lempare is capable of that sort of behavior.”

“Well, someone is a determined murderer. Someone out there walked into the apartment and strangled Jessica.” Jack shrugs his shoulders. “So, if Anna didn’t have anything to do with it, what do you think happened?”

“I think that after Anna and Jessica had engaged in a heated argument, someone entered the apartment and strangled her. Now, there are only two possibilities about how the person avoided the detection of the security cameras in the building – either they were already in the apartment building, or they knew the building well enough to know that there were no cameras at the back entrance.”

“So, who are your suspects then?”

Just as Bill goes to answer the question, the crowd around the television erupts. The men hug and scream like they have personally affected the outcome. Bill appreciates the passion that sport brings out; however, he has never understood the dedication to an event where he has no control over the outcome.

“Looks like a win for the team,” Bill quips.

Jack laughs. “You wouldn’t even know the names of the teams.”

Jack peers across at the television, checking the score. While Bill has never understood the need to support sports teams, Jack has known nothing else. Sport is the one constant that he has had in his life. When everything else was falling apart, he could count on his loved L.A. Lakers to get him through the hard times.

It was a distraction from the pain of his lonely childhood, and the team’s successes filled him with hope. That hope kept him going, season after season.

For Jack, sport was invaluable.

“There are a few people that could have benefited from Jessica Lempare’s death.” Bill steals Jack’s attention back away from the game. “I have spoken to three people over the last two days who had the means and the motive to murder Jessica.”

“Namely?” Jack performs a small fist pump as his team’s score is displayed on the screen.

“Bud Morgan comes to mind.”

“The head of the Recovering Veterans charity?”

“Bud was likely to lose a lot of money if the will was changed. His entire income was paid for by the donations from the will. He has a nice office, a nice secretary, and a nice amount of respect from his fellow veterans. He wouldn’t have been very happy if he was going to lose that. He has had a very easy life as the CEO of that charity. He hasn’t had to worry about raising funds – he just took the money.”

“But it was in Bud’s best interests for Jessica to stay alive? If she had stayed alive until Anna turned twenty-five, in only a few months’ time, then the charity would have inherited the full twenty million dollars, not just half the amount. Unless you think that Anna was going to complete the training?”

“No.” Bill shakes his head. “She would never have completed the Army Basic Training, but Jessica might have considered changing the terms of the will.”

“Even after she argued with Anna, you still think that Jessica was going to agree to change the will?”

“I do. I think that she was going to make an adjustment. Although she was rude, she was quite a reasonable person. While any changes to the will needed the conditional support of the charity, she had the power to change it without their support. She could have taken the will to court to have it adjusted. I can’t imagine that she would have given the full amount to Jessica, but I think that she would have negotiated a deal.”

“And if she died, then the deal was 50/50. Ten million each, right? You’re saying that Bud killed her so that the charity could have kept ten million? That means he would have had to have known that Jessica was going to change the will.”

“Jessica may have tried to convince Bud to change the will after she talked with Anna. We know that he was in the area, and he may have become angry at the thought of that,” Bill comments. “Jack, I get a bad feeling about that charity. There is something not right with the place. I think that if we had a close look at their books, then we would see that Bud was very well paid, perhaps more than he should have been for his position. The photos hanging on the walls of his office showed that he takes holidays all around the world, in some very expensive places. He wouldn’t have been able to afford that off a veteran’s pension.”

“Interesting.”

“Very. But I need more information about Bud Morgan before I can make a considered decision. I want you to find out everything you can about him, his life, and his relationship with Jessica. I think he’s our lead.”

Jack gets out his phone, typing the notes into his latest app.

Bill shakes his head at the use of modern technology. “I can’t believe that is where you keep your notes. What if the phone turns off? You’ll lose all your notes.”

“If the phone turns off, I’ll turn it back on.” Jack laughs loudly. “You should embrace technology, Bill. You have to stop fighting against the tide and stop using stone tablets to take notes.”

“Stone tablets have lasted for thousands of years. I can’t see the notes that you have made on that little piece of glass and plastic lasting past the next year.”

“I sure hope that they don’t last that long. I don’t know what future archaeologists will make of my notes.” Jack laughs again. “Maybe future archaeologists will be data miners? Maybe they won’t be looking for bones in the ground – rather they will be looking for data in the cloud.”

“I hope that isn’t the future of the Earth.” With a smile, Bill takes another sip of his beer. “Otherwise all they will find is how obsessed with porn this generation is.”

“Ha!” Jack laughs heartily. “So, is there anyone else that you need me to investigate?”

“There are two more suspects that we need to look at. Both of them are hiding something, but I’m not sure what. I want you to find out as much as you can about these men. Firstly, the next-door neighbor, Thomas Feeble, and then secondly, the other employee of the charity, Frank Matthews.”

“Frank Matthews? Her former lover?” Jack questions. “But what would Frank gain if Jessica passed away?”

“He’s the sole benefactor of Jessica’s personal will. Not only does he get the apartment, but she had a small sum of money stored away, and maybe it was enough for Frank. Secondly, he works for the Recovering Veterans charity, who will benefit greatly by her death. As the deputy CEO, he had the legal authority to conditionally approve a change in the will, and Jessica may have talked to him about the change. That may have forced him into a corner. And as her former lover, he certainly had the means, and the motive, to murder Jessica.”

“Jessica didn’t leave anything in her will to Anna?”

“Nothing. Anna wasn’t even mentioned in the will. The will was last updated five years ago, and the full amount of the funds were awarded to her then-boyfriend, Frank Matthews.”

“Ouch. I feel for Anna – that must have hurt her.”

“Deeply. Even though they didn’t get along, they were still family. And Jessica was the last piece of family that Anna had left. Anna was there when the will was read out, and I could see the tears in her eyes. It was one last slap in the face for the young lady.”

“What did the police find about Frank?”

“Nothing, but they didn’t look. And rightfully so. To them, this is an open and shut case. Everything points towards Anna, which made it an easy arrest. Really, I would have arrested Anna if I was a police officer, Jack.”

Jack types more notes on his phone. “And the other one that you want me to investigate?”

“The next-door neighbor, Thomas Feeble.”

“What’s the angle on this guy?”

“He’s the one that found the body, and when I went to talk with him, he was clearly hiding something. He was very evasive about the moments when he found the body.”

“Motive?”

“He hated her. He’s in charge of the body corporate for the building’s residents and I can imagine that having to deal with someone like Jessica would have gotten on his nerves. He could have just snapped. He’s a man with a lot of pent-up resentment and that could have exploded when he went to talk with Jessica.”

“What does he say happened?”

“He says that he heard Anna and Jessica arguing, and he was about to go and check on Jessica to make sure she was okay. He states that the argument sounded very threatening. When he walked out into the hallway, Anna stormed out of the apartment and yelled at him. Anna then punched a wall, and she left via the elevator. He went back into his apartment and waited for an hour, but he says that out of worry for Jessica’s safety, he went to her apartment, and that is when he found the deceased.”

“How did he get into the apartment?”

“He had a key, which I find very unusual. There is something more to Thomas Feeble, but I’m not sure what that is. I want you to find out everything you can about him.”

Quickly, Jack conducts a search on his phone. “A quick check of Thomas Feeble’s Instagram account shows that he was very passionate about his apartment building. Every second photo is of the apartment building. And every other photo is of his cats.”

“You found that out just then?” Bill enquires.

“Technology is amazing. A lot of the groundwork for investigating is done on this trusty little piece of glass and plastic.” Jack waves his phone in the air. “All I have to do is a quick search and I can find out more in five minutes than I could in five days on the ground. An investigator’s legwork has turned into his finger-work.”

“That’s why I don’t have any social media accounts.” Bill shakes his head again. “I don’t need to show the world that I’m living my life the way I want.”

“You’re so stuck in the past.” Jack chuckles. “I can imagine that if Thomas is so passionate about his building, then he wouldn’t be very happy if Jessica didn’t want to cooperate with the corporate body requests. Perhaps he was passionate enough about his building to kill for it.”

“Perhaps.” Bill shrugs. “We also have the problem of a missing camera. Both Anna and Frank knew that Jessica had placed a hidden camera in her living room to spy on the cleaner, Carlos.”

“There is no mention of a hidden camera in the police report.”

“No, there isn’t. And Anna couldn’t find it when she went back to the apartment, which means that the killer would have had to remove it. And for them to remove it, they had to know it was there in the first place. There are four people who could have known it was there – we know that Anna and Frank knew it was there, but Carlos could have found the camera, and Thomas would have known about it. Also, I imagine that Frank told Bud where the camera was. Bud didn’t look surprised when Frank mentioned it, which means that he already knew about it. If we find that camera, we find the killer.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we need another option. I want you to compile a file on each of those three suspect men. They are our best chance of getting Anna off this charge of murder. Even if they aren’t guilty, we should be able to find something that will throw reasonable doubt over Anna’s guilt, and that is all we need in the courtroom.”

“So, our big play is finding the real killer?”

“It is. But we have to focus on finding enough doubt around Anna’s guilt.”

“Remember the David Connelly case?” Jack asks.

“I do.”

“That was much the same,” Jack reminisces. “All the evidence pointed to the defendant. There was a weapon, a motive, even a witness, but you got him off because you were able to smoke out the real killer on the stand. Is that the play you’re going for here?”

“It’s the only play we have got, Jack. Everything else points towards Anna. The only thing we can do is force someone on the stand to break. I’m confident that we can do that.”

“So, you want all three of these men on the stand?”

“I do.”

“And then what are you going to do?”

“I guess that will depend on what you find. If you can find something, anything, that can give me a whiff of guilt, I can make things happen in the courtroom. I can force anyone to crack under enough pressure. We just need to be able to build enough of a case against one of the men.”

“What makes you so sure that she didn’t do it?” Jack asks once he finishes taking notes.

“The look in her eyes.”

Jack almost spits out his drink. “Are you serious? The look in her eyes? I know that you love to read body language and that’s your specialty, but you think a girl is innocent because of a ‘look in her eyes?’”

Bill nods. “I have stared at enough killers to know when they are guilty. Killers have a different look in their eyes. They have a look of guilt, anger, and uncontrolled desire all rolled into one. I know that look. The innocent ones look scared beyond belief because they think the system has failed them.”

“Would you like my opinion?” Jack finishes the last of his beer.

“Of course.”

“I think you’re blinded by breasts,” Jack comments while staring at the ample breasted girl standing next to the bar. “It’s happened before. You always think the pretty ones are innocent. You always get sucked in by their breasts. And Anna is a mighty fine looking girl. Are you sure that you’re not being blinded by beauty?”

He laughs. “Maybe. Maybe, Jack.”

“And that’s not all either – you’re also blinded by tight hips and long legs.”

“Now, come on, Jack.” Bill smiles. “Aren’t all men?”

CHAPTER 11

The police files are holeproof.

For hours, Bill slugs through the police documents, looking for one small mistake in the report to exploit. All he needs is a missed piece of paperwork, or the wrong date recorded somewhere. That is all he needs; one crack in the paperwork to manipulate.

But there is nothing.

This was an easy case for the police as evidenced by the clean paperwork. Even a man on the street would consider Anna their prime suspect. They have evidence, a motive, and witnesses that place Anna at the scene of the crime at the right time.

Bill Harvey has an uncomfortable relationship with the men and women in blue. He has enormous respect for the work that they do, and he knows that they risk their lives every time they step out onto the streets of L.A.

While he has personality clashes with individual members of the force, he has the highest regard for their professional choice. It takes a specific type of person to risk their lives for the good of the community.

But Bill Harvey knows that the police hate him. He has even seen a dartboard with his face on it in the office of one particular detective.

For any criminal defense attorney to do their job properly, they must look for holes in the professional work of the LAPD. A defense attorney must do the best for his client, and sometimes that means pushing hard against what the police have risked their lives to achieve.

To do what is right, he must play the game.

Carefully, Bill reads line after line of the murder report with trained focus.

Unfortunately, he finds nothing unusual. His eyes have scanned over a lot of police reports, but this one is the cleanest he has ever come across. There is nothing for him in there.

“Perhaps Jack was right. Maybe I am blinded by breasts,” he mumbles to himself. “Maybe Anna is guilty.”

He places the police files back on his desk before gazing out the window. He really doesn’t like losing. He has never enjoyed it. When he lost his first court case, he spent weeks at his local bar, almost becoming part of the furniture. His entire ego was based on winning, and he couldn’t handle the fact that his opponent was better than him. It didn’t matter that Bill was defending a petty thief who was clearly guilty, he felt he should have won.

His mother was a very competitive woman, and she never let him win any games when he was younger. His desire to win was born out of a need to show her how capable he was. That competitive spirit never ceased in his mother, and the card games they had in her nursing home were legendary.

“Kate,” Bill calls out to his secretary.

With blonde hair flowing gently over her shoulders, Kate eases into the room. “Yes?”

He appreciates Kate’s slender figure in his doorway for a few moments before questioning her. “What is it about Anna that you dislike so much?”

Thinking carefully about her response, Kate closes the door behind her, resting on the chair opposite Bill. “Some girls are trouble. You can tell right away. Anna… she seems like a girl that knows what she wants, and all power to her, but I think that she seems quite single-minded about getting everything that she desires. And if she doesn’t get what she wants… then look out. She’ll create trouble.”

“You think she’s fiery?”

“Absolutely. You can’t travel the world alone as a young girl without being able to defend yourself. I would say that she can mix it with the best of them and I’m sure that she has had many fiery exchanges over the years.”

He gives a long sigh. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Can I say something honest?” Kate chooses her words cautiously.

“Of course.”

“Sometimes… you’re drawn in by a girl’s looks.”

He laughs out loud. “That seems to be the theme of today.”

She smiles. “Just be careful with how you approach this. She might not be innocent. I would hate to see you put it all on the line for one lost, little woman.”

“Thanks, Kate.”

“I mean it. You once told me how important it was not to become emotionally attached to a case. You have to be able to keep your distance from this. If you step back and look at the whole picture, all of the evidence points to her guilt. She had every reason to kill her aunt, and she has the temper to match. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she was there that afternoon.”

“I can see it in her eyes, Kate. She isn’t lying to me when she says that she didn’t kill her aunt.”

“Oh, Bill.” She sighs. “A pretty girl flutters her eyes, and you think she’s innocent.”

“Kate, just because you don’t like her doesn’t mean that she’s guilty.”

“And just because you like her, doesn’t mean that she’s innocent.”

Bill looks away to the law books that line his wall, avoiding eye contact.

Shaking her head slightly, Kate begins to make her way out the door, before turning back to Bill. “Don’t forget that you have a date tonight.”

“I’m not going.”

“Bill, I spent so long trying to find you a good date this time. The woman that I have set you up with tonight is beautiful and funny, and really, really nice. She’s a little bit loud, but you can’t have the perfect package. You can’t spend your whole life cooped up in here trying to defend guilty little girls. You have to go out into the world and meet people, Bill.”

Since the death of his wife four years ago, Bill has avoided dating. Although he’s ready to meet someone, he cannot bear the thought of uncomfortably sitting opposite someone he knows nothing about.

This is the third attempt that Kate has made with setting up her boss with one of her friends, and Bill has avoided all of them.

“I don’t like blind dates,” he explains. “It’s never a nice experience. I see no point in it.”

Bill wants to tell Kate that he doesn’t want to date because of his feelings for her, but he can’t. For a man so confident and in control, he can’t tell the woman he adores that he likes her.

“You’re a very handsome man. You’ll make a woman very happy one day. But you will never meet the right woman if you only sit in this office all the time. You have to get out there. You have to do something different.”

“And how many successful dates have you been on since your divorce?” he asks.

“It’s a little more complicated for me.” Kate shakes her head. “I have a gorgeous son that I need to think of as well. I need to think about my son when I’m dating someone. I can’t just go out there and grab the first hot guy I see. That would be easy. I also have to think about what sort of stepfather he will be. That makes my selection process a lot harder, Bill.”

“In all of your dates, I haven’t heard one good story.”

She shrugs her shoulders.

She wants to tell Bill that she hasn’t found the right guy on a date because her perfect man is right in front of her, but she doesn’t know how to tell him. She needs Bill to show that he’s ready to start dating before she can do that.

That’s why she’s desperately trying to set him up with a half-decent date. She doesn’t want to set him up with a great date, just in case she loses him to her.

“So, what’s your excuse this time, Bill?”

“I have work to do on this case. I have to review these files.”

Kate groans. “I’ll let Belinda know that you have canceled the date.”

“Thank you. And please, no more dates for a while.”

“Yes, boss.” She sighs again. “And I’ll help you review some files on this case.”

Bill smiles. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I would rather be here.” Kate quickly sends a text message to Bill’s canceled date. She walks to the cupboard in the corner of the room, opens the door, selects a bottle of red wine and two glasses from the hidden bar. “What can I help with?”

A smirk stretches across Bill’s face.

This is his idea of a perfect date.

CHAPTER 12

The morning after spending a night studying the case with Kate, Bill sits in his office, sipping on coffee with a renewed confidence. With the support of his assistant, he feels like he can solve the mystery in the case.

With Kate Spencer by his side, he feels like he can do anything.

“Excuse me, Bill.” Kate pops her face into Bill’s office. “Miss Valentine is here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment, but she said you wouldn’t mind squeezing her in.”

“Valentine?” Bill is delighted. “Absolutely. I can make time for her. Send her in.”

Shutting the paper file on Anna’s case, he slides it into the top drawer of his desk. He wouldn’t want Valentine to see the thickness of the file he already has compiled for the murder case.

The prosecution will have a file of their own, but it’s unlikely to be as comprehensive as his.  That is the problem when you have to play by the rules - you aren’t able to gather as much information.

“Unless you’re offering a deal with no jail time and no conviction, you can turn around and walk back out that door.”

“It’s great to see you too, Bill.”

Prosecutor Joanne Valentine moves with an easy grace, a smooth sexiness, always capturing Bill’s attention.

“You look lovely,” he compliments her.

“Thanks. You look lovely too. Have you been working out?”

“I have taken up yoga to keep my body flexible. I have found that the older I become, the more inflexible I am. I was struggling to touch my toes last month, but after a month of yoga, I’m a lot nimbler. I’m not doing cartwheels yet, but I feel a lot better.”

“You want to become more flexible? I’m sure I could help you.” Valentine winks.

Bill smiles. This woman is a very skilled flirt.

“I’m sure you could help me, Joanne.” Their eyes connect. “But I’m also sure you haven’t come to my office to entertain me.”

“No, but we should organize that sometime. I see that your office door has a lock.”

Bill laughs again.

The stunning prosecutor is one of the country’s best, and most attractive, prosecutors. Bill is sure the District Attorney’s office put her on most of his cases in the hope that it will distract him from the work.

Sometimes, it works.

“What’s your offer for Anna?” he asks, redirecting the conversation.

“Early Guilty plea for second-degree murder, so she’ll only serve fifteen years. We can talk about the specific details when you’re ready. Of course, it will have to be approved, but this meeting is about registering your client’s interest in an offer. It’s a very violent crime, so she needs to do the time. We can’t let her walk away without spending some time in prison. Cold-blooded killers shouldn’t be walking the streets, Bill.”

“You’re only going to offer her a reduced jail sentence? You’re not going to give her manslaughter?”

“I can’t give her manslaughter when she strangled her aunt to death with her bare hands. You should know that it’s very hard to strangle someone by accident. This was intentional, planned, and callous. I shudder to even think about the moment her aunt died – looking at her niece with love.”

“It’s not beyond the realms of possibility that it was an accident, Joanne,” he states. “Maybe she was only trying to threaten her aunt, and accidentally killed her. Maybe she squeezed too hard.”

“I really hope that isn’t the angle you’re going for in the case. That will get laughed out of court the second that you state it.”

“No.” Bill watches her closely for a reaction. “I’m just testing the waters.”

“Fifteen years with a non-parole period of ten years is our first offer. If she takes it and is well-behaved in prison, then she’ll only be thirty-five-years-old by the time she steps out of jail. That’s still young enough to do something with her life.”

“And the estate?”

“Recovering Veterans will lodge a formal application that states Anna Lempare will not be entitled to the funds. As the only other benefactor to the estate, they will receive the full amount. The Slayer Rule applies in part here.”

“The Slayer Rule states the murderer cannot retain a property interest in the victim’s estate. Anna has no claim to Jessica’s estate.”

“It’s a forfeiture ruling, Bill. They will argue that Anna stood to benefit from the death of her aunt, and the Code states that any monies that the decedent has an interest in is covered by the ruling.”

“We would argue that Anna had planned to complete the Army Basic Training. So, she stood to inherit the money, in only a few months’ time, regardless of the aunt’s death, if the grandfather’s will conditions were met. If she had plans to complete the Army Basic Training, then she didn’t stand to benefit from her aunt’s early death.”

“Of course you will, Bill. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a man as clever as you.” Valentine moans. “I warned the charity that they could expect a fight from Anna for the inheritance. They are prepared for that. But they will wait until after the trial to lodge that formal application.”

“Good.” Bill considers that thought for a while. “Anna is innocent.”

“They all are, Bill.” Valentine laughs loudly, but then sighs when Bill doesn’t join in on her amusement. “All you men are the same. You get an innocent looking girl, and you think she’s an angel. But let me tell you, having spent years of my childhood at an all-girls school, the innocent looking ones are the worst. They are the ones that can do whatever they want and get away with it. Anna is one of those girls. She’s trouble, Bill. Big trouble.”

Bill shrugs his shoulders. “I think that you’re wrong on this one, Joanne. This girl is innocent. I have dealt with enough killers to know when I meet one. Anna is an angry person, but she isn’t a killer.”

“I have met girls like her before, Bill. She thinks she can get away with anything as long as she flutters her eyelids.”

“Regardless, it’s not about what you and I think. It’s about what the jury thinks.”

“And I’ll be making sure there are no gullible men like you on that jury. I’m not going to let them fall for Anna, and be convinced of her innocence because of the way she looks. Pretty girls can be killers too, Bill. You need to have your eyes open to that fact.”

“Not this pretty girl.” Bill shakes his head. “I’ll put your offer to her, but I’ll be advising her not to take it. Of course, the choice is hers, but I could not imagine that she would be interested. She’s innocent, and she wants to contest this. Anna is a fighter. She’ll fight this one all the way.”

“Good,” Valentine states. “I was hoping that would be your take on the case. I really enjoy taking easy trials to court, Bill. I have had a few stressful trials over the past few months so I could do with an easy one. A case like this doesn’t require much preparation, Bill. And that’s because the evidence does most of the speaking for me.”

Bill laughs at her confidence. “What is your play, Joanne?”

“Jurors love violence. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. And this is a particularly violent offense, so the jury isn’t going to have a hard time searching for a conviction. Your client strangled her aunt to death with her bare hands. This isn’t an accident, Bill. This is a planned, brutal, and twisted crime by a very unstable woman. The jury isn’t going to take long to deliberate on this. I bet that if the case gets to that point, then they will make their decision in under an hour. It’s an easy case, Bill, and when I heard that she was pleading Not Guilty, I shook my head. She can’t win this case.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Joanne.”

“You’re the only lawyer in town that would be able to win this case. That’s why I’m here. If it were any other lawyer, then I would be laughing all the way home right now. But I’m here to try and convince you not to take this one to trial. Not even you can win this one. She’s guilty, and she deserves time behind bars. You can’t let her walk away from this. Murderers should be locked up. That’s the way the justice system works. If you let her walk free, then she may kill again. The next murder will be on your head.”

“And I won’t let the real killer walk free,” Bill states firmly. “You’ll get your killer, but it’s not Anna.”

“I don’t even know why I came here.” Valentine sighs. “You’re very stubborn. When you get an idea in your head, nobody is able to budge it.”

“You came here because you’re scared by the fact that you might lose the unlosable case.” Bill leans forward on his desk. “That is the only reason you’re here.”

“Maybe.” Valentine draws a long breath. “But regardless of my feelings, people like Anna Lempare need to be behind bars. The world is a safer place when people like her are off the streets. I won’t let this killer walk free, Bill.”

“Is that why you do your job, Joanne?” Bill questions. “To make the streets safer?”

“In part, yes. I’m a prosecutor because jurors are human. If it were only a judge that made decisions on court matters, then I wouldn’t even have a job. If all it took were the weight of evidence to convict a person, then there would be no need for my position. I’m here to convince a group of twelve men and women of a person’s guilt.” Valentine stares at Bill. “Why are you a defense attorney, Bill?”

“Because police officers are human. I have a lot of respect for the LAPD, but they are people, just like you and me. They need to blame someone for the murder and, in this case, that is all it is. The need to find a guilty party is sometimes greater than the need to weigh up the evidence. They are looking to blame my client because they need someone to take the fall. Anna was the easy choice. She’s innocent, and she needs someone to protect her. As her defense lawyer, I’m defending justice.”

Valentine sweeps a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And you get well paid.”

“Not always.”

“Bill, I saw your new car parked out front. It’s very shiny. I’m sure that the car wasn’t donated to you out of kindness.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’ll take the deal to Anna, and I’ll contact you with her response. However, it’s very unlikely that she’ll take your offer, Joanne.”

“That’s a pity, but like I said, I’m okay with that. It gives me an easy case to win. I can relax over the next few weeks.”

“This isn’t going to be easy, Joanne.”

“With you, nothing ever is.”

CHAPTER 13

Criminal Defense Lawyer Bill Harvey sits in a quiet corner of the great Los Angeles Public Library, reading a copy of One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. His love of this story stretches back many years, having first read it in his developing years at high school. The philosophy of the book had a profound effect on his outlook on life and changed the way he thought about love, friendship, and authority.

Reading the well-worn paperback novel, he leans back in the comfortable armchair, surrounded by millions of printed words. In his tailored business suit, he relaxes into the leather chair, crosses one leg over the other, and flicks through the pages.

Although he has a copy of this novel in his home, there is something about the library that touches him. He loves walking into the doors of the library, escaping his everyday life for a few hours. He loves the feeling of being surrounded by the pages of history, pages of thoughts, and pages of creative expression.

Deep among the written words, this is his escape.

His deep affection for words was born out of the years his mother sat with him, reading story after story. The memory of her gentle voice reading books much too old for him is his strongest recollection of childhood.

When he was only a boy living in a small farming community in California, she would read to him the greatest classic books of all-time for an hour every night. He had amazing respect for his mother, but it wasn’t until he grew older that he realized what a sacrifice she made each night to take the time to read to him.

Just after his eighth birthday, his younger brother was born, and soon after his younger sister, leaving his mother with no time for him. It was then that he started to read the classics for himself – an eternal connection to his busy mother.

As he reads through the last chapter of the classic Soviet novel, he takes a moment to reflect on the emotion in the story. The story is of Ivan Denisovich, who was assigned to ten years in a forced labor camp in Soviet Russia, despite his innocence. The tale details the cruel, harsh world that the prisoners face, and the way they survive their camp sentence by supporting each other and holding on to any last part of humanity that they have left.

Although Anna would be in no way subjected to the same fate, Bill cannot help but compare their situations. If Anna is found guilty of her aunt’s murder, then she’ll spend years of her life desperately living day-to-day, trying to survive until the next morning.

As he closes the book, he reflects on one of the protagonist’s last sentences: “Almost a happy day.”

Despite the below freezing temperatures, the lack of food, and the hard, physical labor, the protagonist had an “almost happy day.”

If anything, being imprisoned had taught Ivan Denisovich perspective. The man savored every minor stroke of luck that came his way – an extra piece of food, a tool to help him work, the drag of a newspaper rolled cigarette. The man had hope, and that made him appreciate life.

Being incarcerated changed his outlook.

Maybe prison could do the same for Anna.

CHAPTER 14

When a District Attorney’s office offers only a token plea bargain to the defendant, it becomes clear to everyone that they think they have won the case.

Although Bill acknowledges that the evidence against his client is significant, he still expected a decent discussion about the possible outcomes. But the DA’s office declined the offer to negotiate further on the terms they presented.

They are confident.

And they have every right to be.

Bill was sure that Anna wouldn’t listen to a plea bargain anyway. She’s a fighter; even if she were guilty, she would challenge this to the very end.

“So where do we sit?”

“You’ll be seated next to me in the courtroom,” Bill answers, slightly confused by Anna’s question.

“No…” Anna shakes her head. “I mean overall, where do we sit in the case? How are we going?”

“Not good.” He draws a long breath. “A number of things don’t look good for us. The case passed through the levels of trial without much trouble, and while that doesn’t mean that we have lost, it does mean that the evidence against you is solid. The prosecution is one hundred percent sure that they have this one in the bag, and they won’t even negotiate on the deal that they presented you.”

“You can throw that thought in the bin. I’m not taking any deal. I can’t spend my life rotting away in prison. I’m not a criminal. I told you, I’m innocent.” Anna’s pleading eyes look up at Bill. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Staring deep into Anna’s eyes, Bill looks for any flinching moment of regret. There is none. “Yes, I believe you, but what I believe doesn’t matter in court. Regardless of whether I think you’re innocent or not, I’m here to get the best outcome for you.”

Anna slumps back into the meeting room chair. Despite the sun streaming through the open windows of the meeting room in Bill’s office, she feels cold. The fear of becoming incarcerated for the rest of her life weighs heavily on her mind and has prevented her from sleeping for weeks. Her bed has become a battle zone of discomfort and fear. Sleeping on her couch after a bottle of wine has been her only respite.

Bill sits proudly at the head of the boardroom table, files in front of him, and with Anna to his left. Spread out on the table are numerous folders with information about the impending trial, and Bill has been detailing how they will progress forward.

“This is what the prosecution has against you, Anna,” Bill says while sliding a file across the desk. “They may present more during the case, but this is their main evidence. This is the core of their case, and it’s what we have to fight against. They will present this as evidence in court, and I need you to be aware of all the information so that you don’t appear shocked at all during the case. How you react in the courtroom will determine whether some of the jury members think you’re guilty or innocent.”

“Shouldn’t the jury members just think about the evidence? Isn’t that the reason for the trial?”

“In theory, yes, the jury members should just think about the evidence. But there is a problem with that theory.”

“What?”

“Jury members are human, just like you and me. There is a subconscious process that happens when we meet anyone in our day-to-day life. That process is called Unconscious Bias. How the person looks, how they sit, how their shoulders are placed, their facial expressions, and their clothing choices, can change how a person thinks about another person, with or without their logical brain acknowledging it.”

“You’re saying that people are going to judge whether I’m innocent or not based on how I sit?” Anna says, exasperated.

“No.” Bill shakes his head. “I’m saying that how you appear throughout the trial will influence a person’s impression of you. The juror’s logical mind will make the decision. However, how you appear will give us a head start.”

“This all sounds like useless talk to me. I thought you were a lawyer, not a hocus-pocus magician.”

“Anna, I do what I need to do to win a case. If you walk into that courtroom looking guilty, then we might as well walk away now. We will have no chance to win if you don’t look innocent.”

“Is it really that important?” Anna asks. “I thought the whole justice system was above judging how a person looks?”

“How a person looks is crucially important.”

“What about the old saying of not judging a book by its cover?”

“Anna, if I walked into a bookstore and none of the books had covers, how could I choose which book to read? Everyone makes judgments based on appearances, and we need to leverage that truth. We want the jury to think that you’re innocent. But most importantly - more important than your looks - you need to keep your temper in check. You cannot appear angry in that courtroom.”

“Oh…”

“We cannot even have the slightest snarl coming from your lips, Anna. In the courtroom, you’ll hear things that will make you angry - things that you think are lies - but you cannot, and I repeat, you cannot become angry. If the jury believes for even one second that you have a mean temper, then we can kiss the case goodbye.”

“I’ll try, Bill. I have struggled with anger my whole life, so I will do my best.”

“No, Anna. Don’t try. Make it happen.”

Anna nods in agreement. “Ok. I will control my anger in the courtroom.”

“For your sake, I really hope you do.” Bill opens another file, sliding it in front of Anna. “Here are instructions on how you need to appear in the courtroom. It tells you how to appear soft for the trial. You need to wear soft colors, soft clothes, and apply soft makeup. I also want your hair out and flowing over your shoulders. I need you to focus on looking sweet and young. The jury will be watching for your reaction to every statement, and they will be watching you very closely. By following these guidelines, you’ll give the jury the impression that you’re soft-natured, and their subconscious mind will process that as innocence. It gives us a head start, but it in no way overrules the evidence.”

Anna shakes her head as she flicks through the pages on how to dress in court. “If you think it will work, then I’ll do it.”

“I don’t think it will work, I know it will work,” Bill states confidently. “We need doubt in the juror’s mind, and if they think that you’re soft and calm, then their subconscious will have doubt. That is our starting point and what we will build on.”

“How do you even know what the prosecution has against me? Don’t they keep it all locked away and surprise you on the day of the trial?”

“No. Every court trial has a process. It’s called ‘Discovery.’ That process enables the defense teams to look over the evidence that may be presented by the prosecution.”

“So, what’s your angle then? What’s your big play?”

“If you didn’t murder your aunt, then somebody else did.”

“That’s it?” Anna questions. “That is all you have?”

“Strange things can happen in a courtroom. The pressure of the spotlight can cause all sorts of people to lose their focus. Even the most stoic of personalities can become lost once they are put on the stand. There is the pressure of having sworn an oath to tell the truth, the pressure of all the eyes focused on your statement and the pressure of my questions. I’ll exploit that pressure, and force the killer to reveal themselves. That is what we’re going for.”

“Who are your suspects?” Anna leans forward. “It’s one of the veterans, isn’t it? I knew it’d be one of them. They’re creepy men.”

“What makes you think it was one of them?” Bill enquires.

“Just a feeling. I always felt like both of them were suspect in some way. When I heard my aunt was murdered, I thought it was one of them.”

“Which of them would you think is guilty?”

“Take your pick. It could’ve been either of them. Both of them have the strength to strangle Aunt Jessica. If I was to pick…” Anna looks out the window, the visions of her aunt being strangled come to her mind. For the first time, she imagines the pain and shock that Jessica must have felt when she was being murdered. The tears come to her eyes, and she wipes them away with the sleeve of her shirt. “I don’t know, Bill. It could’ve been either of them.”

Bill watches the light drain out of Anna’s eyes.

He wants to tell her that it’s okay and to reassure her, but he cannot bring himself to lie to her. He doesn’t want to give her false hope.

“I can’t do it, Bill,” Anna whispers. “I can’t go to jail for something I didn’t do. I can’t spend the rest of my life without the freedom of travel. I haven’t even made it to Australia yet. That’s where I was going next. I was going to spend a few months back here with my friends in L.A., and then I was going to spend a year traveling through Australia. I wanted to drive in the Outback, and dive in the Great Barrier Reef, and walk through the forests of Tasmania. I had it all planned. I wanted to travel to the land ‘Down Under.’ But my aunt didn’t want that. She didn’t want me to go.”

“Was she jealous?”

“Of course,” Anna replies quickly. “She hated the fact that I could go wherever I wanted. She grew up in a time when women couldn’t do what we can now, and I get that. I get that she didn’t have the freedom that I do. But that shouldn’t stop me from doing what I love.”

“I hope you get the chance to travel to Australia.”

A pause falls over the room as Anna contemplates her future; her thoughts drifting to a future without travel, without freedom, without choice.

“We’re done, aren’t we?”

“Done?” Bill questions.

“Everything you have said makes it look like we’re not going to win this case. It looks like we’re going to lose.”

“It is a matter of perspective, Anna. My perspective is different to others.”

“Perspective? What does perspective have to do with it?” Anna tries to control her frustration. “This should be black and white.”

“Are you familiar with globes and maps of the world, Anna?”

“Of course.” Anna looks at him with confusion.

“Do you ever wonder why they all face the same way up?”

Anna’s eyes squint as she tries to understand his question. “Um, no.”

“Most people don’t. But if you were in a satellite in outer space, looking back at the Earth, there is no reference point. Our planet is suspended in space with no orientation. There is no up and down in space. The North Pole could be at the bottom of the Earth, depending on your position in space. The land ‘Down Under’ could be on top of the world. It could be the land ‘Up There.’”

“What? No. North is always up.” She shakes her head.

“No. That’s what you have been told your whole life. North is not ‘up.’ That is your perspective, but that isn’t reality. The reality is that the Earth is a spherical body in three-dimensional space with no reference point for up or down. We have merely written North as being up on our maps and globes. Nothing more. East could be up, or West could be up, or South could be up. North as the ‘up’ point on a globe is nothing more than a social construct.”

“What?” Anna leans forward.

“Next time you have a world globe in your hands, turn it upside down. That’s what it could look like from space. The direction of up all depends on your orientation when you look at it.”

“You’re saying that all maps and globes are wrong?”

“Not at all. They are right, to a certain point, all depending on your position in space. The convention of North-up maps is merely a perspective. When Apollo 17 took the first ever full photograph of our planet from space, Antarctica was at the top, and the North Pole was at the bottom. That didn’t sit well with NASA and the US Government, so they turned the photo upside down to meet our expectations.”

“Sorry?” Anna shakes her head again. “You’re saying there is a conspiracy to North being up?”

“Not a conspiracy. Merely a collective perspective. The Earth isn’t any particular way up, and there is no good reason other than a historical superiority complex to think of North as being the top of the world.”

“Um, wow. I… I suppose that’s right. There’s no point of reference in space. The world could be upside down. That’s amazing.” Anna contemplates Bill’s statement as she leans back in her chair, still shaking her head. “And it’s all very interesting, but what has this got to do with my case?”

“My perspective isn’t the same as everyone else’s, Anna. I see the world differently. When I see a world globe, I question its orientation. That is how we’re going to win the case.”

“By saying the world is upside down?”

“No, Anna. We will win by seeing things differently.”

CHAPTER 15

By midafternoon on the day before the trial, Bill is redrafting his opening statement over and over, trying to create the perfect combination of words for maximum impact. He understands the importance of delivery, the need to use the right words, at the right times.

As he begins to talk to himself, rehearsing his opening lines, his office door bursts open.

In surprise, he looks up, but when he sees the lean, tall figure standing in the door frame, he groans. It’s the only way this man ever enters his office.

“Taylor,” he grunts.

“Sorry, Bill,” Kate says as she stands behind the well-dressed man. “He just—”

“It’s alright, Kate. I wouldn’t expect Taylor to enter my office any other way.”

Kate nods, takes another look at the tall man, and then returns to her desk. Bill refocuses on the paperwork in front of him; his pen hovering over the first paragraph of his opening statement.

“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?” Taylor Reaper stands defiantly in the frame of the doorway, waiting for a response.

Bill takes a moment, then lifts his eyes from his paperwork and calmly states, “I assume you have a drama and you would like to discuss that drama with me.”

“This is more than a drama,” Taylor states again and strides over. He stands at the edge of Bill’s desk, arms spread wide, then leans on it, staring down at Bill in an attempt to intimidate him.

“You have a new tie,” Bill comments about Taylor’s new red accessory.

Taylor sighs, shakes his head, unbuttons his suit jacket, and places himself comfortably in the chair opposite Bill’s desk. He crosses one leg over the other, leans back, places his hands in his lap, and sighs again. “I have never liked your office. Never. I think it’s too bright to do any real thinking in here. I can see why you don’t generate as much business as I do.”

Taylor Reaper is one of California’s finest, and best dressed, defense attorneys. He started his own firm in the late twenties, and over the past ten years, he has grown that firm into a juggernaut of a business. He holds himself in high regard and expects everyone else to do the same.

His talents of defending clients are only matched by his talents of generating high-paying clients.

“Have you come to lose another case?” Bill quips. He knows that comment gets under the skin of Taylor Reaper.

“You got lucky last time, Bill. You got lucky.”

The only three losses Taylor has ever experienced as a lawyer has been in Civil Court, against the intellectual power of Bill Harvey. And that fact couldn’t frustrate Taylor more.

“Get to the point, Taylor. I charge by the minute.”

“I’m not looking to hire a lawyer, you pompous bastard,” Taylor growls.

“Then what is it that you want?”

“Your trial has called one of my clients to the stand.”

“Who?”

“Thomas Feeble.”

Bill raises his eyes in a show of slight surprise. He puts his pen down, staring directly at Taylor. “That’s very interesting. I’m surprised that he can afford your fees.”

“I’ve managed the Feeble account for many years. Thomas Feeble is set to inherit a lot of money over the next few months. His mother is almost ninety years old and has a terminal disease. We have been advised that his mother has been given only one month to live and currently, the estate is all going to Thomas Feeble. I’ll be managing the transition of that estate.”

“And no doubt taking your fair share of the money.”

“Of course.” Taylor smiles in approval. Money is his goal in life, and he’s proud of that fact. The more money he can make, the prouder he is.

“It must be a lot of money if he has you walking into my office. I’m surprised that you didn’t send one of your underlings here to try and intimidate me.”

“The estate has a lot of money, yes. Inheritance seems to be the theme of the case, as well.”

“I don’t have time to trade barbs with you, Taylor. What do you want?”

Taylor takes a moment before responding. He’s trying to exert some control in the face of the only man who has his measure in court. “What are you going to ask my client on the stand?”

“I’m going to ask him about his cats.”

“Don’t play games with me.” Taylor leans forward in the chair. “What are you going to ask him?”

“I’m going to ask him what he witnessed on the day that the murder occurred. That is how defense trials work. If someone claims to have witnessed an event, then they will need to state that in court, and then they will be cross-examined by the defense. I’ll ask him about his witness testimony.”

“You need to treat him well.”

Bill leans back in his chair when a moment of realization hits him. “Thomas Feeble has come to you because he’s on the stand and he will be alone. That scares him, doesn’t it? He’s hiding something, so he came to you to ask for him. In turn, you came here to try and intimidate me. That is very interesting.”

“What he’s hiding isn’t what you think.” Taylor calms down, and his voice has a touch of heart.

“And what is he hiding?”

“Nothing to do with this case.”

“I’m sure that is what he has told you, but I’m not sure that I believe it.”

“Tread easy on the stand.”

“No. If that man wants to make a statement to the police about the death of Jessica Lempare, then he must be prepared for what happens next. I suggest that if you want to protect him, then you need to prepare him for the cross-examination.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Your cross-examination. You’re the devil when it comes to these things. I’ll prepare him for a cross-examination, but I’m afraid that you’ll rip this fragile man to pieces in the courtroom.”

“I’ll do what this case needs.”

“I’m sure you will.” Taylor stands and buttons up the jacket of his stylish suit. “Just watch where you step. That’s a warning from me. I’m not a man you want to mess with. And if you mess with Thomas Feeble, then you mess with me. You don’t want to do that, Bill.”

“Your threats hold no weight here.”

Taylor Reaper stands in front of Bill’s desk knowing that the statement is true. He has enough power and money to crush most of his legal rivals, but he knows that he cannot crush the reputation of Bill Harvey. He holds no power over Bill, and that aggravates him immensely.

“Then as a colleague.” Taylor’s voice softens with defeat. “I’m asking you to step easy.”

Bill watches as Taylor walk out of the office, the thoughts crash through his head with pace.

Thomas Feeble is scared of making his testimony, and he’s scared that the holes in his story will be exposed. That is why he approached Taylor Reaper.

Drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, he tries to figure out what that means for the case. He can’t put his finger on it, but he knows that Thomas is hiding something.

And any secret related to the case will be exposed on the stand.

Bill Harvey will make sure of it.

CHAPTER 16

The opening day of a trial is always exhilarating.

It’s what Bill Harvey lives for as a lawyer.

The opening day of trial is the only time that he doesn’t need coffee to kick-start his morning. Adrenaline is already pumping through his veins. His morning routine for opening day is thorough and perfectly timed.

After his ten-minute shower alternating between hot and cold water, he eats one apple, one spoonful of honey, and one large glass of filtered water.

He dresses in his best suit – picked up from the dry-cleaners at 5 p.m. the day before – and sprays himself with three dashes of his finest Clive Christian cologne. He stores the small bottle of cologne in the back of his bathroom cabinet and only uses it for the opening day of a trial. It’s his way of subconsciously telling himself that today is an important day in his client’s life.

Recently, he walked past a man on the street wearing the same cologne and instantly his body jumped into action. His heart started pounding within the walls of his chest, his jaw clenched, and his focus was heightened. It took another hour before he could calm down again.

When Bill meets Anna outside the courthouse, a smile stretches across his face.

She has followed his instructions perfectly. She’s wearing a smart, yet casual, gray skirt and white blouse – she looks sweet and vulnerable. Her red hair is full of bounce, flowing neatly over her shoulders, and her makeup projects a calm, soft exterior.

Anna appears warm and inviting; like she should be teaching Kindergarten, rather than a murdering her own aunt. That is exactly the look that Bill needs the jurors to see.

Bill’s opposition, Miss Joanne Valentine, is also looking fine for the first day of the trial. She’s wearing a sharp, navy blue skirt and coat, and appears earnest, but relaxed; intelligent, yet cunning.

As they enter the courtroom, Bill and Joanne greet each other politely, but with an air of unease. The crowd behind them begins to build over the next hour, mostly with curious onlookers and hardworking law students. Bill has developed quite a following among the students of law over the past ten years, and they come from across the country to watch him perform in court. He loves the attention but doesn’t let it distract him from the task at hand.

When Judge David Wilmot is welcomed into the court, the room is buzzing with anticipation and nerves. Judge Wilmot’s booming voice reverberates off the walls as he details the procedure of the coming days.

Anna’s anxieties begin to show as the jury walks into the room. These are the twelve people that will judge her guilt, and as much as she tries to calm herself down with deep breaths, she can’t help but cross her arms over her stomach, trying to ease the nerves building in her torso. She looks at the table in front of her, blinking her eyes fast to hold back the tears.

She has no control over her fate.

None.

All she can do is sit and watch her potential future unfold over the next three days. In her mind, she’ll give the case two days, and if it appears certain that she’ll be convicted, she’ll drive to Mexico and try to escape via the border.

She has already googled how to run through the tunnels, and escape to build a new life in Mexico. In her mind, if she gets to Mexico, then she can begin a lifetime of travel via Central America, and further into South America. She’s sure that she has enough funds left to spend her life roaming through those countries on a fake passport.

When she finally raises her wet eyes from the table, she looks across to the jury. They are all staring at her, making their judgments, and that pressure only serves to make her more nervous.

The twelve men and women that will judge Anna’s fate have a collective sadness around them. None of them look happy to be in attendance. Valentine made true on her promise to dismiss all the red-blooded males, and Bill did his best to dismiss the older women who would sympathize with Jessica’s life. The twelve that remain appear to be reasonable, intelligent middle class people. They all look like they have been cut from the same middle-class mold; with steady jobs, normal haircuts, and plain clothes.

Bill is glad that his profession means that he isn’t called upon for jury duty. Knowing what he knows of the legal system, he wouldn’t trust the evidence presented to him by either side.

But someone has to make the decisions about the evidence.

Joanne Valentine appears confident as she sits at the prosecution table with the support of three fellow lawyers. She should be confident; she has evidence on her side.

But while the prosecution may have proof… Bill Harvey has a hunch.

And that is all he needs.

After Judge Wilmot has delivered his instructions, Valentine stands in front of the jury box and opens the case.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, thank you for your time. As you have heard my name is Joanne Valentine, and with my team, we will present the case of first-degree murder against Miss. Anna Jane Lempare. In this opening statement, I will state what I expect the evidence to prove.

The people are charging Anna Lempare with violations of the California Penal Code 187. We are charging Anna Lempare with the willful, deliberate, first-degree murder of her aunt, Jessica Harriet Lempare. Over the coming days, the people will prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Anna Lempare killed Jessica Lempare with malice and planning by calling to the stand numerous witnesses.

On May 1st of this year, Jessica Lempare had finished lunch in her home when there was a knock at the door. Jessica loved her apartment – it was where she was most comfortable. Unfortunately, it’s also where she was murdered.

Our first witness, Lead Detective Miller, is an unbiased government official who examined the defendant’s house after the horrible murder. He will detail that there was no sign of forced entry and no sign of a struggle. This is unusual because all of Jessica’s friends refer to her as ‘feisty’. For her not to fight back while being strangled… well, it indeed needed to be someone that Jessica knew well. The good detective will detail the DNA evidence found at Jessica’s house. That DNA evidence belongs to Anna Lempare. That is no doubt about that unbiased analysis.

Our second witness, Dr. Daniel Reed, will detail that Jessica was murdered by strangulation. Dr. Reed is a Medical Examiner with the Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner. He will provide unbiased information about how Jessica was murdered.

Our third witness, a next-door neighbor, Thomas Feeble, will testify that he heard two women arguing in Jessica’s apartment on the afternoon of May 1st. He will testify that he recognized those voices as Jessica Lempare and Anna Lempare. When the arguing finished, Thomas stepped out of his apartment, and he saw Anna leaving Jessica’s apartment. It’s at this point that Anna confronted Thomas, threatened him, and then punched a hole in the wall before leaving. He will testify that Anna Lempare was very angry.

Our fourth witness, respected veteran Mr. John ‘Bud’ Morgan, will state that Anna and Jessica had an ongoing dispute over the outcome of a will that Jessica was the trustee. You’ll hear about evidence that shows that this dispute reached a point where Anna was compelled to strangle Jessica.

Jessica was the trustee of Norman Chester’s Will, who was Anna’s grandfather, and this estate was worth just over twenty million dollars. Anna’s grandfather was clever enough to encourage his granddaughter, the last surviving member of his direct bloodline, to attend and complete Army Basic Training by the age of twenty-five.

If she didn’t do this, then the full amount of inheritance would be donated to a very worthy cause – a charity named Recovering Veterans. As you can tell by the name of the charity, they help veterans who have struggled with life since returning to serve their country. A very commendable cause indeed. John Morgan is the head CEO of this charity.

But Anna did not wish for any of the funds to go to the people that need it. Selfishly, she wanted her hands on all that money. You see, Jessica Lempare was the only trustee of the will, and if anything happened to Jessica before Anna turned twenty-five, then the will would be split equally between Anna and the charity, just over ten million dollars each.

That means Anna would receive ten million dollars’ inheritance if Jessica passed away before Anna turned twenty-five, without having to complete the conditions assigned to the will.

Throughout the course of this trial, you will hear witnesses state that Anna had no intention of attending Army Basic Training. She had no intention of completing the conditions of her grandfather’s will. She also had no intention of giving up her inheritance.

Heartlessly, she strangled her aunt for the sake of ten million dollars.

Heartlessly.

I ask you, what sort of woman kills their own family member for the sake of money?

We will present evidence as part of this case that will prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Anna strangled her aunt, Jessica Lempare.

As a member of this jury, you have a very important job. Very important. Your job will be to listen to the evidence that is presented to you. You must listen to the facts of this case.

Once you have heard all the evidence, you will be asked to make a determination based on that evidence.

But don’t worry, because once you have seen the evidence, in this case, your decision will be easy.

At the end of this case, I will not stand before you and give you an answer to this case. I already know what your decision will be once you have heard the evidence.

The justice system has chosen you to make a decision based on all the evidence presented to you. That is all you have to do.

Your decision will be Guilty.

By the end of this trial, that will become obvious to you.

Thank you very much for serving your duty.”

Valentine ends her opening statement with a quick glance at Bill.

As she walks back to her table, she gives him a wink, letting him know that she thinks she has already landed a Guilty verdict.

Her voice was so soft and sensual during the opening that it could melt even the harshest soul. Bill is sure that is how she wins most of her cases.

In contrast, Bill’s opening statement goes easy on the personality and focuses more on the technicalities of the law.

“May it please the court, Miss Valentine, members of the jury, on May 1st at 6 p.m., or perhaps a few minutes before, Jessica Lempare was strangled in her apartment. The prosecution would have you believe that Anna Lempare is guilty of a crime as heinous as murder. But over the coming days, we shall prove otherwise.

Anna Lempare was not there. Anna Lempare did not know about the incident until she was arrested the day after.

I repeat, Anna Lempare was not there.

Anna Lempare was walking the streets of Los Angeles when the incident occurred. Yes, she had argued with her aunt that night, but this wasn’t unusual behavior for these two feisty women. They had many arguments. That is how they communicated.

She had left her aunt’s apartment one hour before the incident and didn’t return.

Anna Lempare was not there when the death occurred.

I am Criminal Defense Attorney Bill Harvey and, along with my team, I represent Anna Lempare.

We are here to explain to you the undeniable fact that right now Anna Lempare is presumed innocent.

Right now, Anna Lempare is presumed innocent.

We are here to help you understand that many reasonable doubts lurk in the evidence.

We will present evidence to you showing the doubts about Anna’s guilt, beginning with our cross-examination of the prosecution’s evidence.

During this case, you are going to hear about the presumption of innocence. That means that currently there is no guilt.

Anna Lempare starts with a blank page.

The presumption of innocence means that suspicion, bias, prejudgment, and assumptions have no place in your thoughts. You must make a decision based on the facts.

That is your responsibility to control. And it is a big responsibility.

Together, we are going on a ride. On that ride, I will show you where the police and their apparent laboratory ‘experts’ have ignored obvious evidence, used false science, and done untidy fieldwork, which has all led to a very wrong and early judgment.

I will show you that the witness statements are not enough to convict Anna Lempare.

And I will show you that the evidence in regards to the DNA is a mere assumption, and nothing more.

This trial will be an interesting ride. And it is a ride that we will take together.

Judge Wilmot will remind you that you are not to make up your minds until the journey is done, because it may be at the very last moment of the trial that you discover the reasonable doubt in the final piece of evidence.

And when our journey comes to a close, I will stand before you and ask you for a verdict of Not Guilty.

Because Anna Lempare did not murder her aunt. She was trying to live her life, not take one.

I repeat, Anna Lempare was not there.

Thank you for your time, and thank you for listening. I wish you well.”

When a number of heads nod in the jury, Bill returns the wink to Valentine.

CHAPTER 17

As the prosecution calls their first witness, Bill Harvey feels quite calm.

His shoulders are relaxed, there is no tension on his face, and his breathing is slow. After he saw the heads nodding in the jury box at the end of his opening statement, he feels like he has the jury on his side, and the prosecution is going to have to fight hard to pull them back.

Detective Timothy Miller walks to the stand looking irritated. His fists are clenched, his shoulders are tight, his eyes are narrow. He doesn’t want to be in this courtroom.

This is the worst part of the job he loves – he has done the hard yards, poured his heart and soul into catching criminals, and now he has to deal with over-educated lawyers who administer the letter of the law.

A lot of detectives don’t like this part.

This is the part where one wrong word can throw away months of hard work.

And it is Bill’s job to make sure he says at least one wrong word, and then exploit that word for all it’s worth.

“Please state your name and occupation for the court,” Valentine begins.

“Detective Timothy Miller and I’m a proud detective with the Los Angeles Police Department,” he states slowly as he leans forward toward the microphone. He is as uncomfortable with public speaking as he is with courtrooms.

“Are you the detective that analyzed the crime scene at the apartment that belonged to Jessica Lempare?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Detective Miller, I would like you to take us through the events on that day. In your own words, can you please describe what happened?”

Miller is an old-fashioned man. His values would have suited the 1970s; however, his hardline approach on life seems misplaced in the current era. He has the look of a man who comes at the end of the day and demands that his wife serves him dinner and a beer as soon as he steps in the door.

He’s a man that is willing to risk his life to make a difference in the world, and he doesn’t care if he has to bend a few rules to get it done.

“At 6.19 p.m., on Friday the 1st of May, a 911 call was made to notify us of a deceased person in the Los Feliz Palace apartments. At 6.36 p.m., we arrived at the property and entered the apartment. It’s here that we found Jessica Lempare on the floor.”

One of Valentine’s assistants brings up the photographs of the crime scene on the monitor in front of the jurors. “The prosecution would like to introduce these photos as evidence of the day that the murder occurred.”

“Proceed,” Judge Wilmot says with approval.

“And this is how you found the apartment, Detective Miller?” Valentine asks, referring to the photos.

“Yes. We found Jessica lying on the floor of her living room. I checked her pulse, and there was no sign of life. Her body was very cold. The paramedics arrived at 6.42pm, and that was when it was confirmed that Jessica was deceased.”

“What was your expert impressions of the scene?”

“As soon as we saw the body, it became clear that the woman was strangled. There was bruising around her neck, and her body was in a lifeless position.”

“Have you seen someone strangled before?”

“Yes.”

“And how did this scene differ from that?”

“There was no sign of a struggle, which I found unusual. I would have expected a broken vase, or skin under her fingernails, or more bruises on the body of the deceased. For there to be no sign of a struggle, the argument must have escalated quickly.”

“Objection,” Bill calls out. “There is no established evidence to suggest there was an argument at all prior to the strangulation.”

“Sustained,” Judge Wilmot agrees. “Please stick to the facts as you know them, Detective Miller.”

“Yes, sir.” Miller nods like a schoolboy after being told off by the principal.

“Was there any sign of forced entry into the apartment of Jessica Lempare?” Valentine moves on quickly.

“No.” Miller coughs loudly. He knows that he should give up smoking, but struggles with the reality of his job. Nicotine is an easy release from the stress of his world.

“Was there anything to suggest that there was an unexpected intruder in the room? Either an open window or another entrance left open?”

“No.” Miller shakes his head, coughing slightly again. “There was no evidence of that.”

“Was there anything unusual about this crime scene?”

“No.” Miller shakes his head for the second time. “It was very clear that the woman was deceased, there was no sign of a struggle, and there was nothing else unusual about the scene.”

“When you conducted your investigation into this horrific murder, did you find any fingerprints at the scene of the crime?”

“Yes, we did.”

“And who did those fingerprints belong to?”

“We found numerous fingerprints in the apartment. However, we were only able to match fingerprints to Anna Lempare.”

“And did you find DNA evidence at the scene?”

“Yes. We found DNA evidence on a glass of water in the living room, next to where the deceased was lying. This DNA evidence was in the form of saliva and was a proven match to Anna Lempare.”

“What was lying on the ground next to the deceased’s body when you entered the apartment?”

“It was a copy of the Norman Chester Will. Jessica Lempare is the trustee of that estate.”

“Was there anything else lying on the ground?”

“No.”

“It was a very tidy apartment?”

“Yes. It was.”

“So, it would appear that the deceased was discussing the will before she died?”

“I can’t comment on what she was discussing before she died. However, a copy of the will was lying next to her body when we found her. It was the only thing that appeared out of place in the apartment.”

“And can you tell the court, were you the officer that arrested Anna Lempare?”

“Yes.”

“And did Anna Lempare seem upset when you were questioning her about the death of her aunt?”

“No. Anna didn’t seem visibly upset by the death of her aunt.”

“Did Anna Lempare provide an alibi for the time of death?”

“During questioning, Anna advised that she was at home watching television by herself when the death occurred.”

“Is there any evidence that proves Anna Lempare was at her apartment at the time that her aunt was murdered, such as security footage of her apartment?”

“No.”

“Detective Miller, you arrested Anna Lempare, and escorted her to the police station, and then questioned her about the death of her aunt. Did you, at any time, see Anna Lempare cry over the death of her aunt?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Thank you for your time, Detective Miller.” Valentine smiles. “No further questions.”

A nice, simple, clean start to the prosecution’s case. A textbook approach to her first witness. Valentine has painted a very clear picture of the crime scene, and she already has convinced some of the jury members of her theory. Bill likes to refer to the jurors convinced by early statements as “believers.” They will believe anything that authority tells them – if a police officer tells them to take off their clothes, they will do it without question. They have total belief in authority because they don’t believe in themselves.

Bill doesn’t like those jurors. He will work hard to change their minds by showing that the people in authority are just that – people. They may be convinced by Detective Miller’s words, but now it’s Bill’s turn to play the game.

“Hello, Timothy,” Bill begins, seated behind his desk. He’s deliberately using Detective Miller’s first name to take away any feeling of authority that he has. “Thank you for taking the time to talk with us today. I assume you’re very familiar with the details surrounding this case?”

“Yes.” Miller replies flippantly. His hatred for Bill Harvey’s profession is clear.

“The fingerprints that you have stated you found at the crime scene, where were they?”

“The fingerprints were found to be on the surrounding areas near the location of the deceased’s body.”

“Can you please provide more detail, Timothy?”

Detective Miller glares at Bill. He doesn’t like being called Timothy. In his professional life, he’s known as Detective Miller, and in his personal life, he’s known as Tim. Only his grandmother has ever called him Timothy.

“We conducted detail analysis of the scene, and we found fingerprints on the hallway cabinet and the coffee table. Those fingerprints were proven to belong to Anna Lempare.”

“But you didn’t find fingerprints on the deceased?”

“No.”

“Did you check the deceased for fingerprints?”

“Of course.”

“But you couldn’t find any?”

“That is correct.”

“Timothy—” Bill pauses, pretending to review his notes again. “You’re aware that Anna Lempare had lived in that apartment, are you not?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

“And you’re aware that Anna was a regular visitor to her aunt’s apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Is it not entirely reasonable that the fingerprints found in those areas occurred in everyday activities, such as visiting her aunt?”

“Yes, that is possible.”

“Do you think that the location that you found Anna’s fingerprints point to her guilt?”

Miller sighs. “No, I don’t.”

“In your expert and professional opinion, do you think that Anna’s fingerprints in any way prove she committed the crime?”

Miller pauses again. He looks across to Valentine, but she has her head down, avoiding eye contact. “No.”

“How many glasses of water were on the table when you entered the room?”

“Two.”

“And I assume that you tested both of them for DNA?”

“Yes. We were able to test the saliva from both glasses of water. One set of DNA was proven to belong to Anna Lempare, and the other set of DNA was proven to belong to Jessica Lempare.”

“Is it possible that the DNA found on the glasses of water occurred because Anna drank from the glass when visiting her aunt earlier that day?”

“Yes, that is possible.”

“In your expert and professional opinion, do you think that the location of the DNA evidence points to her guilt?”

Miller groans loudly. “No.”

“And in your expert and professional opinion, do you think that Anna’s DNA on a glass of water proves she committed the crime?”

Miller pauses again. “No.”

Calmly, Bill takes more handwritten notes. “Can you tell the court who lived next door to the apartment to Jessica Lempare?”

“The apartment was at the end of the hallway, and she only had one next-door neighbor. Mr. Thomas Feeble lives in the apartment next door to Jessica Lempare.”

“And who made the call to 911?”

“Thomas Feeble.”

“And who found the body of Jessica Lempare?”

“Thomas Feeble found the body,” Miller is quick in his response.

Bill needs repetition around the name of Thomas Feeble to ingrain the possibility of his guilt into the minds of the jurors. The more repetition that they hear of Thomas’s name, the more they are likely to believe his attack in the upcoming testimonies.

“And did Thomas Feeble enter the apartment alone?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t there,” Miller responds.

“Of course you weren’t. In reference to the police report which you have complied and signed off, can you please tell the court who entered the apartment alone before the arrival of yourself and your partner?”

Miller pauses, staring solidly at Bill Harvey. “Thomas Feeble told the police that he entered the apartment after he heard the argument between—”

“And can you please tell the court,” Bill interrupts, as he doesn’t want Anna’s name mentioned. “Was there any sign of forced entry?”

“I’ve already answered that question.” Miller complains. “No, there was no sign of forced entry.”

“So, Thomas Feeble didn’t force his way into the apartment?”

“No.”

“Interesting,” Bill quips, beginning to take notes on his legal pad.

The notes are not for his benefit, rather they are for the benefit of the jury. By stopping to take notes, Bill is emphasizing that this is an important point.

“Had you met Thomas Feeble before that day?”

“No.” Miller shakes his head.

“And where was Thomas Feeble when you arrived at the Los Feliz Palace apartments?”

“He was waiting in the foyer for us. He then escorted us to the apartment where Jessica Lempare was deceased.”

“And did you take a statement from Thomas Feeble?”

“Of course.”

“And what did Thomas Feeble state about how he was able to enter the apartment?”

“He explained that he entered through the front door of the apartment, which was unlocked.”

“Unlocked? Really?” Bill feigns surprise. “Interesting.”

Again, he takes on his legal pad before continuing.

“Did you ever consider Thomas Feeble as a suspect in this murder investigation?”

“Yes, we did. That’s in the police report.”

Bill looks across to the jurors and he can see the believers nodding. They are convinced that Thomas Feeble may be suspect as the statement is made from a person in authority.

That is all Bill needs.

“No further questions.”

CHAPTER 18

“The prosecution calls Dr. Daniel Reed to the stand,” Joanne Valentine calls out.

Dr. Daniel Reed is a prosecutor’s dream.

He is a picture of perfect professionalism and speaks with such authority that it is hard to doubt any of his statements. The way he holds himself, his expert tone, and his calm confidence, portrays a convincing testimony before he has even said a word.

His record is as impeccable as his grooming. No criminal defense attorney would dare question his findings. That would be courtroom madness.

“Please state your name and occupation for the court,” Valentine opens.

“Dr. Daniel Reed. And I’m employed as a Medical Examiner with the Los Angeles County Department of Medical Examiner-Coroner.”

“Dr. Reed, please explain to the court how this ruthless, horrible murder occurred?”

Valentine continues to drop little words such as “ruthless” to build a picture in the juror’s thoughts. She’s very skilled at mind games.

“This is a particularly violent murder,” Dr. Reed begins. “Our findings are that Jessica Lempare was strangled by the compression of the laryngopharynx, which caused asphyxia by fatally denying the supply of oxygen to the brain. There was also a break in her larynx.”

“So, she was choked?”

“In layman terms, yes.”

“In your expert opinion, what do you think she was choked with?”

“From the pattern of the bruising on the neck, we can determine that she was strangled by the force of two hands.”

“Two hands? Not a choke hold, such as a headlock?”

“No. The bruising on the neck is consistent with what we expect from the use of hands during strangulation. There were two indents on the front of the throat, which indicate the use of the thumbs pushing inwards, and there is also deeper bruising on the back of the neck, which indicates where the fingers were pressing into the neck.”

The members of the jury squirm with uncomfortable visualizations of the incident. Valentine has played this well. It’s clear that the jury is very uncomfortable with what has happened to this older lady.

“Were there any other injuries sustained?”

“Yes. Although, not as much as we would expect if the deceased were struggling a lot. There was bruising sustained to the elbow and to the back of the hip. That is consistent with falling backward. From the autopsy, we can determine that the force on the victim’s throat caused the death, and it’s likely that they fell during a struggle with the attacker.”

“This suggests that the death could not have been an accident?”

“This was no accident. There is nothing accidental about this death.” Dr. Reed nods, and the three elderly jurors do the same.

“Was there any DNA or other objects found under the deceased’s fingernails?”

“No. There was nothing found.”

“Interesting,” Valentine states in an inquisitive tone. “That would suggest that Jessica didn’t fight hard against the attack. Do you think that is because she knew the attacker very well and—”

“Objection,” Bill intervenes. “The witness isn’t qualified to comment on the deceased’s state of mind.”

“Sustained.” Judge Wilmot is firm. “Stick to what the witness knows, Miss Valentine.”

“Have you ever done an autopsy on a victim where their death was caused by strangulation by use of hands, and there were no signs of a struggle?”

“No,” Dr. Reed responds.

“No further questions. Thank you for your time, Dr. Reed.”

Judge Wilmot offers Bill the chance to question Dr. Reed. However, Bill takes his time before responding to him.

Once Bill has replied to the judge, he takes even more time reviewing his notes.

In all honesty, he doesn’t need any of that time, but he needs the jury to think that he’s considering the holes in the connections between the defendant and Dr. Reed’s statements.

Bill stands from behind his desk, and ponders his thoughts with his hand on his chin, his eyes looking downward. It’s a pose he has practiced in front of the mirror many times, and it may be overacted enough to be worthy of a spot on daytime television, but the jury is clear on what he’s doing. He can sense Valentine roll her eyes at his actions.

Taking a glance at the jury, Bill waits for their full attention before continuing.

“Tell me, Dr. Reed, was there any sign of bruising to the back of the victim’s head?”

“No.”

“If the victim fell backward to the floor, would you not assume that they would have hit their head?”

“Yes.”

“But there no bruising to the back of the head?”

“That’s correct?”

“Why do you think that is?”

“It could have been for a number of reasons, such as the victim may have fallen on something soft – that was removed from the scene before the police arrived – or the murderer may have been holding onto the victim’s head while she fell.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reed.” Bill turns to face the jury. “Tell me, Dr. Reed, was the bruising that was found on the victim’s neck large?”

“Yes.”

“So, there would have had to have been a large force exerted?”

“Large enough to damage the victim’s larynx, yes. However, the deceased was elderly and frail, and the force needed to injure her would have been considerably less than the force needed to injure you or me.”

“Thank you, Dr. Reed.” Bill nods. “A large hand would have been needed to make that impact, would it not?”

“Possibly. The deceased was only a small woman so any impact would have been substantial. However, the bruising is consistent with what we would expect from someone with large hands.”

Bill looks across at Anna and nods. She raises her hands from the table and looks at them, turning them over numerous times. It’s clear to the jury that she only has small hands. They had practiced that moment over and over, trying to achieve the right amount of emphasis for the jury.

Bill’s facial expressions exaggerate as he expresses his curiosity.

“No further questions.”

CHAPTER 19

Thomas Feeble walks to the stand like a defeated man.

His yellow-tainted eyes are focused on the ground in front of him, his suit is two sizes too big, and his hair is rumpled.

When he sits on the stand after taking his oath, he lets out a loud sigh and slumps into the chair. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be anywhere but the safety of his apartment.

“Please state your name for the court.” Valentine’s voice has dropped lower. She wants Thomas to feel calm and secure on the stand.

“Thomas James Feeble.”

“And how do you know the deceased, Jessica Lempare?”

“I live in the apartment next door to Jessica. I lived there for ten years, and Jessica has always been my next-door neighbor.”

“Did you interact with her often?”

“I saw her in the hallway or the foyer at least once a week.”

“So, you know her voice if you heard it?”

“Yes.”

“And your apartment wall joins Jessica’s apartment wall?”

“Yes.”

“Are the walls thin in your apartment?”

“Not particularly.”

“But you do hear things through the walls of your apartment?”

“Sometimes I can hear things through the wall, but only if it’s very loud.”

“From your point of view, please take the court through what happened on the afternoon of May 1st.”

“It was a normal day for me. I was at home watching television when I started to hear yelling through the walls. I turned the television down, and I could hear two women arguing. I couldn’t understand what they were arguing about, but they were calling each other names. It was loud and very intense. I was scared for Jessica. I went next door and knocked on the door, but Jessica yelled for me to go away. I think she was embarrassed that someone could hear their argument. I went back into my apartment, and the yelling seemed to stop for around five or ten minutes, but then the yelling started again, and this time it was louder. It was just one person yelling this time. It was definitely a woman, and it wasn’t Jessica. I went to check on Jessica again, but this time, when I opened my door, I saw Jessica’s niece leaving the apartment.”

“And how did you know it was Jessica’s niece?”

“Anna used to live next door as well.”

“Anna Lempare?” Valentine questions.

“Yes.”

“And can you please point to the woman you saw in the hallway that afternoon?”

“Yes, she’s sitting there.” Thomas points at Bill’s client.

“Let the records show that the witness has pointed at the defendant, Anna Lempare,” Valentine states. “Thomas, what did Anna say to you when she saw you in the hallway?”

“She yelled at me to mind my own business. She was very angry. I didn’t say anything to her, but she told me to go back into my apartment. As she walked towards the elevator, she punched a hole in the wall.”

“She punched a hole in the wall?” Valentine again surprised. She’s not. She has practiced this testimony twenty times with Thomas Feeble.

“Yes. As she walked to the elevator, she said ‘stupid old woman,’ and then she punched the wall.”

“And what did you do next?”

“Anna was very angry, and I was scared of Anna, so I went back into my apartment. I turned the television back on, but then I was worried about Jessica. I tried to listen to any movements from Jessica’s apartment, but I couldn’t hear anything. About one hour later, I went to knock on Jessica’s apartment door again.”

“And did she answer this time?”

“No.”

“What did you do next?”

“I was still very worried about Jessica, so I opened the door to her apartment and went in. It was then that I saw her lying on the ground.” Thomas shakes his head as he fights back tears. “She was dead.”

“Take your time.” Valentine calms him down. They practiced that part as well. “When you’re ready, please tell the court what happened next.”

Thomas takes a moment, dabbing his eyes with a tissue. “I tried to check for a pulse, but I couldn’t find one. That is when I went back into my apartment and called 911.”

“Did you go back into Jessica’s apartment after that?”

“No, I went down to the foyer and waited for the police.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Feeble,” Valentine says softly. “No further questions.”

Judge Wilmot offers Bill the chance to question the defendant, and Bill accepts the offer. This is his time now.

“Tell me, Mr. Feeble, did you get along well with Jessica Lempare?”

“Sometimes.”

“And the other times when you didn’t get along with Jessica Lempare, would you describe your interactions as strained?”

“You could say that.”

“Yes or no, Mr. Feeble.”

“Yes. Our relationship was strained at times. She wasn’t… well, she caused a lot of trouble for no reason. She would dispute everything.”

“The hallway that adjoins both your apartments was painted earlier this year. Mr. Feeble, how would you describe your interactions with Jessica during this period of time?”

Thomas looks to Anna, seated next to Bill. Anna had witnessed numerous arguments between the next-door neighbors during that period.

“It was strained.”

“Why was that?”

“She didn’t like the tone of white that we were using to give the walls a paint job.”

“The tone of white, Mr. Feeble? Can you please elaborate further on that for the court?”

“All the other residents in the building had agreed to the use of ‘Whisper White’ as the tone of white for the new paint job. Jessica was the only person who didn’t agree. She wanted to use ‘Vintage White’ as the color. Of course, we overruled her because of the sheer weight of numbers. But when the painters started working in the hallway, she yelled at them every morning because they were using the wrong tone of white. I defended the painters, telling her that they were just doing their jobs.”

“Did the two of you yell during these interactions?”

“Yes.”

“And how often were these interactions?”

“Every morning for a week.”

“Thank you, Mr. Feeble.” Bill opens a new file in front of him. “On May 1st, were you alone in your apartment?”

“I don’t see why that is relevant.” Thomas shakes his head.

“It is relevant. Please answer the question.”

“Um… maybe. Maybe I was.”

“Mr. Feeble, that isn’t a satisfactory answer.” Judge Wilmot leans across to Thomas. “Please answer the question.”

“Um, not exactly.”

“Not exactly? Mr. Feeble, I find that very surprising. There is no mention of any other person in any of your statements about the incident that happened on May 1st.”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Mr. Feeble.” Bill’s voice rises. “This is a murder investigation. Everything is relevant. Who else was present in your apartment?”

Thomas’s eyes dart around the courtroom. “Carlos Perez.”

“Carlos Perez? The man that is employed as Jessica Lempare’s cleaner?”

“Yes.”

“And presumably, Carlos has keys to Jessica’s apartment?”

“Um, yes,” Thomas says again.

“Is that how you entered Jessica’s apartment that afternoon?”

Thomas shakes his head.

“Mr. Feeble, please verbally answer the question,” Judge Wilmot booms again.

“I really wanted to make sure that Jessica was fine. I was worried about her.”

“Did you use the keys that Carlos had with him to enter her apartment?” Bill is very firm in his statement.

“Yes,” Thomas mumbles.

Bill flips through the papers on his table. “Mr. Feeble.” Bill’s voice is angry. “That is not in any statement that you have made previously. You stated that you owned the keys to her apartment. Why have you been hiding that information?”

“Um,” Thomas whimpers. “I was worried that Carlos would get in trouble.”

“Mr. Feeble, how did Jessica treat Carlos Perez?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mr. Feeble.” Bill’s voice rises again. “This man is your friend. How did he tell you that he was treated by Jessica Lempare?”

“He said… he said that she was horrible to him.”

“Horrible?”

“Yes. Really mean. Ms. Lempare was a racist, and she would say some really horrible things to Carlos.”

“Did that make you angry?”

“Of course. Carlos is my friend.”

“Angry enough to kill her?!”

“Objection!” Valentine interrupts. “Leading the witness.”

“Sustained. Don’t answer that question, Mr. Feeble.”

“Mr. Feeble.” Bill’s voice rises for the third time. “Did you ever wish that Jessica was dead?”

“Objection,” Valentine interrupts again.

“Your Honor, I can assure you that this question is leading to evidence.”

“Overruled, but make it relevant, Mr. Harvey.”

“Mr. Feeble,” Bill repeats. “Did you ever wish that Jessica was dead?”

“Um… no.” Thomas looks at Bill in confusion.

“Mr. Feeble, on January 11th this year, did you post a picture of a freshly painted hallway on the social media site Instagram, with the caption ‘Freshly painted hallway. It took a lot of effort. I wish some people didn’t interrupt the process… sometimes I wish they were better off dead.”

A look of shock covers Thomas’s face. He looks to Valentine, but she wasn’t prepared for that question. He then looks to Taylor Reaper sitting in the back of the courtroom, but he’s no position to help him either.

“Mr. Feeble.” Bill’s voice is dominant and firm. “Did you write that statement?”

“Um.” Thomas’s voice is panicked. “Yes.”

“Was it in reference to Jessica Lempare?” Bill’s question is almost an accusation.

“It wasn’t like—”

“Yes or no, Mr. Feeble. Was that statement a reference to Jessica Lempare?”

Thomas sits on the stand with his mouth hanging open; in shock that he’s being accused of the death of his neighbor.

“Please answer the question, Mr. Feeble,” Judge Wilmot states.

“Yes, but—”

“Mr. Feeble, you we’re in your apartment alone, were you?!”

“No, but—”

“Why was Carlos Perez in your apartment, Mr. Feeble?!”

“He…” Thomas is flustered with Bill’s hard voice. “He had been cleaning Jessica’s apartment that morning.”

“And he finished cleaning at 10 a.m., which is more than six hours before you saw Anna. Why was he in your apartment, Mr. Feeble?!”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends?” Bill questions.

“Yes.”

“Just friends?”

“We… um…”

“How close of a friend is he?”

“We’re lovers,” Thomas blurts out the statement and then begins to weep. “We’re lovers. I’m gay.”

Shock sinks into Bill’s face. Suddenly, it makes sense to him.

Thomas Feeble wasn’t hiding a crime; he was hiding his lover. And Bill has forced him to disclose that secret to the world.

He feels terrible.

“We host a YouTube channel together called ‘Gay Men Talking Together for A While,’” Thomas adds. “It’s just a hobby. We just talk about life and the world, and we have a few viewers. I sit off camera because I don’t want my face to be shown, and Carlos is the face of the channel. He sits in front of the camera, and he talks to me. I think that the audience likes the mystery of not knowing who I am. And I have never come out to anyone but my lovers. But I guess everyone knows who I am now.”

“Were you on this channel at the time of the murder?” Bill enquires with a quieter tone.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”

“Because…” Thomas’s head drops. “I haven’t come out. My family don’t know about my sexuality. I was waiting until after my mother passed away before I told anyone. She hasn’t got long left, but I guess, she’ll know now. She’s following this trial. Sorry, Mom. I’m so sorry.”

And now Thomas Feeble has an alibi.

“And this is all online, and available for us to check?”

“Yes.” Thomas nods slowly, still with a tear in his eye. “Carlos stopped the recording when I ran back into the room saying that Jessica was dead. I was only gone for a moment.”

Bill glances over his shoulder to look at his investigator, Jack Grayson. Jack nods; a silent communication between them to check the details of Thomas’s revelation. However, Bill has little doubt that Thomas is telling the truth.

“No further questions.” He shakes his head, disappointed with himself.

He knew something was wrong with Thomas’s statement, but he didn’t expect that.

Bill Harvey turns to the front page of his legal pad and strikes a heavy line through the first of four names. On the next line, directly below the name Thomas Feeble, he has written the name Frank Matthews, and directly below that, John Morgan.

But there is a half-page gap before he gets to the fourth name on the list. Bill Harvey desperately doesn’t want to reach the last line on the page.

Written in small writing on the last line is one single name:

Anna.

CHAPTER 20

After Bill Harvey’s failure with Thomas Feeble, Joanne Valentine confidently calls her next witness, John ‘Bud’ Morgan, to the stand.

Her case is building momentum, and she can feel the tension coming from Bill’s table.

Valentine arranges three pens on her table to form a line, starting from longest pen to the shortest pen. She has always had a desperate need to be in control. When her mother died in a car accident when she was nine-years-old, she felt like she lost control in life. For most of her teenage years, she spent her time in the throes of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; however, the doctors declined to diagnose her condition as they wrote it off as a way of grieving.

When she was diagnosed with OCD in college, it gave her permission to accept and start to treat her condition. With daily meditation and specific exercises, she has most of her feelings under control; however, when she becomes stressed her need for complete control takes over. Every night before the start of a new trial, she has to turn the lights on and off four times before she leaves the kitchen, three times before she leaves the bathroom, and twice before she crawls into bed.

She concedes that the need for control is a part of her life, and to stop the OCD behavior would be to acknowledge the death of her mother.

For that reason, she will never let it go.

As Bud Morgan walks past Valentine, he looks like a man who has seen and experienced more in his life than most. His eyes portray a world of horror while his walk is rigid and stiff, and his skin looks weary.

He takes his oath, calmly sits in the witness box, and rolls up his shirt sleeves to display a small glimpse of his arm tattoo.

“Please state your full name for the court,” Valentine states when Bud is ready.

“My name is John Anthony Morgan, but most people know me as Bud.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” Valentine says while still reviewing her notes. “Please describe to the court your relationship with the deceased, Jessica Lempare.”

“I have known Jessica Lempare for many years, perhaps eleven or twelve years. I’m the CEO of Recovering Veterans, and our main contribution of donations comes from the estate of Norman Chester. Jessica Lempare is… I mean, was… the sole trustee for that estate. Because she handled the donations, we had regular interactions with her. She would come into the office about once a month, or I would go around to her apartment for a cup of coffee. Whenever we had fundraising events, we always made sure that Jessica was invited, and that she was well looked after. Over the years, we became friends.”

“And how do you know the defendant, Miss Anna Lempare?”

“Because of my friendship with Jessica, my path crossed with Anna’s. Anna used to live with Jessica, and I would sometimes come over for a cup of coffee. I also served in the army with Anna’s father, so I felt like I had a bond with her. Her father was a good man, and I have always tried to help Anna where I can. That’s what we veterans do – we help each other’s family.”

Bud is proud of his past, and he wears it like a badge of honor. It is his identity.

“And in your opinion, how would you describe Jessica and Anna’s relationship?”

“Stressed.”

“Tell me, Mr. Morgan, how would you define stressed? Would you say they argued a lot?”

“Every time that I saw them interact, there was an argument. I never saw Jessica say a nice thing about Anna, and I never saw Anna show her aunt any respect. They were… just different people who didn’t get along. I think that they even enjoyed arguing with each other. Sometimes the arguments would be heated, and at other times, they would be quite sarcastic. I cannot remember a time when I saw them talk in a normal way with each other. I think that it got better over the years, but when they were living together, they argued a lot. I remember one argument that was over the way Anna was sipping her drink of water. I went over for a cup of coffee, and they were going off at each other.”

Bill considers objecting to the line of questioning; however, he lets Valentine continue on.

“Did you see Anna Lempare on May 1st?”

“I did.”

“And can you please describe that interaction?” Valentine asks.

“Sure. I was at Tom’s Pint Bar, and I was having a drink with a few of my veteran buddies. It was early afternoon, perhaps around 3 p.m., so we weren’t drinking a lot. We were just having a light drink and telling some well-worn stories. It’s our support network. When I went to order another round of drinks, I saw Anna sitting alone at the bar looking glum. I hadn’t seen her for a few months before that, so I sat down and had a bit of a chat with her.”

“How would you describe her mood that afternoon?”

“As we talked, it became clear that she had a lot on her mind. She was talking at a very fast rate, and she was going between feeling sorry for herself and feeling angry.”

“Angry?” Valentine questions. “What gave you the impression that Anna was angry?”

“She was gripping the beer glass so tight that her knuckles were turning white. I thought that she might even break the glass. And she had a fire in her eyes. There was a look about her. I had seen her angry before, and she had that same look.”

“Can you please tell the court what you and Anna discussed that afternoon in the bar?”

“I asked her what was making her so angry, and she described the situation with her aunt. I completely understood what she said – at times, Jessica could be a very frustrating person to interact with. Although I really appreciated what she was doing with the estate, I did try and avoid her sometimes. When Jessica had her thoughts set on something, she would rarely change for anything. Anna explained that she was trying to convince her aunt to negotiate parts of the will, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with it. I listened to Anna and told her I understood what she was saying, and then Anna left.”

“And did she say where she was going?”

“Yes. She said she was going to visit her aunt to convince her to change the will.” Bud emphasized the important words.

“Those were her exact words?” Valentine’s interest pipes up.

Valentine is a good player in the courtroom. She knew that sentence was coming; however, she still feigned surprise for the purpose of the jury. The jury has bought into her act. Half of them lean forward to listen to Bud’s answer.

“Yes. Those were her exact words.”

“And did she say anything else that might be of interest?” Valentine continues, although she knows the answer.

“She did. She said… it would be better if the old bat just died.”

One of the jury members gasps in shock. That is a fairly damning statement when it is said only one hour before the murder.

“And by ‘old bat’ do you believe that Anna was referring to her aunt, Jessica Lempare?”

“That’s correct, yes. We were talking about Anna’s relationship with her aunt, and Anna was talking about the scenarios with the estate.”

“Did Anna say anything else that might be of interest?”

“She said that she was sick of listening to her aunt. I know what Anna meant because Jessica had very strong opinions about life. Once Jessica started talking about her opinions, it was hard to stop her. But I thought Anna was just talking casually. I mean, if I knew what she was going to do, then I would have stopped her.”

“Objection,” Bill jumps in.

“Sustained.” Judge Wilmot doesn’t need an explanation for the defense objection. “Mr. Morgan, you’re required to stick to the facts when it comes to your testimony. Please don’t make assumptions in this courtroom.”

“Yes, Your Honor. Sorry, Your Honor,” Bud replies meekly. His respect for the chain of authority is still obvious.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. No further questions, Your Honor.”

Valentine smiles.

She thinks the testimony is a win for her, but Bill Harvey has other plans.

CHAPTER 21

Bill Harvey focuses on the list on the front page of his notepad. Bud Morgan is one of his four suspects, and he desperately hopes that he doesn’t make it to the last name on his list.

While Bill reviews his notes, Bud sits on the stand, looking down at his hands.

This is Bill’s moment to pounce.

His chance.

This man could hold the key to proving Anna’s innocence, and Bill doesn’t care if he has to tear him apart to prove it.

“Tell me, Mr. Morgan,” Bill begins, still seated. “What was your relationship with Jessica Lempare like?”

“I would consider her a friend.” Bud shakes his head. For a man who has seen a lot of death, he still struggles with the event. “I mean, I did consider her a friend.”

“However, you have just stated that she was ‘very frustrating’ and that you ‘tried to avoid her sometimes’?”

“Yes. Sometimes, she was hard to deal with. She could be very hard to deal with sometimes. There is nothing wrong with that. Not everyone is perfect. But despite our differences, I had respect for her. She had a lot of respect for veterans, and I appreciated that.”

“Did you ever hit her?”

“Sorry?”

“Mr. Morgan, I’m asking you if you ever hit Jessica Lempare. Can you please answer that question?” Bill asks while pulling out two pieces of paper from his briefcase. He holds the pieces of paper up just long enough for Bud to look at them.

“No…” Bud shakes his head.

“Really, Mr. Morgan? Because I have a police report here, dated only five years ago, that states what you’re saying isn’t entirely true.”

“There were no charges laid,” Bud defends himself. “The police didn’t press charges. I didn’t have a criminal conviction recorded against me, so you can’t use that.”

“Did you hit her?” Bill asks again.

“She didn’t press charges!” Bud snaps.

Bill opens his eyes like he’s shocked by the outburst, but he isn’t at all. This is what he was playing for.

The act is only for the jury members.

With a glance to his left, he sees the surprise on an old lady’s face in the jury.

Well played, Bill, he thinks to himself. Men like Bud Morgan are ticking time bombs. All Bill needed to do was push the right combination of buttons.

Bud Morgan holds his emotions inside, letting the negative emotions bubble and boil away for years. For Bud Morgan, emotions are to be avoided at all costs.

But this intense build-up of feelings only needs to be touched softly for the pain to explode.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened, Mr. Morgan?”

“Nothing happened! That’s what I just said! There were no charges laid against me. There is nothing to tell. There were no charges laid against anyone at any time.”

“Interesting…” Bill returns to his desk, ruffling through his papers. “Because I have a statement here from Jessica Lempare to the police about that incident. Your Honor, I would like to present this statement as evidence to the court.”

Bill passes the statement to Judge Wilmot, who glances his eyes over the paper, and then nods his approval.

“It’s not true. Nothing happened.”

“The statement says that you hit her.” Bill hands copies of the paper to the prosecution table, and then to the jurors.

“That’s not true…”

“Isn’t it? Her statement says that it isn’t the first time you hit her. Her statement says that you hit her repeatedly over a number of years. The incident that led to this statement was the worst. You hit her three times, leaving her with a brutal black eye.”

Bud doesn’t reply.

Picking up the police photos off the table, Bill circulates the report and photos to the Judge, Miss Valentine, and the jury. They all recoil in disgust as they view the pictures of Jessica Lempare’s blackened eye.

“Did you hit her, Mr. Morgan?”

“There were no charges laid,” he whispers his response, still avoiding eye contact.

“That wasn’t my question, Mr. Morgan. My question was if you physically struck Jessica Lempare. You haven’t told us what happened that day.”

“She fell.”

“After you hit her?” Bill can tell that his line of questioning is starting to grate Bud Morgan and he’s playing right into his hands. Bill’s approach is a textbook character attack, and he’s going to keep prodding until he gets the result that he wants.

“There were no charges laid against me. I have never been charged with hitting anyone.”

“But that is also not entirely accurate, is it, Mr. Morgan?”

“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I have never been charged with any criminal offense in my life. You can check my police file. It should all be there – or not there – because there is nothing to find. You can’t just start accusing me of criminal behavior when I’m not a criminal. I have never been charged with anything criminal in my life.”

“If I check your police file, I won’t find any criminal charges. That is correct, Mr. Morgan.” Bill takes a long pause and looks over the papers on his desk. “But why don’t you tell the court why you were discharged from the army?”

Bud’s face goes pale.

“Mr. Morgan?” Bill questions.

He doesn’t answer.

“Is it true that you were discharged from the army because you hit a female nurse across the face? She was trying to help you, Mr. Morgan, and you hit her.”

Bud looks at his hands as his darkest moment is revealed to the court.

The pain of his most humiliating moment is being relived. Bud Morgan has suppressed that memory for as long as he can, but he can no longer avoid it.

“You see things in war…” he mutters. “Things that people should never have to see. I didn’t… I didn’t have control…”

Bill’s heart sinks for him. The men and women that serve their country have his utmost respect. “Go on.”

“I couldn’t help the way I reacted. I had just seen… children… women…” His eyes glaze over, looking to a far away place. “I saw things that weren’t right. I was in shock. And this nurse… I didn’t mean to hit her. I didn’t mean to do that. It was just how my body reacted. I couldn’t control it. Something inside of me snapped.”

“Is that what happened when you hit Jessica?” Bill asks softly.

“Jessica?” he questions. “No. I spent a lot of time with Norman Chester, Anna’s grandfather. He was the first one who helped me. He introduced me to other men that had been through the same thing. It was sort of like an unofficial support group. That is why I started the Recovering Veterans charity. I wanted to help people the way that Norman helped me. I would be dead if it weren’t for Norman. That’s when I first met Frank Matthews as well. He helped me too. He was a part of that support group. I spent years in therapy trying to recover from the shock. I recovered from my post-traumatic stress disorder with their help, both Frank and Norman, and my support group.”

“You recovered?”

“Yes. I owe those men everything. I would be dead if it weren’t for them. Sometimes I get angry, but they are always there for me. I owe them everything and I would do anything for them. Anything. That’s who I was having a drink with the afternoon that I saw Anna in the bar, my support group. They are my support network. Without them, I would be nothing.”

A thought grows in Bill’s head, and he stalls for a moment, letting the thought develop.

“Was Frank Matthews at the bar that night?”

“Yes. He’s one of my strongest supporters.”

Bill Harvey’s mind races back to his conversation with Jessica Lempare.

“Did you serve with Frank Matthews?”

“No. He served at a different time.”

“Did anyone in your support group serve with Frank Matthews?”

Bud looks at Bill confused. “No, I don’t think so.”

“And who is set to gain the most from the passing of Jessica Lempare?” Bill becomes lost in his own thoughts.

“Anna. She’ll receive half the funds, and the Recovering Veterans charity will receive the other half,” Bud states, a little confused. “And her ex-partner, Frank Matthews, inherited what little she had.”

As Bill stands in the courtroom, staring at the respected veteran, he has a moment of clarity.

Bud is innocent. He has no doubt of that now.

But that reduces his list of killer options…

CHAPTER 22

Bill Harvey quietly sits down behind his table, his mind a blur of connecting thoughts. He gazes into the distance; barely hearing Judge Wilmot call to adjourn the court for the evening.

“Bill.” Investigator Jack Grayson taps him on the shoulder as the crowd starts to file out from the courtroom. “Bill?”

“Jack…” Bill slowly turns around. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What’s going on?” Anna asks with a desperate tone in her voice.

He looks across to Joanne Valentine’s table and sees that they are all listening intently to Bill Harvey’s next move. He offers Valentine a smile, gathers his files, puts them into his briefcase, and stands up proudly.

Valentine offers a smile back to him. “Bill Harvey, you’re the only man I know that could take on this case, and still look confident. But I must say that your confidence is misplaced. You can’t win the case from here. If your client would like to negotiate a deal, then we can still listen.”

Valentine closes her laptop before sliding the thin computer into her bag.

“That is the difference between you and me, Joanne.”

“What’s that?” Valentine asks, confused by his statement.

“You rely on the punching of a keyboard to guide your case. Your case is built on formality and process. Our case is not. Our case is built on intuitive feeling. You won’t see a computer on my desk. You’ll see handwritten notes that encourage thought, rather than typed words that follow a process.”

Valentine sighs. “Each to their own, Bill. Regardless, intuition won’t get you out of this corner.”

Turning back to Anna, Bill smiles. He leans closer to her, whispering, “It isn’t time to run yet, Anna. Go home and rest. Tomorrow is going to be a big day.”

She nods, having complete faith in the man defending her. His resilient confidence soothes her nerves.

Nodding for Jack Grayson to follow him out the door of the courtroom, Bill stops after they have left the room and reached a quiet corner of the courthouse. When the passing crowd has moved by, and he’s left alone with Jack, he turns to him, looking him in the eye.

“Your play didn’t go to plan,” Jack states. “You made Bud look even more innocent than he already is. The jury is going to have no choice but to find Anna guilty at the end of this case. Right now, it looks like she’s going away for a very long time.”

“And if she’s guilty of murdering her aunt, then that is justice,” Bill replies. “She deserves to go to prison if she has committed a murder.”

“But it’s not exactly doing the best thing for your client.”

“Maybe,” Bill says. “And maybe it is. If she did kill her aunt, then prison will teach her to control her anger. Prison may rehabilitate her before she kills someone else with that rage.”

“Do you really think she’s guilty?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m quickly running out of options.”

Jack spots the prosecution team walking close by and stalls their conversation as they pass. The prosecution team unconsciously lean closer to Jack, trying to listen in to any hint they can gather. Although they are in front regarding the case, they are wary of Bill’s reputation.

Once they have passed through the corridor, Jack returns his attention to Bill. “How many options do you have left?”

“Two.” Bill Harvey thinks about the days ahead. “And I don’t want to get to the last option.”

“I guess your last option is Anna. If you look at all the evidence, then it does point to Anna. She was there at the murder scene, she was angry, and she had the motive to strangle her aunt. If we step back and look at the bigger picture, then she does look guilty.”

“None of that proves her guilt, Jack. It makes it more likely that she’s guilty, but none of it proves that she killed her aunt. None of the evidence is definitive in saying that Anna is the one who is guilty. All we have to do is say that it is reasonable that someone else could have been there. Of course, that job is made easier if we can present someone as another reasonable choice.”

“We have already lost two of the reasonable choices. So, who is left as a reasonable choice?”

“Jack,” Bill states firmly. “I want you to find out everything that you know about Frank Matthews.”

“Frank Matthews? I’ve already gathered information about Frank. It’s all in the file. He’s a respected veteran, a former boyfriend of Jessica Lempare, and he works for the charity. He’s connected to this case in many ways, but none of that makes him a reasonable suspect.”

“And thank you for compiling that file, Jack. It was exactly what I asked for at the time. But it’s all surface information. There was something about Frank Matthews that didn’t sit well with me when I first met him. There seemed to be something bubbling under the surface of his personality.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Anything suspicious. There was something about him that set alarm bells ringing the first time we met. I think he’s hiding something. And I think that he was trying to control Jessica – to make sure that the will never went to Anna. I’m not sure why he would be doing that, but I think that if we figure it out, then we might give ourselves a stronger chance in this case.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Bill, but some of the jury members reacted really well to Bud’s statement. They obviously have a lot of respect for Bud and his war history. Frank Matthews would be the same. He’s another respected veteran, Bill.”

“There was something about the way Frank avoided my question about the war… If I didn’t know better, I would say that he was lying.”

“Are you saying that he was lying about being a veteran?”

“I’m not sure what he was lying about. But when I asked Frank about the Gulf War, he had some of the tell-tale signs of lying. There were two key indicators that he did when I asked him about the war. One: he tried to dissipate some of the anxiety by grooming his immediate surrounds, and two: he had a very typical hand-to-face activity that indicated a lie.”

“I’ll look into it, Bill.” Jack nods. “And remind me to never lie around you.”

“You’re like an open book, Jack. I don’t have to look that hard to know when you’re lying.” Bill winks. “But sometimes it’s best to leave the little lies alone.”

Jack laughs. “I’ll dig a bit deeper into Frank Matthews’ past and see what I turn up. What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to the Recovering Veterans office and having a chat with the man himself.”

“This man could be a killer, Jack. If he killed for the sake of that estate, then I’m sure that he could kill again. Would you like me to come with you?”

“I’m a big boy, Jack. I can look after myself.”

“I know you can.” Jack pats his friend on the shoulder. “But my worry is that you seem to find trouble wherever you go.”

“I always do my best to avoid trouble,” Bill says with a cheeky grin.

Yet both men know that his statement is far from the truth.

Trouble is a fundamental part of Bill Harvey’s life.

CHAPTER 23

The drive to the charity office is quick, giving Bill little time to overthink the situation. Bill prefers it that way.

When given the chance, he can think about the same situation one hundred times, running over the possibilities time and time again. When Bill Harvey went on his first date as an eighteen-year-old, he wrote down every possible outcome he could imagine. Despite the sixty-four pages of detailed notes, he didn’t plan that his blind date would be the daughter of a well-known gang leader. From that day forward, he has tried to control his need for overthinking.

When he walks into the entrance of the Recovering Veterans charity office, the secretary sends him straight through to see Frank in the main office.

As Bill opens the tall glass door, he sees that Frank is seated behind the large corporate desk. He’s hunched over, squinting at the documents, desperately trying to read the words.

“Acting CEO today Frank?” Bill quips as he walks into the spacious, clean office.

Frank Matthews looks up from the paperwork in front of him. The air in the office is cold, but with no blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows, the cooling cost runs through the roof.

“Not at all, Mr. Harvey,” Frank replies. “We’re a team here. That is what makes us so efficient as a charity. Please take a seat.” Frank points his open hand towards a chair opposite the desk. “I didn’t expect to see you here over the next couple of days. I expected that you would have been preoccupied with the trial.”

Frank stands and walks over to the cabinet at the right side of the room, opening the cabinet door to expose a large selection of expensive spirits. He takes two glass cups in his left hand, places them on the desk, and then pours two glasses of whiskey.

Once poured, he hands one across to Bill.

“Thank you, Frank,” Bill says, slowly sitting down after taking the drink. “It’s funny that you should mention the court case. That’s the reason why I’m here.”

Frank clears his throat with a deep cough, and sits on the edge of the desk, positioning himself in a more authoritative position than the defense lawyer.

“Please, Bill Harvey, tell me how I can help.” Frank’s voice has a tone of mockery.

Pausing to take a whiff of the whiskey, and then a sip, Bill looks into Frank’s green eyes. “The murder trial is going as expected. This afternoon, we had Mr. John Morgan on the stand. He said a few interesting things when questioned about the situation. Tell me, how well do you know Bud?”

“Very well.”

“Do you care to elaborate on that relationship?”

Frank draws a long breath and looks away from Bill’s glare. “I first met Bud after he came to a support group for veterans who were struggling with their return to reality. He was in quite a bad way at that time. Over the next year or so, he got better and asked me if I would like to help other people like him. We got Norman Chester onboard as a sponsor, and he was just giving us money. Then Norman passed away, and we found that Norman had left money to the charity in his will. I have been beside Bud ever since then. He’s a good man. He suffered post-traumatic stress disorder, and that’s a horrible thing. It can ruin a person’s life from the inside out. You don’t want to see what that’s done to some of our great veterans. Great people have been turned in blubbering messes. It’s ruthless.”

Buzz.

Just as Bill goes to respond, his phone buzzes in his pocket. “Excuse me,” he says to Frank. “This message might be important.”

As Bill reads the text message from his investigator Jack Grayson, a smile carves across his face. Jack has confirmed what Bill had expected.

And the reason he’s in Frank’s office now.

“You served in the Gulf War, Frank?”

“That’s correct.”

“And who with?”

“The army.” Frank stares hard at the man opposite him.

“That’s funny. Because there is a record of your name serving in the army… but the only photo of you in the army doesn’t match your face. It’s a photo of someone else. Do you find that strange?”

“No.” Frank chuckles as he stands up and walks behind the desk to sit down in the large office chair. “Back then, staying alive was more important than keeping records. It wasn’t like it is today – not everything is recorded every time. When you’re fighting in a war, keeping records become second place. They messed up the photo. That’s no big deal.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Bill takes a deep breath. “Do you think that the men and women you served with would recognize you?”

“Of course.”

“And if we brought one of those people into the courtroom, they would say that under oath?”

“What are you implying, Bill?” Frank raises his voice as his left fist clenches.

“You didn’t serve in the Gulf War, did you?”

“I don’t like your tone. I don’t like it at all. I don’t like what you’re saying.”

“And Jessica found that out, didn’t she?”

“I think it’s time for you to leave. I don’t have time to listen to fanciful stories.”

“From our first interaction, it was clear that you weren’t a veteran. You don’t have the posture of a veteran. You don’t have rugged skin, your hair isn’t perfectly clipped, and your shirt is badly ironed. Now I could have accepted one of those mistakes. But all of them? No. It was clear to me that you have never served this country.”

“Come now,” Frank says, calming down with a smile. He leans back in his chair, full of confidence. “This story is a bit far-fetched. Clearly, you’re barking up the wrong tree. All you’re trying to do is deflect the attention away from Anna.”

“That’s the thing, Frank. I’ve recently come across some evidence that changes this case,” Bill says with a grin on his face.

“Ha!” Frank laughs. “If you had evidence, then you wouldn’t be sitting here. You would be exposing that to the world. You don’t have evidence of anything. All you have is a theory. And you can take your little theory away from here now. I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to listen to your stories. I don’t have time for this sort of stress. I have people to help.”

As Bill goes to respond, his phone buzzes again in his pocket:

Bill. Get out of there. Frank isn’t who he says he is. He’s a criminal with a long history of violence. His criminal record is under the name Frank Matthews – but a different Frank Matthews. Born on the same day, one year earlier.

“More stupid theories?” Frank smiles as he looks at the confusion on Bill’s face.

“Tell me, why would you impersonate a veteran?” Bill asks directly.

“I can assure you, I’m not impersonating anyone. I am Frank Matthews.”

“But you’re not the Frank Matthews that you say you are. You were born one year earlier than the veteran, Frank Matthews.”

The air in the room instantly becomes hostile.

Frank’s eyes lose any sense of emotion.

His body stature changes.

Bill feels the anger, fear, and pain grow in the room.

Slowly and steadily, Frank stands from behind the desk. He walks to the office door, slowly opens it, and calls out to his secretary, “Helen, be a good girl and go home now.”

“I just need to finish—”

“Please, Helen. Go home.” Frank’s voice is emotionless.

Bill waits for the response, his heart rate rising by the second.

“Yes, sir,” the secretary replies timidly.

Frank turns, closes the office door, and slowly clicks the lock shut.

CHAPTER 24

“I’ll be going now.” Bill stands from his chair.

Frank still has his back turned to Bill when he replies, “No. You and I need to discuss this theory of yours further, Bill. I don’t think that you should be able to walk into my office, make wild accusations, and not have to explain them. Trust me, you aren’t going anywhere now.”

Bill stands tall as Frank turns around to stare at him. With his heart pounding against the walls of his chest, his thought process is clear. He cannot let Frank reach the desk. As an army veteran, he has no doubt that Bud Morgan would have a weapon in one of the top drawers.

Bill must stand his ground and try to talk his way out of the situation.

Words have to be his weapon.

“Everyone has secrets. Everyone. I’m sure that you have your secrets as well. I have my own secrets that need to remain just that – secret. And I’ll do anything to protect them.”

“I know very little, Frank.” Bill stands straight – tough – attempting to assert dominance in the environment. His chest is pressed out, his chin up.

Frank notices his reaction, but it doesn’t bother him. Violence is his language. “You know more than you’re telling me. It seems to me that you know a lot. It seems to me that you know enough to destroy what I have. It seems to me that you know enough to tear down everything I have worked so hard for.”

With an aggressive stare, Bill watches Frank, who is still standing by the door. Bill has thrown many punches before in his life and isn’t scared of doing so again, but Frank Matthews is an equally physically imposing figure.

Frank’s shoulders have tightened, his heart rate has increased, and his focus is clear.

His gaze is solely following the chin of Bill Harvey. That is his target. That is his goal.

“It can be our secret. Just a small secret between you and I.” Bill lowers his voice to calm the room. “I have no need to disclose any information to anyone. Now, I’m going to leave this room.”

At six-foot-four, Bill Harvey is used to dominating most tense situations. However, Frank Matthews stands as tall and as broad as Bill.

“Like I said, Bill, you and I need to discuss this matter further. If you would please sit back down.” Frank indicates towards the chair.

“I’m not sitting back down.”

“Have it your way.” Frank shrugs. He can feel his pulse quicken. And he loves it. “But I cannot let you take all this away from me. I cannot let this life go. This is my life now, Bill. No one else’s. All this is mine.” Frank starts to walk slowly towards Bill. “Do you understand that, Bill Harvey? This is my life, and nobody is going to take that away from me.”

The thoughts begin to race through Bill’s mind.

There is a cold anger in Frank’s eyes as he approaches, but Bill holds his ground.

Their stares are matched.

But Frank continues until he’s in Bill’s personal space.

Bill’s heart is pounding, staring at his aggressor.

And then…

Smash.

One man falls.

CHAPTER 25

In boxing, they say that if you’re punched hard on the nose, it’s incredibly painful, but if you’re hit hard on the chin, it doesn’t hurt at all… because you won’t remember it.

Bill Harvey’s vision blurs as he looks around his surroundings. He’s lying face down on the floor and can taste blood in his mouth. His jaw has taken a heavy blow. His tongue runs over his cut upper lip, and he can feel the blood on his chin.

He wipes his lip with the back of his hand and looks closely at the smeared blood. As the fog in his head clears, he remembers where he is. His head flicks to the right, looking for any movement behind him.

There is none.

As he begins to push himself up, still dazed, he smells the smoke of a cigar.

“Ahh… Bill, glad to see you’re awake. I was worried that you weren’t going to wake up.” Frank’s voice is full of arrogance. “Of course, that would have saved me from having to do what I’m going to do next.”

Bill turns his head to the left to see Frank sitting on a chair near him, his legs spread wide in a show of alpha dominance. He sits nonchalantly, arms resting on the supports, with a cigar in one hand and a handgun in the other.

“Don’t worry about standing up. You can just sit there on the ground.” Frank waves the black revolver at Bill, making sure he knows it’s there.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, Bill leans against the cupboard behind him, his legs still sprawled outwards. As his focus becomes less blurry, he stares at Frank.

“That was a quick right hand. I don’t think I even saw it.”

Frank laughs. “I grew up in a boxing gym. I spent years training my right hand to be quicker than the eyes of my opponent. Those skills have stayed with me for life.”

Wiping the blood from his chin, Bill questions, “So, what happens now?”

“That, Bill, is up to you.”

“Okay. I would like to leave.”

Frank bursts out laughing. “Well, maybe it’s not totally up to you.”

“Tell me.” Bill attempts to buy some time while he considers his next steps. “Did Jessica find out who you were? Is that why you killed her?”

Frank chuckles. “You’re a clever man. A very clever man indeed.” Frank ponders his thoughts for a time while he looks out the window. He draws a long, tired breath before he continues. “Jessica had known about my secret for a while. She’s a very clever woman as well. As it turned out, she had a friend who also served with the real Frank Matthews. The man saw a photo of Jessica and me together and said that I wasn’t the Frank Matthews that he served with. Jessica confronted me about it years ago, but I convinced her to keep quiet.”

“How did you convince her to lie for you?”

“Jessica Lempare wasn’t an angel. She had some things in her past that she wasn’t proud of. She was once convicted of theft when she traveled to Mexico, you know? It happened fifty years ago when she was only young. No one else knew that. She kept that really quiet. She told me that it was a misunderstanding, and after she had spent a night in a Mexican prison, she vowed never to travel again. I guess we came to a mutual agreement about keeping secrets.” Frank sighs.

“You threatened that if she exposed your lie, you would expose hers?”

“You could say that, Bill,” Frank says. “And I don’t consider it a lie anymore. I have lived this life for such a long time, that I’m not interested in the past. I am Frank Matthews. This is who I am. This is what I do.”

“Take advantage of veterans?”

“I haven’t taken advantage of veterans. I’ve helped them. I have helped countless people get their lives back on track. I have helped those that defended us. I have helped the men and women who gave their souls for this country and were forgotten about. I’m a good man, Bill. I haven’t taken advantage of anyone.”

“But you have been well paid for it. I saw the accounts for the charity – you have to be one of the best-paid charity workers in the city. You also receive a pension from the army, and that isn’t rightfully yours.”

“Maybe last year… maybe. But not this year. I haven’t even gotten paid a single cent this year. I actually donated all my money back into the charity for a program to help those with post-traumatic stress disorder. I’ve changed. Yes, when I started all this, it was about the money. Sure. That was it. I enjoyed collecting the pension. It turned my life around. And then when I was getting paid by the charity, well, I afforded some very nice holidays. But now, it’s not about the money. It’s about helping people. It’s about making the world a better place.”

“Then why kill Jessica?”

“Because she was going to give Anna all the money. All of it. That damn spoilt brat convinced Jessica to give her the money. She called me to her apartment to tell me the details. Anna had convinced Jessica that the education that travel provides was as important as completing Army Basic Training. Can you believe that? Jessica changed her mind. And she said she would expose me if I didn’t sign the document of approval. I’m the deputy CEO of this charity, and my approval would have meant that the will was changed without question. How could I have explained that to Bud? How could I have explained that to anyone?”

“If you signed the document to approve the change in the will, the charity wouldn’t get the funds anymore…”

“But if Jessica died, well, the charity would get at least half of the money. Ten million dollars. That is the minimum that the charity will receive after the estate is sorted.”

“That was enough money to murder her for?”

“I’ve murdered for less.” Frank’s voice is cold and devoid of any remorse. “All my hard work, years of it, goes down the drain because a spoiled brat wanted all the money. Just when I thought I could really help the veterans, the charity would have to fold. Without the money contribution from the estate, our charity wouldn’t survive. It’s how we afford to help so many people, Bill. That was our lifeline, and it was about to be taken away. I was furious that Jessica could do that. She knew how much we relied on those funds. She knew how much we needed her support. How could she choose to change the will?”

There is silence as Bill stares at his attacker, waiting for him to continue.

“Bill, I’m asking you a legal question. How could she have changed it?” Frank’s expression shows his confusion.

“The will states that Anna needs an education by virtue of Army Basic Training. However, the word education could be interpreted differently. I guess, Jessica changed her mind on that. And with your approval, then the will would be changed without question.”

“I couldn’t let it all go. I couldn’t let her take it all away from us. The veterans needed the money – not the spoilt brat. She never did anything for this country.”

“Her whole family gave their lives for this country. Anna’s family has paid the ultimate price for this country.”

“Yes, her family did, but that’s not Anna. She didn’t do anything to defend our freedoms.”

“And nor did you. You’re a criminal, not a veteran. You haven’t given a thing for this country.”

Frank stares at Bill with cold, bitter rage.

A few moments pass before Frank stands and begins to pace the room, the handgun still held tightly in his right hand.

“I was a criminal. That who I was, but that was a past life. It should be forgotten about. I didn’t want to be a criminal, Bill. I really didn’t want it. That’s just who I was. I was the victim of a bad childhood – I had no other choice but to turn to crime. It was the only way I could survive. My mother died of a drug overdose when I was twelve, and I never knew my father. I had to scrap and fight for everything I had. I stole things, lots of things. Cars, money, anything of value. But I did my time for that. I paid the price for my mistakes. And then…” Frank continues to pace the room. “Then the social security office mixed my number up. I don’t know how they did it, it was just one of those things. A stroke of luck. When I stepped out of prison, I was a different Frank Matthews. I was receiving veteran benefits and acknowledgment for what I did for this country. It took me a while to get used to it.”

“And what happened to the real Frank Matthews? The one that served for his country?”

“I found out that the other Frank Matthews was born on the same day, but one year earlier. To the government, I was that Frank Matthews. So, I started to live his life. I collected the veteran benefits, I attended doctors to take blood tests, I went to support groups, and I even met his long-lost cousin. He had no family, so it was easy to become him. I had an old mate that went to the army, and he checked his army file and found out where he served. It was my life, not his anymore. That happened over twenty years ago now. A moment of perfect luck.”

“But it wasn’t you,” Bill interrupts, still sitting up against the cupboard with blood smeared on his chin.

Frank stops pacing the floor to stare down at his foe. “It’s me now. That’s who I am. The ‘real’ Frank Matthews had moved to Thailand. I looked him up soon after the error, out of fear that he might find me, but I was satisfied that he had fallen off the grid. He bought a farm, married a Thai girl, and lived a quiet life in a different country. I kept an eye on him, regularly calling his farm, and pretending to be someone else. When he passed away fifteen years ago, I felt relief. And then it wasn’t a lie anymore. It was just a perfect coincidence. It was my piece of freedom. God gave me a chance to start again.”

“You lived a lie.”

“But a good one. I was a lonely man with nothing to lose. I started meeting other veterans and kept quiet about my past. They thought that I was keeping quiet because I was struggling with what I saw. The quieter I stayed, the more they liked me. I had never been so accepted in my life. I started attending support groups, and it changed my life. That is where I first met Norman Chester. We really hit it off. Norman was a great man. Then Bud joined our support group, and we founded the charity together.

“Bud managed the charity because he was better at that sort of thing. I was his deputy. When Norman passed, I took over the management of the books. Sure, I took a lot of money for my own use when I first started – after a poor life, it was too tempting. Suddenly, I could afford things that I only ever dreamed about. I traveled. I bought lots of useless things… but then last year, I realized something. I realized that this is bigger than me and this is what I love doing. More than anything else, I love helping people. I love helping these men and women. I love it, Bill. Since that moment of realization, I have donated my every waking second to helping them. This charity is bigger than me. It changes lives.”

“And Jessica was going to take that all away from you. Not because she was going to expose your secret, but because she was going to take the money away.”

“All of it. Without the injection of cash every month, this place couldn’t afford to keep going. We wouldn’t survive without her money. You see, I didn’t kill Jessica for me – I did it for them, the men and women who have served our country. You can understand that can’t you, Bill?”

“Murdering someone isn’t the answer,” Bill states firmly.

“Jessica was on her last legs anyway. She was riddled with cancer, and she didn’t have long left. I just brought her death forward six months. I don’t feel guilty about it. She wasn’t a very nice person.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“I don’t care if I get charged with Jessica’s murder… but I do care if people find out that I’m not a veteran. This charity can survive a murder charge, but it cannot survive my fraud. I don’t care about me anymore – it’s bigger than that. I want to help people. These people. The one’s that have helped others.”

“You’re a murderer. Not a saint.”

“Jessica wasn’t the first. And by the looks of this current situation, she won’t be the last.”

“If you kill me, the charity folds. No charity can survive a serial killer deputy CEO. One murder may appear like a crime of passion, but not two. You cannot kill me.”

“I disagree. The charity can survive a murderous deputy CEO. They will paint me as the former veteran who lost the plot. We’ll get sympathy for that. It will help people realize how bad it is for some veterans… but the charity cannot survive a fraud. If it comes out that I’m a fraud, the men and women that I have helped loose everything. I can’t have that.”

Frank looks down at the revolver in his right hand, studying it as if it’s the first time he has ever seen it.

“Don’t do it,” Bill whispers. “This isn’t the answer.”

“It is, Bill. I have to do it. I can’t let my secret out. If my secret goes out to the world, then it’s all over. I can’t have that. I can’t let that happen.”

“How did you kill Jessica?” Bill asks.

“I see what you’re doing, Bill. You’re trying to buy time,” Frank responds. He kicks a chair to place it in front of Bill and then sits down, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “But I’ll humor you. I’ll let you enjoy your last few minutes before I fire this gun.”

“Don’t do it, Frank.”

“I strangled her. My DNA was all over her clothes. I was wearing gloves, so there are no fingerprints, but I spat on her clothes after she died. I was angry. So angry. I was surprised that the police didn’t come looking for me. I was so surprised that they didn’t match that DNA to mine. How could they miss that? Then I went and took the security footage from her apartment. I knew that she used to record the cleaner with a little portable camera to make sure he wasn’t stealing anything. Our disagreement would have been on that camera. That camera and the footage is still in my apartment, if you’re interested in it, Bill.”

“Let’s go and get it now.”

“Ha!” Frank laughs. “I was waiting for them, you know. Waiting and waiting. But the cops never came. When they arrested Anna, I laughed so hard. I never meant to set her up, but it couldn’t have gone much better than it did. I never liked Anna, so I wasn’t too unhappy that she was charged with the murder. And because she was charged with the murder, the charity will get twenty million, not just ten million. That couldn’t have worked out any better.”

“Jessica didn’t deserve to die for that money.”

“Maybe.” Frank sighs. “And now a second person is about to die for the money in that estate.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Bill judges whether Frank looks like he’s going to pull the trigger. Frank looks vulnerable and defeated, but he’s showing no malice. That gives Bill some hope. He just has to keep him talking.

“I do have to do this.” Frank shakes his head. “If anyone finds out that I wasn’t a veteran, then the charity folds. If it comes out that I’m a fraud, all that hard work is gone. All those people’s lives that I helped change, all that will be gone. If I give those men and women a reason to doubt me, then they will doubt themselves. I can’t let that happen. I can’t have that secret leave this room.”

“For the veterans, I’ll take that secret to the grave.”

“Yes, you will,” Frank states as he stands.

He stands tall and proud, the gun pointed towards the lawyer’s forehead.

Bill looks to the door, but Frank is standing between him and the only exit. Still sitting down, Bill knows that he’s in no position to attack Frank. He will have pulled the trigger before he can reach him.

“Close your eyes, Bill,” Frank whispers as he grips the gun. “I don’t want you to watch this.”

“No,” Bill whispers. “No, Frank.”

“Please close your eyes, Bill. Please.”

Frank’s fingers wrap tightly around the trigger. There is no shaking – he has a sense of complete calm.

Bill’s thoughts aren’t about the revolver gripped in Frank’s hand. They aren’t about his aching head. Not even his escape plan.

Instead, as he faces death, his thoughts race to his past – his memories, his family, his lost loves.

Kate…

“Don’t do it,” Bill whispers, closing his eyes.

The gun hovers only inches from his face.

This is it.

His last breath…

Bang.

CHAPTER 26

Bill Harvey’s eyes squeeze shut as the shot fires.

The sound deafens him.

The noise rings in his ears.

His whole body clenches in fear…

But he doesn’t feel pain.

He doesn’t feel the sharp impact of a bullet entering his skin.

He feels nothing.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

In front of him, lying on the floor, is Frank Matthews.

The moments of life slowly tick past as he watches the motionless body.

With the caution of a man who has just faced death, he moves towards the body.

Time is suspended as he kneels next to the man with a gun.

Frank Matthews’ face is empty.

Vacant.

Soulless.

A slow creeping red flow runs over the carpet. The gun is still lying in Frank’s loose right hand, lying on its side, pointed towards the door.

Under Frank’s chin is a hole large enough to fit two fingers. Bill Harvey can’t bring his eyes to look at the wound. Instead, his vision is drawn to Frank Matthews’ eyes.

The eyes are wide open, lacking any movement, any sign of life.

Where there was once life, there is now nothing. There is no connection to the world. No depth. No emotion.

The overpowering smell of the gunshot fills the room, and it brings Bill back to reality.

Still in shock, he pulls Frank’s left wrist towards him, checking for any sign of a pulse.

There is none.

Gently, he rests the wrist on the floor.

Leaning back on the heels of his feet, with his knees still on the ground, he stares at the figure in front of him.

His mind is empty.

Lost.

“Bill?” A hand shakes his shoulder. “Bill?”

Looking up, he sees the figure of his friend, Jack Grayson, standing over him.

“Bill, are you okay?!” Jack asks. “I heard the gunshot.”

Bill nods, bringing his eyes back to Frank Matthews.

He has seen death before, but never this personal.

Never this close.

“I’m not hurt,” he finally mumbles.

“I came as fast as I could. When you didn’t answer your phone, I thought there might be trouble. I called the police, and they’re on their way. Did he say if he had anything to do with killing Jessica Lempare?”

“Yes.”

“Can you prove it?”

“The hidden camera is at his apartment. And his DNA was on Jessica’s clothes. We can prove it, Jack.”

“But the DNA would be of someone else, another Frank Matthews?”

“No. All the medical records exist under this Frank Matthews. He lived that lie for twenty years. All the DNA evidence will point to the Frank Matthews lying in front of us. That’s why he turned the gun on himself.”

“Why?”

“It was to save the charity,” Bill whispers. “To save the people he has helped. He didn’t want the world to know what he had done.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No one can ever know his true identity, Jack. Nobody can ever find out that he’s not the Frank Matthews that he said he was. Nobody can ever know that. That’s a secret that you and I need to take to our graves.”

“What?” Jack is confused.

“If his fraud is uncovered.” Bill continues to stare down at the dead body in front of him. “Then the hard work of this charity will be for nothing. The charity will lose everything if he’s proved not to be the person he said he was. We cannot let that happen, Jack. Every person that he has helped will doubt themselves, and every person that they are helping will lose the support they so desperately need. Nobody is to ever know who he really was. Never. His secret died with him.”

“He shot himself so he could keep his secret?”

“Yes, Jack. He died for the greater good.”

“And if someone else finds out the truth about his identity?”

“We will deny that we ever knew about it.”

The two men stare at the body as the faint ring of police sirens come closer to them.

Jack nods. “For the greater good, Bill.”

“For the greater good.”

CHAPTER 27

One month later…

“I have a present for you.” Bill Harvey opens a file as Anna Lempare sits across from him in his office.

“What is it?”

With a smirk on his handsome face, Bill opens a large envelope, revealing Anna’s much loved, and very well-used, passport.

“Oh my gosh! Thank you, Bill! Thank you.” The tears begin to well in her eyes. “This was the best present I could ever receive.” Anna grips the passport tight in her hands, staring at it with the same combination of shock and glee that a child does to their dream present on their birthday. “This is my life’s work, Bill. It is everything to me. Everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Bill says with another smile.

In a rare show of genuine emotion, Anna runs around Bill’s large desk and grips the man in a tight hug. After she has almost squashed Bill with enthusiasm, she releases her grip, before moving back around to the other side of the table.

“Sorry.” She giggles. “But… thank you. Really, thank you. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I’m just doing my job.”

“You did more than that,” Anna says. “What happens now?”

“The charges have been dropped against you after I detailed Frank’s confession to the police. They found that Frank’s DNA was all over Jessica’s clothes, and they found the video evidence of Frank entering the apartment at the time of the murder. In the missing footage, you could even hear the moment the murder occurred. It was very damning evidence.”

“Why didn’t they find that the first time? That would have saved us a whole lot of trouble.”

“They didn’t look. And they didn’t have to. As far as they were concerned, they had their murderer. Everything pointed to you. They dismissed the extra DNA on the clothes as unimportant.”

Anna shakes her head. “Unbelievable.”

“Not at all. I would have done the same if I were the police. Most of them are good people, Anna. It’s a hard job, and they do the best they can. But, sometimes, things don’t quite fit, and that is why we have a justice system. And that is why people like me have jobs."

“You’re too positive about the world.”

“No, Anna. I’m a realist, nothing more,” Bill replies. “What are you going to do now that you have the ten million dollars from the will?”

“The money arrived last week. Ten million dollars went to the charity, and the other ten million came to me, just like the conditions noted. But after I made your payment, eighty percent of the remaining money is already gone.”

Bill’s eyes almost fall out of my head. “What did you do?”

“I donated it.”

“Donated it?” Surprise sinks in for a second time. “To who?”

“The charity, Recovering Veterans. They’re good people Bill, and they do good things. Now that Frank Matthews is gone, I have complete faith in that place. And despite what Frank did to my aunt, he did it for the charity. Bud is a good man, and he will help the people that need it. The charity supports people that need help. That’s important.”

“So even after all this, you still donated your inheritance?” Bill shakes his head.

“Maybe this experience has taught me something,” she states. “I can see why the charity was so important to my grandfather now. They help the people that helped us. That means something, Bill. Something bigger than me.”

“And what about your distrust of the army?”

“It was never about the individuals. The individuals are great people. They need help. My anger was against the authority, and the politicians running the army. I want to help the people that helped us.”

With a touch of pride, Bill smiles broadly. “That’s nice to hear, Anna. Really nice.”

“And I don’t need the money,” she continues. “I want adventure in my life, not possessions. I have enough to support me, but I don’t want to use it. I want to work in remote parts of the world and struggle from time to time. That’s what life is about. It’s about adventure.”

“So where to next for Anna Lempare then?”

“Australia. I have never been there, and I’ve always wanted to cuddle a koala.” The smile on her face spreads out into full blown joy. “And I hear that there’s a small little island called Tasmania that has the purest air on earth. After the threat of going to jail, that’s the air I want to breathe.”

“Well, Miss Lempare, I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thank you, Bill. For everything that you have done for me, thank you.” For the first time in months, Anna’s shoulders relax. She walks out of his office with her head held up high; her confidence returned.

Leaning back in his chair, Bill rests his feet on the desk.

He has an overwhelming sense of accomplishment, not just in winning the court case, but also in having an influence on a young woman’s life.

As Bill is smiling smugly and staring at nothing, his assistant, Kate Spencer, enters the office. “Anna looked very happy, but I suppose she would be if she just banked ten million dollars.”

“She didn’t bank it,” Bill quips. “She donated most of the money back to the charity, Recovering Veterans.”

“What? Are you serious?” Kate asks in surprise.

“I think that girl has learned a lot about life in the last few months. When faced with a life in prison, I think she began to understand what is important in life. It was never about the money for her.”

“Then why dispute the will at all?”

“I think she felt obligated to dispute it. She was always fighting with her aunt, and if her aunt wanted one thing, then Anna would naturally dispute it.”

“So two people died for nothing?”

“None of the deaths were Anna’s fault. You must remember that, Kate.” Bill replies. “And the money found its way to good use in the end. The money will be able to help so many people now.”

“Well, I must admit, I read her wrong,” Kate says, staring at Bill. “But you didn’t. You knew it all along. You saw the good in her. All for the greater good, eh?”

“Yes, Kate.” Bill smiles at his beautiful friend. “For the greater good.”

THE END

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Thank you for reading the first story in the Bill Harvey series.

I first wrote this story as a novella, but I always felt that it needed more. The main aim of all my stories is to entertain, but I also wanted to emphasize the need to help the men and women who return from war. They risked their lives for our freedoms, and need support when they come back to civilian life.

This story is for them.

The character of Anna Lempare is based on an English woman I met while travelling in China – she was very elegant, but she spent all her days protesting about one cause or another. She had such great passion in her life, and despite being born into great wealth, she tried desperately to make the world a better place by fighting for what she believed in. She was an amazing woman - the world needs more people like her.

I have started writing the next book in the Bill Harvey series, so keep an eye out for it.

Cheers,

Peter

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Peter O'Mahoney is the author of the Bill Harvey and Tom Whiskey thrillers.

O'Mahoney was raised on a healthy dose of Perry Mason stories. The pace, intrigue, and style of these books inspired him to write his own set of legal dramas. Having majored in psychology, O'Mahoney delves into the thoughts of his characters to find the motivation behind their actions. He loves to blur the line between good and evil.

Writing under various pen names, including children’s books under the pen name Peter Patrick, O'Mahoney has entertained hundreds of thousands of readers around the world.

Also by Peter O’Mahoney

The Bill Harvey Legal Thriller Series:

Redeeming Justice

Fire and Justice

The Tom Whiskey Mystery Series:

Whiskey Justice

The Max Harrison Legal Thriller Series with Patrick Graham:

Criminal Justice

Defending the Innocent

The Paid Juror

Burning Justice

The Girl on the Road

Available to download and buy now.

Table of Contents

WILL OF

PETER O’MAHONEY

Available to download and buy now.

PETER O’MAHONEY

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

THE END

Available to download and buy now.