Marta Perry - Murder in Plain Sight

“I didn’t.” She was angry right back at him, but underneath the anger was pain. He judged her so quickly. “Geneva, for pity’s sake, I didn’t suggest that you do any such thing.”

Geneva finally seemed to wake up to just how angry her son was. “No, dear, of course you didn’t suggest it. Trey, stop looking like a thundercloud. We were talking about all the bad publicity, and Jessica said it was a shame there wasn’t anyone giving the other side.”

“I didn’t say that, exactly. Just that I’d like to find a way to counter the bad publicity.” She experienced the helplessness Trey seemed to feel so often with his mother. “Geneva, I certainly didn’t want you to do anything.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Geneva beamed, unrepentant. “I showed the community that we support Thomas.”

“Yes. You did.” Trey looked weighted down with the responsibility he took so seriously. “I just hope you don’t have cause to regret it.”

BY MONDAY MORNING, Jessica couldn’t stay in the house any longer. She told herself it was because she had to get back to work, but she knew the truth. She really wanted to get away from reminders of the complicated situation with Trey.

Apparently Trey felt the same. He’d left the house even earlier than she had.

She sighed, pushing herself back from the desk in Leo’s office, and flexed her fingers. At least it was her left wrist, not her right. The doctor had given her a wrist support, saying it ought to allow her to use her left hand to some extent. He hadn’t mentioned how much that would hurt.

Leo, standing at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to consult a reference, peered at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “How do you feel about getting a psychiatric exam for Thomas?”

She brushed her hair back from her face, generating an instant memory of Trey doing the same thing, Trey’s fingers lingering against her cheek…

She forced herself to concentrate. “If we bring in a psychiatric defense, that means we’re admitting he’s guilty. I don’t believe that.”

“I don’t either.” Leo put the heavy tome down on his desk. “But-”

“But I suppose we shouldn’t miss any possibilities.” She finished the thought for him. “Do you know anyone?”

He nodded. “Leave it to me.”

It was the right thing, wasn’t it? “What has happened in other local trials involving the Amish?”

Leo stared at her blankly for a moment. “There haven’t been any-well, at least not of this nature. The Amish are far more likely to be victims. A couple of Amish young men were arrested on drug charges a few years ago.”

“What was the public reaction to that?”

“Mixed.” He sat on the corner of his desk. “The fact that they were Amish caused a bit of sensationalism, but most local people understood that they were unbaptized teens who probably were in the process of leaving the church anyway.”

She nodded. “I’ve had an attorney friend looking into cases nationwide. She hasn’t been able to find anything helpful. Other than causes like having their own schools and the recent issues with the state’s attempt to outlaw lay midwives, the Amish simply don’t appear in connection with the law.”

“Even in the case of the drug dealing, there wasn’t the kind of outcry there’s been in this case.”

“Our favorite television reporter has been responsible for a lot of that.”

“To say nothing of the district attorney. He held another news conference.” Leo tossed the book he held on the desk, and it landed on the blotter with a dull thud. “He’s riding the publicity for all its worth.”

Jessica pushed back from the desk, dissatisfied. She hadn’t followed up every other possibility, and she had to. The trial date was coming at them like a freight train. Or maybe like a train wreck.

She stood. “I’m going out for a while. I’ll check back later.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“No, thanks.” If Leo knew where she was going, he might react the way Trey had, and she didn’t need any protective males following her around.

As soon as she was out of the office, she called for a taxi. Twenty minutes later, she was getting out at the garage where Chip Fulton worked.

The bay doors stood open, so she walked inside. A burly man leaning over a car’s motor straightened, gesturing toward the door. “Boss is in the office.”

She spotted the name embroidered on his striped coveralls. “Are you Chip?

“That’s right.” Tall, heavyset, he had the look of someone who’d once been an athlete but had lost the battle to stay in shape. “I’m Chip.” His gaze drifted over her body, and he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a few questions I hope you can answer.”

His gaze sharpened on her face, and his smile disappeared. “Hey, you’re her. That lawyer trying to get Cherry’s killer off.” His beefy hand closed over a wrench. “You got a nerve, coming in here.”

Her pulse quickened, but she kept her voice even. “Thomas is innocent until proved guilty, you know.”

“He’s guilty as sin, that’s what I know.” His face reddened, and a vein throbbed in his temple. “You’d better get out. Go back where you belong, and leave us alone.”

It was an unpleasant echo of the notes. She took a step toward him, anger overcoming caution. “It was you, wasn’t it? You slashed my tires. You sent me those notes. Did you push me, too?”

He raised the wrench. “I didn’t do nothing. You can’t blame stuff on me.”

He was only feet from her. The empty garage echoed with the sound of his voice. Her stomach twisted, and she gripped her bag, hefting it. Not much of a weapon, but all she had. If he…

“Fulton!” The man who strode out of the office area was slight and graying, but his voice carried a note of authority. “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from that lady.”

Chip took a step back. “I wasn’t doing nothing. She’s the one, coming in here, accusing me of stuff I didn’t do.”

The older man turned to Jessica, a mix of apology and curiosity on his face. “If you have a beef with Fulton’s work, you’d better take it up with me. This is my shop.”

“It’s nothing to do with his work, Mr. Walbeck.” Like Chip, he wore his name on his coveralls. “My name is Jessica Langdon. I’m an attorney representing Thomas Esch.” She probably didn’t need to say more, as much publicity as the case had had. “I’m sorry to interrupt his work, but I’d like to ask Chip a few questions about Cherry Wilson.”

He could tell her to get out, but she hoped he wouldn’t. He paused a moment, studying her face. Then he gave a short nod and turned to Chip.

“Answer the lady’s questions and be done with it, Fulton. You haven’t got anything to hide, do you?”

“No, sir,” he said quickly. “I didn’t do nothing.”

“Then answer the questions and get back to work.” He turned abruptly and stalked toward the office.

He didn’t go inside, though, Jessica noticed. He stopped at a board covered with pegs from which sets of keys were hanging. He might be looking for something, but she had the feeling he wanted to hear what was going on. Or maybe he was being protective.

“Go ahead, ask.” Chip tossed the wrench into a toolbox, where it landed with a metallic thud. “I got nothing to hide.”

She took a breath, reorganizing her thoughts. This was about Cherry Wilson, not about notes and slashed tires. “I heard that you and Cherry dated.”

He shrugged massive shoulders. “Sometimes. Not serious. We knew each other a long time, see? Since third grade, maybe. We’d go out, talk, have a few drinks, a few laughs, but I knew she’d never get serious about me.”