Sedona Law 4 by Dave Daren (free ebook reader for ipad .txt) 📗

It was so humiliating. And she was yelling something about nakedness, I don’t know.”

“And do you have any idea how she got backstage?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I just happened to be in the hall. Security chased her away. Fortunately, there were showers backstage. She got all of us, Olivia, Julianna, Beyo, all of us.”

“She was alone?” I asked.

“As far as I know,” she answered.

“Was this before or after the show?” I asked.

“This was before,” she said. “But, security wasn’t able to catch her, so I believe she came back to finish the job after the show.”

“Julianna says the murder weapon was hers, and that it was in a knapsack in a dressing room. Why would Judith go through a knapsack to find a murder weapon?”

A shadow passed across Chloe’s face. “I… I have a confession to make.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t remember this part until later,” she said, “until after the police had already questioned us. But, I wasn’t even sure it was relevant, so I didn’t know if I should come forward with it or not. But, now that you bring it up.”

She sighed and looked at the camera and then me again. “Julianna and I both have long hair that has to be pinned up, and that night, I ran out of hair pins. I knew she would have one, and we share supplies like that often, so I asked Beyo if he had seen Julianna, and I explained I wanted some hair pins from her. He said he hadn’t seen her, but that her bag was in his dressing room. And he tossed me the key.”

She rubbed her face uncomfortably. “I didn’t think anything of it, her bag being locked up in his dressing room. I was mainly thinking about how we were behind because of the paint, and how we were supposed to be already on, and we weren’t even in full costume yet, and how I was going to get my hair up.”

She played with her ponytail nervously. “So, I unlocked the door and saw her bag on a table. I went through it, and it was mainly clothes, and I remember seeing the dagger in there. I couldn’t find any pins, but I knew she kept them in there. Then, I heard the film come on. The film is three minutes and thirty-two seconds long. Immediately after the film, we go on. And my hair was still not done.”

Her eyes welled up, and her face contorted with guilt.

“So,” she continued, “I freaked out and poured out the bag on the table. I found the pins, threw my hair up, and ran out of the dressing room and down the hall just in time for the entrance. Several days later, I remembered that I never put her stuff back in the bag. Which means… the killer could have found the dagger on the table.”

“And you are certain the dagger was in the bag?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Absolutely certain. Ever since I remembered that, I’ve felt terrible. If I had just put the stuff back into the bag, Beyo would probably still be alive.”

She dissolved into uncontrollable weeping, and Landon switched off the camera.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I can’t.”

She waved at us dismissively and then went inside the house. Landon and I looked at each other.

“Something about that story doesn’t sound right,” he said as we descended the steps.

“Yeah,” I said. “Her story sounds credible. But, it also sounds like a good way to cover her tracks. She had a key to the locked room, and if her prints were on the dagger, she’d be covered.”

Chapter 7

My phone buzzed as Landon and I drove out to the Mooreland House, and I recognized the number immediately.

“It’s the prosecutor,” I said.

“This is good stuff,” he said, as he switched on the camera and filled the space between us. I shrugged and answered the call.

“Henry Irving,” I answered.

“Hello, Henry,” he said. “Chet Levinson, the county prosecutor.”

Chet and I had worked together a handful of times and had been around a few mulberry bushes together.

“Hey, Chet,” I said. “Tell me something I want to hear.”

“Well,” he said. “I’m going to keep this brief. I wanted to let you know where we are on this case with Beowulf.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Lay it on me.”

“Based on the evidence,” he began, “we believe it’s an open and shut case.”

“Well,” I said, “that’s debatable.”

“And we can go to trial if you want,” he said. “But, the state is prepared to offer a plea bargain. We’re charging Julianna Spencer with second degree murder, which carries a miniumum sentence of ten years, with a maximum of twenty-two years.”

“Right,” I said. I had defended enough murder clients in the last eight months that I surprised myself by knowing that.

“If she doesn’t go to trial,” he said. “We can get her the bare minimum of ten, and she’ll be eligible for parole in eight. Gabriel, we’re going to charge with aiding and abetting, and we’re prepared to offer him three years.”

“Well,” I said, “she didn’t do it, so the whole thing is a moot point.”

“If you can prove that,” he said. “Be my guest. I know you’ve had some beginner’s luck in the last few months, but trust me, criminals can be very convincing.”

His tone turned condescending and fatherly. “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen, now son, and you’ve got your client’s life in your hands. You don’t want to be reckless with that, just to satisfy your ego.”

“I think I’ll worry about that,” I said. “I’ll inform her of your offer, but my client’s not guilty. She didn’t do it, and we’re going to prove it.”

“Okay, then,” he said. “We’ll see you at the arraignment.”

“We’ll see you then,” I