Murder in Plain Sight (6 page)

That was the important thing, not the vandalism to her car. And certainly not whatever random feelings and questioning doubts Trey had managed to raise.

“Mr. Frost.” She gripped his hand briefly. “Thanks again for coming.”

“No problem at all.” He nodded toward the desk. “I asked the officer to have Thomas brought down. We may as well go on into the interview room.”

Maybe he needed to sit down. Compunction hit her as she fell into step with him. “Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry I’m late.”

“Not at all.” He held the door for her and then sank into one of the straight chairs with a sigh. Someone had brought an extra chair in, she noted, showing more consideration for Frost’s health than she had, it seemed.

“Mr. Frost, I do apologize…”

“It doesn’t matter in the least. And call me Leo, please. I can hang on to an illusion of youth as long as a pretty woman calls me by my first name.”

She smiled, making an effort to throw off the negative effects of the past hour. “Leo, then.”

Sharp eyes zeroed in on her face. “Something’s wrong. What is it? Something to do with the case?”

The concern in his voice cut through her reserve. She hadn’t intended to tell him, but the urge to accept that concern was too strong.

“While I was in your office, someone let the air
out of my tires.” That wasn’t correct. “Actually, whoever it was slashed my tires. And left me a nasty little note.”

“That can’t be.” Leo’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

She stiffened. “I assure you, that’s what happened.”

“I’m so sorry. Jessica, I didn’t mean I thought you were lying. I’m just…” He shook his head, and she realized his face had lost whatever color it had. “I’m stunned. That’s so out of character for people around here. Or at least it used to be.”

His obvious distress touched her. She wanted to say something to ease the situation, but the door rattled. She turned toward it to see Thomas brought in…and to see the relief that flooded his face at the sight of Leo Frost.

The boy didn’t speak until the door closed behind the guards. Then he leaned across the table. “You came. Denke.”

“You’re welcome.” Leo gave him a reassuring smile. “I told you I’d come back. Are they treating you all right?”

A trace of anxiety touched the older man’s voice. Jessica understood. Thomas seemed ill-prepared to mix in with the general population of the jail.

“Ja.” He plucked at the front of the jumpsuit. “I would like to have my own clothes, but the other lawyer said that I could not.”

“Ms. Langdon is right about that.” Leo leaned toward the boy. “Thomas, I explained that you would have another lawyer to take care of you. You can trust Ms. Langdon. You have to tell her everything.”

Thomas’s glance touched her face and then slid away. “Ja. I understand.”

Jessica understood, too. Thomas would take Leo’s word for it, because he had faith in Leo.

“Good.” Leo started to rise. “I’ll leave you two together then.”

“Don’t go.” It was an anguished cry, and Thomas grasped the older man’s hand, earning a sharp rap on the glass from the guard outside.

“Thomas, Ms. Langdon is your attorney now. You need to talk to her.” Leo’s voice was deep with sympathy.

Thomas nodded, but he looked miserable. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of her, was it?

She managed a smile. “Leo, if you don’t mind staying…” She left it open, with a faint, apologetic thought for Henderson, Dawes and Henderson. Mr. Henderson would not approve.

Leo hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded and sat down, and the tension in the small room eased.

Jessica took a deep breath, feeling as if some barrier had been surmounted. Now, maybe, she could get to work on the case. She took a pad from her briefcase.

“Thomas, I…we…have to ask you some questions about what happened the night Cherry died. Just try to answer as fully as you can. Okay?”

He nodded, blue eyes filled with apprehension.

“All right, then.” She started with some easy questions—who had planned the party where he’d met Cherry that night, where was it, how had he learned about it.

Thomas answered readily enough, sometimes groping for a word. She reminded herself again that English, according to Trey, wasn’t his first language.

She made notes, sure that all this ground would have been gone over by the police. Still, they could have missed something, convinced as they were that their murderer had been lying there at the crime scene, waiting for them.

“You’re doing fine, Thomas. Now, I want you
to write down the names of the people who were at that party.” She pushed the pad and pen over to him.

“They were mostly Englisch,” Thomas said, taking the pen. “I don’t know all the names.”

“Non-Amish, he means,” Leo said. “Just put down the names you remember.”

Thomas nodded, beginning to print on the yellow pad. Mostly first names, she realized. It would take some work to track down everyone who’d been at that party, and even when she did, what would they have to contribute? The crime hadn’t occurred there.

Leo was watching the movement of Thomas’s hand on the paper. When it stopped, he spoke. “Now the names of all the Amish at the party.”

Something that might have been rebellion tightened Thomas’s face. “I don’t—”

“We know you weren’t the only Amish there.” Leo’s voice had a note of command. “Names. Ms. Langdon won’t tell on them to their parents if she can help it.”

She opened her mouth to say that she probably would have to talk to parents, especially if any of the party crowd was underage. Then she shut it
again. Thomas was writing down the names. Leo had the knack of dealing with the boy.

When Thomas finally pushed the pad back across to her, she felt a sense of satisfaction. At least it was a place to start. But now she had to ask the tough questions.

“When did you and Cherry leave that party?” she asked.

The whites of Thomas’s eyes showed. “I don’t know.”

“How did you get to the barn?”

“I don’t know.” His big hands clasped together.

“How can you not know?” Her voice sharpened. “Thomas, you have to be open with me if I’m going to help you.”

“I don’t know,” he said again, desperation in his voice. “I don’t remember.” He looked at Leo, unleashing a torrent of words in a language she didn’t understand.

Leo listened, then waved him to silence and turned to Jessica. “He says the last thing he remembers is being at the party, having a beer and talking to some English kids. Then it’s a blank until the police woke him up.”

Her heart sank.
I don’t remember
wasn’t a particularly good defense.

She wanted to ask if Leo believed him, but that was a question best left until they were alone. She put a few more questions to Thomas, not expecting much and not getting it. Ja, of course he knew the barn that the Morgan family owned. He hadn’t been there in a long time.

When the guards had taken Thomas back to his cell, she stared at the single sheet of yellow paper. Not much to show for the interview with her client.

She glanced at Leo. He looked a little better than he had earlier, as if getting his teeth into the case had been good for him.

“You understood the language…Amish, is it?”

“Pennsylvania Dutch. Or Pennsylvania German, if you wanted to be more accurate, which most people don’t.” He shrugged. “Plenty of old-timers like me understand. My parents spoke it when I was a child.”

“Your family was Amish?” She tried to get a grip on a situation that seemed to be slipping out of her hands.

“Not Amish, no. Of German-Swiss descent, like them. It’s not that unusual in this area. Even some of the younger folks understand. Trey, for instance. He’s quite fluent.”

Trey, again. She could do without having Trey Morgan shoved in her face every other minute.

“About the other kids who were at the party,” Leo said. “I don’t want to interfere—”

“If you know anything that will help, just tell me,” she said quickly. “I’m beginning to understand just how much a fish out of water I am in this case.”

“The English kids will probably be easy. Some of them may have already talked to the police. But the Amish are another story.”

“They won’t willingly get involved with the law.” Trey had said something like that, and Thomas had confirmed it.

“That’s right.” Leo looked relieved that she understood. “You’ll need an entrée—someone who knows them, if you’re going to get anything out of them.”

It went against the grain, but surely she was smart enough to know when she needed a hand. “If you’re willing to help, I’d be grateful.”

He nodded, smiling a little. “One last challenge before I retire. I’d like that.”

She smiled back. Maybe she hadn’t gotten what she’d hoped for from her client, but she began to feel she’d gained a friend. “Thanks, Leo.”

“I’ll do what I can. But you know who the kids might open up to more easily? Trey Morgan. You need to get him involved.”

Involved? She nodded, but her heart sank. It seemed to her that Trey Morgan was already involved far too much for her peace of mind.

S
OMEHOW
J
ESSICA WASN’T
really surprised when she went out to the street to find that Trey was leaning against her car. She stopped, frowning at him as he held out her keys.

“I thought your buddy Tom was going to bring the car over.”

He shrugged. “I had time. You don’t mind driving me back to pick up my truck, do you?”

She could hardly say no. She gave him a brisk nod and went around to the driver’s side. Trey slid into the passenger’s seat and adjusted the sun visor.

“So, how did it go with Thomas?”

“I can’t discuss the case with you. Not unless my client wishes it.” And her client was never going to be presented with that option, if she had anything to say about it. Leo’s recommendation that she involve Trey in the case flitted through her mind, but she ignored it.

“Okay. I guess it’s going to be a quiet ride, then. How do you like Lancaster County?”

“Considering that I haven’t seen much yet except the jail, I think it’s very…rural. You’d never guess it was so close to the city.”

“That’s what most people like about it.” Trey attempted to stretch his long legs out and discovered he couldn’t. He slid the seat back, making himself more comfortable.

“I appreciate your getting the mechanic moving so quickly on my car.” If Trey hadn’t done the calling, she might still be waiting, she suspected. “Did he leave the bill in the car?”

“We’ll take care of it.”

She frowned. “It’s my car and my new tires.”

“New tires you need because of your involvement in the case. We’ll take care of them.”

“That’s very generous.” She clipped off the words. Generous, yes, but she had a feeling he hadn’t done it for that reason. He so clearly wanted to be in control of everything. “However, that’s why I have insurance.” She held out her hand, not looking at him.

Silence for a moment, and then she felt the flimsy paper being put into her hand.

“Are you this stubborn about everything?” Trey asked.

She shot him a glance. “Somehow I don’t think I’m the only one.”

For once, he didn’t seem to have an answer. She pulled into the parking lot next to his truck just as her cell phone rang.

She flipped it open. Listened. And felt annoyance surge through her. She cut the connection. Glared at Trey.

“That was the district attorney’s office. Thomas’s arraignment is in—” she consulted her watch “—less than an hour.”

Trey frowned. “Awfully short notice, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is.” Her mind spun with possibilities. “I need to let Leo know. And Thomas’s family should be told. He ought to have appropriate clothes, and I have to get to the courthouse in time to brief him.”

Trey swung his door open. “I’ll take care of getting Thomas’s family and his clothes. You call Leo and head for the courthouse.”

She was about to ask him why he thought he should take charge, but he was already striding toward his truck. Besides, it would do no good
to ask—he probably hadn’t figured that one out himself.

She and Leo made it to the courthouse with barely fifteen minutes to spare, and she was fuming. “What does the D.A. think he’s doing, giving us so little notice?”

“Taking advantage of the publicity, I expect.” Leo sounded a bit breathless, and she slowed her pace. “He’s up for reelection, you know.”

No, she hadn’t known, and it didn’t do a thing for her mood. “This should be fairly straightforward, in any event. I don’t suppose there’s much chance the judge will grant bail.”

Leo shook his head. “Not sure it’s a good idea anyway, as upset as people seem to be. Thomas might be safer in jail.”

They entered the courtroom just as Thomas was led in. Jessica hurried down the aisle and slipped into a seat next to him, Leo right behind her. Thomas wore a black jacket and pants with a pale blue shirt, so apparently Trey’s mission had been successful.

Thomas’s eyes were wide and frightened. No doubt he’d never been in a courtroom before, and he hadn’t grown up watching reruns of
Law & Order
on television, either.

“Was ist letz?”
he murmured. “What is wrong? Why have they brought me here?”

“Don’t be alarmed.” She patted the black sleeve. “It’s just part of the legal formalities. The judge is going to ask how you plead to the charges.”

He gave her a blank look.

Patience, she reminded herself. “He’ll want to know whether you say you are guilty or not guilty, that’s all. When that happens, you’re going to say ‘Not guilty.’ Understand?”

A murmur of excitement behind her made her look around. Trey and Geneva walked down the side aisle, accompanying a man and woman dressed in sober black. Thomas’s parents, to judge by the sob the boy choked on. Trey looked as if he’d rather be hanging over a seething volcano than walking into the courtroom.

They filed into the first row of seats, and Thomas reached out to clasp his parents’ hands. Tears trickled down his mother’s face as she murmured something softly to him.

Jessica hated to interrupt, but the judge could enter at any moment. “You understand, Thomas? You say not guilty.”

He blinked, fixing those wide blue eyes on her
face. “But if I tell them I’m guilty, will they let me go home then?”

She managed to resist putting her hand over his mouth. He’d said it softly—no one but Leo was close enough to hear.

Leo leaned across her, compelling Thomas to look at him. “Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “It doesn’t work that way here. Understand? Just do exactly as Ms. Langdon tells you. Okay?”

Thomas nodded, reluctantly it seemed.

She looked at Leo, who shrugged. “That’s how it’s done in the Amish community. You kneel before the congregation and confess, and everything is forgiven. I’ve known people to confess to something even when they hadn’t done it, just because the community means so much to them.”

Appalled wasn’t a strong enough word. “He can’t do that here.”

“No.” Leo fixed Thomas with a firm gaze. “You say exactly as Ms. Langdon told you.” Thomas nodded.

The judge entered then, and they rose. The discomfort that had been weighing on Jessica slipped away.

Maybe, as Trey so obviously believed, she didn’t belong, couldn’t understand the culture, was an
outsider. But in a courtroom, she was at home. This was her natural arena.

The gavel rapped. Jessica studied the judge, trying to get an idea of the woman’s temperament. She was probably in her fifties. Judge Judith Waller’s round face didn’t give much away but the pink cheeks, the graying hair pulled back into an untidy knot and the gold-rimmed glasses through which she peered at the papers in front of her made her look like someone’s grandmother, peering at a recipe instead of at the charges that could send Thomas to prison for life.

The judge looked up, her shrewd gaze moving from Jessica’s face to Thomas’s and then to the district attorney.

“Mr. Connelly, it’s a bit unusual to see you for an arraignment.”

“In view of the serious nature of the charges, Your Honor, I felt it advisable to handle it myself.” Preston Connelly’s voice was as smooth and assured as his appearance. He leaned forward, confidence in every line of his body. “The commonwealth—”

The judge held up her hand, palm out. “Save it for the appropriate time, Mr. Connelly. We have a counsel of record for the defendant?”

Jessica rose. “Jessica Langdon for the defense, Your Honor.” Again she felt the impact of that shrewd gaze.

“Ms. Langdon. I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of seeing you in our court before, have we?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Judge Waller frowned down at the papers in front of her. “Ms. Langdon, has your client been given a copy of the charges against him?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” She pressed her fingers against the sheet listing the charges.

The judge shifted her gaze to Thomas. “Thomas Esch, you have been charged with second-degree murder in the death of one Cherry Wilson. How do you plead?”

Jessica held her breath.

“Not guilty,” he whispered.

From the corner of her eye, Jessica could see that Leo had his hand on the boy’s black sleeve.

“Very well.” The judge peered over the top of her glasses at the district attorney. “Let’s set the dates for discovery and pretrial.” She consulted her calendar and named the dates. Jessica nodded.

“Mr. Connelly?”

“The sooner the better, Your Honor,” Connelly said. “The heinous nature of the crime dictates—”

“I dictate procedure in my court.” Judge Waller was crisp. “Anything else you wish to say, Mr. Connelly, may be said at the pretrial conference.”

Jessica let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The judge seemed determined to keep things under control in the courtroom, at any event. That was probably the best they could hope for at the moment.

A few more technical details settled, and the judge departed, her face grave, her black robe fluttering behind her.

Jessica exchanged relieved glances with Leo and turned to Thomas. The guards were closing in. “I’m afraid you must return to your cell now, Thomas. Say goodbye to your parents,” Jessica said.

Tears filled the boy’s eyes as his mother embraced him. He murmured something in Pennsylvania Dutch, his voice breaking. Then the guard’s hand closed on his arm, and he was led away, looking over his shoulder at his parents until the closing door cut them from his sight.

“Mrs. Esch, Mr. Esch.” She wasn’t sure whether
to shake hands with them, so contented herself with a nod. “I’m sorry to meet you under such circumstances. Did you understand what happened here?”

Thomas’s mother looked at her husband. “Not all,” he said. “The words, ja. Not the meaning.”

“I’ll be glad to explain it to you, if you want.”

“Not now, I think,” Trey interrupted. “The press is waiting outside, ready to pounce. I want to get them out the side door before it occurs to the television crew to cover that, too.”

She had to agree, although she couldn’t help wondering whether he was more concerned about Thomas’s parents appearing on television or his mother. “I’ll come to see you soon,” she said. “Please try not to worry.” That was useless, of course, but she had to say it.

“It will be all right.” Geneva slipped her arm around the woman’s waist. “Come along, now. Jessica will take care of everything.”

Jessica watched the four of them go out the side door and then glanced around the courtroom, emptying now. This was her place, and the law was the one thing she could count on. Thomas deserved the best defense possible, and she intended to give it to him.

J
ESSICA WASN’T QUITE SURE
how she’d ended up at Geneva’s house for supper the following evening. She’d put in a long day, nagging the D.A.’s office for discovery, trying to organize her materials for efficient work in her inconvenient room at the motel and finally driving back into the city to report at the office and pick up a few things. When she’d returned to Springville, all she intended was to pick up a sandwich, call Sara, whom she’d missed when she went to the apartment, and go to bed early.

But Geneva had been waiting for her. She’d insisted that what Jessica needed was a good dinner and a relaxing evening. She’d tried to make an excuse, but it was remarkably difficult to say no to Geneva.

So in the end she’d come, although how relaxing it was going to be with Trey sitting across from her at the long oval table, she didn’t know.

“Won’t you have some more noodles, Jessica?” Geneva passed a heavy earthenware bowl to her. “Or some more mashed potatoes?”

“Thank you, but I really can’t eat another bite. Everything was delicious.” The meal had tasted wonderful—crisp browned chicken, homemade egg noodles in chicken broth, mashed potatoes and
asparagus fresh from the garden. Just…filling, to say the least.

“Jessica isn’t carbo-packing, Mom,” Trey said. “She’s not used to the way we eat around here.”

She shot him an annoyed glance. She didn’t need him to speak for her. “As I said, it’s delicious. Is this traditional Pennsylvania Dutch cooking?”

“Yep. The more starch, the better.” Leo put another spoonful of noodles on top of his mashed potatoes. “Nobody makes noodles quite as well as Geneva.”

Geneva beamed at the compliment. “My mother-in-law’s recipe,” she said. “Would you believe she waited until Trey’s father and I had been married nearly ten years before she gave it to me? I think she wanted to be sure the marriage was going to last.”

“Never any doubt about that, my dear.” Leo spoke with the fondness of long friendship.

Geneva smiled, a shadow of sorrow in her eyes. Jessica’s heart contracted. How terrible it must have been for her to accept that the husband she loved had taken his own life.

Jessica’s gaze collided with Trey’s from across the table. He looked…almost angry, she thought.
As if he wasn’t ready to have his father the subject of casual dinner-table conversation.

“She probably wanted to be sure her recipe didn’t die with her.” The fifth person at the table spoke and then looked up from his refilled plate at a stifled chuckle from his hostess. “Don’t you think?” he added, flushing a little.

“I wouldn’t be surprised, Bobby,” Geneva said. “A few more potatoes?”

While Bobby—Robert Stephens—was accepting another spoonful, Jessica studied him. He was the one who’d contacted Henderson, Dawes and Henderson for Geneva. He’d been introduced as a business associate and old school friend of Trey’s, and she couldn’t help wondering at the relationship.

Bobby was slight, fair and diffident, with pale blue eyes partially hidden by glasses. He’d have been, she thought, the classic nerd in high school and an unlikely friend for Trey, who’d undoubtedly been the Big Man on Campus.

Trey’s gaze caught hers again, and her speculation about Bobby drifted away. She hadn’t thanked Trey for his assistance with the arraignment the previous day. He had been helpful, unexpectedly so. She appreciated it. She just couldn’t help but wonder why.

Geneva’s voice cut across her thoughts. “Why don’t you all visit a bit while we clear? We’ll have our dessert and coffee in the living room.”

It was obviously meant to get people away from the table, and Jessica obediently rose. “Please let me help.”