Chapter 18
A Break in the Shelby Case
O
n Saturday afternoon, Ann took the bus from Prescott-Mather and met Madison on Northwest 23rd Avenue. Madison walked into Amore Pizza a few steps ahead of Ann. Jessi, Lacey, and Becca were in a booth eating.
Becca stared, her pizza slice suspended in front of her lips. Then she screamed, “OMG!”
Jessi rushed over and hugged Ann, exclaiming, “You're not dead!”
“Dead?” Ann answered, her confusion obvious.
“Madison thought you were dead or kidnapped,” Lacey chimed in.
“Where were you?” they all asked at once.
Madison smiled and put an arm around Ann's shoulder. “Ann goes to school at Prescott-Mather,” she said as they all found seats in the booth.
“Prescott-Mather?” Jessi asked.
“For boarding school. Ann's parents are sending her there because her dad moved to Europe and they're getting a divorce.”
“Gee, I'm sorry,” Lacey said.
“I'm just glad you weren't kidnapped,” Becca said.
“Madison was driving us crazy with her nutty theories,” Jessi said. “She had you tied up in a basement in Lithuania or some place like that.”
Ann laughed. “That sounds like Maddy.”
“She could have been kidnapped!” Madison said, offended to be the butt of a joke when she thought her theory was perfectly logical.
“I would rather be tied up in a basement in Lithuania than go to Prescott-Mather.” Lacey laughed.
“Hey! It really isn't that bad. Some of the millionaires talk to me and the billionaires have stopped asking me to carry their books,” Ann said. “All joking aside, though, the kids at Prescott aren't that different from the kids at The Grove. There are some mean kids and some extra-nice kids and the rest are okay.”
Madison picked a slice of pizza from the metal tray and ate it while the girls asked Ann about boarding school.
“Is it fun living in the dorms? No parents sounds like fun to me!” said Becca.
“It's a toss-up. There are even more rules than I had at home! Lights out, and curfews. And one TV for twenty girls!”
“Aargh!” Becca growled. “I'd never make it if I couldn't watch my shows.”
“How did you find Ann?” Lacey asked Madison.
The girls ate pizza and drank Cokes while Madison told them why she'd tripped over the soccer ball during the scrimmage and about her trip to Prescott-Mather.
“Now that you've solved âThe Case of the Missing Best Friend,' how are you going to spend your free time?” Becca joked.
“I'm still working on the Shelby case,” Madison said, suddenly serious.
“What's that?” Ann asked.
“My dad is defending Mark Shelby. He's accused of murdering Mrs. Shelbyâour second grade teacher.”
“Oh, my God, she's dead?”
“We don't know that. There's no body,” Madison said.
Madison was about to continue when she thought of something so obvious that she felt like a dummy for not thinking of it before. When Ann went missing, Madison had jumped to the conclusion that she'd been kidnapped or murdered, but Ann had been
hiding
.
After they finished their pizza, the girls decided to go to the mall. It was great having the whole gang together, and it was especially great for Madison to see Ann be the same old Ann now that everyone knew her secret. Ann had told Madison she felt like someone had lifted a big weight from her shoulders as soon as she'd told Madison why she was at Prescott-Mather. The girls shopped a while before catching a chick flick at the cinema in the mall. Then Ann had to get back to Prescott-Mather. Only one thing spoiled the day for Madison. With the girls around, she didn't have a chance to tell Jake about her plan to solve the Shelby case.
Madison got home at ten and went straight to her room. As soon as she shut the door, she phoned Jake.
“I think I know what happened to Mrs. Shelby,” she said excitedly.
“Spill,” said Jake, who sounded instantly intrigued.
“What if Mrs. Shelby did the same thing Ann did?”
“You mean she's hiding?”
“Her car is missing, and so is her hairbrush and the other things I'd take with me if I was going on a trip. Miss Bauer was on the other side of her house making the call to see if Mrs. Shelby was okay. Then she called 911. Mrs. Shelby could have left without Miss Bauer seeing her!”
“What about the blood and the knife?” Jake asked.
“Remember the onion, the green pepper, the eggs, and the ham mentioned in the police report? I think Mrs. Shelby was making a Western omelet. Something Dad said at the bail hearing got me thinking. He made a joke about cutting his finger when he slices bagels. I bet Mrs. Shelby was so upset because she and Mr. Shelby argued that she gashed her finger while slicing the onion. That would explain the blood on the onion in the garbage and on the kitchen counter.”
“And if they were arguing, Mrs. Shelby might have waved her hand around and sprayed blood on the refrigerator,” Jake added excitedly. “And Mr. Shelby was too angry to notice.”
“Then Mr. Shelby put his clubs in his car . . .”
“Which Miss Bauer thought was him moving the body to the car.”
“. . . and left on his golf trip.”
“Which Miss Bauer interpreted as fleeing the scene of the crime.”
“Exactly. When Mrs. Shelby ran upstairs to get a bandage and to pack, she was too busy to answer Miss Bauer's call. Then she drove off while Miss Bauer was on the other side of the house making the 911 call!”
Jake was quiet for a minute. “We still have a problem. If Mrs. Shelby ran away, why didn't she call the police after her husband was arrested? I can see someone getting mad after an argument and leaving the house, but why wouldn't Mrs. Shelby let the police know that she was alive when she learned that Mr. Shelby was facing life in prison for a murder charge?”
“That's something I can't answer, but Mrs. Shelby can tell us when we find her. That's the last piece of this puzzle. We have to figure out where she's hiding and convince her to come home and clear her husband. And I think I know how we can do that.”
D
uring the ride to school on Monday, Hamilton mentioned that Judge Young had scheduled a hearing on his pretrial motions in the Shelby case for the next afternoon at three p.m. Madison was certain that she could solve the case if she was in the courtroom before the hearing ended. Soccer practice was over by four thirty. If she didn't shower and she sprinted to the courthouse, Madison thought she could make it.
Jake asked if he could go along after Madison told him her plan. The chance to solve a real murder case was too good to pass up.
D D D
Jake and Madison were out of breath when they skidded to a stop in front of the courthouse on Tuesday afternoon.
“So, what's this hearing about?” Jake asked as they took the courthouse elevator to the fifth floor.
“You know that a person accused of committing a crime has a right to have a lawyer defend them.”
“Sure.”
“One way my dad makes certain that his client is getting a fair trial is by challenging evidence that the prosecutor wants to present to the jury if he thinks that the police got the evidence in a way that is forbidden by law or he believes that the rules of evidence forbid the DA from introducing the evidence. He can object to the evidence during the trial, but defense lawyers can also ask a judge to decide what evidence can be introduced before the trial starts. This saves time during the trial and avoids the risk that the jury will hear or see something they shouldn't. My dad filed a motion in Mark Shelby's case to keep out some of the evidence the DA wants to show the jury.”
Madison was interested in the legal motion Hamilton had filed, but she had a more important reason for being in court. As soon as she and Jake walked into the courtroom, Madison gave a silent fist pump. The woman she'd seen at the bail hearing and in the photo on the Shelbys' mantel was sitting in the last bench near the window.
Madison led Jake to seats on the other side of the courtroom from the mystery woman. Judge Young looked as mean as ever and appeared to be giving Hamilton a hard time. This was a good thing, because it meant her father would be concentrating on the judge and not looking around the courtroom.
Madison was certain that the mystery woman would lead her to Mrs. Shelby. When it looked like the hearing was winding down, Madison signaled to Jake and they slipped out of court.
The one part of her plan that Madison had not figured out was how she and Jake were going to follow the woman after she left the courthouse. If she walked it would be easy, but what if she had a car? Madison had money for a taxi, but taxis didn't cruise around the streets of Portland like they did in some big cities. Some parked at the big hotels near the courthouse, but Madison knew she would lose sight of her quarry in the time it would take to get to a taxi.
Fortunately, the mystery woman did not head for a parking garage. Instead she walked up Southwest Salmon Street. Portland has one of the best mass transit systems in the U.S., and Madison guessed that the mystery woman was headed for the trolley stop at Tenth Avenue. As she walked across town, the woman kept her eyes down and did not look around. She seemed preoccupied by deep thoughts, and Madison prayed that they would keep her from figuring out that she and Jake were tailing her.
Jake and Madison waited for the trolley on the end of the platform farthest from their quarry. When one of the blue cars stopped in front of them, they got on at the other end from where the woman entered.
The trolley rode into the Pearl District, a collection of highrise condos, upscale restaurants, and fancy boutiques. Madison spotted the mystery woman getting out, and she poked Jake. The two sleuths followed at a safe distance. Madison was prepared to duck into a doorway or pretend to look in a shop window the way she'd seen spies and private eyes do on TV, but it was never necessary.
The woman suddenly turned into the courtyard of a brand-new high rise and punched in an entry code. Madison raced forward just as the door opened. She hoped that the woman would not recognize her and Jake from court, and she got lucky.
“Thanks,” Madison said as she and Jake walked in behind the woman, who just nodded. Madison peeked at her face. She looked worried. Madison decided that they were as good as invisible because the woman was completely focused on whatever was bothering her.
When the elevator stopped, Madison and Jake followed the woman down the hall and stopped at a door as soon as she stopped at another. The woman took a key out of her pocket, but the door opened before she could use it.
“What happened?” Madison heard a familiar voice ask. Madison felt a surge of adrenaline and relief rush through her body. “That's Mrs. Shelby,” she whispered to Jake. She was alive!
They ran down the hall while the apartment door was still open. Madison skidded to a stop just as the mystery woman was about to go inside.
“Mrs. Shelby, remember me? Madison Kincaid, from your second-grade class at Lewis and Clark?”
Mrs. Shelby was dressed in sweat pants and a Portland Trailblazers T-shirt. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked thinner than Madison remembered, and she seemed confused.
“You followed me up here,” the mystery woman accused the two sleuths.
“Actually, we followed you from the courthouse. It was the only way I could think of to find Mrs. Shelby.”
“Why did you want to find me, Madison?” Mrs. Shelby asked.
“My dad is Hamilton Kincaid, Mr. Shelby's lawyer.”
Mrs. Shelby looked frightened, and the two women glanced at each other.
“You're not going to tell Mark where I am, are you?” Mrs. Shelby asked. Madison could hear the fear in her voice.
“I have to tell my dad,” Madison said honestly. “Mr. Shelby is accused of killing you, but you're not dead. Once the DA finds out you're alive, he'll dismiss the murder charge against your husband.”
“She's right,” the other woman said. “This has gone on long enough, Ruth. Now that these two know you're alive, it doesn't make any sense to go on punishing Mark.”
Mrs. Shelby folded her arms across her chest. Anger had replaced fear.
“We still don't know who you are,” Jake told the mystery woman.
“I'm Sarah Tucker, Ruth's sister, and this is my condo.”
“How did you know I was here?” Ruth Shelby asked Madison. She sounded suspicious and was glaring at her sister.
“Oh, Mrs. Tucker didn't tell anyone your secret. I deduced that you weren't dead from the evidence.”
The two women listened carefully while Madison explained how she had solved the mystery of Mrs. Shelby's disappearance. When Madison finished, Ruth Shelby shook her head.
“You've grown up to become quite the detective, young lady,” she said. “I remember you being rather inquisitive when you were in my class.”
“There's one mystery I still haven't solved,” Madison said. “Will you tell me why you haven't cleared your husband's name?”
J
udge Young had scheduled the hearing to start up again at nine o'clock the next morning. Madison, Jake, Mrs. Shelby, and her sister walked into Judge Young's courtroom shortly after court started. The district attorney was examining a policeman. Hamilton was taking careful notes, but the sound of the door opening made him and his client glance over their shoulders. Mark Shelby looked at his wife, returned his attention to the front of the room for a nanosecond, then leaped to his feet.
“It's her!” he yelled. “It's Ruth.”
Judge Young pounded her gavel. “What's going on?” she asked. “Mr. Kincaid, get your client under control.”
Mr. Shelby turned toward the judge. “That's my wife, Your Honor. She's not dead.”
Judge Young, the DA, and everyone else in the courtroom stared at Ruth Shelby. The judge recovered immediately.
“Are you this man's wife?” she demanded.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Ruth Shelby answered, clearly embarrassed by the attention she was receiving.
Judge Young smashed her gavel angrily. “This hearing is in recess. Bailiff, get the parties and that woman into my chambers immediately.”
When Madison and Jake slipped into the judge's chambers behind Mrs. Shelby and Sarah Tucker, they found Madison's father and his client, the DA, the judge, a court reporter, and two deputies from the jail. Hamilton, who was sitting beside Mark Shelby, looked very upset.
Shelby jumped to his feet. “Where have you been?” he shouted. His face was scarlet, his fists were clenched, and every muscle in his body was knotted.
“Control your client, Mr. Kincaid. One more outburst and I'll have him cooling his heels in a jail cell.”
Hamilton stood up and put a restraining hand on his client's forearm.
Sarah stepped between the Shelbys and stared angrily at her brother-in-law.
“Ruth has been hiding from you, Mark, because of the way you treat her.”
“I spent time in jail. I was arrested.”
“And you deserved everything you got,” Sarah said. Then she turned to Judge Young.
“My sister ran away because Mark hit her. And it's not the first time. I told her she should tell the police she was alive after Mark was arrested, but she wanted him to suffer awhile so he would know how scared she is every time he loses his temper.”
Hamilton looked at his client. “Is this true? Did you hit your wife the morning she disappeared?”
Mr. Shelby broke eye contact and looked at the floor.
“Sometimes I lose my temper,” he mumbled. Madison could tell he was embarrassed to admit what he'd done.
“Not only is that no excuse,” Judge Young said, “but hitting your wife is a crimeâit's assault. You're angry that you had to sit in jail, but you could have gotten a much longer jail sentence if Mrs. Shelby had complained to the police. Consider yourself lucky that she hasn't had you arrested.”
“Where did all the blood in the kitchen come from?” the DA asked.
“I was cutting an onion for a Western omelet when we started arguing. When Mark hit me, I cut my finger. I was waving my hand around when he stormed out and the blood went onto the refrigerator, the floor, and the counter. I threw out the bloody onion and ran upstairs to put on a bandage. While I was upstairs, I decided I'd had it with Mark's abuse and I packed and left.”
Mark raised his head, but he couldn't look his wife in the eye. “I'm sorry, Ruth.”
“You've said you were sorry before,” Mrs. Shelby burst out, fighting back furious tears. “Then the next time you lost your temper you forgot you were sorry. If you don't want me to press charges, you have to take anger management classes.”
“You're right,” Mr. Shelby said. “I should have to prove I'll really change. I'll sign up tomorrow, first thing. I swear. I never meant to hurt you. Believe me.” For the first time, Madison thought he seemed genuinely contrite. “I don't know what gets into me sometimes. And you got your point across. I was scared out of my mind when I was in jail, and I feel bad that I made you feel that way in your own home. I just want you to come back.”
“Well, I won't. I don't believe you'll change. This last time was the final straw. I'm staying with Sarah and I'm not coming back.”
Mr. Shelby hung his head. “Why did you even come in and clear me now?” he asked his wife.
Mrs. Shelby turned toward Madison. “This young lady convinced me that it was the right thing to do.”
“How did you find Mrs. Shelby?” Judge Young asked.
Madison looked at Jake. He nodded at her, seeming to say, “Take it away,” so Madison told everyone about her investigation. When she came to the part where she'd tricked Mr. Shelby into letting her into his house so she could see the photograph of Ruth and her sister more clearly, Mr. Shelby said, “I thought I'd seen you before.”
Then Madison explained how she'd gotten the idea that Mrs. Shelby might be hiding after going to Prescott-Mather and learning that Ann hadn't been murdered but was only hiding from her friends because she was embarrassed about her parents' divorce.
A big grin appeared on Madison's face when she finished her explanation by telling the judge how she and Jake had followed Mrs. Shelby's sister. She was a hero, Madison told herself, and the reason she was a hero was because of her sleuthing abilities. Her father had to be so proud of her. Maybe she would be the greatest lawyer detective ever. She was certainly off to a good start.
Hamilton cleared his throat. “Did you pretend to have a cold so you could cut school and go to Prescott-Mather to look for Ann?” he asked.
Madison's grin disappeared. “I
had
to, Dad.”
“And did you cut school today?”
“I had to,” Madison said again, hearing her voice sound a bit desperate.
“Did you ever think of telling me your idea about following Mrs. Shelby's sister so I could put my professional investigator on Mrs. Tucker's tail?”
“Well . . . no, butâ”
“Or telling me last night about finding Mrs. Shelby?”
“You never take me seriously, Dad, when I try to help you solve a case. So I decided to prove to you I
can
help by showing everyone just what happened in court, like Max Stone does in his books.”
“I appreciate what you did for Mr. Shelby, but I'm grounding you for one week for cutting school and interfering in one of my cases after I specifically told you not to.”
“If I hadn't snooped around, Mr. Shelby might have gone to prison for life.”
“That's why I'm only punishing you for a week. But you have to learn that there are consequences for your actions.”
“I had to find Mrs. Shelby on my own because you wouldn't have listened to me if I tried to talk about the case. You still think I'm a baby who doesn't understand a thing you do, but I'm in middle school and I'm
smart
, Dad. I want to help you, and I think I've just proved that I can.”
Hamilton's brow furrowed, and he took a good look at his daughter.
“I guess you did.”
“I can help you with other cases, too, if you'd just trust me.”
“I do trust you, Madison. And you're right. I don't give you enough credit. I promise to take your ideas more seriously from now on.”
“Are you still going to ground me?” Madison asked hopefully.
“Did you play hooky from school to go to Prescott-Mather and to come to court today?”
Madison colored and nodded.
“Then I have to ground you.”
“Can I go to soccer practice?” She knew everyone was standing around listening, but she had to find out.
Hamilton thought for a moment. Then he nodded.
“The first game is this weekend. Can I play in it?”
“Yes, but don't expect to celebrate if you win. It's home for you as soon as the whistle blows. And I'll be there watching to make sure you behave yourself.”
Judge Young had been listening carefully to the exchange between Hamilton and his daughter. When she saw that the lawyer was done, she smiled at Madison.
“I agree with your father. Playing hooky is serious. And going into strangers' houses is not a safe thing to do. But I also admire your brainwork. You showed great initiative, Madison. Maybe we can get you in here interning when you're in high schoolâbut just please promise me that you won't put yourself in harm's way again.”
The judge's remark erased some of the sting of being grounded.
“I promise, Your Honor. Thank you,” Madison said, her brain whirling. An internship at the courthouse would be a fantastic step on her way to law school . . . or maybe her own detective agency? Jake punched her arm, as if to say “congrats.”
Judge Young looked at the district attorney. “Under the circumstances, Mr. Payne, I think a motion to dismiss is in order.”
The DA nodded his head. “I'll do it right away, judge.”