Three Sides of the Tracks Read online

  “She could’ve avoided all that,” Gwen Hathaway interjected. “If she’d acted properly and done what she should’ve done,” she said and glared across the table at Belinda. “All this . . . this mess was completely unnecessary.”

  Delores Townsend, Martin’s mother, leaned across the table. “Do you realize what you’re saying? Are you insane?”

  “Don’t you speak to me in that tone of voice, Delores. You know full well this could have been handled.”

  Belinda’s father laid a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Gwen. Be quiet.”

  Gwen shook his hand loose and glared at him, her lips trembling with rage. “You don’t tell me to be quiet. I’ll say what I please to whom I please.”

  “You wait your turn then. I’m not finished,” Angela said with an equally caustic look at Gwen.

  Gwen shrugged and crossed her arms, lips pursed in a tight straight line.

  “I just wanted you all to know and especially Belinda and Danny that I have no qualms with whatever Martin decided to do with his estate. When all this came about after the incident at the church, I was quite frankly relieved. I’ve thought all along that it was an insidious situation destructive to all our families. That’s all I have to say.”

  “Oh, poo paw. Get off your high horse. Miss high and mighty trying to make an impression. You wouldn’t have stayed with Martin a day if it weren’t for his money and—”

  Delores’ palm slapped the table top. “Shut that foul mouth, Gwen Hathaway.”

  Bart Phillips stood up. “I’d hoped this would go smoother. The only real reason you’re here Mrs. Hathaway is that Martin left instructions for me to give you and your husband this letter. If you’ll just sign here that you received the letter, you may go.”

  “I don’t choose to leave,” Gwen said.

  “Both of us need to sign?” Mr. Hathaway asked.

  “No. One is sufficient.”

  “Give it to me. I’ll sign and let you finish your business.”

  Bart handed him the sealed envelope and Stuart Hathaway signed the form, then firmly grasped his wife’s arm. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  Gwen sat still for a moment then with a toss of her head abruptly stood and kicked the chair against the table. “Wasted my morning for this nonsense,” she said and stalked out.

  Stuart followed her but halted at the doorway and turned to Belinda. “I’m so very sorry about all this, dear. I hope . . . well, I hope circumstances may change before it’s too late. I think of you often.”

  Belinda looked at him with glistening eyes. “Then change them, Daddy.”

  Stuart blinked several times as the idea of him having any power at all fought through the wall of servility Gwen had built in their many years together. He left with drooping shoulders and halting steps, seeming to have aged in just those few moments.

  Danny put his arm around Belinda’s shoulders.

  “Well, let’s get to the settlement then, shall we?” Bart Phillips said.

  “Yes, let’s do. The air suddenly seems much fresher,” Delores said with a smile.

  “I’ll do this in chronological order. Martin’s inherited money from his grandparents’ estates totaled seven million dollars at the time of inheritance. Since that time and as of last week, from investments and interest, it now totals 16 million, accounting for the only withdrawal of funds of two hundred thousand for his house. Because this occurred before he married, he wants it divided equally among Angela and the two daughters and Belinda and Danny, so, divided five ways that comes to 3.2 million per person. The children’s portions to be held in trusts by the parents until each child is 18 years old, at which time, they will receive $50,000 dollars, $100,000 at the age of 21 years, and half of the remaining amount either when they marry or at the age of 25 years and the remaining half at 30 years of age.

  “I think Martin must have been judging by his own level of maturity when he set those conditions,” Bart said and smiled.

  “I believe it to be reasonable,” MJ said.

  “What if one of us decides to get married before we’re 21, Mr. Phillips?” Danny asked.

  “Then you’re out of luck, kid,” Bart replied with a big grin. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. That heir would receive the $100,000 along with half of the remaining portion the day of his or her 21rst birthday then the other half when they reached 30.”

  “Angela and Belinda receive their portions forthwith, meaning as soon as I can make all the necessary sales of bonds and such. A few days.”

  “What if I wanted to keep the money as is? I mean take ownership of the bonds and not sell them,” Belinda said.

  “No problem. It would take longer to transfer ownership to your name, but that’s all. You think about it and let me know. I’ll hold off until I hear from you.”

  Belinda nodded.

  “The house and all tangible property pass to Angela, along with all stock, bonds, monies, and any other assets. The house appraised at $600,000, and the total of stocks and bonds at stock market close last Friday was 23 million. Martin’s real estate holdings appraised at a current market value of five and half million. There is a life insurance policy with Angela as the beneficiary of five million dollars, which will be double that amount because of the manner of his death. There are also life insurance policies for each of the daughters of one million each—same double indemnity applies—to be held in trust by Angela until the girls are 21 years of age.

  “Now, because of the special circumstances that we all know exist and have been brought forth in part today, Martin paid for a life insurance policy for Belinda years ago in the amount of 10 million dollars and one for Danny for the same amount. His feelings on the discrepancies between the daughters and Danny’s amounts were that, because Danny had been denied the benefits a son would normally enjoy, he wanted to make it up to Danny in the only way he could and hoped all parties involved would understand.”

  Bart’s eyes twinkled. “Sorry, bud, but the same guidelines as the first inheritance apply, so no high-priced sports cars just yet.”

  Danny’s hand covered his lip as he grinned at Bart.

  “I believe that’s it except a letter for each of you and two for each of the girls: one to be given to them now and the other when they reach the age of 18 years.”

  Delores approached Belinda before they left. “I thought you handled that beautifully, dear. With class and dignity. Martin would have been proud. You also, young man. I can’t imagine it was easy to sit and listen to someone speak of murdering you.”

  Danny’s eyes snapped to his mother’s. “Is that what she was talking about? Abortion?”

  Belinda nodded.

  “Wow. And I thought Jessie Whitaker was crazy. She’s as bad as him. Now I’m glad you left, Mom.”

  “I spoke out of turn, I see,” Delores said sincerely. “I’m very sorry, Belinda.”

  MJ stepped forward. “Good to see you again, son. What say we go have some lunch and you can tell me all about that gal of yours?”

  Danny liked the tall straight man. He looked at Belinda inquiringly.

  She smiled. “If you like.”

  “Good. Listenin’ to all that talk about money made me want to spend some. Let’s go get a big steak.” MJ grabbed Belinda around the waist, put an arm around Danny’s shoulders, and led them from the room.

  49

  Whoosh

  Jessie parked on the side of the courthouse and went inside to meet his lawyer, Charles Morrison.

  Morrison was dapper as usual, wearing a striped charcoal-grey suit and a yellow bowtie. He stood from the defendant’s desk as soon as Jessie walked into the courtroom.

  “How long you s’pect this’ll take?” Jessie said.

  “No telling. Depends on what kind and how much evidence the DA presents. You understand this is just a preliminary hearing for the DA to show there’s enough evidence for a trial?”

  “Yeah. Yeah. I know all that. You don’t know what he has? I thought he
had to give us that.”

  “Later, he does. Let’s see what he has first. There’s a slim chance we won’t have to go to trial.”

  “How many times you seen that happen?”

  “Twice. Jessie, how much influence do you have with this judge? Judge Gilbert.”

  “Plenty. I’ve put a good chunk of change in his election fund. But you know as well as I do counselor the only thing that trumps money is publicity, and there’s plenty of that going around, so I don’t expect Gilbert to stray too far from the law.”

  The back doors swung open and Bart Phillips and his associate walked down the aisle to their desk on the other side of the courtroom. The two lawyers nodded to one another.

  Jessie and Morrison sat quietly as the court recorder and bailiff came in and took their respective positions.

  Newspaper reporters arrived—even one from Atlanta—and took seats in the relatively small courtroom. Then the back doors banged open, accompanied by a scratchy voice cursing about the lack of easy access for his wheelchair.

  “That little hair-lipped SOB,” Jessie muttered when he saw Danny pushing Bernard’s wheelchair through the doors. “He’s got nine lives.”

  “Shssss. Don’t forget what I said about letting me do all the talking,” Morrison said. “If you want to get out of this, be silent.”

  Jessie’s clenched jaws gritted his teeth as he glared at Danny then at Morrison, but, finally, he turned forward in the chair. He was so furious he missed Sam Hardy’s arrival.

  A few minutes later, Judge Gilbert entered through a door behind the raised podium and sat at his desk.

  “All quiet. Come to order. Judge Andrew Gilbert presiding,” the bailiff said.

  A clerk approached the judge and handed him a sheaf of paperwork. The clerk pointed to several items as she and the judge discussed them in lowered voices.

  Judge Gilbert said, “Are the parties ready in the case of The State versus Jessie Whitaker?”

  Bart Phillips and Charles Morrison stood, and both answered affirmatively.

  Seeing Jessie at the defendant’s table and a number of new faces in the audience, Judge Gilbert felt obligated to explain the nature of the proceedings. “Today, we are holding what’s known as a preliminary hearing, only for the purpose of establishing whether there is sufficient evidence for the state to go forward with a trial. The state’s attorney, Mr. Phillips, will present said evidence, and the defense may challenge that evidence if so desired. The decision to not challenge the evidence today does not preclude the defense from doing so at a later date.

  “Is the state ready, Mr. Phillips?”

  “We are, Your Honor.”

  “Then proceed.”

  “Judge, on the count of conspiracy to commit murder, the evidence trail involves both Georgia and Florida, but we have primary jurisdiction. To that end, the evidence will not be presented in chronological order, so I ask the court’s indulgence in the order in which I present the evidence.”

  Judge Gilbert nodded.

  “I’d like to call Danny Taylor to the stand.”

  Danny walked through the truncated gate onto the courtroom floor and walked to the witness chair Bart Phillips pointed to, where he was then sworn in.

  Phillips showed him a hand-written note encased in protective plastic. “Is this your handwriting, Danny?”

  Danny nodded.

  “You’ll have to answer verbally, Danny, so the court recorder can make a record.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Phillips. That’s my handwriting.”

  “Read what it says, so it can be entered in the record.”

  “Mom, I have to go after Caroline. I’m sorry to worry you. I promise to be careful. I love you. Danny.”

  “You wrote this note on the evening of August fourth as you left your house to go searching for your friend Caroline Whitaker, who had been abducted during a robbery at a local church, correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What gave you the idea you would have more success than law enforcement in finding the young lady or ladies as the case may be?”

  “My friend, Bernard, owns a beach house in Florida, and he suspected one of the kidnappers, who is his nephew, might choose the house to hide in.”

  “Do you know why your friend didn’t simply tell the police of his suspicion?”

  “He hates them. They’ve beat him up several times for no good reason. Same as me.”

  A few snickers came from the gallery.

  Phillips plowed through the extraneous comment. “When was the last time you saw this note?”

  “On my pillow the night I left.”

  “That’s all for this witness for the moment, your honor, but I may recall him later.”

  “You’re excused, young man,” Judge Gilbert said, and Danny stepped from the witness box.

  “Your honor, this note was found in the pocket of a man who first shot the previous witness’ next door neighbor, both residing here in Benton, then followed Mr. Taylor to Florida where he killed two men associated with the aforementioned kidnapping and attempted to shoot the previous witness, Mr. Taylor. Before the assailant could fire his pistol again, he was shot and killed by Mr. Taylor, who was deemed to be acting in his own self-defense as well as that of the defendant’s daughter, Miss Caroline Whitaker.

  “I want to enter this note as exhibit A.”

  Charles Morrison stood. “Your Honor, we object. This so-called evidence has no link whatsoever to my client, Mr. Whitaker, but only to the deceased on whom it was found.”

  Judge Gilbert didn’t take long to consider the objection. “I agree, but I assume you intend to make that argument, Mr. Phillips?”

  “I do, Your Honor.”

  “Then we’ll wait until you do before we enter it into evidence.”

  Bart Phillips nodded and said, “I call Mr. Sam Hardy to the witness stand.”

  Jessie’s head snapped around. “Oh, shit.”

  Morrison leaned closer. “Who is he? What haven’t you told me?”

  “I forgot about him. I tore into his store one night when I was drunk, and, to be honest, I don’t know what all I might’ve said.”

  Morrison sighed. “Let’s see what he says. It may be nothing.”

  “Late on the evening of August second, Mr. Martin Townsend and Danny Taylor were eating in your restaurant, The Bluebird Café, when a car driven by the accused, Jessie Whitaker, broke through the front of the building and the accused vacated the car with a weapon in his hand threatening to kill Mr. Taylor. Is that correct?”

  Morrison stood. “Object, Your Honor. He’s leading the witness.”

  “Sustained. You know better than that, Mr. Phillips.”

  “My apologies. I’ll rephrase. Phillips turned to Sam Hardy. “Mr. Hardy, unless there has been more than one occasion of a car bursting through the front wall of your business, what happened on the night someone drove their car through the front of your restaurant?”

  Sam Hardy’s face showed his anger as did his tone. He pointed at Jessie. “That man tore up my place with his car then jumped out all crazy waving a pistol around, yelling all kinds of threats at that young fella there. I remember him saying ‘he’s a dead man.’ ”

  Morrison leaped to his feet again. “Your Honor, there’s a big difference in ‘waving a pistol around’ and pointing or firing a pistol in the specific direction of someone. The former is too general and requires an assumption that my client intended to use the weapon on Mr. Taylor, which does not meet the state of mind or intention requirement to be used as evidence, and neither does the term ‘a dead man.’ Neither offer evidence that Mr. Whitaker intended to kill anyone himself or be a party to their death. Only that he was angry.”

  Jessie tugged on Morrison’s coat.

  “One moment, please, Your Honor.”

  Jessie whispered that the police had told him Danny was involved with Caroline’s kidnappers.

  “Your Honor, prior to the time this event took place, Mr. Whitaker was tol
d by detectives that Mr. Taylor had been identified as an accomplice to the kidnapping of Caroline Whitaker; therefore, any statement to the effect of Mr. Taylor’s death could just have easily referred, if indeed that was the case, to his death by the judicial system or by law enforcement. Admitting this witness’ statement as evidence of my client threatening to personally kill Mr. Taylor would require an interpretation, which is, as you are well aware I’m sure, not admissible. Mr. Whitaker did not say ‘I’m going to kill you’ or anything of a specific nature. Not according to this witness. Unless the witness has evidence that Mr. Whitaker specifically said he himself would be party to Mr. Taylor’s death, I ask that he and any testimony other than that be excluded and the witness be excused forthwith.”

  “Do you have any such evidence, Mr. Phillips?” Judge Gilbert asked.

  Phillips looked at Sam Hardy. “Mr. Hardy, did the accused use any language that specifically stated he would be the instrument or cause of Mr. Taylor’s death?”

  Sam Hardy’s lips moved in his angry face as if he were trying to decide what to say. Finally, he shook his head and said, “Everyone in the place knew what he meant but—”

  Morrison was on his feet again. “Your Honor—”

  Judge Gilbert waved him down. “Your client can’t know the state of anyone else’s mind, so, yes or no, did the defendant say he would be the agent of Mr. Taylor’s death?”

  Phillips looked at Sam Hardy, who shook his head.

  “No, Your Honor.”

  The judge looked at the court recorder. “Strike all of this witness’ testimony. You’re excused, Mr. Hardy.”

  Bart Phillips’ entire strategy was to build a reverse timeline from the time Lenny shot at Danny through all the incidents of Jessie threatening Danny, showing through eyewitnesses that Jessie had threatened Danny’s life and was the only person who had motive. Bernard and Danny were his only remaining witnesses pertaining to the capital crimes, and Danny’s testimony might not be allowed if it couldn’t be substantiated; Caroline was the only person who could do that. Realizing that he’d let what he knew to be true take precedence over what he could prove to be true, Phillips called his last hope, Bernard, to the stand.