A Little Yuletide Murder (11 page)

I pulled up a chair and patted her hand. “Mary, you haven’t bothered me at all. I want to help. Mort is right. If you don’t have the money to hire a lawyer, the state will provide a public defender.”

“But that would be someone I don’t know, that Jake doesn’t even know. We don’t have the money to pay an expensive lawyer, but I have some cash saved. Not a great deal, but maybe enough to use as a down payment. I could pay off a lawyer’s fee over time. Jessica, all I want is to help Jake because I know he did not do this. He did not kill Rory Brent!”

Her voice had risen in volume, causing me to sit back, as though pushed by a hand. I looked to Mort, who continued to sit behind his desk, hands folded beneath his chin, eyes narrowed as he took in the conversation.

“How about Joe Turco?” I said.

“Who is he?” Mary asked.

“A wonderful young attorney who moved here only six months ago. He’s a fine young man with excellent legal training, studied law in New Hampshire and New York City. Oxford, too, I think.”

“Oxford, England?” Mort asked.

“Yes. He’d been practicing in Manhattan, and handling cases in New Hampshire, too. He’s moved here because he likes to fish, and wanted a more quiet life than in Manhattan. He’s building his practice. Would you like me to talk to him, see what he would charge to defend Jake?”

“Yes, of course,” Mary said.

“It might not even involve much legal representation,” I offered. “As of now, Jake hasn’t been indicted.” I turned to Mort. “That’s correct, isn’t it?”

“Ayuh,”
he said.

“If Joe Turco is willing to take the case, he can handle this phase of things, maybe see that Jake is released on bail, something like that. I really don’t know because I’m not a lawyer. But I have a lot of faith in this young attorney, who is now a member of our community, and I’d be happy to speak with him. I’ll go see him when I leave here.”

Mort said, “I’m not much of a fan of attorneys, as everybody knows, but I have got to admit I’m impressed with this young Turco fella. Got a nice way about him, which I can’t say about most lawyers. It’s a good suggestion Jessica is making, Mrs. Walther.”

I stood. “Unless you want me here for something else, I’ll go look him up right away.”

Mary, too, stood, and took both my hands in her large ones. “God bless you, Jessica,” she said. “I knew I could count on you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Again, this expression of friendship made me uncomfortable, although I understood that she was doing everything she could do to express her gratitude. I hadn’t done anything yet, but I did feel my suggestion about Joseph Turco was a good one. What a terrible situation for anyone to be in, I thought as I picked up my scarf from where I’d laid it on the edge of Mort’s desk, and wrapped it around my neck. I said to Mary, “Will you be home after you leave here?”

“Yes. I have nowhere else to go.”

“Don’t give up hope, Mary,” I said. “I’m sure things will work out.”

Joseph Turco, Esq., had rented the second floor of a pretty, white two-story building on Main Street, owned by Beth and Peter Mullin, who operated Olde Tyme Floral, a lovely flower shop on the first floor. They were delighted to rent to the young, handsome attorney looking for a place in which to establish a law practice.

I chatted with them in their shop before heading up a short flight of stairs to the second floor. The door to Joe’s office was open. He sat behind a desk piled high with law books, and was reading one when I knocked. He glanced up. “Good morning, Jessica,” he said, getting up and coming to greet me.

“Hope I’m not intruding on something important.”

He said, “Not at all. Just writing a brief to present before the Supreme Court.” My face must have reflected I believed him because he laughed and said, “A commercial real estate deal I’m closing on this afternoon. Should have gone smoothly, but one of the parties has thrown a last-minute wrench into the works. Please, come in. Sit down. Coffee is made.”

After I’d been served and he’d refilled his cup, he said, “Don’t tell me you’re having a copyright or plagiarism problem with one of your books.”

“Goodness, no. I’ve been fortunate never to have had a legal problem in my career, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Good thinking,” he said. “Get us lawyers involved and your problems really get complicated.”

“Joe, I’m here on behalf of a friend, Mary Walther.”

He frowned, obviously trying to connect with that name. When he did, he said, “Is she related to that farmer, Jake Walther?”

“I would say so. She’s Jake’s wife.”

“Poor woman.”

I couldn’t help but smile. Even someone who’d been in town only a short period of time was aware of Jake Walther’s reputation.

“Sheriff Metzger has arrested Jake and is charging him with the murder of Rory Brent.”

Joe’s eyes went up, and he whistled softly. “Pretty fast work on the part of our crack sheriff,” he said.

“Yes. Mort Metzger is a lot sharper than he sometimes lets on.”

“I’m not surprised to hear it.”

“What? That Mort is sharper than he—”

“No, no, not surprised Walther’s been arrested for murder. To be perfectly honest with you, Jess, Jake Walther is a madman.”

Now it was my turn to express surprise.

“Yeah. I had a run-in with him right after arriving in Cabot Cove.”

“You did? What led to it?”

“I pulled out of the driveway next to the building one morning. I suppose I should have waited for the pickup truck to pass, but it looked to me like I had plenty of room. At any rate, I pulled into the street and stopped at the light. The pickup truck came flying around on the side of my car and then turned in front of me so that I was blocked. Jake Walther was driving that truck. He leaped out, came to my side of the car, raised his fist at me, and said I was an idiot—I won’t repeat all of the words he used because they were pretty foul—and said he’d kill me. I’ll never forget the look on his face, Jessica. His eyes were like burning coals, and his mouth was cruel. Yeah, his whole face was that of a crazy person.”

“What an upsetting thing to go through,” I said. “What happened next?”

“He got back in his truck and drove off. I sat there shaking when the light turned green. I’d never had anything like that happen to me before.”

“How did you know it was Jake?”

“There were two people standing on the comer who witnessed it. They came to the car and asked if I was all right. They told me who he was.”

“What an unfortunate experience. Have you had any contact with him since?”

“Are you kidding? Every time I see him in town I make it a point of walking in the other direction. He’s nuts, certifiably so.”

I decided not to beat around the bush, and simply asked, “Would you be interested in representing him?”

“Represent him? Me? Jake Walther? In a murder case? I’ve never handled a murder case before.”

“I don’t think that’s as much of a problem as your attitude toward Jake, based on your previous experience with him. You have done criminal law, haven’t you?”

“Sure. In New York and New Hampshire, and I’ve handled a few minor criminal matters since moving here, but nothing heavy duty. Murder? Jake Walther?” His grimace said to me it was out of the question to even consider it.

“I can’t say that I blame you,” I said. “But Jake’s wife, Mary, came to me and asked for help. I thought of you. They don’t have any money, and I suppose the state will provide a public defender. But do you know something, Joe? Somehow, I’m not convinced Jake killed Rory Brent.”

“Based upon what?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea, and I usually wait until all the facts are in before making a judgment. But it seems that Jake’s nasty reputation—and deservedly so, I might add—might be causing too many people to rush to judgment about his guilt.”

“Including Sheriff Metzger?”

“Maybe not consciously so, but it’s possible. Well, you were good to let me barge in on you in the middle of your work. You look busy, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

He held up his hand. “No, stay a few minutes, Jess. I’d like to hear more. What do you know about Jake Walther’s relationship with Rory Brent?”

I filled him in on what I’d been told, most of it coming from Rory’s son, Robert, that there had been bad blood between Rory and Jake, and that they’d had a verbal confrontation during which, again according to Robert Brent, Jake threatened to kill Rory. I also told him about Mary’s brother, Dennis, providing an alibi for Jake, but then withdrawing it, and further claiming that Jake had threatened him unless he provided the alibi.

“Interesting,” Joe said when I was finished recounting what I knew. “From what you’ve told me, Sheriff Metzger really doesn’t have a lot to hold Jake on.”

“Unless there are things I’m not aware of.”

“That’s always a possibility. But a man not having an alibi isn’t reason enough to book him for murder, at least not according to my legal training.”

“But what about Dennis’s claim that Jake threatened him if he didn’t provide the alibi? That would weigh heavily in terms of potential guilt, wouldn’t it?”

“Sounds bad, but maybe it isn’t. Tell me about this Dennis.”

I filled Joe in on Dennis Solten.

“And Sheriff Metzger is depending upon this guy? It sounds like he’d say anything anybody wants him to.”

“That’s true.”

“And Brent’s son claiming to have overheard Jake threaten his father really isn’t very compelling, either.”

“Well, Joe, as I said, there may be other factors at work here that I don’t know about.”

“You say you’ve talked to Jake’s wife?”

“Yes. I just left her at police headquarters.”

“Did you see Jake there?”

“No.”

“I hope he didn’t give any kind of statement without having a lawyer present.”

“I wouldn’t know about that.”

“The man should have a lawyer with him every step of the way.”

“Obviously a good idea. I don’t know how fast Legal Aid can get a lawyer here, but—”

“Maybe I’ll stroll over to headquarters.”

“To talk to Sheriff Metzger?”

“Yeah. And maybe talk to Jake Walther.”

“But I thought—”

“No promises, Jessica,” he said, standing, taking his suit jacket from where it hung on a wooden coat tree, and slipping it on. “But I wouldn’t want to rule it out without having a chance to talk to them.”

I, too, stood. “Even though he threatened to kill you?”

Joe Turco’s grin was infectious. “Maybe Jake Walther had a bad hair day that morning. By the way, what’s your interest in this, aside from being friends with Mary Walther?”

I followed him down the stairs. “Nothing other than that, really,” I said, not adding that I was thinking of Vaughan Buckley’s call asking me to consider doing a true crime book about the Rory Brent murder. Some things were better left unsaid. All I knew was that I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do, and what I’d promised Mary Walther I would do. Whether Joe would follow through was something over which I had no control.

“Mind if I tag along?” I asked when we reached the street.

“I was counting on it. You know, Jess, maybe you should do a book about the Brent murder. One of those true crime books.”

“Never crossed my mind,” I said.

By the time we walked to police headquarters, Mary Walther had left, telling Mort Metzger she could be reached at home if he needed. her. I found it somewhat strange that she hadn’t waited for us, considering I’d gone off to fetch an attorney for her husband. Then again, I reasoned, I hadn’t given her any assurances that Joe Turco would agree to get involved. It was probably the smart thing to do, to return to the sanctity of her home to await further news.

“ ’Morning, Counselor,” Mort said when Joe and I entered his office.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” Joe replied. “I understand you’ve made an arrest in the Rory Brent murder.”

“Well, now, I wouldn’t say I’ve made an arrest. More a matter of detaining a suspect until the D.A. makes up her mind whether to indict.”

“Mind if we sit down?” I asked.

“Be my guest,” Mort said, indicating matching wooden armchairs.

“Jessica tells me that you’re holding Jake Walther based upon his not having an alibi, and because the deceased’s son claims Jake threatened to kill his father.”

Mort said nothing, but simply fixed Joe with an expression I’d often seen before, which said that although he was listening, he was not about to be swayed by anything anyone said.

“That really isn’t very much to hold a man on, Sheriff,” Joe said. “But maybe you know more than we do.”

Mort swiveled back and forth in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He eventually stopped the motion, leaned forward, elbows on the desk, and said, “Everybody knows there was bad blood between Jake Walther and Rory Brent. And as far as an alibi is concerned, it’s not so much that he doesn’t have one. The problem is he threatened somebody if that person didn’t give him an alibi.”

“You mean Mary Walther’s brother, Dennis,” Joe said.

“Ayuh.
When a man feels he needs an alibi that bad, it means he’s more than likely done something wrong. At least, that’s what my common sense says to me.”

“An interesting speculation,” said Joe. “But from a legal standpoint, it’s hardly sufficient cause to detain a man in jail.”

Mort looked at me; I raised my eyebrows to say that I intended to remain neutral during this conversation.

“Mr. Turco,” Mort said, “are you here as Jake Walther’s legal counsel?”

Now it was Joe who looked at me. I gave him the same eyebrows-up look.

“Probably,” was Joe’s response. “I’d like to confer with Mr. Walther. I assume he had an attorney present when you spoke with him after ... as you put it, ‘detained’ him.”