Open and Shut - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,80

in a photograph, and many years later her license plate would be computer-enhanced and read. Lieutenant Pete Stan-ton would check that plate number and learn her identity.

The young woman's name was Julie McGregor. Wife of Wally. Mother of Denise.

I finally interrupt Betty to ask her if she knows the identity of the other men with Mike that night.

She shakes her head. “No, Mike would never tell me. I only knew one of them; he was the friend that Mike came to New York with.”

Then she hesitates, as if unsure whether to continue. But she understands there is no turning back now. “There is something else you should know.”

“What's that?”

She's in terrible pain. “That poor young woman. The reporter that was killed.”

“Denise McGregor,” I say.

She nods. “Yes. She was here, tracing what happened. She was piecing it together. I felt so badly for her.”

“How long was this before she was murdered?”

“I think a few months. I didn't find out about her death until much, much later.”

“Had she learned who was there that night?” I ask.

“She only knew about the same two people that I did … Mike and Victor Markham.”

IT'S ELEVEN-THIRTYBEFORE I LEAVE BETTY Anthony's. Court is going to reconvene at two, but I have someplace where I must stop first, even if it means being late. It's not a newsstand, and it's not some superstition that has to be indulged.

I have to go talk to my father.

I get to the cemetery, not swarming with people as it was the last time I was here, only a few visitors paying their respects to those they loved. I find my father's grave, and take a few moments to get my emotions in check.

“Dad, I have something to do today … I don't know how it's going to come out.”

I am overcome by a feeling of closeness to him; I have never really believed in an afterlife, yet I know in the depths of my being that he can hear me.

“I know about the money … and Victor … and Mike Anthony … and now I know what happened that night. But I don't know about you. Were you a part of it, or did you just know about it? Why did you take the money, if you'd never let yourself touch it?

“Dad, I know who you are, nothing can ever change that. But please understand, I need to know what you did.”

A woman walks by, and she speaks to me, hesitatingly.

“Excuse me,” she says. “Were you talking to me?”

Not wanting to look like a complete lunatic, I say, “Yes. I asked you what time it was.”

She looks at her watch. “One o'clock.”

“Thank you,” I say. And then I turn back to my father. “It's time to move on.”

I race back to the courthouse and arrive a little after two. When I enter the courtroom, Kevin is questioning Edward Markham. Obviously Hatchet had not granted him a further delay.

I stay in the back of the room for a while, watching Kevin and deciding exactly how I am going to handle things. Kevin really has nothing to ask Edward; I have not given him any instructions on what I want to accomplish. He is vamping for time, taking Edward through what is basically a rehash of his direct testimony for Wallace.

“So after you found her, what did you do?” asks Kevin.

“As I said previously, I called the police first. I wanted them to get an ambulance there right away, just in case there was any hope. Then I called my father.”

“He was at home?”

Wallace objects, stating the obvious, that all these questions have been previously asked and answered. Hatchet overrules the objection, but his patience is wearing a little thin.

“No, it was Friday night,” says Edward. “He's always at the club on Friday nights.”

Kevin prepares to ask another question he already knows the answer to, when he turns and sees me coming toward him. The look of relief on his face is palpable.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” I say.

“Well, Mr. Carpenter,” says Hatchet. “So glad you could join us.”

“Thank you, Your Honor, nice to be here.”

“Would you like to call another witness, or do you have any more errands to run?”

“If it pleases the court, the defense would like to call Victor Markham.”

Victor does not seem surprised to hear his name called, nor does he seem in any way worried. He's quite willing to take the time from his busy schedule to help further the cause of justice. The bigger they are, the nicer

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