“If you think I said I want to live here with you, then yes.”
I go over and kiss her, mainly because that way she won’t be able to talk and tell me she changed her mind. Then I ask, “What about getting married?”
“That’s up to you,” she says. “I’m fine with it, but I don’t need it. We love each other, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and that’s enough for me.” She smiles. “Besides, I’m already in the will.”
I kiss her again. “What made you decide to live here?”
“Probably what I went through. Life is too precious, and it’s too damn short. I hope we each have a hundred years left, but if we don’t, or even if we do, I want to spend it with the person I love.”
“And will you be my investigator again? Coincidentally, a position just opened up.”
She smiles. “Maybe. I haven’t thought that through. And I’m going to have to spend some time in Findlay, transitioning to my replacement. And I’ll want to visit a lot; I have so many great friends there.”
“I understand; that’s perfect.”
“I feel good about this, Andy. I’m very happy with what I decided.”
“You’re the second happiest person in the room,” I say.
We kiss again, and the phone rings. I answer it, and Rita Gordon, the court clerk, says, “Andy, they’ve reached a verdict.”
I hang up and turn to Laurie. “You’re now the happiest person in the room.”
“I’VE NEVER EXPERIENCED anything like this,” Steven says when I see him before court. “I never really realized it was possible to be this scared.”
I’m not about to tell him that his fear is unwarranted, because it isn’t, and because he wouldn’t believe me anyway. There is nothing like this in any other area of our society. In a few minutes, twelve strangers are going to tell Steven that they’ve decided he can live in freedom, or in misery. And then they’ll go home, and that will be that.
Richard and his team arrive a few minutes after we do, and as he walks in, we make eye contact. I get up and meet him off to the side of the room, and we shake hands.
“Good luck,” he says.
I nod. “The same to me.”
He smiles. “There’s always more at stake on your side of the table, Andy. I know that. I want to win, but I’m sure not anxious for you to lose.”
I ask him something that I never, ever ask anyone, especially a prosecutor. “Do you think he did it?”
“Probably,” Richard says. “Am I certain beyond a reasonable doubt? I don’t think so. But I’m comfortable whichever way it goes.”
“Will you do me a favor?” I ask.
“If I can.”
“When this is over, no matter how it goes, will you try to get a judge to issue a search warrant on Thomas Sykes?”
“For what?” he asks.
“Trace evidence in his car, and his computer.”
“Why his computer?”
“There’s an e-mail that was sent to Walter Timmerman by the head of a DNA lab. It would be important to know if Sykes ever saw it. I’ll tell you all about it when we have more time.”
The bailiff signals to us that Hatchet is about to come in. “Right now we have no time,” Richard says.
“Will you do it?”
“I’ll certainly give you a chance to talk me into it.”
That’ll have to be good enough for now. I go back to the defense table, my heart beginning its pre-verdict pounding. Hatchet comes in and announces that the jury has, in fact, reached a verdict.
He calls them in, and they file in slowly, not looking at us. That’s usually either bad news, or good news. Jury-predicting doesn’t become any easier as you get closer to hearing their verdict.
Hatchet goes through some court business, which I can barely focus on. He then gives the obligatory warning that he will not tolerate any disorderliness in the courtroom once the verdict is read.
He asks the jury foreman if they have reached a verdict, and the woman confirms that they have. She hands the verdict form to the bailiff, who brings it to Hatchet. Hatchet looks at it for a few moments, probably delighting in the fact that he is now the only person other than the jury to know what it says.
Finally, he hands it back to the bailiff, and asks Steven to stand. Steven, Kevin, and I rise as one, and we each have a hand on one of Steven’s shoulders. In my case it’s more to hold myself upright than to make him feel better.
The bailiff starts to read, at a pace of what seems like one word every twenty minutes. “In the matter of the State of New Jersey versus Steven Timmerman, count one, the first-degree murder of Walter Timmerman, the jury hereby finds the defendant, Steven Timmerman, not guilty.”
Steven’s head goes down and he grips both of our arms, in a gesture I would more expect if he had lost. But I can see that he is smiling and crying at the same time, and I could easily do the same. Because I am all man, though, I just stick to smiling.
I listen carefully as the other counts are read, and they are all “not guilty.” Steven turns and hugs me and then Kevin. This is one time I think the good guys came out on top.
It had been out of my mind, but at this very moment it hits me that Laurie is going to live with me. Steven goes free and Laurie comes back.
I’ve had worse days.
IT’S A SACRED TRADITION that we celebrate winning verdicts at Charlie’s. It’s my favorite place in the world to be, so I pick the place as a victory present to myself. It’s always just the client, the defense team, and people who helped in the defense. So in this case it’s Laurie, Kevin, Edna, Steven, Martha Wyndham, and myself.
Marcus is not here because he’s at the house, still guarding Waggy. We have no proof that Waggy is no longer a target, so we can’t take a chance on leaving him unprotected. Marcus didn’t seem to mind; I ordered in four pizzas to make it more palatable to him.
Tomorrow I am going to have Waggy miraculously turn up at the Passaic County Animal Shelter, where Willie is going to discover him and then take him out. By tomorrow night he’ll be going crazy everywhere in my house, and not just the basement.
Tonight Vince and Pete are here as well, less for the sacred-tradition aspect than for the free-beer-and-food aspect. Their attendance is also less significant because they happen to be here every night.
I can’t even imagine the joy and relief that Steven must be feeling. My guess is that it would be like jumping out of an airplane after being told there was a decent chance your parachute wasn’t going to open. The chute would decide whether you would live or die, and all you could do is wait for the decision.
Steven raises a glass of champagne and says, “To Andy and Kevin, fantastic lawyers and even better people.”
Other people make toasts as well, and the more we drink the less eloquent they get. I finally stand with my beer bottle raised and say, “I have an announcement to make. Laurie Collins and I may or may not be getting married.” A cheer goes up, but the state of inebriation in the room is such that they would cheer if I announced it was going to be cloudy tomorrow.
Steven comes over to me later in the festivities and says, “You haven’t sent me a bill yet.”
“I will,” I say.
“Do you have a recommendation for a lawyer I should use to deal with my father’s will?”
I know someone who is very good at probate, and I give Steven his name.
“So you thinks Sykes is guilty?” he asks.
“I think he killed your father,” I say.
“But not Diana?”
That something that’s still bothering me. The only reasons I can think of for Sykes blowing up the house would be to kill Diana and destroy Walter’s laboratory, so that no one could get access to his work.