The widow, p.18
The Widow, page 18
“Mr. Latch?”
“It’s simple, Your Honor,” Simon said. “Ms. Barnett changed her mind. We discussed it many times. Cremation is gaining popularity across the country and she liked the idea.”
“Do you have copies of her advance directive?”
“Of course.” Simon quickly handed a copy to the judge and one to Hammer. They took their time and read every word. When they finished, Hammer said, “Your Honor, Ms. Barnett can be cremated next week, after an autopsy, as per her wishes. There’s no problem. And there’s no rush. It’s a holiday weekend. Everybody is off work on Monday. Let the family get the autopsy and have that peace of mind, and if it proves the cause of death was pneumonia, then she can be cremated. No problem.”
Judge Pointer pushed her file away and said, “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll grant the injunction and order the funeral home to transport the remains for an autopsy. In the meantime, I will order that all estate proceedings be held in abeyance until after the autopsy and after the burial. At that time, we will meet again and decide how to proceed with probate. This record of this hearing is sealed, as is the file. All participants are ordered to keep this matter confidential. Understood?”
Both lawyers nodded and agreed. Judge Pointer adjourned the hearing and disappeared. Simon and Teddy stood and shook hands. Simon asked, “So who does the autopsy?”
“The chief medical examiner at the crime lab in Richmond.”
Crime? Simon took a deep breath and tried to speak.
Teddy flashed a conspiratorial look that spoke volumes, and said, “Off the record, Mr. Latch, but there’s a good chance your client did not die of natural causes.”
Chapter 30
Detective Barr left the courthouse and drove to the hospital. Along the way he took a call from Teddy Hammer, who told him everything that happened after he was kicked out of the courtroom.
At the hospital, Barr met Dr. Wilkes and followed her to a small conference room where the table was covered with various items collected from the hospital room occupied by Eleanor Barnett. Nurse Loretta Goodwin and an orderly had arranged the items in some order and prepared an inventory. Barr carefully photographed everything, then recorded it all with a video.
There was a disposable aluminum platter with eleven chocolate brownies and some crumbs. From the looks of it, Eleanor was not a fan of chocolate. There were three floral arrangements from the same local florist, all with cards from the law offices of Simon Latch. The flowers were wilted and needed to be tossed. There were four get-well cards from four different people. And there were two decorative boxes for carryout from the Vietnamese restaurant Tan Lu’s. Inside one box were two Saigon ginger cookies. The other identical box held nine of them. The restaurant’s name and logo were printed on two sides of each box.
Barr was careful not to touch any of the items. Loretta and the orderly were wearing nitrile exam gloves.
He said, “Okay, I’m going to play it safe and wait until I get a search warrant before I take these items. Until then, I ask you to box it all up and store it in a cool place. The food will only continue to deteriorate.”
“For how long?” asked Dr. Wilkes.
“Not long.”
* * *
At 2 P.M. Thursday afternoon, December 31, the body of Eleanor Barnett was placed into a cheap metal casket, loaded into the Cupit & Moke hearse, and driven two hours to the state crime lab in Richmond. It was placed on a rack in the morgue, along with six other bodies, to await an autopsy in a few days.
It was a holiday weekend and the medical examiner was out of town.
* * *
For Simon, it was the worst New Year’s holiday of his life. He roamed his locked office talking to himself, replaying each day of December, trying to piece together conversations and meetings and movements. He wanted desperately to plunge into the internet and dig for information about autopsies, but he was afraid to touch it. Everything left a trail. He recalled an infamous case from California in which a husband was the suspect in his wife’s disappearance. An expert was hired by the police to dig into hubby’s internet activities, and he found visits to such sites as “How To Dispose Of A Human Body,” and “Killing With No Evidence Left Behind,” and “Phantom Murders.” Hubby was now doing life with no parole.
Every email, every website, every text message might become fair game at some awful point in the future. So he stayed with the gambling and sports sites, with which he was well acquainted.
But what was he afraid of? He’d done nothing wrong.
He wanted to see his kids but Paula was in a foul mood. If she only knew. His mood was a hundred times darker than hers so he stayed away from the house. When the office walls closed in he retreated to Chub’s where he played video poker for hours as Valerie brought one drink after another. With his inhibitions on the wane, he said what the hell and started betting on bowl games. A hundred bucks a pop. He won his first five in a row and upped the ante.
He awoke on Saturday, January 2, with a hangover and cursed himself for being such a loser. As a penance, he packed a lunch and plenty of water and drove two hours to the south end of the Shenandoah National Park. The temperature was dropping and snow was forecast, and snow was what he wanted. He hit the trails, hiking for hours as he went deeper into the park. When they first fell in love, he and Paula had spent hours on the same trails, often hiking until dark when they pitched a trail tent and slept naked together in the same sleeping bag. To keep their backpacks light, they carried little food, just jerky and canned meats, and after three days of hiking and sex they emerged famished and pounds lighter. Their destination was always the same barbecue joint in the town of Staunton.
The snow finally began falling midafternoon, and Simon turned around. Everything ached, from the pounding inside his head to the soles of his feet, but he didn’t care. The hike had cleared his mind, if only for a few hours.
Chapter 31
In Virginia, fewer than 5 percent of corpses underwent autopsies. There were several reasons for performing one, with a potential homicide the most likely. In those cases, the local law enforcement officials contacted the state medical examiner and sent along the body. The suspected cause of death was placed on a tag and attached to the body.
For Eleanor Barnett, the tag read: Possible Poisoning.
With that warning, the state medical examiner, Dr. Dendra Brock, knew what to look for. She began her work at 9:31 on Monday morning, January 4. With no entry wounds, exit wounds, bullets, fragments, rope burns, or knife incisions to worry about, she concentrated on the organs. She was assisted by Dr. Henry Roster, a forensic toxicologist whose lab assistants were on standby. Among other procedures, they removed the liver, kidneys, heart, lungs, stomach, esophagus, pancreas, and sections of the large and small intestines. They weighed each organ, then dissected them to obtain tissue samples.
After working for two hours nonstop, they returned the organs to the cavity, stitched the corpse, and tidied up.
The cause of death was not pneumonia. It was a clear case of ingesting a highly toxic poison. Six hours later, Dr. Roster called Dr. Brock and reported that the poison was thallium. Odorless, tasteless, colorless, it had been around for decades and had been either used or suspected in dozens of murders around the world. Its production had been banned in the United States since 1984.
The following day, Dr. Brock met with Detective Barr and reviewed her findings. She had no control over what happened to the body but strongly urged the police to prevent cremation. Barr followed the hearse back to Braxton. Along the way, he called Teddy Hammer with the news that they were expecting. He called Judge Pointer, who agreed to stop the cremation. He did not call Simon Latch. He obtained a search warrant and took possession of the items Eleanor left behind in her hospital room. He also wanted to search her home and the judge signed a second warrant. On Wednesday morning, Barr returned to the state crime lab with the items and presented them to Dr. Henry Roster. Since he had a good idea as to what they were looking for, their job was much easier.
According to Nurse Loretta Goodwin, the brownies had been baked by Matilda, who delivered them herself. Eleanor didn’t like them and had tried to give them to the nurses and orderlies. Thankfully, they had refused. It was against the hospital’s policy to sample food brought to the patients. The brownies were at least a week old by then. The chemical analysis revealed no toxicity.
The Saigon ginger cookies were another story. There were eleven, two in one box, older and stale, and nine in another box. Both containers were clearly marked as being from Tan Lu’s. Significant levels of thallium were found in every cookie.
On Thursday morning, Detective Barr walked into Tan Lu’s with a search warrant and asked for their sales receipts. The Vietnamese were terrified and overly eager to comply. Within minutes, they found the receipts. The waitress identified a photo of Simon Latch, and even remembered his name.
* * *
Simon had been staring at his phone for days and was a nervous wreck. The landline on his desk. It hadn’t made a sound. The first week in January was usually the slowest of the year and the landline seldom rang anyway. Now, though, he kept checking to make sure it wasn’t unplugged. He would make the calls himself if he knew who to call. He had no contact with the medical examiner’s office, and even if he had one he couldn’t simply call and ask about the autopsy. Such information was strictly confidential, or it was until it got hashed about in a court of law. Simon could call the funeral home but why waste the time? He really wanted to have a chat with Detective Barr, a man who was dominating his thoughts, dreams, even nightmares, but he knew Barr would make an appearance on his own terms.
The waiting was nerve-racking and debilitating. He could not concentrate on anything and his current files were gathering dust.
Detective Barr called just before 6 P.M. on Thursday and asked if he could stop by. As if Simon could say no.
They sat in the conference room with a wide table between them. Barr looked at his notes, of which there seemed to be plenty, and asked, “Did you prepare a last will and testament for Ms. Barnett?”
“I did, back in March.”
“Could I see it?”
“I don’t think so. It’s confidential.”
“Well, your client is dead and you have to probate the will, right?”
“That’s the plan, as soon as Judge Pointer gives the green light.”
“And the probate becomes a public matter, right? So the public can see the will, right?”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s possible to close the file and keep everything confidential.”
“How convenient. Did Ms. Barnett have a lot of money?”
“I really can’t discuss this right now. Maybe later. What about the autopsy?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“Did it confirm the cause of death as pneumonia?”
“I can’t discuss it.”
“There seems to be a lot of secrets here, a lot of things we can’t discuss.”
“Yeah, I guess it’ll all come out in court,” Barr said with a nasty little smile.
“Court? Who’s going to court?”
“I can’t discuss it right now.”
“Why are we having this meeting if you can’t talk about anything?”
“I want to see her will.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll get a warrant.”
“Go ahead.”
“And I’ll need to search your computers.”
“Sorry.”
“I’ll get some more warrants.”
“I can’t stop you.”
“Later.” Barr abruptly stood and left the room.
Simon didn’t move for a few minutes. When he did, he realized his underarms were wet and his shirt was sticking to his back. He walked into the alley behind his office for a blast of arctic air. He made a call, and an hour later walked around the corner and down the street to the offices of the best criminal lawyer in town, a man few people liked, including Simon.
* * *
Raymond Lassiter was a large, loud, boisterous attorney who strove to be colorful. His reputation had been built on a couple of sensational murder trials he had won many years earlier, and he still attracted high-end criminals up and down the Shenandoah Valley. He once boasted of having won seventeen murder trials in a row, but there was no one to verify it. Much of what Raymond said needed verification, but why bother? Most folks enjoyed his act and routine and took him in stride. He was a tough courtroom fighter. Police and prosecutors preferred to avoid him. If you got yourself in trouble and had a little money, he was the lawyer to see. He was in his early seventies and still worked seven days a week. Because of his excessive drinking, his mornings were slow and he seldom hit his stride until his staff left around five. He was known to work until midnight, usually with a bourbon on his desk and a cigar in the ashtray. A strict disciplinarian, he put away the booze when a trial started and became laser-focused. Sobriety made him meaner.
But he wasn’t entirely sober when Simon arrived shortly after eight, nor was he drunk. Raymond could drink all day and keep his blood alcohol level around 0.10, a nice buzz but nothing that would distract him. Simon took a bourbon but not a cigar. Raymond propped up his feet on his oversized desk and said, “Tell me your story, but I only want to hear what I need to hear. Not everything, you understand?”
Simon had never shared secrets with a criminal lawyer before and wasn’t sure what Raymond wanted to hear. “Shouldn’t we sign something, like a representation agreement, you know, with a fee? To make it official?”
Raymond waved him off with his cigar. “Later. My fee is five bucks for the next twenty minutes. I want to hear your story. We’ll do the paperwork later.”
“So it’s now attorney-client?”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”
After the basics, Raymond interrupted with “So you don’t know what’s in the autopsy?”
“No. Detective Barr wouldn’t say.”
“Barr’s a good guy. Not too bright but dogged and tough. I’ve had him on the stand a few times.” Raymond blew smoke as if he had eviscerated Barr and might want to talk about it later.
Simon said, “But Teddy Hammer hinted rather strongly that the death was not natural.”
“Hammer’s an asshole,” Raymond said, blowing more smoke.
I’m sure he’s a big fan of yours. Are we making progress by name-calling?
“He seemed quite sure of himself. I have not been accused of anything, Raymond, but I can feel the suspicion.”
“Suspicion? It’s a PR nightmare. Greedy lawyer discovers nice old lady has a secret fortune so he prepares a will that gives him control of her assets then convinces her, while she’s injured and drugged and in the hospital, to sign a power of attorney and advance directive that gives him even more power, including the right to pull the plug, which he does, conveniently on December thirtieth as the clock is running out, and she barely dies last year when there’s no estate tax, thus giving said greedy lawyer even more money to play with. Her death was suspicious and the greedy lawyer tries his damnedest to get her remains cremated, his idea not hers, before anybody can ask questions. Did you say suspicion?”
Simon had never felt so guilty.
Raymond had him bleeding and on the ropes and went for the kill. “Son, I get two hundred thousand bucks up front for a murder case, not a penny less.”
Simon was prepared to be shocked, or so he thought. He had no idea how much a noted trial lawyer would charge for a murder case, but his guess was somewhat lower. He said, “I don’t have that kind of money. And I’m not sure I’ll be charged with anything. It’s just that the cops are sniffing around and I don’t want to make the wrong move.”
“Smart guy. Look, consider this. I’ll cover for you now in the initial stages. When Barr comes back for more, tell him I represent you. Sometimes that scares the cops off, but not always. I’ll bully Barr and see how serious it is. And I’ll do it pro bono until there’s an indictment.”
“There won’t be an indictment because I’ve done nothing wrong. I just need someone to talk to.”
“Fine. Talk to me and follow my advice. If things get more serious, then we’ll have another chat.”
A blue cloud hung near the ceiling and the rich smell of fine tobacco permeated the room. Simon was frightened and didn’t want to leave. “If the offer is still there, I’ll have one of those cigars.”
Raymond smiled and said, “Help yourself. I’ll pour us another drink.”
Chapter 32
Friday morning, Simon finally mustered the courage to place a phone call he should have made months earlier. If Eleanor had had it her way, Wally would have been notified a long time ago.
He answered the phone with a warm “Well, good morning, Simon.”
After two minutes of the obligatory small talk, Wally said, “I saw the injunction and was told you were in charge of the burial. What’s going on?”
“Well, Wally, it’s a long story and I’ll be brief. Last March, Eleanor came to my office and wanted a new will. She said she was not happy with the one you drafted and wanted to make some changes. I did what she wanted. Her new one was signed two months after the one you prepared. So, your will is revoked, null, and void.”
“Sounds like a lawsuit, Latch.”
“I was expecting something like that. If I were you I wouldn’t get too trigger-happy. Your will is worthless and should be tossed. No one knows about it, Wally, and no one knows about the little cash bonus payable to you that’s buried in the fine print. If you try and probate that will, of course there will be a big fight. However, your immediate problem is the gift to you. Outright, payable upon probate, a naked grab for cash by the estate lawyer. From a nice little old lady who trusted you. If you try to probate your will, or object to mine, then I’ll file a complaint with the state bar association and send them your will.”
