~ Deception ~
Part Seven
© By E. O’Rielly June 2006
eorielly@yahoo.com
Disclaimer and Acknowledgments
This is an adult story that primarily features stories involving women. If it is illegal in the state, province, or country in which you live; or if you are under the age of 18, please close this story and find something else to read.
There are consensual sexual relations between adult women, which may be graphically explicit.
There are elements of strong language, violence, physical and/or mental, as well as some emotional hurt and discomfort in the story.
The events portrayed in this story are fictional and any resemblance to actual events and/or people is purely coincidental.
Dedication: Into everyone's life comes a person that challenges them to become more than they are by not accepting mediocre. J.M. Dragon has been such a friend to me and without her input and encouragement, I could never have written this or anything else.
Special Thank You: To my friends T and Kay for giving me invaluable feedback
PLEASE NOTE: In part 2 I had Bryce's mother speaking to her in Spanish that was in error. The language of Brazil is Portuguese. I have corrected my error. My apologies to any of my readers who are from Brazil and may have been offended.
Before the trial proceeded, Lane met with Judge Aniline, Danny Kunkle and Sheriff Wilkins in the judge’s chambers.
Once they had all listened to the recording, the sheriff was the first to speak. “Just someone trying to rile you little lady I wouldn’t take it too seriously.”
“I assure you Sheriff I take threats on my life very seriously.”
“As do I,” Judge Aniline said. “Sheriff you will place a guard on Ms. Cuthbert.”
“Your Honor,” Danny said, “Is that necessary this is probably an isolated incident.”
“And, if Ms. Cuthbert is harmed because you and the sheriff didn’t take this as a serious matter what will you say then Mr. Kunkle?”
“I will place two of my officers on her twenty-four seven,” the sheriff said begrudgingly, before adding, “of course that means that they will be taken away from protecting the community.”
Unimpressed, the judge shook his head disgustedly. “Just get it done. Now, if there isn’t anything else we need to discuss I will see you all in the courtroom.”
Lane was the last to leave the chambers. “Thank you Judge,” she shrugged, “for standing up for me.”
Judge Aniline’s soft brown eyes met hers. “I’ll see you in court Ms. Cuthbert.”
+ + +
Once the jury had entered the courtroom and taken their seats, the judge looked directly at Lane. “Are you ready to present your defense?”
“Yes your Honor. At this time I would like to request that the charges against my client, Bryce Clayton be dropped.”
“Request denied. Call your first witness.”
“I call Dr. Everett Hastings.”
Lane sat down and Bryce nudged her. “Why the delay this morning?”
Lane leaned in closer and whispered, “I’ll tell you later,” as the doctor was being sworn in.
Bryce listened as Lane asked the forensic pathologist questions regarding the whip. She thought back to the night before…
Her body cried out for satisfaction and the tracking device made a drive to Houston out of the question. She knew it was risky to find someone so close to home but the need outweighed sensibility. The bar she chose was dark thereby, to her mindset, ensured some degree of anonymity. For close to an hour she scoped out various women before targeting one that she wanted to take to her truck parked in the farthest, darkest corner of the parking lot. Just as she was about to make her move, her eyes tracked to the television over the bar and saw her lawyer with a microphone shoved in her face saying, I have no further comments. It was then that Bryce realized the folly of her actions and left the bar. Her body craved gratification and ultimately she would be the one to indulge the need.
The night had been late and she yawned just as Lane sat back down after completing her questioning
“It’s not a good idea to let the jury see that you are bored,” Lane scolded.
A look of surprise crossed Bryce’s face. “I’m not bored. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.”
Lane tsked before turning her attention back to the DA and his cross-examination of the forensic expert. She had scored points with his explanation of how Preston Garrett’s neck had been broken because of the fall from the horse and not from the whip.
Danny Kunkle stood up and asked, “Did the whip wrapped around Preston Garrett’s throat facilitate his death?”
Dr. Hastings thought for a moment. “The forensics tell me that the whip was around his neck prior to his dying. That act was not responsible for his broken neck.”
“But it is possible to break a neck with a whip isn’t it doctor?”
The doctor thought for a moment. “Yes I suppose so but the conditions...”
Cutting off the further explanation the DA said, “That’s all I have for this witness.”
Lane stood up. “Redirect your honor.”
“Go ahead Ms. Cuthbert.”
“Do your findings support that the Mr. Garrett’s death resulted from a whip being wrapped around his neck Doctor?”
“No. If someone wrapped the whip around his neck then pulled there wouldn’t be sufficient power behind it to break the neck. Strangulation would have come first.
“Did you find any evidence that occurred?”
“No, clearly the man died as a result of the fall from the horse which broke his neck.”
“Thank you Doctor. I have no more questions for this witness.”
Lane’s next witness was her long time friend and fingerprint expert, Rachel Walley. After swearing in, Lane began her questioning. “ Ms. Walley what is your occupation?”
“I am a fingerprint analyst for the HPD.”
“That’s the Houston police department?”
“Yes.”
“How long have you worked there?”
Before Rachel could answer, Danny Kunkle was back up on his feet. “The state will stipulate that this witness is recognized as an expert in the field of fingerprints.”
Lane recognized the defense attorney’s stipulation was a tactic to prevent the jury from hearing all of Rachel’s qualifications. That didn’t bother her for she knew she would have sufficient opportunities to inject the qualifications during her inquiry.
“ Ms. Walley, in your eighteen years at the HPD how many fingerprints would you say you’ve examined?”
“Literally millions.”
“I would imagine that over the years the techniques of examining fingerprints have changed significantly.”
“Your Honor is there a question?”
Judge Aniline looked at Lane. “I’ll rephrase your Honor,” Lane said then smiled at her long time friend. “ Ms. Walley, did you examine the fingerprints on the whip marked as P-3?”
“Yes.”
“And what were your findings?”
“The fingerprints belong to Bryce Clayton.”
Bryce sat stoically as a collective gasp went around the courtroom. Danny Kunkle couldn’t suppress his smile. She’s proving my case. Bet she’s gonna have a cow over this.
“ Ms. Walley, the prosecution’s fingerprint expert said that transferring fingerprints without leaving some telltale trace would be difficult if not impossible to do. Do you agree with that?
“No. I’ve seen several cases recently where fingerprints were transferred onto objects without any telltale signs of the transfer.”
“The whip in question belongs to Bryce Clayton would you expect to find her fingerprints on it?”
“Yes.”
“If someone wore gloves and used the whip what would happen to the prints?”
“There might be some smudging of the prints but if held properly the wearing of tight fitting gloves shouldn’t affect the prints at all.”
“Is there any way of telling if someone, other than Bryce Clayton, wearing gloves used the whip?”
“No there isn’t.”
Lane looked at her notes. Satisfied that she had covered everything she said, “I have no further questions of this witness at this time.”
The district attorney rose rapidly to his feet. “ Ms. Walley, did you find any evidence that would indicate that anyone other than the defendant used the whip?”
Rachel shot Lane an apologetic look. “No.”
“Isn’t it true that transferring fingerprints to the surface of a whip is much more difficult than transferring them to a smoother surfaced object?”
In resignation, Rachel answered, “Yes.”
“I have no further questions.”
The judge rapped his gavel. “Court is adjourned until one thirty.”
After the courtroom had cleared, Lane remained at the defendant’s table next to Bryce. For every point she made that morning, the district attorney found a way to turn it to his advantage. How can I undo Bryce’s fingerprints? She raised her eyebrows and shook her head. “That damn whip is killing us,” she said exasperatedly. “You understand don’t you, that your freedom is on the line here.”
Bryce nodded, her silence damning her.
Lane put her hand on top of Bryce’s larger one. “If we are going to win we need your alibi.”
Bryce avoided looking at her attorney focusing her attention instead on the hand resting on hers. As much she as craved a meaningful relationship, she knew she was alone just as she had been most of her life. If I admit, where I was and what I was doing, not only will I humiliate my family but I will incriminate myself further. If I stay silent, I risk the distinct possibility of going to jail. She made a decision. Family takes precedence. “I can’t do that.”
Lane moved her hand, reached out impulsively, turned Bryce towards her and put both of her hands on the woman’s cheeks. She looked directly into the grey blue eyes and said, “I don’t want to see you go to jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”
Bryce was unprepared for the unsettling feelings that the warm hands on her face created – that is unacceptable. She reached up, dislodged the hands and glared at the lawyer. “How do you know that? You haven’t bothered to ask me if I did it or not.”
“I don’t need to ask because I already know,” Lane replied softly. “Please Bryce, save yourself.”
The sound of Bryce’s chair scrapping against the wooden floor reverberated throughout the empty courtroom. “I am paying you a truck load of money to see that I don’t go to jail. I’d suggest you work harder to earn that money.” She turned her back on the lawyer and stormed out of the courtroom.
+ + +
Lane sat slumped in a leather burgundy chair in her office. Peering outside, she could see a gaggle of news trucks and reporters. Bryce’s trial was big news, which was exactly what she had hoped for when she took the partnership with Monty. Court TV, CNN, FOX and MSNBC had all contacted her for extensive on screen interviews once the trial was over. She had already carried out several interviews with Nancy Grace and Greta Van Susteren questioned her daily. Now it’s only a matter of time before my master plan comes to fruition.Isn’t that what I’ve worked so hard to obtain? Why am I so unhappy?
Bryce had been right – I’m being paid handsomely to defend her. With the way the case was preceding, there was a seventy-thirty chance of Bryce’s conviction. If only Bryce would trust me with her alibi.
A soft knock turned her attention to the door. “Come in,” Lane barked.
Slowly, the door opened and Rachel poked her head tentatively into the room. “Is this a bad time?”
Lane gave a half smile and shook her head. “No, come on in,” she said getting up from her chair and going around her desk.
“Nice digs.” Rachel’s eye scanned the room. “You’ve moved up kid.” When she finally let her gaze rest on her friend she said, “Rough one isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more of a help. I was thinking that you could recall me and I could show the jury just how easy it can be to transfer prints.”
Wiping a hand across her face, Lane sighed heavily. “Thanks, but I think at this point that would look like a desperation move.”
“Have you considered that she may be guilty?”
Lane returned her stare to the window and the news crews standing outside their trucks eating sandwiches. “I think someone has gone to great lengths to set her up. The only real evidence against her is the damn fingerprints…all the rest is conjecture.”
“Does she have an alibi?”
The lawyer shrugged. “None that she cares to tell me about.”
Rachel held up a bag. “I brought some wraps. We can share just like the old days.”
For the first time that day, Lane’s face lit up with a genuine smile. “I’d like that.”
“Good, then you can tell me all about your love life.”
Lane shook her head and laughed. “What love life?”
“You mean to tell me you haven’t found anyone of interest in this town?” Laughing, Rachel punched her friend’s arm softly. “Now, that doesn’t sound like the Lane I knew. You always had a knack of finding loads of sexy women.”
“Oh, there are plenty of those around here…its just…”
Rachel’s eyes lit up. “Your client isn’t too shabby in the looks department.”
Lane’s face reddened. “She’s off limits.”
Cocking her head Rachel winked. “But…”
Lane, smiling and shaking her head as she bit into her wrap said, “But nothing Rach, she’s off limits.”
+ + +
The first witness for the afternoon session was Harvey Hackly a crime scene investigator. Once again, the prosecution stipulated that her witness was an expert in their field, which didn’t make Lane happy. She wanted to stretch the case out as long as possible in hopes that Bryce would come around with her alibi.
“ Mr. Hackly, did you go over the crime scene photos?”
“Yes I did.”
“What, if any, conclusions did you make?”
The man pointed the photo of the tracks that where attributed to the victim. “You see here there is clear evidence that the horse was brought to a sudden halt. What is puzzling about that is the rider must have pulled back on the reigns to stop the horse to make those types of marks in the ground.”
“The prosecutions witness said that horse came to a halt as a result of the whip wrapped around the victim’s neck. Do you agree with that finding?”
"No."
“Why?”
“If that scenario were correct then the tracks would be different. The marks made by the victim’s horse tell a different story.”
“In what way?”
“The man stopped his horse before he fell off. If the whip wrapped around his neck and he was jerked off the horse there wouldn’t be sufficient time for him to pull back on the reigns to achieve the marks that are in the photo.”
“ Mr. Hinkle, what sort of marks would you have expected if the prosecutions theory is correct?”
“The horse’s prints would have continued without stopping.”
“No further question.” Lane sat down hoping Danny would have more than a few questions. Her wish came true. He had questions, numerous questions that lasted for the next hour. Not once was the DA able to get the witness to vary from his conclusions. Score one for our side Lane thought as the questioning finally ended.
Later that afternoon, Lane called a local rancher, Jimmy Robson whose property sat adjacent to the Garrett ranch.
“ Mr. Robson how well did you know the victim?”
“Me and Pres grew up together.”
“Did you like him?”
“He was mean and ornery as a kid and stayed the same once he became a man.”
“Did you have any run-ins with him?”
“All the time.”
“Why is that?”
“Well you see I have water on my place and he didn’t…well he did up until his brother sold that land to Bryce. After that he had to dig wells and put up windmills.”
“What were the run-ins about?”
“He thought the water should be shared so he’d have his hands cut the fences so his cattle could drink my water. I told him to just dig more wells and stop cutting my fence.”
“Was he angry?”
“Was he ever! I thought he was gonna bust a gut every time. He was the type to get right up in your face and threaten you. He didn’t care if he was in the wrong only that he got his way.”
“Did you ever fear for your life?”
“Yeah, there was one time I thought for sure he was gonna kill me…”
Throughout the afternoon, Jimmy Robson related tales of Preston Garrett’s intimidation and threats.
When Danny Kunkle questioned the witness he asked, “Although Mr. Garrett threatened you verbally you never really felt in danger did you Mr. Robson?”
“There was no doubt in my mind he meant every word,” the witness replied decisively.
The DA continued at length to ask the same question from varying angles and approaches. For each repeated question, Lane would object to the DA’s harassing of the witness and each time Judge Aniline would admonish him. Finally, realizing it was an argument he would not win Danny petulantly said, “No further questions.”
A collective sigh of relief rolled around the courtroom when the judge rapped his gavel and said, “The hour is late. We will resume in the morning.” He bangeded his gavel again. “Court is adjourned until nine o’clock tomorrow.”
+ + +
Lane paced her office floor as she waited for Bryce to arrive. Once the judge had ended the afternoon session, Lane grabbed her client’s arm before she could get away. “My office NOW,” was all she said before she let go. That had been fifteen minutes earlier and Lane was growing impatient.
Bryce stood outside the closed door of her lawyer’s office, raised her fist then lowered it. She was hesitant to meet with Lane for she was certain she would again implore her to give up her alibi. She took a deep breath and rapped lightly. When she heard come in, she opened the door slowly, went inside closing the door behind her.
Lane, by the window with her arms crossed looked at her client ensconced by the closed door. “Glad you could make it,” she said coolly.
“I’m here, what do you want.”
Motioning towards an empty chair Lane said, “Please have a seat.”
“You sound serious what’s up?” Bryce asked from her sitting position.
Lane looked at her client’s peevish expression and once again realized that in spite of her business shrewdness, Bryce was childlike in many ways. Her persona was complete with the false bravado that allowed her to think that the world revolved only around her and that she was impervious to everything. What a shame. “You’re the math whiz, what do you think your chances are for acquittal?”
Bryce shrugged and pursed her lips. “Doesn’t really matter what I think ‘cause you are being paid to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Lane refused to be sucked into her client’s reasoning. “How would you feel if you went to jail?”
Bryce shook her head then looked directly at her lawyer. “You gonna let that happen?”
“You didn’t like spending one night in jail how do you think you’ll like it for the rest of your life?”
“It won’t be so bad. Manslaughter seems to be the way this will go so I figure I’d get a max of twenty-five years and with good behavior I would be out in say ten maybe less.” She chuckled. “Besides, I’ll get three squares a day.”
“This isn’t a joke Bryce. If you go to jail, they will eat you alive.”
Bryce lowered her head and rubbed a hand across her face. “Don’t you think I know that?” she whispered.
“Then save yourself and tell me where you were that night.”
With her head still bowed, Bryce stood up. “I can’t do that.”
“Do you think that your family isn’t already embarrassed by your being accused of murder? Is what you’re hiding any worse to them than seeing their daughter in jail?”
Bryce raised her head and Lane could see fear, confusion and sorrow. She’s such a child. No sooner had she formed that thought, than she quickly moved towards her client and wrapped her arms tightly her shoulders. “Why.”
Bryce struggled to get away but Lane held on even tighter. “Let me go.”
“No I won’t let you go,” Lane said softly. “You are not alone Bryce. I am with you all the way. There is nothing you can tell me that will shock me or make me turn away.”
Bryce melted into her lawyer. The strong arms wrapped around her made her feel safe and genuinely cared for. Other than her parents, no one else had ever made her feel like that. As hard, as she tried, Bryce couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.
When she felt the moisture on her shoulder, Lane pulled back slightly. “Let me help you,” she whispered before pulling Bryce closer again. She began stroking the black hair much as a mother would to comfort her child.
“I don’t want to go to jail,” Bryce said between sobs.
“Then tell me so I can help you.”
This time, when Bryce tried to get free, Lane let her go. The space between them remained close as hazel and grey blue eyes searched each other for any sign of deception. Then Bryce took a step back and spoke in a hushed whisper, “I was at a lesbian sex bar in Houston.”
Lane closed her eyes in concentration then spoke. “The one on Westheimer?”
“Yes.”
Lane finally understood why Bryce didn’t have an alibi. Shit we’re screwed. Women went to that bar for one reason – anonymous sex. Names were never a requirement and few, if any, could identify the person they paired up with for the night. When she was with the DA’s office in Houston, she had several cases that involved that particular hangout. She looked at her client and the stricken look had her moving closer to wrap her arms around her once more. “You are not alone in this anymore Bryce.”
For a reason that she couldn’t quite understand, Bryce wrapped her arms around the lawyer - it was instinctive and right. She breathed in deeply and, for the first time since the nightmare began, relaxed.
Lane let go, looked at Bryce and smiled. “Let’s see if we can use the information to our advantage. She motioned for her client to sit down then sat next to her. “What time did you leave Houston to come home?”
Finally, that secret is out in the open. A sigh of relief came from Bryce. “I don’t know around one or two.”
“Did you stop for gas or go to an ATM or anything like that?”
“Afraid not.”
“Where did you and the person you picked up go?”
“A little hotel down the street.”
“Did you use your credit card to pay for the room?”
“I always use cash when I go there.”
Lane realized that the line of questioning was getting them nowhere. Bryce clearly wanted to cover her tracks.I can send a detective there to ask if anyone saw her but that’s a long shot. From what she knew about the bar, anonymity was the policy so the lights were low and the bartenders and owners diligently practiced not remembering anyone. Shit.
“Did you go straight home?”
“No, I stopped at St. Michaels.”
Curious. “Why?”
“To confess my sins.”
“Then where did you go?”
“Drove back here.”
“Did you go straight home?”
“No. I needed to think.”
“About what?”
Bryce shrugged. “About things…about everything that was happening in my life,” she said softly.
“Where did you go?”
“There is a secluded spot near the water on those damn hundred acres. I like to go there ‘cause its quiet.”
Oh SHIT, Lane thought. “Did you see anyone there?”
“I thought I saw Preston riding his horse.”
This can’t be happening. “Was it?”
“I thought he was going to cut the fence again and I wanted to stop him.”
“Did this person see you?”
“No, I’m sure they didn’t ‘cause there is plenty of scrub and a few cedars around that part.”
Lane rubbed her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. Why did I insist on finding this out? Damn it. “Was it Preston that you saw?”
“I don’t think so. The person was smaller.”
“Can you describe the horse?”
Bryce’s grey blue eyes seemed to disappear under the lids. “It was black.”
Lane sat with her pencil tapping her cheek. “So you probably saw the murderer leaving the scene.”
“That’s what I figure.”
The lawyer shook her head and blew out a breath. “Unfortunately, this puts you near the scene around the time of the murder. I don’t think this will do us any good.” She thought for a few minutes more. “Are you sure you didn’t recognize the rider?”
“No.”
“What about your first impression? You said you thought it was Preston. What made you change your mind?”
Bryce appeared to be attempting to recapture the moment as she closed her eyes. “I saw something out of the corner of my eye then stood up to see what it was. I knew that Preston liked to ride early in the morning. Me and some of the other ranchers figured that’s when he cuts the fences.” She opened her eyes and looked at her lawyer. “I was tired of him doing that and I wanted to stop him.”
“How,” Lane asked softly. Do I really want to know the answer to this?
“I don’t know…I guess I was going to tell him that I caught him doin’ it.”
“Then what happened?”
“As I moved through the brush I took a closer look and realized it wasn’t Preston but someone else.”
“What made you think it was someone else?”
“Size mainly. Preston was a big man and the person was much smaller.”
“So who did you think it was?”
She closed her eyes tight as if she were willing the memory to come alive. “Before I could get a good look, the rider and horse turned north.”
“Can you describe the rider?”
Bryce shook her head. “No, it was just getting light and the horse and rider were all black as if they were one.”
“Was it a man or a woman?”
The picture of the rider on the horse filled her mind’s eye. “No, sorry it is just one black vision. That is why I can’t understand how Hector Gomez could say it was a woman…the lighting was really bad.”
“But you’re certain it wasn’t Preston?”
“Positive.”
“What is to the north of there?”
“The Garrett Ranch and a few other smaller places.”
“Did you see Hector Gomez?”
“No, but as I was arriving I did see the taillights of a vehicle going north.” Bryce studied the face of her lawyer who was deep in thought. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you with this before,” she said with practiced remorse.
Lane’s eyes searched Bryce’s for any sign of deception and she saw none. “I don’t think it would have made a difference Bryce. All you would have done was to corroborate Gomez’s story and put yourself at the scene. Our biggest problem is the whip with your fingerprints on it.” Lane shook her head. “That is the problem that we face…how to figure out how someone got into the tack room got your whip, used it then put it back without being seen and without disturbing your fingerprints.” Lane blew out another breath. “That is enough for now. What do you say we get a bite to eat at the Blue Bonnet?”
“Won’t all the news people be there?”
Lane answered, “Yeah they will be.”
“Why don’t you come home with me? My mom always makes too much and I know my folks would like to see you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like that.”
+ + +
Lane tossed and turned for what seemed like hours until she finally got up. To her surprise, it was only one in the morning but it really didn’t matter for she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Bryce’s revelations about the day of the killing kept invading her mind as she tried to figure out what to do next. She had five more witnesses that she knew would vilify Preston Garrett as a man akin to the devil. She needed more and was certain that somewhere in Bryce’s escapades was the answer. But where? That was the provocative question keeping her awake and would do so until she found the answers. She threw the covers aside, sat up, slid her feet into her old worn slippers and shuffled to the kitchen. Coffee, it’s going to be a long night.
For an hour, she just sat in a chair drinking her coffee while looking at the sum of the case strewn on her living room floor. She tried to recreate the murder by mentally adding up everything she knew about it. Somehow, Bryce’s whip wrapped Preston Garrett’s throat shortly before his death. Her crime scene investigator claimed that Garrett’s horse came to a rapid stop. Getting up from the chair, she bent down and picked up the pictures of the crime scene. She hoped something would miraculously jump out at her - nothing did. Sorting through the photos again, she came to one of the crime scene taken from the road. A month before the murder the area underwent clearing and she didn’t see where someone might have hidden and surprised Garrett. So why did he come to a sudden stop and, why didn’t the other horse do the same? The only conclusion was that the other rider was at a stand still perhaps laying in wait for Preston to arrive. But why and where?
“ Bryce all but confirmed that Hector Gomez was there and did see the rider. It then makes sense that his assessment that it was a woman on the horse was correct.” Lane paced as she conversed with the room. “The woman was there waiting for him that is why he came to a sudden stop. So who was she? His wife, niece or some other female like…Bryce.” The thought that it might be her client was oddly upsetting to her. “What happened then? They had an argument and the woman took the whip and wrapped it around the man’s neck, he struggled to get free, somehow lost his balance and fell off the horse.” Her pacing took her into the kitchen and the coffeepot. “If that scenario is correct then the woman would have to be very strong to jerk the whip and hold it in place until he fell off the horse.” She took a long sip then set the cup down on the counter. “Shit, it all comes back to that damn whip. How could someone take it from the ranch, use it then put it back without anyone seeing them?”
Her mind flashed to something the sheriff said. Walking quickly to the living room, she sat on the floor and rapidly sorted through her notes. “Yes!” Like an athlete that had just won a race, she held the paper up in triumph. Her eyes darted over the page until she found the passage she wanted. She had asked the sheriff, how do you know someone didn’t take the whip from the Clayton Ranch, use it then put it back? His response was, you’ve been out there Ms.Cuthbert did you see any way for someone to sneak onto that ranch? An eight foot fence with razor wire surrounds it. The gate is state of the art and using either thumb prints or a command from the house to open. Tapping the paper against her leg, she thought about the tesitimony. “Therefore whoever used the whip was someone who had easy access to the ranch.” That thought brought her back to the one name she didn’t want to think of – Bryce. “Shit, it can’t be her…it just can’t. I know I’m missing something.”
She looked at the clock on the mantle. It was after four and court would be back in session in less than five hours. A yawn overtook her mouth and she stretched in response to it. She stood up, trundled back to her bedroom, set the alarm for seven and crawled between the cool sheets. “I’ll just sleep for a little bit maybe then things will be clearer.” In less than a minute sleep had claimed her but her mind continued to whirl in a kaleidoscope of scenarios.
+ + +
Lane robotically questioned her witnesses as each one related story after story of Preston Garrett’s maniacal disposition. When the district attorney questioned her witnesses, Lane would half listen as she wrote repeatedly on a yellow legal pad the words motive, opportunity and WHIP. After listening to her witnesses the motive part was easy – the man was truly evil. Any of the people that took the stand to vilify Preston Garrett could have killed him. Most knew of his habit of early morning rides therefore, in reality, every single rancher that attended the ritual morning breakfast had the potential of being a suspect. That still left the biggest obstacle – the whip. If I’m going to get Bryce acquitted I need to determine who hates not only Preston but Bryce too.
The sound of the gavel striking brought Lane back to the courtroom. “All rise,” announced the bailiff as the judge left the courtroom for lunch recess. Lane turned around and saw Margarita Clayton speaking with her daughter. “ Mrs. Clayton,” she called out. When the older woman looked in her direction, she motioned her over. “Listen, I have some questions I need to ask you. Do you think you could come to my office now? I can have sandwiches delivered.”
Margarita smiled a sweet motherly smile. “Of course I can dear.”
She turned her attention to her client, “Will you join us?”
If her doodling is any indication, I know what the topic up for discussion will be. “Sure thing.”
+ + +
Lane sat at her desk waiting for Bryce and her mother to appear. She needed to go over Margarita’s recollections of the morning Bryce came home again. Something was there that she was missing. When she saw, Bryce craning her neck around the partially opened door she smiled. “Ah, good you’re here.” Once both women were in the room she motioned to a small table that held sandwiches and drinks. “Please help yourselves.” She waited until each woman sat before she started asking her questions.
“Mrs. Clayton, when Bryce came home that morning where her boots dusty or muddy or anything like that?”
Margarita furled her brow. “She didn’t have boots on.”
“Is it possible she had boots and left them in her truck?”
A smiled filled her face. “Obviously you have never been in my daughter’s truck. She is what they call a neat freak. Everything has to be just so for Bryce I doubt seriously that she would have boots lying around in her truck.” She looked fondly at her daughter. “She wouldn’t have been able to stand it.”
“When Bryce left the ranch with her father to go to breakfast did they go together?”
“No, they each took their own trucks.”
“Why did you do that Bryce?”
“I needed to take care of some business.” Bryce shook her head in agitation and fear. “Look we’ve been over this a thousand times do we really need to go there again.” The last thing I want coming out is where I was that night.
“Yes, we do.” Lane, realizing Bryce’s fears shot her a look of assurance. “What business did you have to take care of?”
“I needed to go to confession.”
It was Lane’s turn to furrow her brow. I thought she said she went to confession in Houston. Why did she go a second time? “I understand that the ranch has a sophisticated security system at the gate. How many people use thumbprints to enter?”
“Only the immediate family and the foreman all the rest have to call to have the gate opened from the house,” Bryce answered.
“ Mrs. Clayton, when Lydia arrived I assume that someone let her in.”
“I did.”
“How long did it take for her to get to the house?”
“Only a minute or two.”
“Is there any chance she may have gone to the tack room before she came into the house?”
“No, after I opened the gate I went out on the front porch just like I always do and waited for her to arrive. We went right into the house after that.”
“Was there anyone else with her in the car?”
“It was a truck and no, I didn’t see anyone.”
“Is it possible someone could have been hiding in the truck bed and you didn’t see them?”
“No, the back is covered…you know, the kind that have locks.”
“Yeah, I know the ones. How long did Lydia stay?”
“Let’s see now, she got there around eight thirty and left I’d say close to eleven.”
“Was there any time that she excused herself to go outside?”
“We were together the entire time.”
“Did you see her leave or did she go to her truck alone?”
“We hugged goodbye on the porch and then I watched her get in her truck and leave.”
“Who opened the gate to let her out?”
“There’s an automatic sensor that opens the gate when people leave,” Bryce said.
Lane brought a can to her mouth, took a sip then asked, “When I came out to the ranch and drove up to the house your dog barked. Does she bark every time someone arrives?”
Margarita laughed heartily. “Bella only barks when a stranger arrives.”
“So she didn’t bark when Lydia came?”
“No.” Margarita looked at the lawyer curiously. “You’re not trying to say Lydia had anything to do with this are you?”
“I’m just exploring all the possibilities Mrs. Clayton.”
“Lydia is a good girl who has been through much in her life…she would never do such a thing,” Margarita said with resolve.
Lane scratched her cheek, closed her eyes then lifted her chin slightly. Sighing she said, “I’m trying to find out who murdered the man so your daughter won’t go to jail. I must look at everyone and everything if I am to do that.”
Margarita reached over and patted Lane’s knee. “I know dear. It’s just that Lydia is very special to me.”
Lane stretched slightly. Is the girl more important to her than Bryce is? I’ve seen the way she dotes on her daughter…she’d give up Lydia in a flash if she had to. “Do you remember what time did your husband arrive home Mrs. Clayton?”
“Around noon I think.”
“Who else was at the ranch that morning?”
“Just me.”
“No hands?”
“Oh no, Sam insists that everyone have Sunday off.”
“How many know of that policy?”
Margarita shrugged. “Everyone. When my husband decided it would be in the best interest of his employees and the ranch there was a big uproar among the other rancher’s workers.”
A thought popped into Lane’s mind. “When the hands come to work isn’t it a chore to open the gate from the house for each one?”
“I don’t do that. The gate is open at that time and the foreman has a man posted there.”
“What about for the everyday comings and goings of your employees, is the gate open then?”
“Yes, but someone is always at the gate during the day.”
Lane realized the line of questioning wasn’t going to answer how someone got on the ranch to take the whip. “Bryce, how many people know about your whip and where you keep it?”
Bryce pursed her lip and partially closed her eyes. “Just about everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Yeah, I used to do demonstrations at the county fair and at rodeos.”
“She became quite well known for her abilities,” Margarita said proudly. “Until she decided to stop that is.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I grew tired of doing it.”
Lane smiled inwardly. She couldn’t picture Bryce in the middle of an arena showing off. Somehow, that doesn’t seem like her style. “When did you last use your whip?”
Bryce thought for a minute. “I’d been out in the panhandle for about four months before all this happened so I’d guess maybe six months ago.”
This line of questioning got me nowhere, Lane thought. “Can either of you think of anyone who might hold a grudge against your family or Bryce?”
The question hung over the room for several minutes before Margarita finally spoke. “The sheriff.”
“What about Roger Whitaker, Stan Greenly, Fred Lester, Marcia Garrett, Hector Gomez, or Lydia Peterson?” Lane named all the ranch owners that shared borders with the Garrett ranch along with the significant people living on the ranches.
This time Bryce answered. “The only one we ever had trouble with was Preston.”
Lane looked at the clock. “Thank you both for coming in and answering my questions. It is almost time to get back to court.” Well this has been a big waste of time.
Margarita stood up and her deep brown eyes fixed on Lane. “She didn’t do it.”
Lane too stood up and faced the older woman. “I know and we will solve the mystery of who did kill Preston Garrett.” The words rang hollow in her ears. That damn whip! There doesn’t seem to be any way around it and that means Bryce, in all likelihood, has a jail term ahead of her. “Did you both get enough to eat?”
In true mother fashion, Margarita picked up a sandwich from the tray. “Here, eat your mind will work better if you have food.”
Lane laughed and took the sandwich. “I’ll eat on the way. We need to go or we will be late.”
You can read this story and all EO stories knowing that it is completed but is still being revised - all parts will be posted in a timely fashion. :o)
Constructive commments are always welcomed. Thank you. eorielly@yahoo.com