Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) (16 page)

28

By noon, the case was theirs.

Closing statements were done, and for Howard, they were no more than a regurgitation of what he’d already heard. The judge read them instructions on the law and gave them verdict forms. One count of murder in the second degree – guilty or not guilty. There were no more witnesses, no more attorneys, no more exhibits, just the twelve of them together in the jury room. Twelve strangers.

Howard sat nervously at the conference table. The room was no more than a drab meeting space immediately behind the courtroom. Twelve chairs barely fit around the table. There was a leather sofa and a cabinet with a mini-refrigerator, microwave, and coffee maker. An old-fashioned clock ticked off the minutes above the microwave.

He realized they didn’t want the jury getting too comfortable. Do your work, make a decision, and go home.

The black woman who’d sat next to him throughout the trial chose a seat next to him again. Every day, she wore a different pants suit; today it was cream-colored, with lace stitching on the collar. She spoke first. ‘Let’s go around the table and introduce ourselves, okay?’

So they did. Some gave just their names. Some talked about what they did for a living. The woman in the pants suit said that her name was Eleanor and that she worked as a secretary in a small accountant’s office and had three children. She had a calmness about her, friendly but direct. Her dark skin was mottled. Her hair was short and neat.

‘We need to pick a foreman,’ a man at the other end of the table announced when they’d finished introductions. Howard tried to remember the man’s name and thought that it was Bruce. He was the only juror in a tie, and he’d made a point of bragging that he managed a downtown hotel. He was in his sixties, with a gray mustache and a comb-over.

Eleanor said, ‘Well, who among us would be willing to be the foreman? Maybe we should start there.’

Bruce raised his hand immediately. Eleanor stared at the man thoughtfully, and then she raised her hand, too. It was just the two of them. No one else volunteered. Eleanor suggested they each talk about how the foreman could help the group, and when they did, Bruce talked about his management experience, and Eleanor simply said she wanted to respect the process and deliver a fair result.

They passed notepaper around the conference table, and when they’d voted, Eleanor was named foreman by a vote of 10 to 2. Bruce didn’t look happy with the outcome.

‘We have four questions to answer,’ Eleanor reminded them as they began their deliberations. ‘I think we can decide three of them easily enough. Can we take a vote as to whether the state proved that Jay Ferris was dead?’

They did. All agreed.

‘And let’s also vote as to whether the death took place in St. Louis County in the state of Minnesota?’

The same result.

‘Finally – and if any of you disagree, we can postpone this question – can we vote that
whoever
killed Jay Ferris did so with an intent to murder him? My own opinion is that if you point a gun at someone’s head and pull the trigger, your intent is pretty clear. But that’s just me.’

They voted, and they agreed that intent had been established.

‘That’s progress,’ Eleanor announced with a smile. ‘That leaves us with one question, and it’s the big one. We have to decide whether the state proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Janine Snow caused the death of Jay Ferris. I think it’s important that we review all the evidence carefully regardless of what any of us is thinking at this particular moment. Right? But I also think it would be useful for each of us to share our preliminary opinion, recognizing that our opinion might change as we look at the facts. Okay?’

Howard felt his body tense. Sweat gathered on his neck. This was the moment he’d anticipated, but he had no idea what to say.

Reasonable doubt. The judge had told them:
Reasonable doubt is just what it sounds like. It’s doubt based in reason and common sense. The state does not have to prove its case beyond all doubt. Some doubt always exists about most things in life.

‘Let’s go around the room,’ Eleanor said.

Answer yes or no, she told them. Answer yes if you think the state proved its case. Yes if you’re ready to declare Janine Snow guilty of murder.

The juror on the other side of Eleanor answered first. ‘Yes.’

And another. ‘Yes.’

One juror declined to answer. So did the next. And then:

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

Howard stared at their faces. They made it look so easy. They’d sat in the same courtroom as him, and the case was already clear in their minds. They’d looked into Janine’s face and seen a killer there.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

Don’t be influenced by emotion or passion
, the judge had said.
The only thing you should look at are the facts of the case.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes.’

The vote around the table reached Howard. There hadn’t been a single person to vote no. Not a single person with doubt. Only two jurors had declined to vote openly, and the rest had made up their minds.

Guilty.

‘I – I’m not sure,’ Howard said. ‘I guess I have to say no.’

There was silence in the room. Howard felt their eyes on him, and his skin burned with embarrassment. Did they know? Did they know how he felt about Janine?
Don’t be influenced by emotion or passion.

‘Fine,’ Eleanor said. ‘My own vote is yes. Howard, could you tell us about the doubts you have? That may help us think through the evidence.’

Howard tried to organize his thoughts. Yes, he had doubt. Was it reasonable doubt? He didn’t know. Part of him wanted to believe there was no way that Janine could have pulled the trigger. Part of him wanted to rescue her. Another part of him, the cold part, heard Carol’s voice from months earlier.
She did it.

‘They didn’t prove that Janine fired a gun,’ Howard pointed out. ‘Or that she even had a gun.’

The hotel manager Bruce said acidly: ‘Janine?’

Howard flushed. ‘The defendant.’

‘I think we should call her Dr. Snow,’ Eleanor suggested. ‘She’s the defendant, but she’s also a human being, and we’re deciding how she’s going to spend the rest of her life. Let’s not forget that.’

‘They couldn’t prove
Dr. Snow
fired a gun because she took a shower,’ Bruce retorted. ‘How convenient is that? She just happened to be doing the one thing that would erase evidence of her firing a gun.’

Several jurors grumbled their agreement.

Another woman spoke up. ‘Plus, we saw a photograph of her firing a gun. For me, that’s a big thing. You’re either a gun person, or you’re not. I wouldn’t have a clue how to fire a gun. Dr. Snow knew.’

‘Nathan Skinner also testified that Dr. Snow asked him how to get a gun,’ Bruce pointed out. ‘On the QT.’

‘That’s true, but do we believe Nathan Skinner?’ Eleanor asked. ‘He’s an important witness, but I’m not sure I find him credible.’

‘Maybe Skinner killed Ferris,’ Howard suggested. ‘Maybe he’s trying to frame Dr. Snow.’

Bruce shook his head. ‘That’s crazy.’

‘Why?’ Howard asked. ‘Skinner has no alibi for the time of the murder.’

‘We saw phone records,’ Bruce replied. ‘From early December to January 28, Skinner didn’t call Snow. He didn’t call Ferris. They didn’t call him. There was no contact at all. So all of a sudden, seven weeks after she breaks off the affair, Skinner goes over there with a gun? I don’t think so. Plus, we heard testimony from the pizza girl who said Ferris was in his apartment the night of the murder, sick as a dog, watching a hockey game. The game started at 9:00 p.m. What do you think? Before the third period, he suddenly got it in his head to drive to Ferris’s place and shoot him? Sorry, I don’t buy it.’

Howard said nothing. The other jurors nodded their heads.

‘All right, but what about Skinner’s testimony that Dr. Snow asked him about getting a gun?’ Eleanor said. ‘I just don’t think I believe him about that. They were lovers. Frankly, if she wanted a gun, he would have gotten her one. And he didn’t do that.’

Bruce pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess I’m with you on that.’

‘Let’s focus on what we
do
know,’ Eleanor went on. ‘In her statement to the police, Dr. Snow admitted that she was home when the murder occurred. She admitted arguing with her husband, which was confirmed by testimony from Cindy Stride. Mrs. Stride also testified that Dr. Snow wanted to get a divorce, but she couldn’t because she felt trapped.’

‘Feeling trapped doesn’t mean she killed her husband,’ Howard insisted.

‘She’s a pill junkie!’ Bruce barked. ‘Ferris was holding it over her head. You bet she was trapped. And she only had one way out. Bang!’

There was silence again. The twelve of them looked at each other, and Howard felt all of them looking at him. The man with doubt. The only man who wasn’t ready to throw Janine into the fire.

29

Stride pulled up to the gravel driveway of Jessie Klayman’s house in the town of Gary. It was on Dickson Street, near where the road dead-ended. The house was single-level, with a detached garage and wooden steps leading to the front door. The large yard was mostly scrub grass and weeds, and in back, the lot butted up to a line of trees. He saw two cars in the driveway, a green Dodge Neon and a rusted Pontiac Firebird.

He got out on one side of his Bronco, and Maggie got out on the other.

‘Know where we are?’ she asked, pointing down the street to 108th. ‘Turn left there and left again on Becks
—
’

‘Ely’s Peak,’ Stride said.

‘Yeah.’

He studied the small house. He’d walked up ordinary driveways to ordinary houses too many times to take it lightly. The outside never told him what was happening inside. ‘Stay alert,’ he said.

They headed for the front door, where he pressed the doorbell and heard the chime. Thirty seconds passed before a woman answered. She pushed the storm door open and smiled, but her eyes were wary. If this woman worked security, she knew how to recognize cops.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked. Her voice had the overexcited trill of a bird at dawn.

‘Are you Jessie Klayman?’ Stride asked. When the woman nodded, he said, ‘My name’s Jonathan Stride, and this is Maggie Bei. We’re with the Duluth Police.’ He showed her his badge, but she hardly looked at it.

‘Yeah, I figured,’ the woman replied, smoothing her dyed-red hair with dyed-red fingernails. She was pudgy and short, and she wore a form-fitting Twins T-shirt with jean shorts. ‘What’s up?’

‘We just have a couple questions for you. May we come inside?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

She waved them into her living room. A game show blared from the television. The room smelled of beer. So did Jessie’s breath. Stride saw the kitchen adjacent to the living room, where dirty dishes mingled with empty Budweiser cans. There was no air conditioning, and the shadowy interior was warm with stale air that hung in the room.

‘You were on the security team during the marathon last month, weren’t you?’ Maggie asked her.

‘Yeah.’

‘We’re trying to identify the man who’s standing next to you in this picture.’

Jessie took the photograph from Maggie with two thick fingers. The glib smile on her face wavered. ‘Why are you looking for him?’

‘Do you know him?’ Stride asked.

‘Has he done something?’

‘Ms. Klayman, is this your son?’ Maggie asked. ‘Troy Grange thought it was.’

She sat down on the old sofa. An empty bag of Doritos was on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Okay, yeah, that’s Ross. So what?’

‘Is he here?’ Stride asked.

‘No.’

Stride eyed the hallway that led to the bedrooms. ‘Does your son live with you?’

‘Yes. What is this about?’

‘We’d just like to talk to him. Do you know when he’ll be back?’

‘No, he went for a walk. Do you think Ross has done something wrong? Because he hasn’t. He’s a great kid.’

Maggie withdrew another photograph from her pocket. This one was a blurry picture taken by Jay Ferris near Ely’s Peak, showing a man in camouflage aiming an assault rifle. ‘What about this photograph?’ she asked. ‘Is this Ross?’

Jessie studied it. ‘I don’t know. I can’t make out the face.’

‘Do you or Ross own a rifle like this?’

She shrugged. ‘We have guns. They’re all legal.’

‘Including a Bushmaster rifle?’ Maggie persisted.

‘Yeah, so what? I told you, they’re all legal.’

‘What about handguns?’

‘Yeah, we have some. Sure. I don’t have to remind you guys about the Second Amendment, do I? A person would have to be nuts not to carry a gun in this day and age. No offense to cops, but I don’t have time to wait for a patrol car to mosey over here if someone breaks into my house.’

‘Would you mind if we take a look at Ross’s room?’ Maggie asked.

Jessie folded her arms across her ample chest. The chirrup in her voice rose higher. ‘Actually, I do mind. You come in here asking all these questions about my son, and you won’t tell me what’s going on.’

Stride exchanged a glance with Maggie. ‘Well, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Klayman. We’d appreciate it if you or Ross could give us a call when he’s back. We need to meet with him in person.’

She shrugged. ‘Okay, but it’s a waste of time. He hasn’t done anything.’

Stride and Maggie let themselves out of the small house and returned to his Bronco. He turned on the engine, and a song by Sara Evans began playing on the stereo. ‘Born to Fly’. He put the truck in park but kept his foot on the brake.

‘You think it’s the same guy?’ Maggie asked him. ‘That Jay Ferris spotted Ross Klayman at Ely’s Peak?’

‘Probably, but I don’t think we’ll be able to prove it. We don’t have enough for a warrant to test their guns.’

‘The jury’s already out. Do we need to tell Dan about this?’

‘Yeah, I’ll tell him, for what it’s worth,’ Stride said. ‘It’s up to him whether he wants to disclose it to Gale. I don’t think this changes anything at all with regard to the case.’

Maggie glanced at the house, where Jessie Klayman stood at her front door, watching them. When the woman turned away, Maggie slid sunglasses over her face. ‘You don’t have any doubts about the case, boss?’

‘What, that Janine killed Jay?’ Stride asked. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘None at all?’

‘No reasonable doubt,’ he said. ‘That’s the only thing that matters.’

*

An hour later, Jessie jumped as she felt a hand tickling the back of her neck. She spun around and saw Ross standing behind the sofa. His lips folded into a grin. He could always sneak up on her.

‘You scared the crap out of me!’ she exclaimed.

‘Sorry.’

He wore an army hat, with the brim pulled low, and wraparound shades. A black tank top left his shoulders and skinny arms bare, exposing his tattoo of a skeleton dressed for combat. His skin glowed with sweat from the heat of the day, and he smelled of pine. He wore camouflage pants and heavy trail boots.

Jessie went back to her game show. ‘The police were here for you,’ she told him.

Ross didn’t say anything. She turned and saw her son staring down at her from behind his shades. The grin was gone. His mouth had no expression. She saw a twitch ripple through his bones.

‘Did you hear me?’ she said. ‘The police were asking about you.’

‘I heard you. What did they want?’

‘I don’t know. They didn’t say.’

‘What did you tell them?’ he asked.

She heard accusation in his voice, which annoyed her.

‘What do you think I told them? Nothing. I said they should leave us alone.’

Ross went to the living room window and pushed aside the curtain to watch the empty street outside. He did that a lot, as if he were waiting for someone who never showed up. She heard the muffled engine of a lawn mower in the neighborhood. Typical summer day.

‘I’m sure it’s no big deal,’ she went on. ‘Somebody probably saw you practicing with the Bushmaster and got freaked.’

‘They said that?’ he asked, his back to her.

‘They had a picture. You with a rifle. It was blurry, so I said it could have been anybody. It was you, though.’

She got up from the sofa. The credits rolled on the game show. She wasn’t sure why she watched; it was people earning money by knowing stupid things. She’d tried to get on a show herself once, but they never wrote back to her. It didn’t matter. They had enough money to live.

Jessie came up behind her son, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her head against his back. ‘You’re so tense,’ she said.

He said nothing.

‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she told him. ‘A cool one. It’s so hot.’

Still he didn’t answer, and she didn’t let go.

‘Love me?’ she asked.

A long time passed, but finally he said: ‘Yes.’

That was all she needed to hear.