Missing Witness (9 page)

12

W
ILL AND
F
IONA ARRIVED AT THE
S
UNSET
B
ISTRO
long after the dinner rush had begun to wane. They were given a table by the window, overlooking the Pamlico Sound. The restaurant was an oak-paneled affair with mounted trophy fish on every wall.

Will's eye was captured by the last sliver of crimson light along the water. Fiona was lost in the seafood dinner before her. Her strange new affinity to seafood seemed to accompany her pregnancy.

Fiona stopped eating, remembering something. “Tell me how your conference went with Reverend Joppa's other attorney.”

“Boggs Beckford. The poor guy really took a hit in this auto accident. He was wrapped up in casts.”

“What was his feeling about the case? Do you think you're going to take it?”

“Something interesting happened today. Jonathan Joppa called me. The court contacted both parties to the probate trial. The local judge who's handling the case has scheduled a pretrial conference for tomorrow morning. The court wants to find out the status of Joppa's legal representation. They know about Beckford's auto accident and that he was out of commission for awhile. So I guess I'm down to the wire—and I have to make a decision now.”

Fiona leaned forward intently. “Are you going to take the case?”

“Well, Beckford was very optimistic. He said he's got this local historical expert. A guy by the name of August Longfellow. Professor type who has a vast amount of knowledge about the Outer Banks region. Piracy. And even about Isaac Joppa's fate. Beckford told me that Longfellow felt pretty good about proving Joppa's innocence.”

“
August Longfellow
. That's an interesting name.”

“Apparently this guy's a real character. According to Beckford, he has some information that there may have been some women involved in Joppa's life. And that may be tied into proof of his innocence.”

“Women? Connected in what way?”

“It sounded like there was one woman in particular that Isaac Joppa may have been involved with romantically. A woman in England. I stopped by Beckford's and they gave me what there was in his file. I was reading some of the background stuff. The historical information. We know that Isaac Joppa left Bath, North Carolina, and shipped out to England. Then he joined the Royal Navy. Apparently, he then deserted—and the next thing we know, he showed up on one of Edward Teach's pirate ships. One witness saw him assisting Teach and plundering a ship as part of his pirate crew. Then, Teach settled back in the Bath, North Carolina, area. That's only about an hour and a half down the coast from here. And then there was the Battle of Ocracoke Inlet. Teach—Blackbeard—is killed, along with a lot of his crew. Several pirates jump ship and try to swim to shore, but they're all killed. And supposedly, Isaac Joppa's one of them. A few of the pirates who survived were taken to trial in Virginia, and were all hung. A local English magistrate had signed a warrant for Joppa's arrest after a grand jury issued an indictment against him for piracy. But after it was learned that he had been killed, the indictment was withdrawn.”

Fiona was riveted to Will's summary. Then her eyes widened.

“You said
women
. More than one woman. So first, there was this woman that he may have been in love with, in England. Right?”

Will nodded, and then smiled at the waitress who had just arrived with his salad and Fiona's clam chowder.

“Then who's the other woman?” Fiona asked.

“I'll have to find that out from this Professor Longfellow. I would have preferred to interview him before I made my decision. But I don't think I'm going to have the time. I've got to tell Jonathan Joppa by first thing tomorrow morning at the court hearing.”

“Darling, you haven't told me what your decision is.”

Will paused and jiggled the ice a little in his glass of ice water. Then he looked up and studied Fiona and gave her a smile.

“I think I'm going to represent Reverend Joppa.”

Fiona laughed and then struck a pose—two hands up in the air, like a cheerleader celebrating the big touchdown.

“Yes!” she cried out.

Several couples in the dimly lit restaurant turned and smiled.

“Now you can tell me something,” Will said, shaking his head and chuckling. “Why were you so adamant about my taking this case?”

“A couple of different reasons. First of all, I just have this feeling about this case. I know this sounds stupid. I don't know how to describe it. But the more I hear about it…I just think you're the right man to uncover the truth. There's a story here. Isaac Joppa lived a life that sounds like it ended tragically. Perhaps there is a woman who loved him. He runs away. Why? And I also think you were meant to help this pastor. Something's going wrong in Joppa's life. You heard Aunt Georgia say that he had been the pastor of that church for a number of years, but somehow his heart just doesn't seem to be in it. Something must be troubling that man. She also said that he lost his wife. So I think you're the right man—not only to win his case, but also to give him some good counsel too.”

“All right. You've encouraged me…now tell me the rest of the reasons you wanted me to take this case.”

“Well, I do intend to write some music this summer. But I sat down at the piano and nothing came. My mind is so fixed on this pregnancy. Some of the potential problems. And I want our child so very much to come into this world. And I want everything to be all right. This is a real faith-stretching experience for me. I know it is for you too,” she added. “But frankly, I would love to get my mind on something else for the next two months. And working with you as your paralegal…that would be a wonderful change of pace. I'm really serious about that.”

Will's brow wrinkled.

“Tell me what you're thinking,” Fiona said.

“Just that I did have one assignment in this case…and you'd be perfect for it.”

Fiona's face became animated. “Wonderful! What is it?”

“I need you to interview Frances Willowby. She is the widow of Randolph Willowby. Randolph's last will and testament is at the center of this lawsuit involving Jonathan Joppa.”

“And why is Mrs. Willowby important?”

“One of the questions that's been plaguing me,” Will continued, “is why Randolph Willowby put such a strange condition in his will—requiring Jonathan Joppa to prove the innocence of an ancestor regarding piracy charges hundreds of years old. This is not the kind of thing you put in a last will and testament frivolously. What motivated him to want to prove Isaac Joppa's innocence? Beyond that, why did he put the burden of proof on Jonathan Joppa to prove that as a prerequisite for getting the island?”

“So you want me to find that out?” Fiona asked eagerly.

“Exactly.”

“That sounds exciting. I'll be glad to ask her those kinds of questions.”

“Plus, I understand that the Willowby seacoast mansion is magnificent. Apparently Mrs. Willowby is quite the socialite and party organizer. I'm sure she'll serve you high tea in grand fashion, and let you in on all the gossip.”

Fiona's expression grew solemn.

“Will, darling…you're not just sending me over to talk to Mrs. Willowby so that she can entertain me—serve me tea, and have polite ladies' chat—are you?”

Will laughed heartily and shook his head. “Of course not. I think she's an important component of this case. But, you be honest—when do you
not
like having high tea and lots of ladies' talk?”

Fiona blushed and tried not to laugh. “Okay,” she said, giggling, “it's a chick thing, I know. But please take me seriously as your paralegal. I intend to pull my own weight.”

“Well, actually, you're already pulling your own weight, and somebody else's as well!” Will said with a chuckle. “So the point is this—I'll have you help me on this case, I really will. But you're not going to exert yourself. You're going to take it easy. And you're going to remember that the most important thing is our healthy, happy baby.”

“Sweetheart,” Fiona said with a schoolteacherish look on her face, “do you remember who you're talking to here? Our baby is on my mind twenty-five hours a day. First thing in the morning. All through the day. The last thing at night. I even dream about this baby every night.”

By now, the moon was already out, round and pale in the sky, and visible through the restaurant window.

Will glanced at it. It was so clear, its darker features could be distinguished with the naked eye.

“It's easy to see why people used to talk about the man in the moon,” Will said, nodding his head toward the lunar features. Then he turned back and gazed intently at his wife's beautiful face. She was still busy dispatching her Seafood Extravaganza.

As Isaac Joppa sailed from England, apparently never to return, whose face did he carry with him in his heart, and in his memory?
Will wondered.
Did some English beauty reject him? Or was there some other explanation beyond the mysteries of love—or the shattering heartbreak of rejection—that led him to
his dismal fate? Perhaps love had nothing to do with it—maybe it was some baser motive, such as greed, or cowardice.

Will refocused on his dinner. Looking at the case objectively, he couldn't help but think that his chances of solving the mystery were about as likely as his walking on the surface of the moon.

13

L
OCAL
N
ORTH
C
AROLINA
C
IRCUIT
J
UDGE
Hawsley Gadwell was already holding court, informally, in the front of the courtroom. His robes were on, but he was leaning against the bench with one elbow, giving off a rollicking laugh at something his bailiff had just told him. Attorney Virgil MacPherson was there also, joining in the mirth. At one of the counsel tables, Will, an outsider to the intrigues of the local court, was quietly opening his briefcase and pulling out his file for the pretrial conference that would soon begin. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Jonathan Joppa smiling by his side.

The two shook hands.

“I got your message on my voice mail last night. I appreciate your agreeing to take on my case.”

“Is that Judge Gadwell?” Will asked quietly, motioning toward the front.

Joppa nodded. Then something caught his attention, and he turned and saw a tall, skinny man entering the courtroom. He had a gaunt look and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a large colored logo of a skull and crossbones, with the words
Joppa's Folly
written on the top—and below the skull and crossbones, in smaller print,
Preachers will be lashed to the yardarm!

“That's Terrence Ludlow, the other guy in this case.”

As Ludlow sauntered past the counsel table where Joppa and Will Chambers were seated, the pastor stood up and reached out a hand, but Ludlow ignored it and gave a low, guttural guffaw.

Will bent over toward Joppa. “Did he wear that T-shirt as a message to you personally?”

Joppa clenched his jaw and tried to shrug it off.

When Virgil MacPherson caught sight of Ludlow, he quickly made a parting comment to the judge and scurried over to the counsel table.
Casting a quick look over at Will Chambers, he whispered something to Ludlow.

Then something caught the attention of everyone in the courtroom. Someone had just come through the swinging doors at the back of the courtroom.

It was Blackjack Morgan, with his cane in his right hand. He stood in the back, surveying the courtroom, then moved to the back row and began slowly settling down into one of the audience benches. Judge Gadwell noticed him from the front.

“Blackjack Morgan, is that you?” the judge bellowed.

Morgan straightened up again and raised his cane in a kind of salute.

“Did I hear right?” Gadwell continued in a booming voice. “I heard over at Mike's the other night that your charter just snagged the second-longest Atlantic blue marlin in the history of sport fishing in the Outer Banks. Is that right?”

“One-hundred-percent correct, Your Honor,” Morgan said with a broad smile that revealed a silver tooth. “Eleven hundred pounds. We've got a big picture of it hanging right now down at Joppa's Folly. You ought to come by sometime and take a look at it. That thing's a monster.”

“Seriously—what kind of bait did you use?” Gadwell asked as he made his way around to the steps leading up to the large, black judicial chair behind the bench.

“Well, sir—it's like this,” Morgan crowed. “We took the biggest, heaviest-gauge hooks. We tied them off to the heaviest line we could find. And then we ran that hook through the belt buckle of one of those Virginia Beach city politicians on the other side of the state line. And threw him over the other side. Like I've always said—I figured those guys were eventually going to be good for something.”