The defendants, p.1
The Defendants,
p.1
The Defendants
Thaddeus Murfee Series
John Ellsworth
Subjudica House
For Debra Ellsworth, Noel Harrison, and RJ Murphy
Contents
About
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Also by John Ellsworth
About the Author
Afterword
About
The Defendants is a Subjudica House Book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the byproduct of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
1
She was standing at the ancient desk in his law office when she unbuttoned her blouse. She was wearing a white button-down Ralph Lauren, paisley tie, khaki slacks, penny loafers, and a red barrette meant to keep the pageboy cut off her face.
Ermeline Ransom was thirty-two with authentic blond hair and pale blue eyes. Like most cocktail waitresses she was a little taller than average, had clear skin and full lips, and was proud of her ability to support her little boy by honest work. Until last night, she had no tattoos and she had no piercings. Now she had a mess.
She was divorced five years and collected no child support from the pipeline welder who roamed the Northeast living in motels and dodging court orders. She worked the two-to-ten shift at the Silver Dome Inn and took in $250 each week, not counting tips.
The tips were brought home and saved in a small safe she found on eBay that she had bolted to the floor in her rented house.
Her roadmap would begin with the accumulation of $5,000 in cash in Illinois, and then she would make a beeline to Florida, leaving no forwarding address and no way for the sperm donor to come around and pester his neglected little boy anymore. She knew the father’s visits only saddened Jaime, who was wise to the father’s months between visits.
Ermeline began by loosening the tie and raising it over her head like a noose. Next the blouse was unbuttoned, top to bottom.
She was wearing what could only be an icy red Victoria’s Secret bra, with its trademark structural engineering and a green butterfly where the bra clasped in front. The butterfly held everything together and its very clever mechanism allowed it to be clicked and separated apart, wings to the left, thorax to the right. The girl clicked the green butterfly and her breasts spilled forward, freed at last, and pointed at Attorney Thaddeus Murfee like two pears, separate but equal. She shivered and looked away.
Thaddeus Murfee’s eyes bulged. “Good grief—who did this to you? Let me grab our camera!”
Thaddeus Murfee was twenty-five, unmarried, a member of Orbit’s Rotary and Moose, and had been a lawyer for eighteen months. He was tall enough to play point guard—which he had for the Arizona Wildcats. A bowl cut kept his dark brown hair naturally in place, and the wire spectacles with their round frames gave him the look of a friendly owl—or so his last girlfriend had said.
While just twenty-five, already Thaddeus felt fifty-five, and he blamed his premature aging on the practice of law. Though it had been only eighteen months since he signed an office lease, he had already seen more painful things in that time than he had in his first twenty years of civilian life—like today, and the girl with the disfigurement.
Thaddeus couldn’t believe his own eyes.
Someone had taken a ballpoint and tattooed V-I-C-T-O-R into her breasts. Three letters per breast, each letter maybe two inches tall. The ballpoint had broken the skin, and the cuts were deep and angry. Blood surrounded the wounds.
Thaddeus, stunned, muttered, “Who did this?”
“Victor Harrow did this. While I was passed out.”
“You’re certain it was Victor?”
“That’s who I was drinking with. We were at his portable office.”
“The purple bus.”
“That’s the one.”
He knew it well, at least the exterior. “Harrow and Sons” was written along the sides of the bus. If Victor Harrow was, in fact, the one who had mutilated Ermeline Ransom, then Victor was going to end up owing the woman a busload of money. A twinge of excitement erupted up through his chest.
“Why would Victor do this?” Thaddeus said.
“I think he did it because he knew he could get away with it. Some men are like that.”
Thaddeus frowned. It was more than a little difficult imagining Victor carving his name in anyone’s breasts. After all, Victor was a deacon at First Christian, the president of Orbit Rotary, and a Silver Star from Vietnam. He was a lot of things, but an assailant of women? Thaddeus’ frown deepened. It was all very hard to imagine.
“I don’t know any men like that.”
“Then you don’t know men. Trust me. Victor Harrow is like that, especially when he’s three sheets.”
“Wait right here.” Thaddeus went around to the office door and swung it wide open. “Come in here, please,” he called to Christine, “and bring the firm’s camera with you.”
Christine complied and in minutes had made her way to Thaddeus’ side. She was unclicking the camera case when she looked up. “Damn!” she cried. “What happened to you, girl?”
“Victor Harrow happened to me. Isn’t it lovely?” She woggled her breasts side to side, emphasizing the typography there.
Against his will, Thaddeus found himself growing aroused. “Now Christine, I’m going to go in the other room and get some coffee while you take a dozen pictures of Ermeline’s breasts. Shoot from across the desk, then get a side view, and then close-ups. When I come back, let’s everyone be buttoned up and ready to talk. Fair enough?”
“Got it,” said Christine.
“Thank you,” said Ermeline Ransom, the putative victim of Victor Harrow.
Thaddeus was passing through Christine’s office/waiting room when the phone beeped. He quickly retraced his steps and picked up. “Thaddeus Murfee here. How can I help?”
“Thad, did she come over?” said Quentin Erwin, Jr., the Hickam County district attorney and Thaddeus Murfee’s best friend. “I sent her to see you because I sure as hell didn’t know what to do with her. Great tits, though, huh?” Now that was just like Quentin, thought Thaddeus. He loved cases like Ermeline’s. The raunchier the facts, the better.
“She came over. Thanks, I guess. Christine’s getting pictures right now.”
“Are you watching the show?”
“No, I’m here in Christine’s office, talking to you.”
“Oh, man, you should be in on taking the pictures.”
“No, chain-of-evidence. I want to be able to put Christine on the stand and ask her about the photos and establish chain-of-evidence.”
“So you’re thinking court?”
“I guess. Any ideas?”
“File suit against Victor Harrow, I guess. He’s got the bucks.”
“Are you going to prosecute him?”
“For what? He’ll just say she consented to it. How else does he get his whole damn name there? I mean if she was resisting he wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.”
“She says she was passed out.”
“That’s what she told me too. I’ve been to a lot of parties with Ermeline. That girl can hold her booze. I can’t see her passed out. My guess is it was Vic who was passed out, and Ermeline did it to herself to get into his bank account.”
“Damn! You’re sick.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be over at the Dome for coffee around ten fifteen. We can talk then. I don’t want them to hear me out here. Bye.”
Thaddeus hung up and peeked into his office.
From the backside, Ermeline Ransom looked like a bat about to take flight.
Her hands and arms were outstretched, and her shirt was held wide open while the camera clicked and whirred.
He poured a cup of coffee, slowly counted to 200, and noisily went back inside. By now Christine and Ermeline were seated in the two client chairs side by side.
“Okay, Chris, you got them?”
Christine nodded. “I hope they’re okay. Front, side, top-down.”
Ermeline pulled a tissue from the box on Thaddeus’ desk. She dabbed at her eyes. “I showed Dr. Ahmad this morning. He tried alcohol, but he said it’s too deep. Alcohol didn’t touch it.”
“Did he have any other suggestions?”
“Not really. A mom in labor called in, and he had to leave anyway. But his nurse gave me a tetanus shot.”
Thaddeus gulped his coffee. “Did Christine offer you coffee or a dr
“I told her I was too upset to have anything. Look at my hands shake!”
“I can see that. You should be upset. But we’ll find someone who can do something about this,” Thaddeus said. “A dermatologist. Maybe it’s just a matter of some kind of skin peel or dermabrasion.”
“Dr. Ahmad said it’s too deep for that. I already asked.” Ermeline’s eyes welled up with tears again. She instinctively placed her hand across her breasts, which were protected once again by bra and shirt.
The young lawyer knew Ermeline Ransom was a good soul, a hard worker, and a dedicated single mom. But just now her look was of grave confusion. Something had gone terribly wrong in her life, and she didn’t know where to start to unravel it.
She dabbed at the tears.
“Look, Ermeline, why don’t you take us through what happened. What was it? Saturday night or last night?”
“Last night. Amateur night. I worked from two until ten at the Silver Dome. Lounge side.” Thaddeus nodded and made a mental note. “You got off at ten on Sunday night?”
“Right. Bronco Groski comes on duty then because Bruce wants someone there who’s tough enough to handle the rowdies. I’m only five seven and 120 pounds, so I don’t scare anyone.”
“Got it.” Thaddeus pulled out a yellow pad and scribbled his first notes. Then he paused. “Ermeline, here’s a thought. I’m pretty new at lawyering—which you know. You might want to have someone with more experience than me handle this—like Jeremy down the street or his partner Elvin, although Elvin really only wants to do estates. Jeremy used to be district attorney and might really have a feel for this kind of case, where I’m still learning how to patty-cake.”
“I thought of that already. Trouble with everyone in town is they’re all in bed with Victor Harrow. Or they want to be. I bet having him for a client is every lawyer’s dream. He’s always getting someone hurt on a highway job, or not paying his subs—like he did to my dad—or making new investments and needing more legal papers drawn up. I’m even surprised you’re talking to me. You must want him for a client too.”
“I might at that. But he would never come to me. I’m too green.”
“Well, that solves that. I can only say I’m glad. D.B. Leinager says you’re going to be one of the great ones.”
“D.B. Leinager says that about everybody. He’s senile and shouldn’t be practicing law anyway. And don’t repeat that because I’ll deny it.”
Thaddeus stopped writing, his pen poised over the yellow pad.
He looked at Ermeline for assent.
“I mean it. If we’re going to work together, we have to trust each other. None of what I say here ever leaves here. Same with you. You’re safe to talk to me. I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
“That’s what I need to hear.” She sat upright in her chair. For the first time that morning he saw her back stiffen just a bit. He thought she just might be feeling a little empowered—now that she knew she someone on her side. Someone who wasn’t going to sell her out over the lure of future business.
“That’s what I needed to hear,” she repeated. “What I tell you is strictly confidential. Now I know I can trust you, Thad.”
“Fair enough. Now, let’s back up. What time did you get to work yesterday?”
“1:45 in the afternoon. Bruce was changing out the till and making a deposit before the bank deposit box closed.”
“What were you wearing?”
“What I always wear. Black mini and white peasant blouse. My hair was blown dry, held by a barrette, and I was wearing pretty heavy lip gloss. Smiles mean tips.”
“And I thought you were always smiling at me because you had a thing for me,” Thad said with a sociable smile. He immediately realized he had embarrassed himself and maybe her. “Forget I said that. Smiles mean tips. Got it.”
“You always tip well. You and Quentin Erwin are very sweet about that.”
“Anyway, how’d you wind up at Vic Harrow’s office?”
She turned to the window. “Vic had been buying rounds for everyone. He always does. Some of the guys from his crews were there and they were kidding around and Vic was getting them drunk. A benefit of working for him.”
“Sure.”
“So around nine o’clock he’s in the hallway by the restrooms. I come out of the ladies’ and he’s hitting the cigarette machine. He’s cursing. I told him I’d get Bruce to unlock it. He said okay. Then he said, ‘Ermeline, I need your help tonight.’ I asked how. He said he had just heard his bid was accepted on a new state job and he was going to become a millionaire—again.”
“So he was trying to impress you. Was he trying to get in your pants?”
“That’s just Vic. He’s always saying what’s on his mind, and he doesn’t mind who he’s saying it to. Maybe, maybe not.”
“But you left with him after you got off?”
“Over the next little while he kept buying rounds and asking me would I tag along to his office. He wanted to share a glass of champagne. He got pretty insistent. He said Betty Anne Harrow was out of town, so he had no one to share the good news with. Honestly, he sounded very lonely.”
“So you volunteered.”
“Color me stupid. I guess you could say I volunteered. Vic leaves huge tips for all the girls. What’s not to love about Vic and his money? We want him to keep coming back.”
“So you volunteered, but you were also feathering your nest a little?”
“A little, yes. I called my babysitter and she called her folks to ask if it would be okay for her to stay an extra half hour. She’s fifteen and it was past curfew, but her parents had no objection. So I told Victor I’d follow him out to the bus but only for a half hour, one drink, and then I was off.”
“Was that okay with him?”
“His eyes lit up. He smiled that huge smile of his. I felt like I had made his night.”
“You followed him in your car?”
She turned away from the window and looked Thaddeus in the eye. “I followed in my car. I had no intention of staying a minute past ten thirty, and I wanted my own ride out of there. Swear to God.”
“I’m sure that’s true. So what happened once you got to the bus?”
“We went inside. He turned on some lights. He had me wait on the sofa while he poured us a tumbler of champagne. He brought it to me, and we toasted. That’s when someone knocked on the door. It sounded like the rear door of the bus. Vic went over to the window and looked out. ‘Be right back,’ he said. He disappeared down the hall.
“I heard talking, but muffled. Then there was brief shouting—angry sounding. Then a man I’ve never seen before came in with Vic close behind. ‘Meet Johnny Bladanni,’ Vic says, and I stand up and stick out my hand. He takes my hand. Then—of all things—he kisses my hand.”
“What did you find out about Johnny Bladanni?”
“He was down from Chicago on business with Victor. He was only staying ten or fifteen minutes. Victor told him to help himself to some champagne. Mr. Bladanni asked if I needed a refill. I said no, but he insisted and almost yanked it out of my hand—still smiling all the time. He was very smooth, very oily, very Chicago.”
“Got it. So he got you a drink?”
“He did. Then we had a three-way toast to Victor’s new business.”
Thaddeus looked up from his scribbling. His notes covered two pages of the yellow pad. “What happened next? Give all the details you can remember.”
“Next? I woke up, it was black outside, and my breasts were like on fire.”
“And you did what?”
“I switched on the light over the couch. My blouse was pulled down, and my bra was around my neck all tangled up. I saw my chest and screamed.”
