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Greed and a Mistress Page 7


  She nodded, got up, and held her head high. When she got to the bannister between the attorneys and the spectators, she refused to look at the four children. She opened the little gate, let it slam behind her, and walked back down the aisle. The Bailiff opened the back door for her, watched her go, and then softly closed it.

  “What a pistol,” said Carl. “I can’t wait to hear what else she has to say. The children look relieved to see her go, but the jury loves her. Half of them are still smiling.”

  “Mr. Davis,” said Judge Blackwell, “call your next witness.”

  “The People call Deputy Samuel James Musgrave to the stand.”

  Michael took his legs off the coffee table and sat up straight. “Sam Musgrave is a local hero. He saved three little kids from burning to death in the backseat of a car last year. He couldn’t save the mother, though. The fire got too hot and she was unconscious in the front seat. The autopsy showed no alcohol or drugs in her system, but she had a nasty contusion on her head, probably from the accident.”

  The DA waited until the deputy was sworn in and then walked to the lectern. “Deputy Musgrave, how long have you worked for the Fremont County Sheriff’s Office?”

  “Six years.” The deputy was a tall man, wore his dark blue uniform proudly and had a deep dimple in his chin.

  “Before that, where did you work?”

  “In the Sheriff’s Department, Ward 4 in Washington, DC.”

  “In your career as an officer, about how many murder cases would you say you have helped investigate?”

  “Over a hundred or so. I never actually counted.”

  “Would you say you are relatively familiar with murder investigations?”

  “I am not an official investigator, but I would say that, yes.”

  Davis briefly looked directly at juror number eight, a woman, while he asked the next question. “Okay. On the morning of June 12th, were you dispatched to 4415 Redwood Blvd.?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was that the residence of Mrs. Amelia Lockhart?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Deputy Musgrave, do you recall at what time you arrived at Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”

  “I got there shortly after 9:00 a.m., about three minutes after we got the 911 call.”

  “Tell us what you saw and did.”

  “I saw the housekeeper, Miss Childers, first. She was outside and pretty shaken up. I asked if she needed medical attention and she said no. By then, the neighbor lady came to take care of her, so I went inside.”

  “Did it appear that someone had broken in through the front door?”

  “No, sir, I saw no sign of forced entry.”

  “Did you later check the other doors and windows, and if so, what did you find?”

  “I checked them all, but there was no evidence to suggest someone had broken into the house.”

  “Did you take pictures of all the outside doors and windows?” Davis asked.

  “I believe Detective Heffran took pictures, but I did not.”

  “Thank you. Deputy Musgrave, what did you observe when you went inside?”

  “I saw nothing unusual downstairs.”

  “Had you ever been in Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”

  “No, sir.”

  “By unusual, do you mean you didn’t find anything turned over or knocked down?”

  “That’s right. The room was tidy.”

  “Did you think the killer might still be inside?”

  “Not really, but just in case, I drew my gun before I went any farther.”

  “Did you smell anything...foul when you entered the house?”

  “I did. It was pretty obvious Mrs. Lockhart had been dead for a while.”

  “Objection, calls for a conclusion,” said Livingston.

  Davis quickly said, “I’ll withdraw the question.” He paused to look at his notes, turned a page, and then turned a second page. “Deputy Musgrave, what did you do after you first entered the house?”

  “I walked through the downstairs to make certain no one was there, and then went upstairs to Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom.”

  The DA went to the evidence table and selected the top 8 x10 photograph. He showed it to the defense attorney and then said, “Exhibit B, Your Honor.”

  Judge Blackwell nodded. “So noted.”

  “Permission to approach the witness?”

  “Granted,” said the judge.

  Davis went to the witness stand and handed the photograph to Musgrave. “Deputy, do you recognize this photograph?”

  “I do.”

  “Could you tell the jury what that picture is of?”

  “It is a picture of Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom after her body was removed?”

  “Would you agree that this is an actual depiction of how the bedroom looked when the picture was taken?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that Mrs. Lockhart’s blood on the bed, the headboard, and the wall in her bedroom?”

  Livingston stood up. “Objection, Your Honor. The deputy is not a blood expert.”

  “I’ll withdraw the question,” said Davis. “Permission to approach the jury?”

  “Permission granted,” said the judge.

  Davis handed the photo to the first of the twelve jurors and watched as it was passed down.

  “That’s interesting,” said Michael. “Looks like he’s not going to make the jury look at her body. Two of the men flinched, and the women can’t seem to pass it down fast enough.”

  “Jackie,” said Carl, “that van belongs to a local true crime website. I’m monitoring it to see if your picture shows up. If it does, our friend Michael, will know how to permanently delete it.”

  In the seat next to Jackie, Holly had her head bowed and was toying with a fold in her plaid skirt. On the other side of Jackie, Mark’s father whispered something to his wife, but his wife had no response. Across the aisle, the victim’s four children watched the jury’s reaction to the photo, but still didn’t display any emotion of their own.

  Jackie turned her attention to Livingston, who appeared to be jotting more questions on his notepad, and then she looked at the judge. Interestingly, Judge Blackwell was watching her, so Jackie held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. The bailiffs in the front, the court clerk and the court recorder looked bored.

  When the last member of the jury finished looking at the photo, Davis took it to the Court Clerk, and then went back to the lectern. “By the way, Deputy Musgrave, could Mrs. Lockhart have shot herself?”

  “I don’t see how – we didn’t find a gun,” the officer answered.

  “What happened after you confirmed that there had been a murder?”

  “I called it in.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “It was stifling in there, so I found the thermostat and turned the heat off. Then I checked the rooms upstairs, used a cloth and opened two of the second floor windows.”

  “Weren’t you worried you might disturb some of the evidence?”

  “No, it would have been impossible for anyone to enter or exit through those windows. They were both still locked on the inside.”

  “Did you touch anything else?”

  “No sir.”

  “What happened next?”

  The deputy took a long breath. “The Sheriff, along with several police officers came. They sealed the place off with crime tape to keep everyone out.”

  “While you were there that morning, did anyone try to get inside?”

  “Just a couple of reporters and a cameraman. They arrived not long after the sheriff showed up.”

  “Do you know how the press found out about the murder so quickly?”

  “Sure, they have scanners. We try to keep the lid on things, but it usually doesn’t take long for them to find out. Heck, they even have scanners on the internet that people can listen to these days.”

  “Were the reporters able to get inside?”

  “No, sir, we didn’t let anyone inside except
the investigator and his team. As far as I know, no one has been in there since we finished our investigation either.”

  “So to your knowledge, no one has been inside to clean up?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Deputy Musgrave answered. “The museum put twenty-four hour guards around the place to protect the valuables inside, but I haven’t heard of them going inside. Most people wouldn’t want to.”

  “To your knowledge, were there any witnesses to Mrs. Lockhart’s murder?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “Did you or the other officers canvas the neighborhood?”

  “We did, but none of the neighbors saw or heard anything that night.”

  Davis paused to refer to his notes again. “After Mrs. Lockhart’s body was removed, did you try to take the housekeeper’s statement?”

  “I did, but Miss Childers was pretty upset, so I only asked if she saw who did it. She said she didn’t see anyone inside or outside of the house when she arrived.”

  “Deputy Musgrave, did you disturb anything in Mrs. Lockhart’s bedroom before or after the other officers arrived?”

  “No sir.”

  “Did you check to see if Mrs. Lockhart was still alive?”

  “No sir, it was obvious she was not.”

  “You didn’t lean over the bed or touch her body for any reason?”

  “That is correct.”

  “So, help me make certain I understand you correctly. You found no forced entry, no gun, and no one entered the premises except officers, is that correct?”

  “That is correct.”

  “One moment please, Your Honor.” Davis appeared to be looking for a missing sheet of paper, but couldn’t find it. He wrinkled his brow, and then continued without it, “Deputy Musgrave, that morning, did you ascertain if any of Mrs. Lockhart’s belongings were missing?”

  “Well, once Miss Childers calmed down a little more, we asked her to take a look around. Miss Childers didn’t want to go back inside the house. She said Mrs. Lockhart often gave things to the museum, so she wouldn’t know what was missing and what wasn’t.”

  “By ‘we’, do you mean yourself and Detective Paul Heffran?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did Miss Childers tell you about a list?”

  “She did. She told us where to find a list of valuables Mrs. Lockhart carried insurance on.”

  “Where did she say the list was?”

  “In the top, right hand drawer in Mrs. Lockhart’s office desk.”

  “I see,” said Davis. He remembered what was on the missing page and said, “Let me back up a little. After the sheriff and the officers arrived to seal the crime scene, what did you do?”

  “I waited for the homicide detective to get there.”

  “Homicide Detective, Paul Heffran?”

  “That is correct.”

  “How long did that take?”

  “About forty minutes.”

  “During that time, did anyone else enter Mrs. Lockhart’s house?”

  “The sheriff went inside to have a look, but no one else was allowed inside.”

  “To your knowledge, did he touch anything?”

  “No, sir, he was very careful not to touch anything.”

  “Thank you.” Again, Davis paused to review his notes. “Did you stay there while Detective Heffran investigated?”

  “I did. I like watching him work. He is very good at his job.”

  “Objection. Calls for an opinion,” the defense complained.

  “Sustained,” said Judge Blackwell. “The jury shall disregard and the court reporter will strike the words, ‘he is very good at his job’.”

  “Deputy Musgrave, later that day, did you and Detective Heffran find the list of insured valuables in Mrs. Lockhart’s office?”

  “We did.”

  “What did you do with that list?”

  “We went around the house and checked to see if anything was missing?”

  “Was anything missing?”

  “We found everything except four items of expensive jewelry.”

  Davis lowered his gaze for a moment to let the jury absorb that fact. “Did it appear to you that someone had searched the desk drawers in Mrs. Lockhart’s office?”

  “No.”

  “Did it appear to you that someone had searched any of the drawers in the house?”

  “No, it did not. Mrs. Lockhart’s drawers were very neatly arranged and looked undisturbed.”

  “You mean the killer didn’t go through her belongings looking for money?”

  “It didn’t look like it to me?”

  Davis had an incredulous look on his face that he intentionally let the jury see. “Did you find any money in her drawers?”

  “We found a rare coin collection in a drawer in her bedroom.”

  “Were the coins hidden under clothing?”

  The officer tried not to, but he smirked a little. “No, sir, it was on top of some night clothes.”

  “How were the coins housed?”

  “They were in an ordinary green coin book, with pages of coin holders inside.”

  “In your opinion, if someone had looked through her drawers, would they have easily found the coin collection?”

  “I don’t see how they could have missed it.”

  Davis moved to the side of the lectern, again rested his arm on it and clasped his hands. “So is it your testimony that nothing on the list was missing except some jewelry?”

  “That’s right. We were able to account for everything else.”

  “Where was the jewelry box?”

  “On the top of her tallest dresser.”

  “In plain sight?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What did you do next?”

  “Well, after we finished, I went to notify the family.”

  Davis immediately knew he had made a mistake. He didn’t want the defense to know the deputy notified the family, but there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was hope that Livingston didn’t catch it.

  CHAPTER 4

  THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY went to the evidence table and picked up a folder. “Your Honor, at this time I would like Exhibit B to be marked into evidence. It is a list of Mrs. Lockhart’s insured valuables.”

  “So marked.” The judge checked something off on his paper and then asked, “Does the defense have a copy?”

  Davis looked at his opponent, and when Livingston nodded, Davis continued, “They do, Your Honor. Permission to approach the witness?”

  “Granted.”

  DAVIS HANDED THE FOLDER to the witness and then stepped back. “Deputy Musgrave, is this the list of valuables you found in Mrs. Lockhart’s desk drawer?”

  The deputy opened the folder, and quickly scanned the three-page list. “Yes, it is.”

  “Are you the one who put a check mark beside the items you were able to locate?”

  “I am.”

  “And is that your signature on the last page?”

  Musgrave flipped to the last page just to make certain. “It is.”

  “For the jury, please read each item you could not locate?”

  “We could not find a diamond necklace, the matching bracelet and the matching earrings.” The witness slipped the first page behind the third. “Also missing was a woman’s pearl ring, a man’s black diamond ring, and a woman’s diamond broach.”

  Davis took the folder back, handed it to the clerk, and then picked up three photographs. “Thank you, Deputy. Your Honor, permission to enter exhibit C, which consists of three photographs taken of Mrs. Lockhart’s missing jewelry, into evidence.”

  “So marked,” said the judge. He appeared to write something on the paper on his desk as well.

  “Foundation?” Livingston asked, half standing up and then sitting back down.

  “Sustained.”

  Davis said, “Your honor, if it pleases the court, I shall lay the foundation now.”

  “You may,” said the judge.

  �
��Deputy, in Mrs. Lockhart’s desk, did you also find a photograph album?”

  “I did.”

  “What sort of pictures did Mrs. Lockhart keep in that particular album?”

  “She had pictures of everything on her list of insured items.”

  “Did she have pictures of the missing jewelry?”

  “She did.”

  Davis handed the three pictures to the witness, watched as the deputy examined each and then turned it over. “Deputy Musgrave, are these the photographs you found in Mrs. Lockhart’s album of the missing jewelry?”

  “They are.”

  “How can you be certain these are the same photographs?”

  “I watched Detective Heffran put his stamp on the back of each picture.”

  “Thank you. Your Honor, permission to show the pictures to the jury?”

  “I will allow it.”

  Davis gave the photos to the jury foreman and again patiently waited until they were passed down.

  Michael said, “From the looks on their faces, the jury must be wondering how expensive those items are. I wonder why Davis isn’t using some sort of computer presentation. I would like to see them myself.”

  “Me too,” Carl agreed.

  Davis received the pictures, took them to the clerk and then returned to the lectern. “Deputy Musgrave, on Saturday June 17th, did you receive a phone call from Miss Lexi Hamilton?”

  “I did.”

  “What did she tell you?”

  “She said she had something to show me and asked if I would come over.”

  “Did you know Miss Hamilton prior to that phone call?”

  “Yes, we have been friends for years.”

  “Did you go to her house that day?”

  “I did?” the deputy said.

  “What time of day would that have been?”

  “Oh, around seven or so.”

  “In the evening?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What did she show you?” Davis asked.

  “She showed me a diamond necklace.”

  “I see. Did you recognize the necklace?”

  “I thought I did. It looked like a necklace that was stolen from Mrs. Lockhart.”

  “Were you later able to verify that it was indeed the same necklace?”