“So Daryl was drunk when he headed home on Christmas Eve?”

  “Hey! Daryl don’t get drunk on three or four beers!”

  “So how does he get? Mean?”

  Pitts jumped to his feet. “Objection!”

  Suzanne waived him down. “Withdrawn. Mr. Tompkins, you testified that on Christmas Day, you went to Daryl’s house and were confronted by three goons. Is that correct?”

  He nodded. “That’s what happened, all right.”

  Suzanne turned and pointed to me. “You see that elderly gentleman in the front row? Is that one of the goons who accosted you?”

  There was a snicker throughout the courtroom. Evidently I didn’t look too intimidating.

  “Yeah, he was one of them, but the other guy was much bigger!”

  “So let me get this straight. When confronted by a woman, a senior citizen, and a really, really big guy, you decided to scram.”

  More snickers.

  Pitts jumped up again. “Judge, she’s badgering the witness.”

  I noticed the judge was trying to suppress a smile. “Move on Miss Romero.”

  “I only have one more question for this witness. Mr. Tompkins, on the afternoon of Daryl’s death, did the two of you stop off for a few beers before he picked Samantha up from school?”

  I could tell he didn’t want to answer.

  “Yeah, maybe a couple.”

  Suzanne shook her head. “Thank you, Mr. Tompkins. In his opening statement, Mr. Pitts said there was no evidence Daryl Stewart was a drunk. I think you’ve cleared that up for us very nicely.”

  Score one for the good guys.

  I saw the concerned look on Cindy’s face when Pitts called the next witness.

  “Please state your name for the record.”

  “Abby Pringle.”

  “Mrs. Pringle, are you acquainted with the defendant?”

  “Yes, we work for the same company.”

  “How would you characterize your relationship with Cindy Stewart?”

  “Well, we’re not best buds who hang out after work or on weekends, but we spend time together at work, on breaks and at lunch time.”

  “On any of those breaks or lunches, have you ever heard Cindy talk about her relationship with her husband?”

  “Oh sure, we all talk about our men. It’s usually about the latest boneheaded thing one of them has done.”

  “But sometimes it’s more serious, isn’t it?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “In fact, right after Cindy left home with her daughter and moved into the Mayview Center, didn’t you have one of these more serious talks?”

  She nodded again.

  “Please tell the court what Cindy said.”

  “She said that she would do whatever was necessary to keep Samantha from that monster.” Then she turned to Cindy. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Pringle. It seems that Cindy Stewart did exactly what she thought was necessary to accomplish that end. No further questions. The prosecution rests.”

  That one hurt --- a lot!

  CHAPTER 17

  The next day, Suzanne presented Cindy’s defense.

  Martha Coe testified about the Mayview Center and the women and children who come there to seek shelter from abusive spouses. She gave her account of the night Cindy and Sam showed up at the Center, and the confrontation with Daryl.

  Dr. Elizabeth Roth, a psychologist, testified about the domestic violence iceberg, and why so many women like Cindy fail to report abuse until it’s too late.

  Finally, she put Cindy on the stand. For over an hour, she told the court of the abuse, both mental and physical, she had suffered at the hands of her husband, ending with the tragic evening when Daryl attacked, slipped, and fell on the knife.

  I wondered if she was going to mention how Puff the Magic Dragon played into that final confrontation. She didn’t and it was probably just as well. Only those of us who knew the whole story would appreciate the significance of the Cocoa Puffs. I doubt the jury would have bought the Peter, Paul, and Mary defense.

  Cindy was the last to testify. Suzanne wanted the last thing the jury heard to be Cindy’s heart-wrenching story.

  After she stepped down, and Suzanne rested her case, the judge declared that he would hear final arguments the next day, then turn the case over to the jury.

  After court was adjourned, the three of us huddled in a conference room.

  Cindy was a nervous wreck. “Do you think we have a chance?”

  Suzanne smiled. “Of course we have a chance, but honestly, it could go either way. By the way, you were great out there. I watched the jurors as you testified. There were more than a few tears shed.”

  “But will it be enough?”

  “The problem is that both stories are believable. In his closing argument, Pitts will paint you as the conniving wife just looking for an excuse to rid herself of her husband and collect a fat insurance settlement. Finding you standing over the body, covered in blood, and your fingerprints all over the knife play right into his scenario.

  “Fortunately for us, those same facts support your account of how things happened. Which story will the jury buy, the murderous wife, or the abused wife, saved by a quirk of fate? It’s anybody’s guess.”

  Cindy had decided that win or lose, she still needed to sell the house.

  She had contacted Maggie and we had made plans to meet at the house, sign the paperwork, and get the process started.

  Maggie and Cindy were going over the listing agreement at the kitchen table, and I was going from room to room taking measurements, when I spotted it --- a little camera mounted on the ceiling. I knew I had seen one just like it somewhere recently. Then it came to me. I went back through each room and found several more cameras throughout the house.

  I rushed into the kitchen. “Cindy! Do you have an Amazon Echo somewhere in the house?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That thing! Yeah, we have one all right. It was one of Daryl’s little toys. I think he had it installed so he could keep an eye on what we were doing when he wasn’t with us. He had some kind of app on his phone that let him watch what we were doing.”

  “Where is it? I didn’t see it anywhere?”

  “It’s in the pantry. I hate to admit it, but I hid it from Sam. She was always talking to the stupid thing. It was driving me crazy.”

  “That stupid thing just might be your salvation.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you have a computer here?”

  She nodded. “In the office.”

  “Good! Boot it up and log into your Amazon account.”

  While she was doing that, I retrieved the little black tube from the pantry.

  “Alexa, access the cloud and download the videos for the past thirty days to the computer.”

  “Accessing” she replied. “This is a large file. It may take several minutes to download.”

  I hurried into the office. Maggie and Cindy were staring at the computer.

  “What’s this all about?” Cindy asked.

  “Those little cameras that Daryl installed all over the house. When we got our Echo system, I read about them. They have motion sensors that automatically start recording video when movement is detected. The videos are stored in the cloud for thirty days. I just asked Alexa to download the videos and send them to your computer. They are accessed through your Amazon Drive account.”

  At that moment, a message flashed across the screen. “Download complete.”

  I clicked on the download icon and found the file. Anxiously, I opened it and clicked on the day Daryl died.

  The video started with Sam’s aborted attempt to get a bowl of cereal. There was a pause, then it started again when Cindy entered the kitchen and found Sam in the corner eating from the box of Cocoa Puffs. Tears flowed as Cindy watched the replay of her confrontation with Daryl, and his ultimate demise as he slipped on the soggy cereal, burying the knife in his chest.

  When the video stopped, we all sat in silence for a few moments.

  “Cindy, by any chance would you have a thumb drive?”

  She nodded, wiping the tears away. “I think so,” she replied, rummaging in a desk drawer.

  She found one, I plugged it into the computer and downloaded the file that would ultimately set her free.

  At that moment, we heard voices in the kitchen.

  “Alexa,” Sam said, obviously overjoyed at finding the device that had been hidden away, “play Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  A moment later, the voices of Peter, Paul, and Mary filled the room.

  That brought smiles to our faces. It was the perfect anthem to bring an end to the nightmare this family had endured.

  The next morning, Suzanne addressed the judge. “Your Honor, before you call in the jury, we’d like a conference in your chambers.”

  “For what purpose? We’re scheduled to hear closing arguments.”

  “Once you see what we have, I don’t think closing arguments will be necessary.”

  “Well, Miss Romero, you’ve certainly peaked my interest. Let’s see what you have.”

  The judge, Suzanne, and Frank Pitts retired to the judge’s chambers. Twenty minutes later, they returned.

  The judge addressed Pitts. “Mr. Pitts, do you have a motion for the court?”

  “I do, Your Honor. We move that all charges against Cindy Stewart be dropped.”

  The judge banged his gavel. “So ordered! Mrs. Stewart, you are free to go.”

  We will never know what the jury would have decided, but in the end, Lady Justice had prevailed --- with a little help from Alexa!

  CHAPTER 18

  The next few weeks were a rebirth of sorts for Cindy and Samantha.

  Once Cindy received the money from Daryl’s life insurance policy, the first thing she did was write a generous check to the Mayview Center in appreciation for their help and support. She was able to pay cash for a comfy two-bedroom bungalow Maggie had found. The balance of the settlement was placed in a trust for Sam’s college.

  We checked on them from time to time, and I was pleased to hear that Billy was still an important part of their lives.

  Then one day I received a call.

  “Walt, this is Cindy Stewart. We need your help.”

  My first thought was that the ‘we’ meant her and Sam.

  “Are you and Sam okay?”

  “We’re both fine. It’s actually a friend of mine who needs your help --- not as a friend, but as a private investigator.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It’s very serious. My friend is here now. Can you come over?”

  “Of course. If this is actually a case for Walt Williams Investigations, is it okay to bring my partner, Kevin?”

  “Absolutely!”

  I called Kevin, and thirty minutes later we were in Cindy’s living room.

  “Walt, this is my friend, Kelly Simms. Her daughter, Ruby, and Sam are in the same class at school. We’ve done room mother stuff together, bake sales, carnivals. You know the drill.”

  I nodded and shook Kelly’s hand. “I’m Walt, and this is my partner, Kevin. How can we help you?”

  I could see that Kelly was terrified and finding it difficult to speak.

  Cindy jumped in. “Kelly works for City Councilman Frank Costanza. To put it mildly, for the women working there, it’s a hostile environment. The councilman thinks he’s God’s gift to women, and is constantly making lewd comments and flirting. These women need their jobs, so they’ve kept their mouths shut. But recently, it’s gotten worse. Tell them, Kelly.”

  “A few days ago, Councilman Costanza asked me to stay late --- something about an ordinance he was preparing for the next council meeting. When everyone was gone except the two of us, he came on to me --- really strong. I told him no, but he kept insisting. Finally, he grabbed me and told me if I wanted to keep my job, I’d better play ball. That was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back. I had just been reading about the ‘Me, Too’ movement, and the courageous women who have come forward to expose years of sexual abuse. I pulled away, and as I ran from the room, I told him I was going to file a complaint for sexual harassment.”

  I knew about the ‘Me Too’ movement. Actress Alyssa Milano tweeted, “If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted, write ‘Me Too’ as a reply to this tweet.” Ever since, thousands of women have responded, giving birth to a movement that is sweeping the nation.

  Allegations had been made that toppled the careers of movie moguls, actors, comics, newscasters, and politicians. Powerful men were shaking in their boots, fearing past indiscretions would surface and bite them in the ass.

  Kelly continued. “I didn’t go in the next day. I was planning to file my complaint with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission.” She handed me her phone. “Then I received this text.”

  It was the photo of a young girl in front of a school. The text read, “Keep your mouth shut!”

  “Walt, that’s my Ruby. That bastard threatened to hurt my little girl if I turned him in. I didn’t know what to do!”

  “I gather you haven’t been to the police.”

  “And tell them what? The councilman came on to me? It’s my word against his. I have a friend on the police force. I asked her to check the number that sent the text. I didn’t tell her why. It came from a burner phone. I can’t prove it was from Costanza. It could have been anyone.

  “I want to nail this son-of-a-bitch, but I can’t put my daughter in danger. Is there anything you can do?”

  As Kelly was talking, one thing came to mind, but I wasn’t ready to share it with the group.

  “There might be one thing we can do. I’ll work on it. In the meantime, would you like us to keep an eye on Ruby?”

  I turned to Cindy. “We could take her to school and pick her up like we did when Billy was being stalked by those muggers.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Kelly replied. “It’s going to be difficult, but I have to go back to work. We need the money. I’ll rest a lot easier knowing someone is watching her back.”

  At that moment, two little girls came bounding into the room.

  “Walt!” Sam squealed, throwing her arms around me. “This is my friend, Ruby.”

  I held out my hand. “Hi Ruby. I’m Walt.”

  A serious look came over Sam’s face. “Ruby’s mom told her some bad men might be watching her. She was scared, so I told her about Puff the Magic Dragon. I even played the song for her.”

  “Look, Mommy,” Ruby said, pointing at Sam’s necklace. “She has Puff with her all the time. I’d really like to have a necklace like that. Since I don’t, Sam drew me a picture,” she said, holding up Sam’s rendering of the magic dragon.

  “That’s really special,” Kelly said. “Now I want you to listen closely. Remember I said not to talk to any strange men?”

  Ruby nodded.

  “Well, this is Walt and Kevin. They’re friends of Sam’s. They’re going to take you to school and pick you up. It’s okay to do as they say. Understand?”

  “Yes, Mommy.” Then she grabbed Sam. “Come on. I’ll show you my new doll.”

  “Cute kid,” Kevin said as they trotted away. “We’ll take good care of her.”

  “Should I go ahead and file my complaint?” Kelly asked.

  “Not yet,” I replied. “There’s something I need to do before you file. I’ll let you know when it’s time.”

  “Okay. I’ll do as you ask. I trust you.”

  “All right, Sherlock,” Kevin said, as we were driving away, “what’s your big idea?”

  “I need to pay a visit to Carmine Marchetti. Rumor has it that Costanza is in Marchetti’s back pocket.”

  “Jesus, Walt! Are you nuts? If that’s true, and Marchetti has a patsy in city hall, what makes you think he would throw the guy under the bus?”

  “I know it’s a long shot, but I think it’s worth a visit. Marchetti runs the Kansas City mob with an iron hand. I know they’re involved in drugs, prostitution, gambling, and a protection racket, but underneath all that Carmine has a set of standards that can’t be violated. Remember, he iced his own brother when he discovered he was disloyal. I just have a feeling I can appeal to his sense of fair play.”

  “I hope you’re right. If you catch the godfather on a bad day, you might find yourself in the Missouri River wearing cement shoes.”

  Under normal circumstances, I don’t consort with criminals, but Carmine Marchetti is an exception.

  For some reason, way beyond my powers of comprehension, fate had thrown us together more than once. On two different occasions, Carmine had saved my life, and on two other occasions, I had saved his.

  Even though we were on opposite sides of the law, we had developed a mutual respect for one another. I knew, however, his respect had its limits. One doesn’t want to piss off the head of the Kansas City mob. Those who did, as Kevin aptly suggested, ended up as fish food.

  It was nearly noon, and I knew that Marchetti would most likely be at Antonelli’s, his favorite eatery. I had met him there several times, and I knew the drill by heart. I would present my card to the maître d’ and request an audience with the pope. He would disappear, and if I was granted an audience, he would be accompanied by two goons who would frisk me, then grab me by the arms, not too gently, and escort me into his presence. If Carmine wasn’t in the mood to accept visitors, I’d be escorted to the front door.

  Today was my lucky day.

  Marchetti was at his usual table, surrounded by a ton of muscle and two beautiful women.

  “Walt Williams! My favorite gumshoe! Come! Sit!”

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I said, rubbing my arms.

  “What brings you to Antonelli’s today?”

  “I need a favor.”

  “Ahhh, a favor. Let me see, if I remember correctly, we were even, if I can accommodate your request, I believe you’ll owe me one.”

  Carmine liked to keep score. I hated being in his debt, but there are times you do what you have to do for the greater good.

 

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