A Reasonable Doubt Read online

  “That sounds right.”

  “Okay. Now, Titus Atkinson was sitting directly behind Mr. Turner, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he saw Mr. Turner leave his seat?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t it true that Mr. Atkinson told you that Mr. Turner was in front of him during the show up until Mr. Chesterfield began to demonstrate the card tricks in the act preceding the finale?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I have this right, the scenario you’ve put forth to explain how Mr. Turner murdered Mr. Chesterfield requires Mr. Turner to go backstage while no one is in the assistants’ dressing room so he can hide Miss Porter’s inhaler. Then he had to wait until the other assistants left the dressing room in their robes so he could knock out Miss Porter with the ether and take her place.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “That means Mr. Turner had to hide the inhaler during the levitation trick, because the assistants returned to the dressing room while Chesterfield was performing the card tricks. But that creates a problem for the State’s case, doesn’t it? In order for Mr. Turner to fit into your scenario, he could not have stayed in his seat until Mr. Chesterfield started performing the card tricks. If Mr. Turner didn’t leave his seat until Mr. Chesterfield began to perform the card tricks, how would he have been able to hide the inhaler? The assistants would be in the dressing room changing.”

  Anders started to speak. Then she closed her mouth.

  “Can you explain to Judge Washington how Mr. Turner would have time to hide the inhaler if he didn’t leave his seat until the card tricks started?” Robin pressed.

  “I … We didn’t think of that.”

  “That’s obvious,” Robin said. “What’s also obvious, Your Honor, is that Mr. Turner did not have time to hide the inhaler. That means that someone else did. And that person murdered Mr. Chesterfield.”

  Ragland jumped to his feet. “An accomplice!” he shouted. “Turner had an accomplice. That’s who hid the inhaler.”

  “Who is the accomplice?” Judge Washington asked.

  “I … We … That has to be how he did it.”

  Judge Washington shook her head. “You seem to be grasping at straws, Mr. Ragland. And until you can grab that straw real hard and show it to me, I’ve got to conclude that you haven’t made your case for denying this man bail.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Judge Washington and the attorneys discussed the terms of David Turner’s release. Peter Ragland insisted on a high bail, house arrest, and an electronic monitor. The judge sided with Robin, who argued that the State’s case wasn’t strong enough to warrant such stringent conditions.

  Ragland maintained his composure until he finished answering the questions the reporters fired at him when he left the courtroom, but he was seething when he ran up the steps to the district attorney’s office with Anders and Dillon in tow.

  As soon as they were in one of the conference rooms, Ragland turned on the detectives. “Why didn’t you warn me about the time discrepancy?” he yelled. “Lockwood made me look like a fucking idiot.”

  “None of us saw that coming,” Dillon answered calmly.

  “Well, you should have!” Ragland screamed, forgetting that he had the same information the detectives possessed.

  Anders and Dillon let Ragland vent.

  After a few seconds, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Turner’s guilty. He must have an accomplice who hid that inhaler. Find the accomplice. That’s the most important thing right now. If we identify the accomplice, we can nail Turner.”

  “Do you have an idea who the accomplice might be?” Anders asked.

  Ragland shook his head. “It has to be someone who knew about the inhaler and the assistants’ routine.”

  “What about Sheila Monroe or Maria Rodriguez?” Anders said.

  “Yeah, the other assistants,” Ragland said. “Where did they find the inhaler?”

  “In Maria Rodriguez’s dressing table.”

  “Did they print the inhaler?” Ragland asked.

  “Yeah, but it only had Porter’s prints on it,” Anders said.

  “Damn. If Rodriguez hid it, it makes sense that she would have been careful about leaving prints.” Ragland was quiet for a moment. Then he scowled. “Check on Rodriguez. See if she has any ties to Turner. Maybe she was his assistant in one of his shows.”

  “Great idea, Peter,” Dillon said. “We’ll look into her.”

  “Okay, great. Get on it.”

  “Right away,” Dillon said, grateful for an excuse to get away.

  * * *

  “They’re going to take you back to the jail until bail is posted, but you should be free in a few hours,” Robin told her client. She pointed to an accordion file filled with police reports. “That’s a copy of the discovery the DA gave me. I’ll give it to Claire. Go home, take a shower, and eat a good meal. Then go through the discovery and help me figure out who killed Robert Chesterfield.”

  “Nice job,” Stanley Cloud said when Robin finished speaking to the reporters who waylaid her when she walked out of the courtroom.

  “I couldn’t have done it without Regina.”

  “You can thank her in person tonight. I called her with the news, and she wants you and Jeff to come for dinner. I’ve got some sweet corn and several exceptional salmon fillets I intend to barbecue.”

  “Your bribe has worked for me,” Jeff said.

  “I’ll be there,” Robin said. “Now I’ve got to get over to the jail to make sure that David gets out as soon as possible.”

  “What do you think of Ragland’s accomplice theory?” Jeff asked as he followed Robin to the elevator that led to the courthouse jail.

  “Not much. Why? Has something occurred to you?”

  “Remember I told you that Miriam Ross had an affair with Chesterfield when he was working on the Chamber of Death illusion at the coast?”

  “Yes.”

  “When I talked to Ross, she said that Maria Rodriguez was jealous because Chesterfield had not been attracted to her.”

  “You think that Rodriguez could be the accomplice?”

  “Nancy Porter’s inhaler was found in a drawer in Rodriguez’s dressing table. If she had a grudge against Chesterfield, she could have been the person who hid it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Robin and Jeff parked in front of Regina’s house, and Stanley Cloud walked out to greet them.

  “We’re eating on the patio. I just put the salmon on the grill, so let’s get back there so I can watch it.”

  Stanley walked them through the house, and Robin saw the police reports in David Turner’s case strewn across the dining room table.

  “Where’s Regina?” she asked.

  “Upstairs, getting dressed. She was ecstatic when I told her that she’d saved the day.”

  “I couldn’t be happier,” Robin said.

  “Can I fix you a drink?”

  “I’ll take a beer if you have any,” Jeff said.

  “A gin and tonic would be great,” Robin told the former chief justice.

  Stanley checked on the salmon before going inside to get the drinks. Robin walked to the edge of the patio and looked at the river. A light breeze wafted inland off the water, and the temperature was in mid-seventies without any humidity.

  “How are you two?” Regina asked.

  Robin turned and smiled. “Fabulous, thanks to you. I told David Turner that you figured out the problem with the time line, and he wanted me to thank you.”

  “Here are your drinks,” Stanley said. “Hi, Reggie. Can I get you anything?”

  “Maybe a little wine with dinner.”

  Stanley checked the salmon and declared it ready for consumption.

  “Shall we eat?” he said as he carried the planked salmon to the table.

  * * *

  “That was fantastic!” Robin said when she had eaten the last piece of salmon and cleaned the corn off her cob.
r />   “Glad you liked it,” Stanley said as he picked up his and Regina’s plates. Robin took Jeff’s, placed it on top of her plate, and followed Stanley into the kitchen.

  “I haven’t seen Regina this happy in a long time,” Stanley said. “Thanks for sending her the discovery. It made her feel useful again.”

  “It never hurts to have an extra hand working a case. Especially when that person has a sky-high IQ.”

  “Amen to that,” Stanley said as he rinsed the dirty plates and put them in the dishwasher.

  “Do you want an after-dinner drink or coffee before we eat the dessert you so kindly sent?” he asked when he finished up.

  Robin frowned. “I didn’t send you a dessert.”

  There was a box of chocolates sitting on the kitchen island. Stanley held it out to her. “You didn’t send this over this afternoon?”

  “No.”

  “Sorry, I just assumed it was from you. There was no card, but you were coming over and you know Reggie’s weakness for chocolates.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” Robin said.

  Stanley opened the box as he headed to the patio.

  “Jeff,” Robin asked, “did you send Regina and Stanley chocolates?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Someone sent them, and Stanley thought it was me.”

  “Well, it wasn’t me.”

  “Chocolates!” Regina said with a big smile.

  Stanley held the box out to her and she started to take a piece.

  “Wait!” Robin shouted.

  Regina froze, startled.

  Robin grabbed the box.

  “What’s wrong?” Stanley asked.

  “I may be paranoid, but I think we should have these candies tested for poison.”

  “Poison?” Jeff asked.

  Robin picked up a knife and punctured one of the chocolates. She sniffed the scent of bitter almonds. “I think I just saved Regina’s life,” Robin said, and dialed Carrie Anders.

  * * *

  “The chocolates were laced with poison,” Carrie Anders said after the lab tech was done testing a sample.

  Robin, Stanley, and Jeff were sitting on the living room sofa, facing the detective. Regina was seated apart from the group in an armchair. She looked agitated. Stanley had tried to calm her down, but she was still confused and anxious.

  “You would be dead if you’d eaten a piece,” Anders added.

  “Jesus,” Stanley swore.

  “That was quick thinking,” Roger Dillon told Robin. “What made you suspect that the chocolates were poisoned?”

  “Doesn’t this sound familiar to anyone?” Robin asked.

  “The Chesterfield poisoning case!” Roger Dillon answered after a brief pause.

  “Exactly. You were one of the detectives who investigated Sophie Randall’s death, weren’t you?”

  “Yeah, and it went down just like this. Someone sent Samuel Moser a box of chocolates with no card or return address. He gave the chocolates to his secretary, and she ate some and died.”

  “Robert Chesterfield hired me a few years ago and Regina told me all about the case, so I knew what happened to Sophie Randall. If Chesterfield hadn’t been on my mind because of David Turner’s case, I don’t know if I would have remembered the poisoned chocolates.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing you did,” Stanley said.

  “Can any of you think of someone who would want to do this to any of you?” Anders asked.

  “Stanley and Regina have been retired for several years,” Robin said. “I guess a disgruntled client or someone Stanley ruled against could still have a grudge, but it seems unlikely that they were the targets.”

  “I don’t know,” Dillon said. “The chocolates were sent here. If you or Jeff were the intended victims, the killer would have sent the chocolates to your office.”

  “Or he would have to know that you were eating dinner here, tonight,” Anders said. “Who had that information?”

  “Stanley asked us to dinner in a corridor at the courthouse after Turner’s bail hearing recessed,” Jeff said. “I didn’t see anyone around.”

  “I didn’t tell anyone we were coming here tonight,” Robin said. “Did you?”

  “No,” Jeff answered.

  “That means Justice Cloud and Miss Barrister were most probably the intended victims,” Dillon said.

  “Can you make us a list of anyone who might have this powerful a grudge against either you or Miss Barrister?” Anders asked Stanley.

  “I’ll get on it first thing tomorrow. Right now, I’d like to get Regina to bed. This has really upset her.”

  “I think we’re through, so we’ll get out of everyone’s hair. You and Jeff can leave too,” Anders said.

  Robin and Jeff stayed for a few minutes after the detectives and the lab techs had left.

  “What do you think is going on?” Robin asked when they were headed home.

  “Damned if I know,” Jeff answered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Robin and Jeff walked from their office to the Imperial Theater at four in the afternoon. The theater was closed, but Norman Chow had agreed to let the defense team inside so they could look at the crime scene.

  “Ready for your tour?” asked Carrie Anders, who was waiting outside.

  Robin nodded. Anders opened the door next to the ticket booth and led them into the lobby where Chow and Horace Dobson were waiting.

  “Thanks for meeting us,” Robin said to Dobson.

  “The cops said it was okay, or I wouldn’t be here,” said Dobson, who had reluctantly agreed to take Jeff and Robin step-by-step through the Chamber of Death illusion.

  “I can tell you that Mr. Turner vehemently denies killing Mr. Chesterfield,” Robin answered.

  “Yeah, well, what would you expect him to say?”

  “Why don’t we start the tour?” Anders said, and everyone walked through the doors that led into the area of the theater where the audience sat. Dobson stood behind a low barrier that ringed the back row. Several aisles started at gaps in the barrier. Heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains hung along the wall down the farthest aisle on his left as he faced the stage.

  Dobson walked over to that aisle. “You were in the theater when Bobby performed the Chamber of Death, right?” Dobson asked.

  Jeff and Robin nodded.

  “Okay, then. Right before he performs the illusion, Bobby entertained the audience with card tricks. After Bobby finished his card tricks, the lights would go out. Bobby would slip into his priest’s robes while the stagehands set up the pyramid and put a ramp at the end of the aisle the girls used to push the sarcophagus onto the stage.

  “There are tunnels under the audience and the stage that I’m going to show you. After the girls changed into their robes, they would go through a tunnel at the back of the stage and end up behind the audience. When the lights went on and Bobby started his spiel, they rolled the sarcophagus down the aisle and up the ramp. As soon as the coffin was on the stage, it was taken off the dolly and placed lengthwise between the walls of the pyramid.”

  Dobson led everyone down the aisle and up a set of stairs to the stage. “The dolly would be positioned here,” he said, pointing to a space on the left side of the stage that was very close to the wings. A curtain hung from the ceiling to the floor, blocking the view from the audience. “When Bobby rolled out of the coffin, he would slither into a narrow gap in the front of the dolly. The stage lights were kept very bright, and the rest of the dolly concealed the move from the audience. When Bobby was hidden in the dolly, one of the assistants would push it offstage.”

  Dobson led everyone behind the curtain and through a steel door to a set of stairs that led under the stage. Dobson walked down the stairs. A dimly lit tunnel led under the audience toward the front of the theater in one direction and the back of the stage in the other direction.

  Dobson nodded toward the tunnel that led to the back of the audience. “When the trick worked correctly, the coffin was opened
and the audience learned that Bobby wasn’t in it. By that time, Bobby would have run down the tunnel and up a set of stairs at the end of the tunnel. Then he’d reappear behind the audience.”

  “Is there an identical set of tunnels on the other side of the theater?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes,” Norman Chow said.

  “Where does the other tunnel on this side lead?” Robin asked.

  “I’ll show you,” Dobson answered as he led the group through the dimly lit concrete tunnel to another set of stairs.

  When Robin reached the top, she saw that she was standing near the loading dock. She stared past it to a narrow hall. “What’s in that hall?” she asked.

  “The dressing rooms,” Norman Chow answered.

  “So,” Robin said, “the killer could have stabbed Mr. Chesterfield, pushed the dolly offstage, run down the tunnel that goes to the back of the stage, run up the steps, dumped Nancy Porter’s robe near the loading dock, and exited the theater.”

  “That’s possible,” Norman Chow said.

  “Wouldn’t a stagehand see him?” Anders asked.

  “It’s possible, but didn’t you find clothes that a stagehand might wear when you found Nancy Porter’s robe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Everyone is pretty busy during a show, so someone dressed like a stagehand might not have been noticed.”

  “What’s on the other side of the loading dock?” Robin asked.

  “An alley broad enough for a truck to drive through,” Chow said. “One end leads to Fenimore Street, and the other leads to Marsh. It goes past the alley that runs by the stage door to the street in front of the theater.”

  “David Turner could have gone into the tunnel on his side of the aisle after ditching the robe and back to his seat,” Carrie Anders said.

  “When would he put on the stagehand clothes?” Jeff asked.

  “Maybe never,” Anders answered. “He or his accomplice could have hidden them near the loading dock to make it look like he was wearing them.”

  “Or the real killer could have disappeared through the loading dock and got away,” Robin answered.