Her Deadly Game, page 28
Ambrose concluded and sat.
Keera rose. It was time to move her queen and again put Ambrose in check. “Mr. Harrison, counsel intimated that Anne LaRussa could not have reached the potassium nitrate atop the seven-foot shelf.”
“I can only say it would have likely been a challenge,” Harrison said.
“Or maneuvered her wheelchair down the sloped lawn in the backyard.”
“Again, I can’t say for certain, but it definitely would have been a challenge.”
“And a challenge to lift the block of ice?”
“Certainly.”
“Then your experiment did not account for one variable, Anne LaRussa’s physical limitations; did it?”
In her peripheral vision, Keera noted the jury turn their gazes to her, with expressions indicating they had misheard her question.
“It does, actually,” Harrison said. “We concluded that Anne LaRussa must have had help, perhaps a friend who couldn’t endure seeing her suffer from the cancer that would eventually kill her.”
Something snapped, drawing Keera’s attention briefly to counsel table. Vince LaRussa sat with an expression of controlled rage. She looked down at his hands in his lap.
LaRussa had snapped in half the pen he had been holding.
Chapter 33
Ambrose spent the remainder of the afternoon recalling witnesses, especially his forensic experts, to refute JP Harrison’s testimony and his experiment. Judge Hung had no alternative but to allow him to do so, though the two sides would not give their closings now until Monday. The problem with Ambrose’s attack on Harrison was the experiment had worked, and it had explained all the variables. In this case a picture, or video, was truly worth a thousand words.
Keera decided against cross-examining the recalled witnesses, except for one or two questions. To most she asked, “You will admit, will you not, that the experiment worked?” They had little choice with the video staring them, and the jurors, in the face. Any attempt to disparage it only made them less credible. Keera was glad for the additional time to prepare her closing. She would now argue that Anne LaRussa, dying of terminal cancer, had taken her own life. She would argue that because of her physical limitations, Anne LaRussa had to have had help, as Harrison had testified, that she could not have set up the device on her own. She would argue that Harrison’s theory also explained why Lisa Bennet, her best friend, carried the large bag into the house and why it looked heavy. The bag, Keera would say, likely contained the block of ice with the gun.
She would tell the jury it explained why Bennet left the LaRussa home that night in tears, clearly upset, with a bag not as heavy as when she entered. She would argue that the redacted medical examiner’s report explained why Anne LaRussa’s best friend would help Anne take her own life, why Bennet’s testimony made even more sense. Having witnessed her husband suffer so much pain, Bennet couldn’t bear to see her friend suffer during those final weeks. It explained the amount of opioids, pain medication, prescribed and in Anne LaRussa’s system. Keera would argue that Lisa Bennet’s actions had not been malicious, but merciful.
Ambrose couldn’t very well argue that Keera had changed arguments in midtrial, not after withholding the information about Anne LaRussa’s cancer.
The only thing Keera did not yet know was why Bennet and Anne LaRussa had gone to such an elaborate length to frame Vince LaRussa and possibly send him to prison for the rest of his life. Anne LaRussa had not acted because Vince had an affair, at least not with Lisa Bennet. Had there been someone else? And if there had been, would Anne LaRussa be so vindictive? Would her best friend, Lisa Bennet? Keera didn’t see it.
After trial, Keera told JP Harrison to wait for her in her office. She wanted to speak to LaRussa. She met LaRussa in the counsel room in the King County jail after he had changed back into his red scrubs. He entered the room with a somber smile and slumped into the chair across from her. “That was brilliant,” he said.
“Clearly Anne had help, Vince. Lisa Bennet?”
“No doubt,” LaRussa said.
“Why, Vince? Why would your wife and her best friend try to put you behind bars for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head vigorously. “I’ve been asking myself that same question.”
It wasn’t a good enough answer.
She persisted. “You weren’t having an affair, not with Lisa Bennet. Was there someone else?”
“No. No one. You’ll have to talk to Lisa.”
“No, I don’t. Not to create reasonable doubt,” Keera said.
“She’d likely lie anyway.”
Something in his tone. “Why do you say that?”
He seemed to catch himself. “Because she’s been lying this entire time, hasn’t she?”
“What ax does she have to grind with you, Vince?”
He stood suddenly, his voice rising. “I don’t know, Keera. I wish I did, but . . . I don’t know. You think this comes as a shock to you? Imagine the shock to me. My own wife doing something like this.” LaRussa took a breath and took a moment to gather himself. Keera thought of Phil McPherson saying LaRussa’s temper could trigger like the flip of a switch. He calmed. “I’m sorry for the outburst. This is all a bit much. It saddens me to think that I could have done something to bring Anne to such a drastic measure. But I have no idea what that was. I really don’t.”
Keera read his facial expression and his posture. Nothing overt to indicate he was lying or hiding something. Still, her intuition told her otherwise.
Something wasn’t right. Something remained missing.
“Okay.” She stood and started for the door. “I’ll see you Monday morning in court.”
“Keera?”
She turned back at the door.
“Brilliant,” he said. Then he smiled. “Truly brilliant.”
Goose bumps ran up Keera’s spine and along her arms, the kind she used to get when Miller Ambrose stalked her.
Keera returned to the office.
“Heard you and JP knocked it out of the park,” Maggie said as Keera stepped from the elevator and entered.
Keera deflected the enthusiasm. “We got the video into evidence. We’re not done yet.”
“What’s eating you?” Maggie asked.
“I just don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves.” She started for her office but stopped and walked back to the reception desk. “But whatever the outcome, Maggie, we couldn’t have done it without your help. I’m grateful. I know you haven’t asked for anything, but I’m going to suggest to Ella that you be compensated for all your extra time. A bonus.”
“Thanks,” Maggie said, sounding uncertain. “That means a lot, Keera.”
“You were invaluable getting all of our pleadings finalized and filed, ordering in food, coordinating the witnesses. Thanks for everything you’ve done.”
“Okay,” Maggie said.
Keera stepped forward and, after an awkward moment, she reached out and hugged her sister. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Maggie shared a hug. Maggie looked uncomfortable and felt stiff. Keera released her and asked, “JP here?”
“Tall, dark, and handsome is in Patsy’s office being debriefed. Any chance he’ll be single soon?”
“With JP you never know. Frankly, you could do better.”
“Really?” Maggie said. “’Cause he’s like an eleven on a scale of one to ten.”
“He can’t give you what you want, Maggie. What you deserve,” Keera said. Again, her sister looked confused.
Keera found Harrison, Ella, and Patsy in Patsy’s office.
“Hey, there she is.” Patsy stood from his chair and walked around his desk with his fist up, like a boxer in a ring. “Man, I wish I could have been in court today.”
Keera smiled. “I do too, Dad.”
“Do you have any idea what a not-guilty verdict will mean for the firm?” Ella said. “We’re going to have to hire associates again to handle cases coming in the door.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Keera said. “We still have to close.”
Harrison smiled. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I am,” she said.
Patsy threw a couple of jabs, then a cross. “I’m going to have to give up my nickname to a new Irish Brawler in town.”
“You’ll always be the Irish Brawler, Dad. Has today’s transcript come in yet?”
“Haven’t looked,” Patsy said, lowering his fists. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. It’s just . . .”
“Why did Bennet and Anne LaRussa do it?” Patsy said.
“We were just having that conversation. What did Vince have to say?” Harrison asked.
“He said he didn’t know, but I think he does know.”
“Is that what’s eating you?” Patsy said.
“Among other things, yes.”
“Anne was dying of cancer,” Harrison said.
“She was, but that doesn’t explain why she and her best friend would try to pin her murder on her husband and put him away for life. That goes well beyond vindictiveness. There’s more,” Keera said.
“You think he could have been having an affair with someone else?” Ella asked.
“That was my first thought. LaRussa denied it, but I think it’s a distinct possibility.” She turned to Harrison. “Did you see what happened in the courtroom today when it became clear that Bennet had to have helped Anne?”
“No. I saw you turn but . . .”
“Vince snapped the pen in his hand.”
“Heard the snap,” Harrison said. “Didn’t know what it was.”
“It reminded me of what Phil McPherson said, that LaRussa could lose his temper in an instant. That he could snap. He lost his temper in the jail also when I pushed him for an answer.”
“But he didn’t snap. He didn’t kill his wife. You’ve proven that. He didn’t do it. What else is bothering you?” Patsy said.
“I want to know what happened. This is like a draw in chess. You fight this hard and then there’s no resolution.”
“You only needed to prove reasonable doubt to win,” Patsy said.
“It’s not about winning. It’s about knowing the truth. I’m going to go find Lisa Bennet. Find out why she did it.”
“She’ll deny it,” Patsy said.
Keera knew her father was right. Without more evidence, Bennet had no reason to tell the truth and every reason not to.
“Okay. I just suggested we all go down to the Paddy Wagon and have dinner. The firm’s treat,” Patsy said.
“Tempting,” she said. “You all go. I just want to go home, go for a run, sit in a warm bath, and relax.”
“You sure?” Patsy said.
“Yeah.” She turned to Harrison. “Do me a favor. Don’t sit next to Maggie at dinner.”
“No?”
Keera shook her head. “No.”
Harrison grinned. “Your sister likes me.”
“You go out with her, and . . .”
He raised his hands. “No worries. I want no part of the Irish Brawler.”
Keera returned home to an empty house and suddenly felt very isolated.
She was alone.
Unmarried. No boyfriend. No children.
She thought of Ella and Maggie, both also alone, and her two brothers and their divorces. Ella was alone by choice. She chose not to put herself out there and potentially get hurt. At the other end of the spectrum was Maggie. She tried to fill the deep hole she had dug with meaningless encounters, but they would never mend her so she could be whole. Keera didn’t want her life to be like either of theirs. She didn’t want to run from intimacy or blame her problems on her father’s drinking. She realized she had been doing just what her father had always done. She had been making excuses for her drinking and making poor choices. She’d made a poor choice dating Miller Ambrose. The consequences were her fault, not his. She never should have placed herself in that situation.
A person in a gasoline-soaked suit should never play with matches, she thought.
Her father was an alcoholic. So were both her brothers. She suspected Ella was also, but had sought help and conquered it, the way Ella conquered everything—head-on. Alcoholism was in Keera’s family genes. She was soaked in gasoline. She walked to the cabinet, to where she kept the match, retrieved the Dalmore Scotch bottle, and took it into the kitchen. She opened the top, tipped the bottle upside down, and let the liquid flow down the sink drain.
She wouldn’t light the flame any longer.
She put the bottle in the recycle bin and walked back into the living room. She wished she had someone to talk with. She wished for children who needed dinner, baths, help with homework, anything to take her mind off what had happened in court this afternoon. She had an eerie premonition that Vince LaRussa had gotten away with something. Maybe not the murder of his wife, but something.
An affair?
Something nefarious, as Phil McPherson had certainly hinted? But why would that cause Anne and Lisa to frame him?
Needing a distraction, Keera went for a long run. When she came back, she felt better. She went into the kitchen to get a tall glass of water. Passing through the dining room, she hit the space bar on her laptop. Patsy would know she needed a distraction. He’d made his thirty-second move.
From: Darkknight
To: SeattlePawnslayer
King slides to g1
He was running. Trying to escape the inevitable. But she had her queen.
From: SeattlePawnslayer
To: Darkknight
Queen to e3. Check.
From: Darkknight
To: SeattlePawnslayer
King to g2
Rather than an all-out attack with her remaining pieces, even those that once looked trapped, Keera moved her knight.
From: SeattlePawnslayer
To: Darkknight
Knight to f5
From: Darkknight
To: SeattlePawnslayer
Bishop takes pawn at d4
A desperate move now to get away.
Each move she made would keep the king in check to prevent him from moving his queen and taking her bishop, ending the game. Absent a fatal mistake, she couldn’t lose.
From: SeattlePawnslayer
To: Darkknight
Knight takes pawn at h4. Check.
No escape. No respite. Patsy could run, buy some time, but he could not get away. What would he do now? Concede? Do something desperate?
From: Darkknight
To: SeattlePawnslayer
King to f1
From: SeattlePawnslayer
To: Darkknight
Queen takes pawn at d3. Check.
Patsy had been so close to winning, he had never considered he might lose. Was it poor planning? A flawed strategy? Or was it ego that led him to this situation? She thought again of Vince LaRussa and couldn’t help but think of the parallels, that he, too, was on the run and believed he was about to win.
Her computer pinged. An incoming email. She knew before she even looked.
From: Worthing, Jack
Sent: August 18, 2023
To: Keera Duggan
Subject: Final Move
Keera stared at the subject line.
She’d come this far. The game of her life. Final move.
She’d damn well play it out. Damn right she would. To the very end.
Chapter 34
August 19, 2023
Harrison picked up Keera Saturday morning. “Where to?” he asked.
“Beaverton,” she said. With no direct or cross-examinations to prepare, with jury instructions finalized and before Judge Hung, and with her closing in good shape, Keera decided to make this drive with Harrison.
“Again?” Harrison asked.
“Jack Worthing says this will be the final move.”
“You believe him?”
“We’ve played the game this far. Let’s see what we learn. Where it takes us.”
“I was afraid you might say that. Open the glove box.”
Keera did. “You brought a gun?”
“If this is going to be the final move, I’d prefer it not to be our final move.”
“We don’t need a gun.”
“You sure about that?”
She wasn’t. Keera shut the glove box and looked out the window. “What did you find on this woman?”
“Nothing,” Harrison said. “She’s not on social media. No property in her name. No car registered to her. No criminal record. No civil lawsuits. I checked all the usual sources. Never found her. Maybe Stephanie Bowers is like our Jack Worthing; maybe she only exists in literature.”
“I tried that route,” Keera said. “Skimmed the play again. She’s not in there. Not that I found.”
“You think this could be the woman LaRussa was having an affair with?”
“The thought crossed my mind, but . . . the address makes that unlikely.”
“Why?”
“It’s a mobile home park.”
The Red Rock Mobile Estates, a mobile home and RV park, was located thirty minutes to the west of Beaverton. Keera had seen some nice mobile home parks, with homes relatively new and the community clean and tidy. This was not one of them. The homes at Red Rock were aging and decrepit, some without skirts, rusting. Broken-down cars littered the narrow asphalt roads along with battered bikes and garbage bags. Trees were few and didn’t offer much in the way of shade. When Harrison drove his car into the park, the residents, some sitting out in folding chairs, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, looked at the car like they were looking at an ATM.
Harrison pulled up to the trailer parked on space fourteen—an RV that looked like it hadn’t been moved in years. Out front was a folding table and two chairs. A broken awning extended from the RV and had been tied with rope to a tree limb, offering a triangle of shade.
Harrison reached across his car and grabbed the gun from the glove box, putting it in the holster he wore under a thin linen jacket, the sleeves rolled to his elbows.
“This is everywhere, USA,” Keera said, smiling at Harrison’s discomfort.
“This is a robbery waiting to happen,” he replied. “That’s what everywhere, USA, has become.”
