“Ms. Duffy, please state your name.”
“Elizabeth Frances Duffy.”
“And you are married to the respondent, Dr. Ryan Duffy, correct?”
The judge interjected. “Let’s move it along. We can all stipulate they’re married, she wants a divorce, blah, blah, blah. Get to the heart of the matter.”
“Ms. Duffy, did you know Frank Duffy?”
“Yes, very well. Frank was Ryan’s father. He died of cancer just two weeks ago.”
“Did you have any conversations with him before he died? Specifically, any conversations about money?”
Norm sprang to his feet. “Objection. What does that have to do with the issues just framed by the court?”
“Your Honor, I would ask for a little latitude. If I fail to tie it all together with my next witness, you can deny my motion, hold me in contempt of court, and throw me in jail.”
“ This I can’t wait to see,” said the judge. “Proceed.”
“Ms. Duffy,” said Jackson. “Did you have any conversations with Frank Duffy about money?”
“Yes. We spoke on the telephone about two weeks before he died.”
“Give us the gist of that conversation, please.”
“Objection, hearsay.”
The judge grimaced. “Isn’t it enough that Mr. Jackson said I could throw him in jail if he didn’t tie this together? Overruled.”
Liz lowered her eyes, speaking softly. “Frank knew that over the years, Ryan and I had many disagreements over money. He always wanted me and Ryan to stay together. So, in this last conversation, he told me to hang in there. He said money would come soon.”
“Did he tell you how much money?”
“No.”
“Did he do anything to identify any specific funds?”
Liz looked up, glancing briefly at Ryan. Then she looked at her lawyer. “Yes.”
Ryan felt a chill — more like a stabbing sensation. He recalled his conversation with Liz out on the front porch the night of the funeral. She hadn’t mentioned this.
Jackson continued, “How did he identify the funds?”
“He gave me a combination.”
“You mean for a lock?”
“Yes. He didn’t say what it was for exactly. It was a very short conversation. He just, you know, intimated it had something to do with the money. He told me to check with Ryan. He would know.”
“What was the combination?”
“Thirty-six-eighteen-eleven.”
“Thank you, Ms. Duffy. That’s all for now.”
Liz rose slowly. Ryan watched, stunned. The numbers were right on. It was the exact combination to the briefcase in the attic. Dad had given her the combination. Not him. Her.
The judge looked across the courtroom. “Mr. Klusmire? Any cross-examination?”
Ryan caught his lawyer’s eye. They could read each other’s minds. This was dangerous territory. The FBI did not yet know about the two million dollars in cash in the attic. Any further examination could bust that secret wide open.
“No, Your Honor,” announced Norm. “No cross.”
“Mr. Jackson. Your next witness, please. And remember,” he said, smiling thinly. “If you don’t tie this together, there’s a nice cold cell waiting for you.”
“I’m confident I’ll be sleeping in my own bed tonight, your honor. The petitioner calls Brent Langford.”
Norm rose, speaking in his most apologetic tone. “Your Honor, I took your admonition on the telephone yesterday very seriously. We tried to bring Mr. Langford here. We called him repeatedly, never getting a response. Despite our most diligent efforts-”
He stopped in midsentence. All heads turned as the doors swung open in the rear of the courtroom. Brent was coming down the aisle. Norm and Ryan exchanged glances. The looks on their faces made it clear: This could not be good.
Brent’s footsteps echoed in the near-empty courtroom. He stepped through the swinging gate that separated the lawyers from the gallery, keeping his eyes straight ahead, looking at no one. His face was strained with concentration, even before he’d uttered a word. He looked like a school kid before an exam, trying to remember all the right answers.
As the bailiff administered the oath, Ryan could barely stomach the sight. There was Brent, promising to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Ryan had been there the last time Brent had staked his sacred honor before God and witnesses — a deadbeat pledging to love, honor, and cherish a woman he had beaten before and would beat again. Vows meant nothing to Brent. Nor did oaths.
“Mr. Langford, please state your name.”
“Brent Langford.”
“You are Dr. Duffy’s brother-in-law, correct?”
The judge interjected again, louder. “Stipulations, Mr. Jackson, stipulations. I don’t need the family history.”
“Yes, Judge. Mr. Langford, you were served with a subpoena to appear at a deposition in this case, were you not?”
“Yes, I was. At my house in Piedmont Springs, last Tuesday afternoon.”
“And it was your understanding that the person responsible for issuing that subpoena was me, correct?”
“That was my understanding.”
“What did you do after the subpoena was served?”
He shrugged. “I’ll be honest. I wasn’t happy about it.”
“Did you talk to anyone about it?”
“My wife.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yes. Dr. Duffy.”
Ryan’s eyes widened. He knew Brent was a liar. He had no idea how big a liar. He quickly scribbled a note to Norm: This is bull!
“How did that conversation come about?”
“Ryan called me that night on the telephone.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said, ‘Brent, this deposition can’t happen. There’s too much at stake.’”
“Meaning what?”
“Objection,” said Norm, rising. “Calls for speculation.”
“Let me rephrase,” said Jackson. “What did you understand him to say?”
“Same objection,” said Norm.
The judge leaned forward. “There’s no jury in this proceeding, Mr. Klusmire. Let’s hear the evidence. The witness shall answer.”
“It was my impression that he had some serious money he didn’t want Liz to find out about.”
“How did you get that impression?”
“Because Sarah told me about it.”
“Objection,” Norm shouted. “Judge, now we’re moving from speculation to hearsay.”
“Sustained. Mr. Langford, you can tell us what you know firsthand, and you can tell us anything Dr. Duffy may have told you. But don’t go telling us things other people may have said.”
Brent replied in his most respectful tone. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Jackson continued, “Mr. Langford, are you sure it was your wife who told you about the money? Or was it Dr. Duffy, himself?”
“Objection. This is ridiculous. He’s coaching the witness right on the stand.”
“Overruled.”
“Come to think of it,” said Brent, “it might very well have been Ryan who told me about the money. Yeah. It was Ryan. Definitely.”
“Good,” said Jackson. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, I’d like to get a little more specific about this money Dr. Duffy wanted to keep from his wife. Do you know if that money was ever kept in any kind of suitcase or storage container that had a combination lock?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could it have been?” Jackson pressed.
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Your Honor,” said Jackson, “I’m just trying to show that Dr. Duffy had motive to stop the deposition. He was concerned that if it went forward, Brent might tell me about the money that Dr. Duffy is trying to hide from my client.”
“The objection is sustained,” said the judge.
“No need to stretch, Mr. Jackson. You’ve made your point and tied things together. You won’t be going to jail tonight.”
“Thank you, Judge.” He checked his notes, then returned to the witness. “Mr. Langford, let’s turn back to this late-night telephone conversation with Dr. Duffy. After he told you the deposition had to be stopped, what did you say?”