All the paperwork seemed to be in order. I nodded to Ms. Delorey and she and the defendant rose.
“Defense is ready to proceed, Your Honor,” she said.
“How is your client pleading?” I asked.
“Not guilty,” the young man said firmly, looking me straight in the eye.
He reminded me of some of my younger nephews. A lanky kid barely out of his teens, he had sandy brown hair that curled around his ears, a thin nose between wide-spaced hazel eyes, a deep summer tan, and a teenager’s build that hadn’t yet thickened into a man’s frame. He was well-scrubbed and neatly dressed in a coat and tie, but then he would be, wouldn’t he? Even for something as minor as a DWI, very few attorneys let their clients come to court looking like a mud turtle fished out of a drunk tank. First impressions are too important and you don’t want to make a judge automatically unsympathetic to your client because he’s wearing a kiss-my-ass T-shirt. On the other hand, his clean-cut Mom-and-apple-pie appearance probably wasn’t a total sham because his short hair had not been cut short for this occasion. For some reason, that’s something I always notice, especially in summer and fall. I can usually tell when a neck hasn’t seen sunshine in months, and this kid’s tan went right up under his hairline all around.
His eyes fell as I continued to study him. He might be a killer, but I doubt if he was much of a con artist. Consummate liars can look you straight in the eye till hell freezes over.
I motioned for him to be seated and told Mr. Burke to proceed.
“Call Officer Brian McKinley to the stand.”
Officer McKinley came forward, placed his hand on the Bible, and assured Mary Kay he intended to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
Both the DA and Ms. Delorey placed their tape recorders on the chest-level rail in front of the witness seat.
In his own words and referring occasionally to his notes, McKinley described how he’d been on regular patrol Thursday afternoon when a call came in at 4:35 that assistance was needed at 7482 Old Needham Road. He was only a mile from that location and he and the ambulance made it at approximately the same time.
Upon arrival, they were met by the defendant, who told them that the owner, Dr. Carlyle Ledwig, had fallen from the deck he was rebuilding. Freeman then led them around the house to a large, multilevel deck that was built out from the rockface to overlook Pritchard Cove. They could see a gap in the deck’s temporary railing and Dr. Ledwig’s body some thirty feet below, but to get to him, they had to wait another fifteen minutes for the fire and rescue truck to come with ropes and ladders.
“Was there anyone else there? Any family members? Neighbors?”
“No, sir, not on the deck itself. The houses aren’t close together up there, but two men who lived next door did come to see what was happening. We advised them to stay clear of the deck. Dr. Ledwig’s wife and daughters came home just as they were bringing him up.”
“Where was the defendant through all this?” asked Burke.
“He was there on the deck with us.”
“Did you observe anything unusual about him?”
“Objection,” murmured Ms. Delorey. “Leading.”
“Sustained,” I said.
“Describe his appearance, please,” Burke said.
“He seemed agitated and upset and he kept saying, ‘Oh God, what’s Carla going to think?’”
“Did you ascertain who Carla was?”
“His girlfriend—Dr. Ledwig’s daughter.”
“What else did you observe?”
“We had to restrain him from trying to climb down the side of the cliff. He didn’t want us to wait for the fire truck. He said he thought there were ropes in Dr. Ledwig’s garage and he wanted us to lower one of the ambulance team down to try and save the doctor’s life.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“From the way the decedent was lying, they could tell that he didn’t survive the fall. There was really nothing they could do for him at that point, even if they could’ve climbed down.”
“Did the defendant say anything else?”
“He said he knew Dr. Ledwig was replacing some of the decking and the railings and that he’d come up from Howards Ford to help.”
“Did he say how long he was there before he saw Dr. Ledwig’s body?”
“He said it was only a few minutes. That he rang the bell, and when no one answered he walked around to the deck to see what was being done, looked over the railing and there he was. He said he knelt down and called to the doctor, then ran in the house and called us.”
“No further questions.”
Ms. Delorey looked over the small wire-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her nose. “Officer McKinley, you said that Mr. Freeman came onto the deck with you to show you where Dr. Ledwig had fallen?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Does this mean you did not originally consider this a crime scene?”
“I didn’t know what it was, ma’am.”
“So you did not rope off the deck and keep everyone out except yourself and the rescue team?”
“Well, Mr. Freeman had already been there, but I didn’t let nobody else come on that part of the deck, no, ma’am.”
“No further questions,” said Ms. Delorey.
I recessed for lunch at that point and, feeling in the mood for a quick order of chicken fingers, asked Mary Kay for directions to the nearest Hardee’s or Chick-fil-A.
“You’re kidding, right?”
I looked at her blankly.
“There aren’t any fast-food chains in Cedar Gap. Not allowed. Nearest one’s down in Howards Ford.”
“Not allowed? How can you not allow McDonald’s or Burger King?”
She laughed. “There used to be a Tastee-Freez, but it went bust and the town council voted not to allow any more chains in. Generates too much trash and they tend to drive out local cafés. They’re not real happy with the Trading Post or Roxie’s either because their customers aren’t as careful as they ought to be about where they drop their napkins.”
“So where do people go for a quick lunch?”
“Well, there’s a new place next to the Trading Post. The Three Sisters Tea Room.”
“A Russian tea room?” I asked, amused.
She smiled. “No, it’s American and it’s really good—salads and sandwiches made from bread baked right there in the kitchen every morning, but it’s only open from twelve to four and there’s always a line, so you might be better off at the High Country Café. It’s just on the other side of the monument, about two doors off Main. Their chicken salad’s not as good as the Tea Room, but it’s not bad and you can usually get a seat.”
Her assessment of the chicken salad was an understatement. It was delicious. If that other place was better, I was going to have to check it out before I left Cedar Gap, long line or not.
I was back in the courtroom at one o’clock sharp.
“Call Detective Glenn Fletcher to the stand,” said Burke.
As I watched Detective Fletcher come forward and once more take the oath to tell only the truth, I reminded myself to keep an open mind and not to let my earlier speculations about his willingness to bend the facts color my opinion of his testimony in this case.
What he had to say was fairly straightforward. As is routine in cases of violent or accidental death, he and members of the sheriff’s department crime scene team had proceeded to Dr. Ledwig’s residence, arriving there shortly after five.
“Mrs. Tina Ledwig and her daughter drove in right behind us.”
“Miss Carla Ledwig?”
“No, sir, this was the younger sister, Patricia Ledwig.”
Carla Ledwig? The quarter finally dropped. The same Carla that had left a message for the twins to call her?
“What did you do when you arrived?” asked Burke.
“We immediately secured the scene. Mrs. Ledwig was upset and wanted to go over to see what the recovery team was doing.”