basement. Susan claimed that Clarissa had tried to destroy some
documents and attacked her when Susan put up a fight. According to
Susan, it was self-defense.
While Townsend was still reeling, Susan said she'd blame it all on him
if he told anyone Clarissa had been with her that day. The documents
detailed the connection between Clarissa's thrown case and the
donations to the hospital project. Townsend would lose everything.
Then she told him something he'd never even suspected Clarissa had been
cheating on him. Guilt over the affair was the reason she'd been
willing to fix Gunderson's case in the first place. Susan even had a
videotape to back the story up.
Because Clarissa had died shortly after lunch, all they needed to do
was make sure her body wasn't found for a day or so, and make it look
as if she'd eaten her Saturday meal on Sunday. As a doctor, Townsend
knew some of the rules about determining time of death "garbage in,
garbage out," as Dr. Sandier had put it.
Townsend ensured that the police found a fresh take-out container in
the house by using a short break between surgeries to dash to the
nearby Pasta Company. He'd also set up the initial call-out by leaving
Clarissa's loafer to be found in the gutter, and dropping Griffey, on
his leash, along Taylor's Ferry Drive. Susan had taken care of the
rest. She'd shown up at the house Saturday night with an empty
Nordstrom shopping bag to put in Clarissa's dressing room. She told
Townsend she'd make sure the body wasn't found until Monday. He
realized that the medical examiner would figure out her clothes had
been switched, but it didn't seem to bother investigators. And when
the evidence against Melvin Jackson came out, he assumed that Susan
must have set up the plan ahead of time. By then, he was too out of
his mind on OxyContin to figure a way out.
He'd been considering suicide for days, but Roger's call on Monday
night had sealed the deal. He took the pills, wrote his letter, placed
a plastic bag over his head, and let go of the situation. Whether we'd
get the note in at trial remained to be seen, but I knew in my heart it
held all the answers.
The services were modest, arranged as a courtesy by Dr. and Mrs.
Jonathon Fletcher. Townsend's death had made headlines, as had Susan's
arrest and Jackson's release, but so far the official explanation for
his suicide and its relationship to those other events was under
wraps.
Clarissas family chose not to attend. From what Tara had told me, she
and her parents were still coming to terms with the idea that Clarissa
had been killed by people they'd treated as family. The only eulogists
were Townsend's professional acquaintances. They remembered his
commitment to patients and his love for Clarissa, careful to keep their
comments general enough that they reflected a relationship that once
was.
Roger found me in the lobby of the funeral home. I told Chuck and Dad
I'd meet them in a second.
"I'm surprised you came," he said.
I shrugged.
"I hope you realize that I didn't know," he said. "If I had "
"Don't worry about it. I know. I was fooled too, remember?"
"I should have sensed it, though. I could have talked him into coming
forward."
"Really, Roger, you don't need to say anything. It's fine."
We stood there awkwardly while he searched for something else to say.
"So Jackson's out, huh?"
"Released last Wednesday," I said. "Took a couple days, but he
couldn't be happier." He hadn't been the only one. Mrs. Jackson was
waiting in the lobby with Melvin's kids. She burst into tears with the
first look at her freed son, and before long we all lost it. Walker
insisted the sniffle I overheard was from allergies, but I knew
better.
"Is the poor guy still getting evicted?"
"Some people are working on it." Dennis Coakley of all people was
intervening with HAP to hammer out an agreement for Melvin and the kids
to stay in public housing.
"So how does your case look?" How strange that after our years
together, this conversation would be like any typical one between
lawyers.
"Not too bad," I said.
"Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you lay the
foundation for Townsend's letter. I was the last one to talk to him, I
guess."
"All right, thanks."
"You've probably got enough evidence without it. Jim Thorpe's been
keeping me up to date," he said by way of explanation.
Gunderson had already cut a deal for three years on bribery and abuse
of corpse for helping Susan move the body. It was a gift, but, in the
end, we were never able to prove he'd been in on the murder. In
exchange, he had delivered the goods. Gunderson had come to suspect
that Susan wasn't quite as loyal as his old pal Herbie and recently
began taping their conversations. The recordings of Susan telling
Gunderson to hire Jackson a week before the murder and to come to her
house the night Clarissa died would be gold at trial. Add the
documents he had confirming Susan's investment in Gunderson
Development, and we had motive to go with opportunity. As for means,
we'd ask the jury to infer from the blood in the house that she had hit
Clarissa in the head and then planted the hammer at Jackson's.
"We'll see, right?" Roger knew me too well not to sense the impatience
in my voice.
"I'm holding you up. Just humor me on one more question: Was it
premeditated?"
Gunderson had confirmed that Susan was the one who asked him to hire
Jackson, but we knew Clarissa was trying to find a job for Melvin.
Susan may very well have made the request on her behalf. And from what
our shrinks were telling us about Susan, she was far more likely to
kill in a rage triggered by what she saw as Clarissa's betrayal. The
more closely we looked into her background, the more stories we were
hearing like the one Grace had told me about Susan burning her
husband's favorite humidor. My best guess was that, in Susan's
screwed-up mind, she'd done Clarissa and Townsend a favor by hooking
them up with Gunderson.
"I don't think we'll ever know," I said, "but my gut tells me it
wasn't."
"Well, you've always had good instincts." More awkward silence. "So
I'll see you later, I guess."
"Yeah, maybe."
He stopped me before I walked out. "I know it's not my business, but I
couldn't help but notice that you came with Forbes."
I followed the direction of his glance to Chuck and my father in the
parking lot. "You're right. On both counts."
He nodded. "I guess the two of you always were close."
"Uh-huh." It wasn't the most articulate response, but talking to my