Beyond Suspicion

That was true, Cindy knew. Church every Sunday, a reading from the Bible every night. Her father had only one known vice, a little nickel-and-dime poker game every Tuesday night. Some said it was hypocritical, but Cindy thought it only proved him human. Either way, it hadn’t stopped him from leading the charge against the teaching of Darwin’s theory of evolution at her school, or from grounding Celeste when she dared to bring home a D. H. Lawrence novel from the public library.

“From dust we come and to dust we return. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.”

The minister gave a nod, and Cindy’s mother stepped forward. The cold rain was falling harder, until it seemed that a muddy river was pouring into the open grave. Cindy watched as her tearful mother dropped a single red rose into the dark hole in the earth.

She said a short prayer or perhaps a silent good-bye, and then returned to her daughters. Cindy clung to her, but Celeste stepped toward the grave.

“May I say something?” asked Celeste.

It wasn’t part of the program, but the minister rolled with it. “Why, of course you may.”

Celeste walked around to the other side of the grave, then looked out over the hole toward her mother, sister, and grandmother.

“Hearing my father eulogized as a man who lived by the Scripture was exactly what I expected. He did know his Scripture, I can say that. I think now is the time for me to share with everyone the part of the Scripture that he often read to his daughters. It’s from the Book of Genesis, 19:3, a passage I heard so many times, starting before I could even read, that I’ve committed it to memory. It’s the story of Lot and his two daughters.”

Cindy glanced at her mother. The expression on her face had quickly changed from grief-stricken to mortified.

Celeste continued, reciting from memory. “’Lot and his two daughters left Zoar and lived in a cave. One day the older daughter said to the younger, “Let’s get our father to drink wine and then lie with him and preserve our family line through our father.” That night they got their father to drink wine, and the older daughter went in and lay with him. The next day the older daughter said to the younger, “Let’s get him to drink wine again tonight, and you go in and lie with him so we can preserve our family line through our father.” So they got their father to drink wine that night also, and the younger daughter went in and lay with him. So both of Lot’s daughters became pregnant by their father.’”

Her voice shook as she finished. The minister stood in stu

“It’s a lie!” shouted Cindy.

No one else said a word.

“You are a liar, Celeste! That wasn’t the way it was!”

Celeste glared at her younger sister and said, “Tell the truth, Cindy.”

Cindy’s face flushed with anger, her eyes welling with tears. “It’s not true. That’s not the way our daddy was.”

Celeste didn’t budge. She looked at the minister, and then her angry glare moved squarely to their mother. “You know it’s true,” she said, her eyes like lasers.

All the while, the rain kept falling.

•

Lightning flashed across the kitchen. Cindy was bathed in white light, then stood alone in the darkness.

“Cindy, are you okay?”

She turned to face Jack, but she didn’t answer.

He came to her and held her in his arms. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She glanced out the window, one last look at the rainwater rushing across the patio toward the gaping hole in the earth. “Nothing new,” she said.

“Come back to bed.”

She took his hand and followed him back to the bedroom, ignoring another flash of lightning and one last clap of thunder.

46

•

At nine o’clock Monday morning, twenty-three grand jurors sat in a windowless room one floor below the main courtroom, waiting for the show to begin. Expectations were high. They’d seen the flock of reporters perched outside the grand jury room.

By law, grand jury proceedings were secret, no one allowed in the room but the jurors and the prosecutor. The constitutional theory was that the grand jury would serve as a check on the prosecutor’s power. In reality, the prosecutor almost always got the indictment he wanted.

“Good morning,” he said, greeting his captive audience.

Jancowitz was smiling, and it was genuine. This was a murder case with stardom written all over it. A sharp criminal defense lawyer in a scandalous love triangle. The victim his former girlfriend. Lots of grisly and salacious details, many of them corroborated by a highly respected physician. This case could be his break-out case, his ticket to the talk-show circuit, and he’d been waiting long enough.

At 9:35 he had his first witness on the stand, sworn and ready to testify.

“Your name, sir?” said Jancowitz.

“Joseph Marsh.”

“What is your occupation?”

“I’m a board-certified neurologist.”

With just a few well-rehearsed questions he led Dr. Marsh toward pay dirt, establishing him as Jessie Merrill’s physician and, of course, laying out the kind of professional credentials that commanded a certain level of respect and instant credibility.

Then he turned to the evidence.

“I have here what has been previously marked as state’s Exhibit 11. It is a letter from Jack Swyteck to me. It was written just days after Ms. Merrill’s lifeless and naked body was found in a pool of blood in his home.”

The prosecutor paused. The location of the body was a theme in his case, one that he gladly allowed the jurors a little extra time to absorb.

He continued, “In Mr. Swyteck’s letter, he explains an alleged scam that his client, Jessie Merrill, perpetrated on the investors of a company known as Viatical Solutions, Inc. Dr. Marsh, please take a moment to review this exhibit.”

The witness looked it over and said, “I’m familiar with this.”

“In the first paragraph, Mr. Swyteck states that, quote, Jessie Merrill admitted to me that she and Dr. Marsh falsified her diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS. End quote. Dr. Marsh, what was your diagnosis of Ms. Merrill’s condition?”

“Based upon the initial tests I performed, my diagnosis was ‘clinically possible ALS.’”

“Did you falsify any of the tests that led to that initial diagnosis?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Did you later change that diagnosis?”

“After further testing, I concluded that she had lead poisoning. Her symptoms mimicked those of ALS.”

“Does that mean your initial diagnosis was incorrect?”

“Not at all. As I said, based upon the tests I conducted, my diagnosis was possible ALS.”

“Now, Dr. Marsh, I’ve already explained to the grand jurors what a viatical settlement is. My question to you is this: Were you aware that, based upon your initial diagnosis, Ms. Merrill attempted to sell her life insurance policy to a group of viatical investors?”

“I was.”

“Did you at any time mislead those investors as to the nature of her illness?”

“Never. Their reviewing physician did press me for a more firm opinion. I told him that if I had to make a judgment at that particular moment I would probably bet on ALS, but by definition any bet is a risk. It was no sure thing.”

“Was there ever any collusion between you and Ms. Merrill in an effort to defraud the viatical investors?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thank you. I refer you again to state’s Exhibit 11. In paragraph two, Mr. Swyteck states, quote, on the night before her death, Jessie met me outside my office in Coral Gables. She appeared to be under the influence of drugs. End quote. Dr. Marsh, in the six months that you acted as treating physician for Jessie Merrill, did you ever see any signs of substance abuse?”