7th Heaven

“The defendant made this confession when she thought she was off the record and in the clear. But Junie Moon got it wrong. A confession is a confession, ladies and gentlemen, on tape or off. It’s as simple as that. She made an admission of guilt, and we’re holding her to it.

“Now, the People have the burden of proving our case beyond a reasonable doubt. So if you can’t answer every question in your mind, that’s normal. That’s human. That’s why your charge is to find the defendant guilty beyond reasonable doubt – but not beyond all doubt.”

Yuki’s voice was throbbing in her throat when she said, “We don’t know where Michael Campion’s body is. All we know is the last person to see him is sitting in that chair.

“Junie Moon confessed again and again and again.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is all you need to find her guilty and to give justice to Michael Campion and his family.”

Chapter 87

NO ONE HAD YET DISCOVERED what the L. stood for in L. Diana Davis. Some said it was something exotic; Lorelei or Letitia. Some said that Davis had stuck the initial in front of her name to add mystique.

Yuki guessed the L. stood for “lethal.”

Davis was wearing Chanel for her closing argument: a pink suit with black trim, calling up memories of Jackie Ke

“Ladies and gentlemen. You remember what I asked in my opening statement,” she demanded rather than asked. “Where’s the beef? And that’s the bottom line here. Where’s the body? Where’s the DNA? Where’s the confession? Where’s the proof in this case?

“The prosecution is trying to convince us that a person confesses to a crime and the police have her in custody and they don’t record her confession – and that doesn’t mean anything? They say that there’s no blood evidence and no body – and that doesn’t mean anything either?

“I’m sorry, folks, but something is wrong here,” Davis said, her hands on the railing of the jury box.

“Something is very wrong.

“Dr. Paige, a distinguished psychiatrist, got on the stand and said that in her opinion, Junie Moon falsely confessed because her self-esteem is so low it’s off the charts, and that Ms. Moon wanted to please the police. She also said that in her opinion, Ms. Moon feels guilty about being a prostitute and so she confessed to discharge some of that guilt.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you the dirty little secret about false confessions. Every time a major crime is committed, false confessions pour into the hotlines. Hundreds of people confessed to the Lindbergh baby kidnapping. Dozens of people told police they killed the Black Dahlia. Maybe you remember when John Mark Karr caused an international brouhaha by confessing to the murder of JonBenet Ramsey ten years after her death.

“He didn’t do it.

“People confess to crimes when they’ve been cleared by DNA evidence. Go figure. People confess for reasons you and I would find hard to understand, but it’s the role of a good investigator to separate false confessions from real ones.

“Junie Moon’s confession was false.

“The absence of evidence in this case is remarkable. If the name of the so-called victim was Joe Blow, there probably wouldn’t have been an indictment, let alone a trial. But Michael Campion is a political celebrity and Ms. Moon is at the bottom of the social totem pole.

“It’s showtime!

“But this isn’t Showbiz Tonight, ladies and gentlemen. This is a court of lawwww,” Davis trumpeted. “So we’re asking you to use your common sense as well as the facts in evidence. If you do that, you can only find Junie Moon not guilty of the charges against her, period.”

Chapter 88

IT WAS AFTER SEVEN when I got to Susie’s. The patrons at the bar had achieved a high degree of merriment. I didn’t recognize the plinky tune the steel band was playing, but it was all about sun and the sparkly Caribbean Sea.

Made me want to move to Jamaica and open a dive shop with Joe. Drink passion fruit mai tais and grill fish on the beach.

I reached our table in the back room as Lorraine was clearing away a plate of chicken bones. She took my order for a Corona and dropped off the menu. Claire was taking up one side of our booth, what she called “sitting for two,” while Cindy and Yuki sat across from her – Yuki pressed up against the wall as if she’d been smushed there like a bug.

It looked like she’d lost a fight.

I dragged up a chair, said, “What’d I miss?”

“Yuki gave a great closing argument,” Cindy said, and then Yuki broke in.

“But Davis obliterated it!”

“You are nuts. You got the final damned word, Yuki,” Cindy said. “You nailed it.”

I didn’t have to beg. As soon as we ordered di

When Yuki paused for breath, Cindy said, “Do your rebuttal, Yuki. Do it like you mean it.”

Yuki laughed a little hysterically, wiped tears from her eyes with a napkin, downed her margarita – a drink she could barely handle on a good day. And then she belched.

“I hate waiting for a verdict,” she said.

We all laughed, Cindy egging Yuki on until she said, “Okay.” And then she was into it, eyes glistening, hands gesturing, the whole Yuki deal.

“I said, ‘Was a crime committed? Well, ladies and gentlemen, there’s a reason the defendant is here. She was indicted by a grand jury and not because of her relative social standing to the deceased. The police didn’t throw a dart at a phone book.

“ ‘Junie Moon didn’t call the police and make a false confession.

“ ‘The police developed information that led them to the last person to see Michael Campion. That person was Junie Moon – and she admitted it.’ ”

“That’s gooood, sugar,” Claire murmured.

Yuki smiled, continued on. “ ‘We don’t have Michael Campion’s body, but in all the months since he saw Ms. Moon, he has never called home, never used his credit card, his cell phone, or sent an e-mail to his parents or friends to say he’s all right.

“ ‘Michael wouldn’t do that. That’s not the kind of boy he was. So where is Michael Campion? Junie Moon told us. He died. He was dismembered. And his body was dumped in the garbage. She did it.

“ ‘Period.’ ”

“See?” Cindy said, gri

Chapter 89

CLAIRE AND I were sitting up in her bed that night after our outing at Susie’s, having a two-girl pajama party. Edmund was on tour with the San Francisco Symphony, and Claire had said, “I really, really don’t want to go into labor here all by myself alone, girlfriend.”

I looked over at her, lying in the huge divot she’d made in her memory-foam mattress with her rotund 260 pounds.

“I can’t get any bigger,” she said. “It’s not possible. I wasn’t this big with two boys, so how can this little girl-child turn me into the blimp that ate the planet?”

I laughed, thinking it was possible that when she’d had her first baby twenty years ago, she was a few sizes smaller than when she’d conceived Ruby Rose, but I didn’t say so.

“What can I get you?” I asked.

“Anything in the freezer compartment,” Claire said.

“Copy that,” I said, gri

Claire cackled, pried off the lid, and as we took turns dipping our spoons in, she said to me, “So how’s it going with you and Joe?”