The Devil Did It

The Devil Did It

Copyright 2018 Dorian Scott Cole

Published by Dorian Scott Cole

ISBN:

Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your point of purchase or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements, Disclaimer, Image Credits

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

About Dorian Scott Cole

Other books by Dorian Scott Cole

Connect with Dorian Scott Cole

Acknowledgements

Grateful appreciation to my wife, Sheila, who sacrifices so that I can write, and who is my beta reader and strictest critic. To Rachel Talbot, my beta reader and editor, who makes hundreds of changes. The remaining faults are mine. To the writers groups who critique some things for me. To the Ward Police Academy judges, investigators, and police officers, for training.

Disclaimer

Image Credits

Cover composition: Dorian Scott Cole. Cover image: Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/3444753-3444753/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1764467">3444753</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=1764467">Pixabay</a>

Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/nightmaredrug-5599903/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2577486">Jasmin Key</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=2577486">Pixabay</a>

Chapter 1

“Jordan!” Clair’s voice called urgently from outside as Jordan entered her bedroom with her diploma in hand. She ignored her mother. Nothing was going to spoil this moment. Six long years finally finished! A graduation cap and gown hung from a nail on the wall. Respectfully, she took it down and placed it on the old bed with the worn-out mattress. The bedroom was barely functional, and quite old, matching the 1940s duplex itself.

Hurriedly tearing open the wrapping on her diploma in its glass frame. She kissed it, then hung the new diploma on the nail. It was dwarfed by the wall size, but was very large in her mind. She stood admiring it for a moment.

The diploma said: The University of Missouri – Jordan Fitzpatrick - Juris Doctor

Jordan broke into her happy dance. A house door slammed hard, and the diploma to crashed to the floor, shattering the glass. Jordan clenched her jaw and seethed.

“Jordan!” Again came the urgent shout.

“Bedroom!” She shouted back, barely disguising her irritation, as she picked up the shattered diploma.

Clair rushed in, her excitement over the top. “I've got you your first case!”

“Mom, I have to pass the bar exam! I can't practice law yet!” He mother could be so exasperating at times.

“You've finished school. You've been working at a big law firm in St. Louis. You gotta do this.”

“It's against the law! Do you want me to ruin my chance of practicing law?”

In full stubborn and insistent mode, her mother continued, “Just come in the living room and talk to these people!”

“Mom, please don't do this to me. I have to find a job or you'll lose the house. I can't be getting involved in legal stuff right now.”

“Lame excuse. I would expect a better argument from a lawyer.”

Maybe she could do this one little favor, knowing her mother had gone all out for her, Jordan thought shamefully.

“Emily is my best friend and she can't find any lawyers to help her. Please, just – maybe you know someone.”

As Jordan entered the living room, she saw two women sitting on the old worn-out sofa with covers over every exposed area, and cushions deflated like birds’ nests. the younger woman, around 18, looked distraught, while the other looked desperate.

Clair introduced them, “This is my friend Emily and her daughter Ashley.” They looked up at Jordan expectantly.

Jordan thought she vaguely recognized them. Greenville was a small town and they were her mother’s friends from somewhere, probably work.

“I’m sure Jordan can help! She’s agreed to try,” Her mother announced with delight, as proud mothers do.

“I can't give you legal advice. I'm not an attorney yet.”

Ashley and Emily looked crestfallen. Jordan felt crushed at their desperation.

“I don't know how I can help, but I'll try to find a way. Tell me, what's going on.”

“They think I killed my boyfriend. But I didn't, I swear!” Ashley said, her voice rising in a shrill way, on the way to becoming hysterical.

Jordan put a hand on Ashley’s shoulder then said calmly. “Okay, just tell me what happened.”

“Ashley would never hurt anyone! I know my daughter,” her mother interjected.

Jordan knew she would have to settle the emotions roiling in them to get to the facts. She turned to Clair. “Mom, why don’t you get us some drinks while we talk.” Her mother left quickly for her premade stock of snacks for visitors.

“If you say you're innocent, I believe you. Just start at the beginning.”

“My boyfriend, Chuck, and I left the Naughty Night Dance Club around one o'clock. It's in St. Charles. We parked a block down. It's kind of like an alley and we park there all the time. We started walking down the alley when this demon jumped out of the shadows and shot Chuck, and then he disappeared into thin air. I bent down to help Chuck. I guess I fainted.”

Clair quickly reappeared with a tray of cookies, glasses, and a pitcher of ice tea, Jordan shot her a look that said, Get me out of here!

Ashley ignored the refreshments and continued, “The next thing I knew an angel was sitting beside me, holding me and told me not to worry. And then the police and an ambulance roared down the alley and it got very confusing with the police asking me questions. I looked for the angel, but he was gone, and the police didn't know anything about him.”

Hogwash was Jordan’s first mental note. Probably insanity. “First, let's stop calling them demons and angels. That's just going to get in the way.”

“But they were!”

Jordan looked at them all. They seemed serious. “This is a graduation joke, right.”

Handing Jordan a copy of the charges, Ashley shook her head no.

Escaping to the kitchen to read the charges and get her head together, Jordan said, “I need a minute to process this. I’ll be right back after I’m sure I understand what you’re facing.”

Out of sight, Jordan grimaced and ran a hand through her hair. Her mind was reeling. A moment ago she was doing her happy dance, and now …. She paced the floor and looked at anything familiar to stabilize her. She knew this old kitchen well, and she freshly examined it. Not much had changed in this duplex since it was originally built. The kitchen cabinets were sturdy old wood; pale birch wood. Why did they like birch? The counter and kitchen table had a Formica top, and stainless-steel legs, speckled but sturdy and kept on keeping on. Twenty-five coats of paint kept the plaster on the walls. At least it had indoor plumbing. She leaned against the sink cabinet, steadying herself, and breathed deeply, letting her breaths out slowly.

She read the charge sheet, which simply said “Murder 1” in standard type, but ugly in its connotation - murder most foul! If this was true, this woman was in deep trouble, and Jordan knew she was nowhere near qualified to be giving this woman any kind of assistance. What could she say that wouldn’t be damaging to the case or come back to haunt her.

Clair entered and Jordan gave her a murderous look. Right now she could she could cheerfully strangle her mother for insisting she get involved in this insanity.

Pleading, she said, “Tell me this is all some big joke. You had an attorney draw up those charges to make them look real.”

Clair snorted and fire flashed from her eyes. “Of course I didn’t! Now march yourself in there and do what we sent you to school to do: Help! They're out of their minds with fear.”

“Ashley is bonkers! This case is untouchable.” Fretting, she poured herself a glass of water at the sink, then sipped it. Then feeling horrible, she returned to the living room completely uncertain what to tell them.

“You need to find a good attorney in St. Charles or St. Louis.”

“We talked to them all. They just laugh at us. They won't touch this case.” Emily replied.

“Stop calling them angels and demons. It will do wonders. They think you’re out of touch with reality.”

“It's what the newspapers are reporting. They all know who we are and think we’re nuts for telling the truth. The papers think it’s a joke,” Emily said.

Jordan thought for a moment. “I can’t and won’t tell you what to say, but I want you to consider something. Sometimes during a traumatic experience, you don’t notice details, like the perpetrator disappearing. Or someone who sits with you to comfort you, and maybe you faint, and they stay with you until you’re safe and then leave as the police arrive. Please consider what happened.”

“I was just trying to tell the truth!”

“I want you to always tell the truth. But consider it from a wider perspective.”

Ashley sighed and looked down.

Jordan continued, “Look, the court will appoint an attorney for you. It will require someone to take the case.”

Looking pained, Ashley asked, “Would you want some attorney representing you who laughed at you behind your back?”

Jordan took a moment to consider this. She really didn’t know how serious a public defender would take this case. “Okay, I'll see if I can find someone to represent you. Maybe coming from me they will agree.”

Looking hopeful, Ashley asked, “When you pass the bar, can you represent us?”

This was endlessly painful. They didn’t understand the law. “Let me explain about court. A judge has to ensure that justice is served on a trial. On a Capital Murder case he will ask an inexperienced lawyer to turn the case over to someone experienced. I couldn't do it even if I wanted.”

Emily said, “Don't promise the lawyers a big payday. We don't have much money.”

Apologetically Jordan said, “Unfortunately in this kind of case it can be your money or your life. You may have to dig deep and promise huge.”

Clair said, “Jordan, you may have to dig deep and promise huge, too.”

CHAPTER 2

As soon as Clair banged the door closed on her friends, Jordan’s Dad, Bryan, knocked on the door. She knew what was coming. Come live with me, he would say. And it would be back to farm work.

Glowing, he said, “Hi, Puddin’ head! I can’t tell you how proud I was to see you walk across that graduation stage.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She loved her father, but had lived with her mother. Farm demands were huge and any extra hand was always given tasks. That didn’t line up with furiously studying for six years, and working a part time job to make ends meet.

“What are your plans now that you’ve finished school? Where are you going to live?”

She knew he was lonely even though two sons still lived and worked on the farm. Two daughters had married and moved away. “Probably stay here in town. It’s small, only seven thousand people here in Greenville. I-70 gives me convenient access to wherever.”

“The low crime rate doesn’t give you much opportunity, does it? You know, farm business needs lawyers, and the farm could be your base. Free office space in an old bedroom? I could even knock out some walls between two and put an outside door in.”

Jordan mentally rolled her eyes. He had been thinking about this. Here came the talk. You can’t make a living here, so do farm law and stay with me, and help on the farm. There wasn’t much opportunity in Greenville that you didn’t make for yourself, not that it was a stagnant town – it tried hard and made slow progress. It just lacked size. But it was peaceful, and the people were genuine.

Pounding on like an Army marching on a mission, he said, “I hear lawyers are being phased out.”

She really didn’t have a defense, so she just started throwing ideas into the air. “I could do real estate law and write wills and maybe investment counseling.” She winced at the thought of spending her time in real estate law, putting “packages” together. Sounded boring right out of the gate.

Cocking his head at her, he said, “I know you loved feeding animals and putting rings in hogs noses, and cutting. Don’t tell me you’re going to sit in an office.”

“I could go into politics. They’re all lawyers, and God knows those fools needed help.”

“You get too much blood on you in politics. Besides, you would be … hog tying your fellow lawyers.” He laughed. But he was right, she would rather be at her father’s farm than doing political tasks.

She decided to cut him off at the pass. “Dad, farm law is business law, and if there was any part of law I hated, it was business law, just slightly more than I hated real estate law. You know me, I like to get my hands dirty and knock heads together.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a chip off the old block.”

She smiled at him. They were a lot alike. Tall, handsome, in a rugged sinewy way like her, laid back most of the time, a hopeless romantic came from the French in him, unless someone got his dander up, then he could be brutal. That was when his Irish side came to the fore. That had brought him into unresolved conflict with her mother, and had gotten him into business legal trouble that cost him big.

“Our farm is a fourth-generation family business. You’re forever part of it, you know.” Yes she did know. He refused to sell to the larger industrial farms who offered large sums, and every time land came available, he bought it. Every penny went back into that farm.

Her sympathy for him nearly cost her composure. “You work yourself to the bone and still end up broke. Inflation keeps you from making a decent living, but I know you can’t give it up.”

“I won’t. Ever. They’ll bury me on that farm in the family plot.”

“I don’t know, Dad. I probably should stay with Mom for a while and help her get back on her feet. College has been a drain. Not that you didn’t help way too much yourself.” They had both helped from their meager earnings, and it hurt her to think about it. She owed them both a great debt, and neither cared if she repaid it. She had great parents.

Clair nodded at Bryan as she walked past them, then turned and waited expectantly.

Bryan got the message. “Well, let me know what you figure out.” He kissed Jordan on the cheek, then tried to kiss Clair, but as usual she turned away. A mischievous twinkle in his eye, he laughed and walked out, with a parting shot, “Italian shite storm coming.”

The fire between them had produced five children, and still smoldered, but so did the anger. Clair was Italian to the bone. She never doubted herself or her ability to control others. Her bossy, stubborn, controlling attitude had been half the reason for the divorce. Jordan got her stubbornness and tenacity from both sides.

Not missing a beat, Clair pounced, “There are two lawyers in town you can talk to. I can’t tell you how desperate they are, and how heart sick I am.” Raising her voice, she said, “This can’t happen to that sweet girl.”

Nothing loud was ever said in the duplex because it had no insulation between the walls. You could hear the person in the other apartment talking on the phone, so all conversations took on a conspiratorial hush. Raising her voice was not something her mother ever did, but Jordan always knew the intensity of her feelings. This was amped up beyond reason.

“There’s only one lawyer. The other person sells out to the highest bidder.”

“Maybe it’s time to forget that.”

Jordan sighed. “Forget that he ruined my Dad’s brother, Uncle Henry, and then his wife committed suicide?”

“That’s what you remember. Jessica wasn’t stable, and their marriage was rocky. She threatened divorce when she realized Henry would never work again and she would have to care of him. It was too much for her.”

“It was that damn lawyer’s fault!” She stomped off to her bedroom.

Jordan flopped on the bed in relief and exhaustion from the events of the day. She rewound the conversations in her mind, then thought, I’m going out of my mind worrying about this. Why should it even be my responsibility? I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility! Did I even make the right decision going into law? The responsibility was crushing!

Five years ago, roping and wrestling calves were the only thing on Jordan’s mind. She could tie a calf in record time, and she had a second-place ribbon in the Missouri State championship. She loved State fairs and could stomp around in the dust all day and evening. It would soon be State fair season again where she would be walking down the fairway and looking at men in tight jeans and bulging sleeves, carnival rides, cotton candy, endless contests, bands and great music.

The men loved her raven hair, sinewy limbs, cowboy boots, and big smile. She loved men in tight jeans much more than men in suits. These things made her happy. Law? She liked learning about Law. But this was real life.

Not the least of her worries was that the legal field wasn’t exactly in need of more lawyers. Companies were getting rid of them by the basket full. Artificial Intelligence was going to have a huge negative impact.

The legal office where she worked, claimed they loved her work, but didn’t ask her to stay. Law school students were just cheap labor for them. Being swept away into some large corporate legal office didn’t appeal to her anyway. No offers had come through the placement office, despite her stellar college record. They told her to give it a few months and work on passing the bar exam. In other words, wait for some attorney to die and take his business.

She closed her eyes and tried to rest, but her legal training kicked in. Nothing about this case made sense. There must have been a psych evaluation. What about lab tests for drugs and alcohol? What about the gun and residue – it would be on her hand. Were there mental issues in the family? Why would someone kill her boyfriend? Had the police established some motive? Before she talked to any lawyer, she had better have some answers to these questions, or they would think her insane or inept. How could she get answers without passing the Bar? First, she needed some good advice.

Her thoughts returned to Ashley, who didn’t deserve this life destroying curse any more than she deserved to have the problem cast on her. Maybe she would talk to local lawyers. No. Lawyer – one. Not the other one. Unless I’m desperate … and this is desperate. Shuddering at the thought, she prepared herself mentally to go talk to a lawyer about this absurd, but incredibly important case.