Chapter 17
"The Defense calls Dave Tynen," Perry Mason announced.
The Court Clerk administered the oath to Dave Tynen, the second-to-last person on the Defense's witness list, in a nasally clipped voice. The last witness, slotted in as 'To Be Named Later', had been identified an hour before court convened. Dave Tynen's testimony should corroborate that of Frank Bossit, but Perry also had a few surprising tidbits to reveal about the two security guards.
"Mr. Tynen, you were employed as a security guard at the Parrish wedding along with Frank Bossit were you not?"
Dave Tynen sat ramrod straight in the witness chair. "Yes, sir."
"Mr. Tynen, are you left-handed?"
"No, sir."
Perry stroked his jaw. "Did you serve two years at Centennial Correctional Facility for assault?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I did time. Anyone can find that out."
"And while you were there, did you box on the prison team?"
Dave Tynen sat up straighter, if that was possible. "Sure."
"I understand you won all your bouts; that your biggest asset was the ability to knock a man out with either hand."
"Yeah. I was a good fighter," the witness admitted with pride.
Perry swiveled back and forth in his chair, fingers tented beneath his chin. "Lon Hawkes was at Centennial with you, wasn't he?"
Murmurs of surprise rippled through the spectator gallery.
Dave Tynen ran his finger around his collar, loosened his tie. "I don't know. He might have been."
"You don't know? In fact, Mr. Tynen, wasn't Lon Hawkes on your cell block, and when he recognized you at the Parrish wedding, you panicked and knocked him out, did you not?
"I knocked him out because he was making trouble. That's what I was paid to do." He relaxed a bit, satisfied with his answer.
"Mr. Tynen, in order to hit Lon Hawkes on the right side of the jaw you had to use your left hand, did you not?"
"I don't remember."
"You don't remember." Perry repeated. "After knocking Hawkes out, didn't you stab him to death with that same left hand?"
Dave Tynen sat forward. "Not me, Mr. Mason. I was in the hallway the whole time Lon Hawkes was in the study. Frank Bossit was in the hallway with me the entire time. If you don't believe me, ask him."
Perry smiled. "Your Honor, I'd like to recall Frank Bossit at this time."
Robert Norrell's face was expressionless. Let the washed-up old lawyer toss out as many red herrings as he wanted. He had multiple witnesses who saw Kaitlynn Parrish standing over the dead body of Lon Hawkes holding a bloody knife in her left hand, and the great Perry Mason himself heard Miss Parrish say she could kill her fiancé's uncle. "No objection."
Frank Bossit stood aside to allow Dave Tynen to take a seat in the gallery then walked slowly toward the witness stand.
"You are still under oath," Judge Macauley reminded him.
"Yeah, yeah," Bossit said dismissively.
"Mr. Bossit," Perry Mason began, "you heard Dave Tynen's testimony?"
"That's right. Me and him was out in the hallway the whole time."
Perry paused to consult notes. "Neither of you took a break?"
"Nope. We was there the whole time."
"How well do you know Dave Tynen?"
"Met him that one time at the Parrish wedding. Haven't seen him since."
Perry doodled on the notes in front of him for a few seconds. "Mr. Bossit, did you buy some expensive stereo equipment two days ago?"
Frank Bossit licked his lips. "Yeah. So?"
"How did you pay – cash or credit?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Witness will answer the question," Judge Macauley directed sharply.
"I spoke to the company where you bought the equipment and the manager said you paid cash."
Frank Bossit licked his lips again. "Yeah. Used my savings."
Satisfied with his doodle, Perry sat back. "I have no further questions at this time, Your Honor, but reserve the right to recall Mr. Bossit."
"Redirect, Your Honor!" Robert Norrell jumped to his feet and approached the witness stand. "Mr. Bossit, I don't want the Defense to confuse the real issue at hand with stereo equipment. You and Dave Tynen were continuously on duty in the hallway outside the study. Is that correct?"
Frank Bossit smirked at Perry Mason. "Yeah. We was."
"And until the Defendant entered the study you saw no one else go in. Is that correct?"
The smirk broadened. "Yeah. That's correct."
It was Robert Norrell's turn to smirk. "Thank you, Mr. Bossit. I have no further questions, Your Honor."
Perry Mason slowly and deliberately got to his feet, expression passive. "Your Honor, Defense calls Miss Suzy Richards."
Bright-eyed and confident at the tender age of sixteen, Suzy Richards emerged from the witness room and placed her hand on the Bible to take her oath. She fidgeted on the witness stand, big brown eyes taking in what she thought was the most exciting thing she had ever experienced, including a Kaitlynn Parrish concert.
Perry smiled at the excited girl. "Miss Richards, have we met before?"
Suzy's eyes sparkled as she grinned. "Well, we bumped into each other once."
"And when we bumped into each other, did you drop something?"
"I must have dropped my souvenir backstage pass..." she looked at the frowning judge. "Yes, I dropped my souvenir backstage concert pass."
Perry walked to the evidence table, picked up the pass, and held it in the air. "I'm holding Defense exhibit G, found by Miss Della Street at the Parrish residence in the hallway where you bumped into us. Is this your souvenir pass?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell us, Suzy, how did you happen to attend the Parrish wedding?"
Suzy fidgeted, sat on her hands, bounced her legs, chewed her lip. "Well, I sorta snuck in."
"Where did you go once you 'sorta' snuck in?"
"Well, there was a closet in the hallway. I hid in there."
Perry placed the pass back on the exhibit table and made his way to the Defense table. "From your vantage point in this closet, could you see out into the hallway?"
"When I opened the door a crack I could."
"Why would you do that? Couldn't you have been caught?"
"I kept saying to myself I can't believe I'm missing everything. I mean, Kaitlynn Parrish was getting married and I'm trapped in a closet, you know? But, um, I couldn't get out because those two security guys were standing there." She pointed to Frank Bossit and Dave Tynen in the spectator gallery.
"But you did eventually get out of the closet."
Suzy relaxed against the back of the witness chair. "Well yeah, eventually. I don't know exactly when, but it was right after somebody made an announcement."
Perry leaned a hip against the Defense table. "What kind of announcement?"
"I think it was Kaitlynn's father saying he was sorry everything was delayed and then some boring music started and that's when I got out."
"And bumped into me and Miss Street," Perry smiled.
Suzy grinned. "Yeah."
Perry's smile faded. "But weren't the two guards there to stop you?"
Suzy slid down in the witness chair. "Nooo, uh-uh, they were gone."
"Did you see where they went?"
"Hey, all I knew was they were gone and I got out of there."
Perry nodded with satisfaction and Suzy grinned again. "Your witness, Mr. Norrell."
Robert Norrell scratched his chin, looking a bit perplexed. "No questions."
Perry straightened. "Defense recalls Frank Bossit."
The security guard sighed and advanced toward the witness stand, waved at the judge. "I know...I'm still under oath."
"Mr. Bossit, you testified that you and Dave Tynen never left the hallway, yet Suzy Richards was able to sneak out of a closet in that hallway because neither of you were there."
"Okay, okay, so we was gone for a couple minutes. It was hot and we was thirsty."
"During the time you were gone, the study was unguarded."
"Yeah, I suppose. Yeah."
Perry picked up a narrow brown document folder from the Defense table, walked to the witness stand, and handed it to Frank Bossit. "What do you think this folder holds, Mr. Bossit?"
"How would I know? I ain't got ESP."
"Please, just tell us what you think it holds."
"What are you tryin' to get me to say – that it's full of cocaine?"
"I'm trying to get you to say what it feels like."
Frank Bossit squeezed the envelope a couple times, brows knitted in concentration. "It feels like money."
Perry took the document folder from Frank Bossit and handed it to the judge, who opened it and dumped a pile of money onto the bench. There was excited whispering from the spectator gallery.
"You knew Lon Hawkes. You knew the envelope he carried held money because you picked it up."
Frank Bossit licked his lips over and over. "You can't prove there was money in that envelope! It's gone. Whatever was in it, that's gone, too."
Perry regarded the witness with steely eyes. "Mr. Bossit, Lon Hawkes was carrying money that day. In fact, he was carrying one-hundred thousand dollars."
Robert Norrell loudly tapped a pencil on the People's table. "Objection! That's pure conjecture since the envelope has never been found."
Perry turned to face Judge Macauley. "Your Honor, I was about to prove it."
Eyeing the pile of money in front of him, Judge Macauley nodded. "You may continue, Mr. Mason."
"Mr. Bossit, if a man stole that kind of money, you'd expect him to lay low for a while, and not call attention to himself, would you not?"
"Yeah, I-I-I suppose so."
"The man who stole that money was tempted to spend just a little of it, wasn't he? Maybe on a new stereo. Why don't you tell us about it, Mr. Bossit?"
Frank Bossit sat forward belligerently. "Tell you what? I don't know what you're talkin' about."
Perry mimicked the belligerence of the witness by leaning forward himself. "I'm talking about how you and Dave Tynen, two men who barely knew each other, conspired to murder Lon Hawkes. Dave Tynen had good reason to want Hawkes out of the picture, and once you told him about the money, it helped push him over the edge."
"No! No!"
Perry continued relentlessly, clear now on the circumstances surrounding the murder of Lon Hawkes. "The two of you entered the study, maybe only wanting to take the money, but Hawkes was awake, wasn't he? He struggled. You karate-chopped him across the throat with your right hand, Dave Tynen stabbed him with his left hand, and when you found out there was a witness, Suzy Richards, you stalked her and tried to kill her."
Frank Bossit half-lifted himself from the witness using just his arms. "You can't prove it! You can't prove anything!"
Perry Mason pivoted toward the bench. "Your Honor, referring to our conference this morning, we can proceed with the demonstration."
Judge Macauley nodded, and for the first time his dour face held an expression of interest. "Bailiff, you may proceed as discussed."
The Bailiff nodded and began lowering blinds on the windows.
Perry turned back to Frank Bossit on the witness stand. "Lon Hawkes extorted one-hundred thousand dollars from Starfront Records, Kaitlynn Parrish's record company. The FBI handled the pay-off. Neither Hawkes nor his killers knew the FBI had treated the money with invisible dye. The lights, Your Honor."
"Bailiff, the lights."
Spectators oohed and aahed as the courtroom went dark.
"Anyone who has had recent contact with that treated money would still have dye on his hands, which will show up under a black light." Ken Malansky appeared at his side and handed him a battery-powered black light. "A black light like this one, Mr. Bossit. Let's see your hands."
Frank Bossit slowly turned his hands in the purple beam of the light. His palms flared with reactive dye.
Dave Tynen leapt to his feet and jumped over the bar into open court. "Bastard!" he yelled. "You just had to spend it, didn't ya?"
The enraged man lunged toward the witness stand. Perry tackled him like an NFL linebacker, coming up grimacing and holding his shoulder.
Frank Bossit, cowering in the witness stand shouted, "You killed him! All I did was steal the envelope!"
The Bailiff handcuffed a prone Dave Tynen while the Court Clerk took hold of Perry Mason's uninjured arm and escorted him away from the fracas. Ken Malansky pushed his way through court officers to catch up to Perry Mason. "Are you okay?"
"Perry!"
Through pain and pandemonium in the courtroom, Perry could hear Della's anguished cry. "Ken, take care of Della. Tell her I'm all right."
"But..." Ken began to protest.
"Take care of Della," Perry barked, "and get everyone back to the office."
Della had skirted the Defense table and made it as far as the witness stand before Ken managed to grab her. "Perry's okay, Della. He wants us all to go to the office."
Della whirled on him, ready to fight her way to the man she loved, but the judge had other ideas.
"Mr. Malansky," Judge Macauley shouted, "does Defense request that this case be dismissed?"
"Defense does, Your Honor," Ken shouted back as someone finally turned the lights back on, at the ready to duck if Della took a swing at him.
"Mr. Norrell, do the People have any objections?" Robert Norrell shook his head and Judge Macauley banged his gavel emphatically, surveying the mass of confusion and excitement that had once been his dignified courtroom. "Case dismissed, court is adjourned."
Kaitlynn flung herself into Gary's arms, Laura hugged Hannah; and then Gary hugged his sister, while Kaitlynn held tightly onto her father.
Della wrested her arm from Ken's firm grip and pointed her finger beneath his nose. "Don't you ever do anything like that again," she warned. "I will not be kept away from Perry."
"He told me..."
"I don't care what he told you. I'm telling you don't ever do it again."
Ken gulped. He had never seen Della so angry before. "I will never do it again."
"Better not," Della grumbled, heading back to the Defense table.
After the lights came back on, the courtroom emptied quickly, leaving only Kaitlynn, Gary, Hannah, Max, and Laura in the gallery. As Ken rounded them up and explained what Perry had instructed, Della shoved papers into her briefcase and Perry's. Laura Parrish separated herself from her family and leaned over the bar.
"Della..."
Startled, Della turned. She had been so concerned about Perry, and so angry with Ken she forgot about everyone else. "Laura..."
The cool blonde briefly touched Della's arm. "Please tell Perry I owe him so much. He's given me back my daughter."
"You can tell him yourself later at the office." She didn't like Laura Parrish for several reasons aside from what had happened in 1967, and was suspicious of the woman's outward sincerity.
Laura shook her head. "I-I can't tell him. He won't take it for anything but...there is so much you don't know about me and Perry."
Della snapped Perry's bulging briefcase shut. "Oh Laura, I know more than you could possibly imagine."
Suspicion and curiosity overrode sincerity. "What do you know?"
"Enough to say you can and have told Perry plenty over the years. Thanking him for representing Kaitlynn shouldn't be that difficult."
Laura blinked, not expecting the hint of hostility in Della Street's voice. "I'm trying to be civil..."
"Let's hang on to that, Laura. We can be civil to one another because there is so much about me and Perry that you don't know."
"How long does it take to have a baby?" He asked irritably, checking his watch for the hundredth time. "We've been here for six hours, after a two-hour plane ride, and they kicked us out of Michelle's room three hours ago."
They were sitting side-by-side on a couch so uncomfortable they competed to see who could come up with the most descriptive word or phrase for it. She patted his hand. "It takes as long as it takes, dear."
He stared at her. "That makes no sense at all."
"Yes, it does. There is no set time for labor and delivery. The baby is born when the baby is born."
"There should be a time limit," he grumbled, still not satisfied with her answer. "I haven't been able to concentrate since Paul called."
"And don't I know it. I'm glad there isn't anything important going on at the moment. Answering mail doesn't require much brain power, and is something we can do away from the office. Although, my shorthand has gotten rusty since you started taping dictation."
"How can you be so calm?" He was on to her sneaky ways of trying to distract him.
She stifled a laugh. He was a wreck, and his anxiety increased each hour that passed with no baby. They were both excited beyond words that Paul had managed to finish not only one, but three wildly successful crime novels in as many years; marry his soul mate Michelle; and was now perched on the precipice of fatherhood.
"I can be calm because there is no reason to be a gigantic pain in the keister."
"A gigantic pain, eh?"
She stretched and shifted positions on the cement slab of a couch. "Uh huh."
"I seem to recall someone being a pain in the keister when we woke up to rain on their wedding day."
"That was different. The bride and groom refused to set up an 'in case of rain' location because as the song goes, it never rains in California. We were looking at buying a lot of umbrellas to keep dressed up guests dry."
It was his turn to stifle a laugh, remembering seeing her frazzled for the first time ever. Of course, after a few phone calls she moved the entire wedding to the Sayers estate, which offered extensive gardens and a gazebo with a glass roof that was large enough to keep all those dressed up guests dry, but was surrounded by enough nature to please the bride and groom.
"Flintstone couch." She pulled her legs up and tucked them to the side. "This couch is carved from granite."
"Then shouldn't it be Perry Mason couch?"
She lifted one eyebrow. "Explain."
"Don't you remember how reporters used to describe me?"
Of course! "Features carved out of granite. I'd almost forgotten that. I took it as your features were perfectly chiseled."
"I think I just won," he proclaimed, uncomfortable with her compliment as per usual.
"I think you just changed the subject."
"And you haven't been changing the subject all day?
"Only to maintain my sanity, you gigantic –"
"Hey you two. Could you maybe stop arguing long enough to meet your first grandchild?" Neither Paul nor Michelle had parents, and had agreed that Perry and Della would be called Grandma Del and Grandpa Pare; Del and Pare being what he had called them as a youngster.
They jumped up in perfect synchronization from the torturous couch. He made it to Paul's side in three long strides. Her strides were greater in number, but as always, paced him perfectly.
Paul was grinning from ear-to-ear, blonde curls sticking out comically from beneath the surgical cap expectant fathers wore in the delivery room, and holding a tiny receiving blanket-wrapped bundle. She held out her arms eagerly and Paul carefully passed the precious infant to her.
"Grandma Del, this is my son, Paul Thomas Drake, the Third."
"Trey," she breathed in wonder, gently pushing aside the thin blanket to reveal the infant's squinty face.
Paul looked quizzically at her. "How did you know we're calling him Trey?"
A large hand clapped down on Paul's shoulder. "Because Trey follows Ace and Deuce."
Paul looked at the two people who loved him for as long as he could remember and become defacto parents when his father died at far too young an age, and his mother couldn't be bothered with him.
"He's gorgeous," she exclaimed, naturally swaying back and forth. "And he has blonde hair! Perry – look."
He slid his arm around her waist and gazed down at his best friend's grandchild. "How much does he weigh? How long is he? How is Michelle doing?"
Paul chuckled. Leave it to Grandpa Pare to want all the facts and Grandma Del to fall instantly in love. "Michelle is great and relieved he came so fast. She's resting, but wants to see you with the baby before he's taken to the nursery. He was born at 4:46, weighs seven pounds eleven ounces, and is twenty-two inches long."
She added a little bounce to her graceful sway. "You're going to be tall like Grandpa Ace, aren't you beautiful boy?" she crooned. "And we're going to tell you all about him, because he would have loved you so much."
He choked up at her words and tightened his hold. She leaned her head against his shoulder, gazing up at him with eyes that shone with every joyous, heartbreaking, exhilarating moment of their lives that led to this brand-new baby in her arms. "Hey, little man," he said with a catch in his voice, "welcome to the family."
