Authors: Dara Girard
“What happened?” Hunter asked as Daniel dashed to the main exit.
“I just quit my job.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
Daniel flashed him a grin. “No, just motivated. Now we have to come up with a brilliant idea fast.”
***
Unfortunately, they didn’t. And as two weeks slipped into four things began to look dire. Hunter roamed a mall hoping an idea would strike him. He didn’t want to let Brenna and Daniel down, but he couldn’t think of anything. He couldn’t sketch, draw, or think. His mind was blank. He sat in front of a shoe store and stared sightlessly at the customers coming in and out.
“Those shoes look gorgeous,” an older woman in a pink tam told her companion.
“I would buy them but my hose don’t match. You know I can only wear diabetic hose.”
Hunter straightened and listened.
“Couldn’t you get a different color?”
“They only have black and white. I like this brand the best, but they have a poor selection and it’s going to close soon because of bad business.”
“That’s a shame.”
“I know. They’re a local company not far from here. I remember when the paper did a story on them.”
“What’s their name?” Hunter said.
The two women looked at him surprised then scared.
He cleared his throat. “My sister could use another pair.”
“They’re called FreedomWear,” the woman in the pink tam said. She then gave him the address.
Hunter jumped to his feet suddenly renewed. “Thank you.” He grabbed their hands and kissed the back of them then ran out the door.
Three days later Daniel and Hunter stood in front of the dilapidated building that housed FreedomWear. The company they now owned after persuading the owner the benefit of selling to them.
Daniel scratched his forehead. “What does Brenna think?”
“She doesn’t know,” Hunter said.
“Why?”
“It’s a risk I don’t want her to worry about.”
Daniel was quiet then said, “Are you having second thoughts?”
Hunter rested his hands on his hips and shook his head as he stared at the sun softening the crumbling sides of the building. “You made a big investment. I won’t let you down. There’s treasure in this trash. The system is here, they just didn’t know how to use it.”
Daniel grinned, knowing what his cousin was saying. “You think we’re going to be rich.”
Hunter nodded. “That’s the plan.”
***
The trial of the State of Maryland versus Stephen Garrett began on a rainy morning. Brenna sat in the crowded courtroom expecting to hate the DA—a clean cut man in his mid-fifties with a drooping mustache. But there was no doubt he considered himself a passionate advocate for the voiceless. She glanced at her brother looking handsome in a dark blue suit. When was the last time she’d seen him in a suit? Oh yes, at her wedding. It seemed ages ago. She then let her eyes drift to Byron. He looked easy-going, casual, and confident. The complete opposite of the man beside her. The one she’d married.
She was glad that Hunter’s new job wouldn’t allow him to attend the entire trial.
She listened to the opening statements. The DA started in a low voice. Not theatrical as one might expect from one so long in the field, but just as engaging. He talked to the jurors as a friend. He painted the picture of a man who had lived his life quietly, but had an inner anger. A man whose life pressures caused him to snap.
Byron countered that portrait with an easy grin as though his opposition had a tendency towards melodrama. He concluded that Stephen was a good citizen who had wanted to help an old man. He agreed someone killed Mr. Seaborn, but stressed that it wasn’t the man sitting in the courtroom. Then the DA called his first witness the investigating officer on the scene and then a forensic expert. Brenna didn’t pay much attention until he called Seaborn’s son to the stand.
Nathan Seaborn was a tall plump man in his forties with long hair pulled back. The DA encouraged him to talk about his father and share what kind of man the victim was.
“You speak highly of you father,” the DA said. “ Yet you hadn’t spoken in years. Why was that?”
“Dad engaged in a behavior that I didn’t approve of.”
“What was that behavior?”
Nathan cleared his throat. “He liked to con people.”
“How do you know this?”
“My mom told me. And when I asked him he said it was true.”
“Do you know why he did it?”
He shrugged. “Because he could and he was good at it. He and Mom had a good marriage until she died.”
“What did you find most offensive about his behavior?”
“I thought it was cruel and dangerous. You can’t go around making people trust you and then steal from them. One day you’ll con the wrong person. Unfortunately, he found that out.”
“Did your father have a certain type of person he would target as a mark?”
Nathan glanced at Stephen. “He liked them young, kind of quiet, easy to manipulate. As he got older he perfected his helpless old man act.”
“No further questions.” He turned to Byron. “Your witness.”
“No questions,” Byron said.
Next the DA called Seaborn’s neighbor Mrs. Natalie Brighton. A woman with big eyes, wearing an outfit suited more for a fine restaurant than a courtroom.
“Did you know Mr. Seaborn well?” the DA asked.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, we’ve been neighbors for a while now. A very kind and generous man.”
“What were you doing when you saw the defendant leave the house?”
“I was letting my dog in the house.”
“How did he look?”
“He looked like he was in a hurry.”
“How so? As though he was escaping something?”
“Objection,” Byron said. “Leading the witness.”
“Sustained,” the judge replied.
The DA changed his tactic. “When did you know something was wrong?”
“The next morning, when Mr. Seaborn didn’t get his newspaper. Mr. Seaborn always picked up his newspaper at 7:30 am.” She glanced at the jury. “Always.”
“Thank you. No further questions.” He returned to his chair.
“Are you sure you saw my client at the residence?” Byron asked.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He fit the description.”
Byron grinned. “There are many men who could fit his description.”
Mrs. Brighton bristled at the implication. “I saw that man sitting over there. I could even describe his truck. My husband knows a lot about trucks and so do I. I saw him under the street lamp and his truck has a unique indentation on the side.”
“So the man you saw, you say was in a hurry? There are many reasons to be in a rush. Don’t you agree?”
“He looked guilty.”
“How do you know?”
“By the way he moved,” she said certain.
“Perhaps he had to be somewhere. Home to his wife or maybe he forgot to pick up something before the store closed. It was a late night. You couldn’t read his expression could you?”
“No, but—”
“So he was walking fast but you don’t know why?”
“Yes, but—”
“Thank you. No further questions.”
The DA called another neighbor, Ralph Parkov. A thin middle-aged man with cropped blonde hair and a shirt so pressed it looked fake.
“You also noticed Seaborn did not pick up his paper?”
“Yes. I was cleaning out my car that morning and was surprised to see his newspaper still in the box. I would have gone over to see what was wrong, but my eyes were watering so I had to go inside.”
“Did you see the defendant the night of the murder?”
“Yes. Actually, I’d seen him before. He’d come by a couple of days before that night. He went into the house, but didn’t stay long.”
“Did you notice anything unusual in their behavior?”
“Objection,” Byron said. “Relevance.”
“I withdraw the question. Thank you. Nothing further.”
Byron stood. “Would you say Mr. Seaborn was a popular man?”
“What do you mean?”
“Was it regular for him to have guests over?”
“Yes.”
“So there’s a possibility people could come and go and you wouldn’t notice.”
“Yes, but I noticed that night. I saw that man.” He pointed to Stephen. “I didn’t see anyone else.”
“No further questions.”
“You may step down,” the judge said. “The court will reconvene next Thursday.”
Hunter walked up to Byron and held out his hand. “I’d like to introduce myself.”
Byron turned and shook his hand. “There’s no need for introductions. Hello Brenna.”
“Hello.”
He clapped his hands together. “Anyone in the mood for coffee?”
A few moments later the three of them sat in a booth at a local restaurant.
“How do you think it’s going?” Brenna asked.
Byron stirred his drink. “It’s early.”
“The police sound certain as does the forensic expert.”
“Yes, they are supposed to. Besides the question isn’t how he was killed, but by whom.”
“And you’re going to prove it wasn’t Stephen?”
“I’m going to try.”
“You’re not worried?”
His eyes twinkled over the rim of the cup. “If I’m worried I never tell and never show it.”
Hunter watched him, grim. He didn’t like him. He didn’t like how he looked at Brenna. Even more he didn’t like how Brenna looked at him. “You take everything in stride?” he said.
“Pretty much. So, what exactly do you do?”
Brenna piped up. “He’s an inventor.”
“Does that mean you’re unemployed?”
Hunter merely stared at him, a look full of warning.
Byron cleared his throat and finished his coffee.
***
On the drive home, Hunter said to Brenna, “I noticed he isn’t married.”
“Yes.”
“Are you glad?”
She turned to him startled. “What kind of question is that?”
“I see the way he looks at you.”
She glanced out the window. “I can’t help the way he looks at me.”
“How about the way you look at him?”
“And how is that?” she challenged. “With admiration? With respect? He’s defending my brother for half his fee. How do you want me to look at him? With contempt because he didn’t love me when I wanted him to? If I had contempt for every man that didn’t love me we’d—” She stopped and tugged on her seatbelt.
“We’d what?”
“Forget it.” She shifted in her seat irritated. “I know you didn’t like him.”
“He didn’t like me.”
“You didn’t give him a chance to.”
“No, I have the feeling he made up his mind before he met me.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“You’re being defensive.”
They fell into a tense silence. After a moment, Hunter reached over and squeezed her hand in a tender gesture of support. “I think he’s an asshole, but I hope he gets your brother off.”
“I think you’re obnoxious.” She squeezed his hand, gaining strength from his support and smiled. “But thank you.”
***
Miles managed not to smile when he saw Curtis standing outside his office door. “Now why is this
not
a surprise?” he said.
“Perhaps you know the sound of opportunity knocking.”
He opened the door to his office and gestured to a seat. “How can I help you?”
Curtis glanced around. “I believe you and Hunter used to share this space.”
“Yes.”
“Kind of small.”
“Kept the cost down. R&D isn’t a big priority.”
“But it’s a valuable part of the company. A lot of good ideas have come out of this department.”
Miles nodded noncommittal.
“You must have enjoyed the extra space when Hunter was promoted.”
“Yes.”
“Shame he thought it was best to resign.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you why?”
“No.”
“I’m surprised. I thought he counted you as a close friend. Didn’t you look after his wife while he was away?”
“Yes.”
It was clear Curtis was getting annoyed with Miles’ monosyllabic answers, but he maintained a calm expression. “Did she express any concern about Hunter? Did she think he might be unhappy with us? I hate to admit that Hunter and I aren’t close as father and son should be so I have to find another way to convince him to return.”
“I can’t help you.”
“I believe you have a sister you’re supporting in college.”
“Yes, I also have a lawyer on retainer so I suggest you don’t make threats.”
He held his hands out innocently. “Why would I threaten you? You’ve been a loyal employee for years. I consider you one of the family. I just wanted to assess your economic responsibilities before offering you a more elevated position.”
“Thanks but no. I’m happy where I am.”
Curtis studied him. “Ambition is not a dirty word.”
“No, but I know the price of ambition with the Randolphs and it’s just too high for me.”
He stood. “If you change your mind, you know how to reach me.”
***
It was the worst shift. Hunter lifted the last box on the truck then signaled for a break. He headed towards the candy machine then stopped when he saw Miles.
Hunter looked at Miles, startled. “How did you—”
“Daniel.” He yawned. “This is too early to be out of bed. Couldn’t you get a better shift?”
Hunter shoved his gloves in his back pocket. “Two guys called in sick and I need this shipment to go out.”
“Things aren’t picking up as fast as you thought?”
“They will.”
“Do you think Orson—“
“He doesn’t frighten me.”
“Your father tried to frighten me. Don’t worry,” he said quickly when Hunter’s expression changed. “I took care of it. I felt flattered he thought I was worthy of a bribe. He wanted to know if you had told me anything. Is there anything you need to tell me?”
“No, unless you also want to find yourself lifting boxes.”
“Thanks, but that would not be the best career move for me.”
“How long do you plan on keeping this a secret from Brenna?”
“Until things work.”
“You need to tell her.”
“I will when the time is right. She’s under a lot of stress right now. She doesn’t need more.” Hunter hesitated then said. “But you could do something for me.”
“What?”
“Find out more about these.” He handed Miles an object.
Miles stared at them confused. “Pantyhose?”