Page 58 of Matlock
“This town,” she answered, a sense of disgust in her voice that she had to explain it. “I know everything that goes on in this town.” She looked me in the eye. “Everything.”
The last word had an ominous sound to it as she stared at me, and I swallowed roughly. It felt a little like she was staring into my soul, trying to say something that I didn’t want to think about.
Did Beatrice Allen know about Tony and me?
My mother’s arrival back in the salon cut through what came across as a threat, and I finished her haircut without another word.
As I was cashing her out, she said, “Remember what I said, Simon.”
“Yes, ma’am, I’ll tell him.”
She nodded, as if that settled the matter, and I followed her to the door, locking it behind her.
“What was that about?” my mother asked.
“She wants Tony to call her as an expert witness.” I shook my head and grabbed the broom from the corner of the room to sweep the hair into the wall vacuum system I’d had installed. It was my favorite little perk, making cleanup so much quicker.
“An expert on what?” Mom asked, and I smiled at the look on her face. It mirrored the one I had when Beatrice brought it up the first time.
“The town,” I told her. “Said she knows everything going on in this town.Everything.” I mimicked the dire warning she had given me.
“You know,” my mother said, tapping a finger on her lower lip, “that’s not a bad idea.”
“Mom, being the town gossip is not a recognized expertise in a criminal trial.”
“Are you sure about that? Remember Marisa Tomei inMy Cousin Vinny? She was able to prove she was an expert on cars.”
I rolled my eyes as I locked the register and turned off the lights. “That was a movie, Mom.”
“There is an element of truth in every movie. Tony should look into it. Beatrice Allen is over eighty years old. She is one of the oldest residents of Diamond Creek, and the biggest gossip. If anyone were an expert on the people in this town, it’s that old woman.”
Chapter Twenty
Matlock
I rubbed my hands over my face in frustration. All fucking day, I’d stared at these files, digging through case law, trying to find something, anything to support Simon’s defense.
I hadn’t found a damn thing.
I wanted to strangle him for calling Declan instead of me that night. And I wanted to strangle Sadie for staying in an abusive relationship, even after she’d been offered help to get the fuck out. Hell, I would have killed the bastard myself if she’d just let us help her.
But she wouldn’t admit the abuse to anyone but Simon.
She never made a report, never admitted the bruises the entire fucking town noticed were from that motherfucker. She defended him. Made excuses for him until she finally fought back and killed the son of a bitch.
Except now there was no trail. No history to prove battered women’s syndrome. That wasn’t what it was called now because abuse victims didn’t have a gender. Both men and women suffered abuse from their partners and spouses.
But in 1977, when Francine Hughes killed her husband by lighting the house on fire while he slept peacefully in their bed, that was her defense. The jury found her not guilty by reason of temporary insanity. And by the early 1980s, courtrooms recognized it as a valid defense in cases where the victim was not in immediate physical danger at the exact moment of the killing.
It would have been easier to try the case for Sadie using that defense.
People v. Walker in 2015 showed precedent for courts toallow third-party defense of others. However, that event took place during the altercation.
There were no cases I could find where a family member was found not guilty by third-party defense of others when the victim of the abuse wasn’t there.
Which meant I needed to put Sadie in that house at the time of the murder. Because no one would believe Simon went to Alan’s house without Sadie being there. His explanation for what transpired didn’t fucking make sense.
And the reality was, even if I could put Sadie in that room, I still wasn’t sure I could prove self-defense without a shred of evidence that proved she was in danger.
