= "Circumstantial Evidence"
  A Kay Yoshinobu mystery
  by John A. Broussard

"Ron was lying on the floor all covered with blood. Minda was just screaming and screaming. I couldn't believe it. I reached down to see if he was still alive, but I knew he wasn't, with that knife stuck clear into his back. That's when I got blood on my hands and my bathrobe." She looked down at her hands as though she could still see the blood. "I remember the phone being all sticky when I dialed 911."

Kay Yoshinobu was playing at note taking while closely observing her client. Deborah Marshburn was in her early twenties, attractive, with the kind of long blonde hair Kay had envied ever since elementary school. Her overall appearance gave the impression of a teenager still in the gawky stage, but Kay had played tennis with Debbie and knew that she was an excellent athlete with a powerful forehand. That would hardly be something in her favor when the case came to trial.

Kay wasn't entirely satisfied with Debbie's account, but right now there seemed to be little point in having Debbie repeat the day's happenings yet again. They were simple; all too simple. According to Debbie, she had awakened around seven that morning to the sound of screaming which penetrated the earplugs she always wore to bed. The scene she encountered was a hysterical housekeeper and a dead husband. There were no signs of a burglary. In fact, the house was protected by a burglar alarm.

Except for a few minor items, including a small annuity to Luzviminda Malagas, the long-time housekeeper, Debbie stood to inherit all of her husband's fortune - which ran into eight figures - in addition to an insurance policy worth five-million-plus.

The combination of a young wife with a much older husband, the blood-spattered clothing and hands, the locked house, the lack of any motive to indicate the housekeeper's complicity, and the significant benefit Debbie derived from Ronald Marshburn's death, had convinced Elima's prosecuting attorney to charge her with murder.

From Kay's viewpoint, a case built on such circumstantial evidence seemed poor, to say the least. That made her suspect there was more to it than met the eye, something that the prosecuting attorney was saving for the arraignment. Fortunately, on the small Hawaiian Island, defense attorneys, prosecutors and law enforcement officers were frequently long-time acquaintances, if not actual neighbors, friends, or even relatives. Informal contacts among them were routine and often profitable for the accused and their attorneys. This, Kay decided, was one case where she would have to make full use of those contacts. Already mapping out her strategy, Kay set up another appointment with Debbie and sent her on her way.

"So what else have you got to go on?" asked Sidney Chu, Kay's partner in the law firm, as he settled into the comfortable Naugahyde chair in her office.

"So far, not much. The next time we meet, I'm going to sit down and have her go over everything again, starting from the morning of the murder."

"Figure she's guilty?"

"She says she isn't."

Sid guffawed. "That's not what I asked."

Kay laughed in turn, then became thoughtful. "Circumstantial evidence can be very convincing. I've checked on the only other obvious possibility, the housekeeper. Her hands are so arthritic that she has barely enough strength to hold a knife, let alone ram it up to the hilt into someone's back. Ron kept her on because she'd been with his family since Year One. Debbie wanted to dump her, by the way, for what that's worth."

"If she's that crippled up, who does the housework?"

"She can do some, but she has a niece who comes in weekends to do the heavy cleaning. As for cooking, they usually ate out."

"I suppose the knife was from the kitchen."

"That's right," Kay said absently. "The housekeeper could have heard about Debbie's feelings and let an accomplice in to do the killing, but then why kill Ron rather than Debbie? She's out of a job now, for sure, and the annuity she gets from the will isn't that much."

"Couldn't Ron have let someone in?"

"Sure, but he wasn't in any condition to let them back out and then lock up after them. He died almost instantaneously, and the burglar alarm was set when the police got there."

"Maybe you can claim Debbie was sleepwalking. That's an 'in' defense these days."

Kay ignored the comment and continued voicing her thoughts aloud. "I haven't questioned her in depth yet, but she seems pretty straightforward. She knows she's going to get all or almost all of Marshburn's money, and knows that comes to plenty, but she's not sure how much. They got along fine, according to her, except for the usual marital squabbles.

"I do get the feeling that she isn't exactly broken up over his death. But, since he was generous, I can't see any advantage to her in having him dead . . . unless she's got a lover waiting in the wings."

"Well?"

"I brought that up. She was shocked at my even suggesting such a thing."

"So what's the next step?"

"Hank, I guess." Hank DeMello was Elima's homicide lieutenant and a friend of both Sid and Kay. That friendship had proved useful for all parties concerned, and Kay was ready to exploit it.

"You going to find out why they charged her?"

Kay nodded. "On the face of it, the case seems flimsy. The prosecutor would have his work cut out for him to start talking about 'beyond a reasonable doubt' on the basis of what we know so far. There must be other evidence, and I think Hank will at least give me some broad hints about what else it is they have."

* * *

Hank was always pleased to have the attractive Kay drop by. On occasion he had had fantasies about a closer relationship, but a happy marriage to a wife who would brook no straying kept him on the safe side of the fantasies.

"Don't tell me," he said, holding up a hand in protest. "You're going to pump me for information you can't get from the prosecutor. Right?

Kay grinned. "An astute observation."

Hank gave a tolerant smirk, reached for a folder on his desk and pushed it across to Kay. There was the usual police report, which she already had a copy of. Following that was a pre-nuptial agreement between Debbie and her husband. It didn't mean much in the face of the next document, Marshburn's will leaving virtually everything to Debbie, except for the small annuity to Luzviminda and another similar one to his nephew.

"You're just getting to the best part," Hank said, as Kay started to read a statement by Marshburn's attorney. Waiting only for her to skim through it, Hank added, "Marshburn already had a second will in the works which would have left most of his money to charity . . . if it had been signed. Marshburn had had him draw it up and spoke to him over the phone on the day before the body was discovered. He was making arrangements to get together with the attorney for the signing on the following day."

Hank paused, obviously for effect. "The attorney heard the click of an extension after Marshburn hung up."

Kay hoped her legendary poker face was holding up as Hank plodded along. "That, plus the fact that she threatened openly and in public to get even if Ron tried to change his will, plus the locked and burglar-proof house, plus the fact that the only other person in the house that night would have trouble stabbing a ripe tomato . . . all that kind of makes your work cut out for you, doesn't it?"

* * *

Kay hadn't openly agreed with Hank, but she quietly cursed a client who now seemed incapable of telling the truth. Playing tennis with someone doesn't tell you much about a person's character, she decided. As she sat in the offices of Elima Security Systems, Inc., she made up her mind that at the first opportunity there would be an open confrontation with Debbie. In the meantime, Kay would probably have her hands full with Ralston Chung, the president of ESS. Security people were notorious for acting as though their systems were patented and top secret.

Surprisingly, Ralston proved to be very cooperative. Following the introductions, and insisting on a first name basis, he quickly gave a history of the security system at the Marshburns'. "It's an old house. Tough to protect, really. But when Mr. Marshburn bought it some twenty years ago, he had it completely rewired and had the system put in then. The company that did it is now defunct, and we took over about three years ago."

There was the explanation for the man's openness, thought Kay. The system wasn't ESS's.

"It's an outdated system," Ralston continued, "and we offered to replace it at cost, but Mr. Marshburn decided it wasn't worth it. He had some expensive paintings, but they were all on loan to various exhibits and museums, so he felt there really wasn't much in the house that needed protection. We were hired to maintain the existing system.

"Not that we really wanted to," he said, shaking his head. "There are too many flaws in the system for my money, but we finally went along."

Kay was about to interrupt to get a list of the flaws, but decided to let Ralston run with the bit. There would be time enough to explore what was wrong after finding out the full details of the system. Instead she merely asked, "Could you describe it, please?"

"Sure. It's simple enough. At night, all windows and doors have to be locked and the alarm system turned on. If anyone tampers with a window or door, the alarm goes off - both there, here and at the police station. The fire alarm is on a separate circuit, of course. If the residents want to go out, they simply turn on the burglar alarm prior to leaving by the front entrance or the door to the garage. There's a delay in the setting that gives them plenty of time to go out and close the door behind them. The reverse happens when they return. The delay is long enough to unlock either door and shut off the alarm.

"That was one of the flaws, by the way. Our systems have a key code to punch in, not just a button to press to turn off the system when you come in. It's an additional guarantee against some unauthorized person using a stolen key or picking the lock.

"Incidentally, the police called us and ran a check on the system. It's in perfect running order. The alarm went off here and at the station. If anyone had tried to break in on the night of the murder, the alarm would have gone off. It didn't."

"But from what you said, someone who was familiar with the alarm system and did have a key could have come in and shut off the alarm."

Ralston shook his head emphatically. "No. While the system would allow someone else with a key to get in if no one was at home, the front door and garage door have dead bolts which can't be unlocked from the outside. So when the occupants lock up at night, the front door can't be opened, key or no key. And from what I understand, the bolt was in place that night. Any attempt to tamper with it from the outside would have set off the alarm system."

Kay pondered that answer. "Couldn't someone just cut off the electricity to the house?"

Ralston laughed. "You're picturing a burglar cutting off the electricity and jimmying open a window, or - easier yet - those French doors you can open with a credit card.

"We would never have taken over responsibility for a system that could be so easily circumvented. All of the utilities are underground in the neighborhood. Wire cutting would be virtually impossible without blacking out a half-dozen surrounding blocks. And even if someone did manage to shut off the power, there's still a six-volt backup battery that we check every six months."

As he spoke, he reached for a folder, opened it and checked through the contents. "Yes. Here it is. We replaced the battery a little over a month ago. It didn't need replacing. In fact, they have a guaranteed life of two years, but we put in a new one every year, just to be on the safe side. That's part of the maintenance agreement."

His last words were far from encouraging. "I'm afraid a burglary gone awry is out of the question."

* * *

Debbie wasn't at home when Kay dropped by. It was just as well, since Kay preferred to question the housekeeper outside the presence of her mistress.

Luzviminda Malagas was somewhere in her sixties, grey haired and stout, with an Ilocano lilt to her voice that was a remnant from her childhood days in the Philippines.

At first, Minda was taciturn, if not downright hostile. Kay decided to start slowly, with a tour of the house rather than an interview. As they examined each door and window, Minda assured her that she had personally checked every one of them the night before the murder.

"Mr. Marshburn insisted for me to do that. And I did. If any not locked the alarm would go off."

Beginning at the front door, Kay inspected the formidable dead bolt. Even without an alarm system, it would have been a challenge for a seasoned burglar. The nearby alarm box proved to be as simple as Ralston had described. Opening the panel, Kay found a connected backup. As he had said, it consisted of a six-volt battery with an expiration date almost two years away.

From there they moved on to windows, to the back door, which had a dead bolt, and to the door into the garage, which also had a dead bolt. The dining room where the murder had occurred was an anomaly. Kay was surprised to see that access to the room from the outside was through French doors with the flimsiest of latches. Taking a plastic card from her briefcase, she easily opened the door, and she could see that it would have been almost as simple to open from the outside.

Minda observed her closely. Her expression was grim. "If a burglar did that, it would make the alarm go off."

Kay shrugged and finished the inspection, finally returning to the garage door. Opening it, she found herself in a spacious garage with a single massive overhead door. There was room for three cars but one space was empty. Across from the door to the house was a regular door to the outside. A quick tour assured her the door was locked and all the windows were latched. "Does the alarm cover these?" she asked, indicating the windows and the garage doors.

Minda seemed puzzled at first. "No need," she answered. "The door to the garage from the kitchen is part of the alarm system."

Kay began to see a glimmer of hope for Debbie and decided that now was the time for a full-scale interview and confrontation with the accused.

* * *

After being sufficiently contrite at having concealed the quarrel with her husband over the will, Debbie still insisted that she and her husband had had a good marriage, and she vehemently denied having listened in to the conversation between Marshburn and his attorney on the day before the murder.

Kay was skeptical. "So if it wasn't you, who was it?

"Minda!"

Kay didn't bother to write down the name. "Who else was here that afternoon?"

"The lawyer, Richard Fortmeyer."

The attorney couldn't have listened in to his own conversation, of course - but then again, the police had only Fortmeyer's word for the supposed click of an extension phone. "Anyone else?" she asked.

"Dominic Marshburn."

"Who?"

"Ron's only living relative. Dominic's the son of Ron's younger brother, who died in a traffic accident...before my time. He's a pharmacist. Works in a drug store here in town. Ron was caught up in tracing the family's genealogy, and Dominic has been dropping by every so often to help him."

This one Kay did write down, after finding out how to contact him. "Anyone else?"

"Peter Wilkins, of course."

"Of course? Who is Peter Wilkins?"

"He was kind of a personal secretary. He handled correspondence for Ron; I guess some financial stuff, too. He knows a lot about computers and was setting up all that genealogy information in some kind of computer program, so lately he was coming over two or three times a week."

"Anyone else?"

"A delivery boy. Minda shops by phone for groceries and has them delivered." Debbie managed a smile. "I doubt that he listened in on the conversation. I don't think there was anyone else. I can't be sure, since I spent most of the day out by the pool reading the latest Nora Roberts. Minda answers the door."

"OK. I'll ask her, too. Now we'd better start laying out strategy for the trial. Let's go over that night - from the beginning."

* * *

That same evening, while they were both comfortably settled in her apartment, Kay decided to use Sid as a sounding board. The sounds were grim.

"Frankly, if I were on the jury, I'd vote for conviction," he said. "Are you going to put her on the stand?"

"No way. The prosecutor would tear her to pieces. I've caught her in so many lies that I've lost track of them. Would you believe, she was having an affair with this Peter Wilkins. And here she was claiming everything was just sweetness and light between her and her husband."

Sid shook his head. "Can't you get her to plead?"

"Nope. She insists she's not guilty and won't even listen to me when I tell her the sky's falling in on her. In fact, she claims she's so upset by Ron's death that she can't sleep nights."

"Sounds more like a guilty conscience than anything else. What's really going to do her in is the locked house, especially since the only other occupant couldn't have killed Ron."

"Actually, the locked house is a point in her favor."

"How can that be in her favor?"

"She's not stupid. Why would she kill him when the place was all locked up?"

"The jury is still going to wonder how anyone else could have done it."

"Oh, that's simple. I know how someone else could have done it, but I don't know why they would have."

At that moment, the phone rang. Debbie's now familiar voice responded to Kay's "hello."

"There's something I should have told you, today."

Oh, oh, thought Kay.

"I'm pregnant."

Jeezus! Kay took a deep breath before asking, "Who's the father?"

"Why, Ron, of course." The question seemed to have taken Debbie completely by surprise.

After the call, Kay and Sid agreed that Debbie's future was going from dark to darker. "If she's lying about who the father is, the prosecutor will have a field day with that pregnancy," Sid commented.

"She probably is, and he certainly will," Kay responded gloomily.

Sid smiled sympathetically. "You still haven't told me the secret of the locked house. How could anyone else have gotten in when the alarm was set?"

"Easy. Any of the previous day's three visitors could have done it. The backup system is easy to bypass. If someone knew about that six-volt battery, all they had to do was to substitute a dead one for it, make sure the outside garage door was unlocked and the stage is set.

"They come in through that door that night, throw the circuit breaker for the burglar alarm - the fuse switch for the alarm circuit is in the electrical control panel in the garage - go out to the French doors and ease them open. All they had to do then was to make enough noise to get Ron to investigate. Debbie sleeps with earplugs, so she wouldn't have heard the noise, and Minda's hard of hearing and lives at the other end of the house. Once the deed is done, the murderer slips out the way he came in, making sure the French doors lock behind him. Then he goes into the garage, throws the switch back on, lets the garage door lock behind him, and he's home free."

"Hah! Tell that to the jury. Did you check the battery?"

"Yes. And it's charged up and ready to go. But each of my suspects has been back in the house since the murder, either for business reasons or to offer condolences to the widow, so a switch back to the good battery would have been easy without Debbie knowing it. It's not as though she hangs out by the alarm box - her favorite spot is outside sunning herself by the pool."

"Terrific! Now all you have to do is explain why one of the three would want to kill Ron."

"The lawyer seems to be out of the picture. He has nothing to gain, and a fee for drawing up a new will to lose. Dominic Marshburn can't win either, since he stood to get a small annuity under either the existing or the proposed will. As for Peter Wilkins, he gets nothing either way."

"How about marriage to a rich widow? Oh, on second thought, that's out too. She won't be a rich widow if she's convicted. In fact, she won't get a penny of the money. She'll automatically lose any benefits accruing from Marshburn's death if she's found responsible."

Kay's eyes opened wide. "Sid, you're a genius! You've solved the crime." She reached for the phone and dialed Debbie's number.

The first question Kay asked was, "Are you sure Dominic was there the afternoon before Ron died?"

Debbie's voice was slurred, and Kay assumed she'd been drinking. "I'm not sure. Fact, I'm not sure of anything right now. Dominic was just by and he gave me a sedative to help me sleep. Whoowie - it seems to be working already."

Kay covered the mouthpiece and turned to Sid. "Get the cell phone and call 911. Get an ambulance out to Debbie's right away. I'm going to try to keep her talking. Hurry!"

* * *

The gathering outside of Debbie's hospital room included Sid, Kay and Hank.

"Doc says they made it just in time," Hank said, shaking his head.

Kay looked thoughtful. "Even if we can't prove Dominic killed Ron, you should be able to charge him with attempted murder."

Hank gave her an answering smile. "We can do better than that. We found a shorted-out six-volt battery under the seat of his car - same expiration date on it as the one in the burglar alarm box. Seems he was overconfident."

The nurse coming out of Debbie's room beckoned to them. "She wants to talk to you folks, but don't stay long. She's out of danger, but her stomach and throat are going to be sore for a while to come."

Debbie's tan seemed to have disappeared, leaving a blonde pallor against the pillow. She turned to Kay. "I don't understand. Why would Dominic try to kill me?"

"It's simple, and I should have thought of it much sooner. With Ron dead and you convicted of the killing, all the money would have gone to him. He didn't needto kill you until you told him you were pregnant. The baby was Ron's direct heir, and that would have left Dominic out except for that small annuity."

Debbie pondered Kay's explanation. Softly, she said, "I guess I shouldn't have lied to him about it being Ron's baby."

JOHN A. BROUSSARD was born in Cambridge, Mass in 1924 and graduated from Harvard and the University of Washington. He taught on the college level for twenty years and wrote non-fiction and reviews before turning to fiction; he's sold about sixty short stories recently. John's first novel, a fantasy called MANA, was published in November by Pulsar Books. His series characters Kay Yoshinobu and Sid Chu, who made their debut on HandHeldCrime, will appear in their first novel, "The Death of the Tin Man's Wife" in 2001. It will be published in e-book format by Shyflower Press. You can find more information at www.fictionwritings.com.

Copyright (c) 2001 John A. Broussard