She shook her head apologetically. “I don’t know. It was fifteen years ago. No one really told me those things. I was just an employee at the time.”
Colton walked over to the defense table to extract three pieces of paper from his file. “Your Honor, people’s exhibit number seventeen. Coroner’s findings in the death of Emelda Donovan.”
“Objection!” Mitchell rose angrily. “We haven’t had a chance to review this new evidence, Your Honor.”
“It was received by your office this morning, at five,” Colton explained, handing one copy to the judge. “The time code is stamped in the footer.”
Justice Antunez gave it a cursory glance. “Please proceed.”
Mitchell took his seat, scoffing in anger. Colton dropped one copy of the autopsy report on his table, then returned to the stand.
“Mrs. Donovan, if you don’t mind, please read the highlighted section.”
Her dark pupils threw daggers at Colton. “Cause of death: a massive coronary event induced by a drug overdose.”
The gasps and comments erupted so loudly, they covered the loud crack of the gavel. Even the jury reacted, talking among themselves. “Order in the courtroom! Order!” Antunez shouted, striking again and again. “Order, or I will vacate the courtroom!”
The judge’s threat had everyone settled within seconds. Lowering my head for a moment and hiding my face in my hands, I allowed myself to breathe deeply. When I lifted my head and looked at Claire, my expression was neutral, composed.
“How old was Emelda Donovan when she died?” Colton asked.
Claire shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Colton’s finger tapped on the autopsy report she held. “It’s written there.”
“She was, um, thirty-nine years old.”
“Quite young for a massive coronary, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Donovan?”
“Objection!” Mitchell was livid.
“Withdrawn,” Colton said, walking closer to the jury and taking a moment to make eye contact with them. He clicked the remote, andEmelda’s photo disappeared, leaving room for the hotel surveillance photo showing a blonde dressed in a sleeveless white summer dress and wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat, knocking on Winston’s suite door. “Who’s the woman in that picture?” Colton asked. “It was taken from the hotel’s security feed. Do you know who she is?”
Claire stared at Colton, not saying a word.
“Ma’am?” Colton prompted politely, after a moment of tense silence.
“Objection,” ADA Mitchell said. The judge stared at him curiously, probably because he didn’t offer a reason for the interruption. He sat back down without a word.
Colton held an appeasing hand in the air. “I’ll rephrase, Your Honor.” He turned to Claire and asked, “Is that you in that picture, Mrs. Donovan?”
The courtroom reeled at his question. Claire didn’t respond, just stared at the TV screen.
“Mrs. Donovan, so far, you haven’t perjured yourself. The question is simple: Is that you, knocking on your husband’s suite door, the day of the murder?”
“Yes,” she eventually answered, “that’s me.”
Her words unleashed a flood of commotion. Several people rushed out the door, probably eager to make calls and spread the word about what had happened. To publish it everywhere.
“Order!” The gavel struck loudly until the room was subdued. “This is your final warning, people,” Judge Antunez said, holding his gavel in the air. “If I have to use this one more time, you’re out. You’re not three-year-olds; show some restraint.” Everyone seemed to freeze in place, holding their breaths. “Please proceed, Mr. Blake.”
“No more questions, Your Honor.” Colton took his seat, breathing out relief, and then squeezed my hand warmly. “We’re in good shape,” he whispered to me.
Mitchell was grim when he approached the witness stand. “Mrs. Donovan, is it true the police cleared you in this case?”
“Yes,” she replied calmly. “I had a solid alibi they thoroughly checked. I was never a suspect.” She had nerves of steel, this woman. Evelyn was a great judge of character.
“Please tell the court what happened when you got to your husband’s suite.”
