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A surprised murmur ran through the court. The Handemeyer parents exchanged distressed glances. Nicholas’s elder sister, a pretty, dark-haired girl in her early teens, gripped her mother’s hand. If Nicholas was safe and alive so late in the afternoon, whatever happened to him must have happened very quickly. Moreover, it probably happened when Billy Hamlin was on the beach, receiving medical attention. A mitigating circumstance if ever there was one.
“So your memory is that the children had been safe while in Billy Hamlin’s care that day, until Billy himself was injured by your speedboat.”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Mr. Braemar Murphy. No further questions.”
It was all Jeff Hamlin could do not to punch the air in triumph. Good old Leslie knew what he was doing after all.
“A couple of questions, Mr. Braemar Murphy.” The prosecutor was on his feet. “I understand that you and Miss Gilletti were dating at the time of these events. Is that correct?”
“It is.” Charles sounded perplexed. The question hardly seemed relevant.
“Other counselors at Camp Williams have testified that Miss Gilletti and Nicholas Handemeyer had a close bond. Is that correct?”
“All the boys adored Toni.”
“But Nicholas Handemeyer especially?”
The furrow in Charles’s brow deepened. “I guess so, yes. He wrote her these little love poems. It was sweet.”
Toni dug her nails into her thigh so violently she drew blood. She did not want to think about Nicholas’s poems, scrawled on slips of paper and pushed hopefully under her cabin door. Her heart might shatter.
“Mr. Braemar Murphy, did you consider William Hamlin to be your rival for Miss Gilletti’s affections?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Were you concerned that Mr. Hamlin was attracted to your girlfriend?”
“Not concerned, exactly, no.”
“Really? You knew the two of them had slept together?”
A disapproving murmur rippled through the court.
“Yes. But it was a one-night stand. It didn’t mean anything.”
From the dock, Billy Hamlin glared at Charles murderously. How dare the smug bastard say that what he and Toni had meant nothing? His fists were clenched and he looked fit to burst, but he managed to contain himself.
“So you weren’t worried?” the prosecutor continued.
“No.”
“Not even after Billy Hamlin made threats against your life?”
The jury jerked to life as if awoken from a deep slumber. Toni Gilletti sat bolt upright. From the dock, Billy glanced anxiously at his father.
“Several other Camp Williams counselors have given statements that the night before Nicholas Handemeyer’s death, Billy Hamlin was vocally declaring his love for Miss Gilletti at a camp party and threatening to, quote, annihilate, unquote anyone who dared come between them. Wouldn’t that include you?”
“Billy didn’t mean that,” said Charles. “He was high.”
“Indeed.” The prosecutor paused meaningfully. “As the court has heard. But I put it to you, Mr. Braemar Murphy, that Mr. Hamlin did mean it. I put it to you that William Hamlin was wildly, violently jealous of anyone whom Miss Gilletti loved. That his drug use merely unleashed feelings of rage and obsession that, in his more sober moments, he managed to keep hidden.”
Belatedly, Leslie Lose got to his feet. “Objection! Conjecture.”
The judge waved him away. Like the rest of the room, he wanted to see where this was going.
“I’ll allow it.”
