Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Max sat on witness stand, glaring at the lawyer in front of him.
“When did Ms. Marchetti ask you to help investigate Mr. Hearst?” Wayfair asked.
Max tried to remember the exact chain of events.
He’d gone over this with Lana, but he wanted to get it right.
“She called me last year, in March. Told me about the case, though I had heard of it. Lana asked if I would have time to take a look and see what I thought. I’d consulted with the DA’s office in the past. I said I would see what I could do. ”
“And what did that mean?” Wayfair his tone was sharp, as if he’d caught Max in some damaging admission. “What did you intend to do?”
“Exactly what I just said. Look at the case. Look at the evidence and see if I had any ideas that might break the log jam and lead to the truth. Which I eventually did, about six months later. After I’d spent a lot of my free time considering the facts.”
Wayfair nodded and smiled. He walked back over to the defense table, flipping through some papers.
“How was it you found the locket in my client’s bedroom?”
“Objection,” Lana said. “We already had a hearing about the defendant’s original suppression motion. Your Honor, he’s just trying for a second bite at the apple.”
The judge tapped her pen against her desk. “I’ll allow this line of questioning, so long as it reveals something new.”
Max could tell that Lana was furious and holding back her response. But of course, Lana would also know that talking back to the judge wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
He’d always enjoyed watching Lana work. Though if he ever told her that, she’d probably call him condescending. Which wasn’t his intent at all.
“Could you answer the question please, Mr. Bennett?” Wayfair asked him.
Everyone had known that Ryan Hearst was the prime suspect in the murder of Heather Barnes.
So, Max had learned everything that he could about the man.
He’d tracked him on social media, read the articles the guy wrote for his college newspaper, spoken to Hearst’s former buddies.
He’d done everything he could to get inside the guy’s head.
Max had realized that Heather’s necklace had to be the key: an oversized gold locket with a green glass jewel on the front.
Just a piece of costume jewelry, nothing valuable.
But Hearst was the kind of cocky S.O.B. who believed he was entitled to anything he wanted.
He’d taken Heather’s necklace to remind himself of his power over her.
What better way to prove his dominance than to display his trophy in plain sight?
If Max could get into Hearst’s inner sanctum, he knew he’d find the necklace.
Unfortunately, his hunch wasn’t enough for Lana to land a warrant.
Max wasn’t a law-enforcement officer himself, but because he was working with Lana and the police, he had to observe the constitutional rules for searches.
So Max had investigated the rest of the family. They all lived at the Hearsts’ giant mansion in the hills of West Oaks, even though Ryan and his sister were in their late thirties by now. Max had chosen Bethany Hearst, Ryan’s sister, as the easiest mark.
He hadn’t lied to her, not for a second.
Max told the woman exactly why he was there: to investigate Ryan for the murder of Heather Barnes.
But had he implied that his visit was perfunctory, and that he had some very different ideas for what might happen once they got upstairs?
Perhaps. Bethany had received that message loud and clear, and she had chosen to act on it.
It was never too difficult for him to get women into bed, even when it wasn’t in their interest. He’d felt only the slightest pang of conscience for manipulating Bethany, especially given how easy it had been.
But Max had outsmarted the Hearsts, fair and square.
He laced his hands together in his lap. “I approached the Hearst residence. Bethany Hearst was home at the time and gave her consent to a search. I entered the premises. She took me upstairs and pointed out which bedroom belonged to her brother. He wasn’t there.
That’s when I saw the necklace. It was hanging from a board on Mr. Hearst’s wall. ”
He’d spotted the necklace hanging from a corkboard filled with photos and other trinkets from Ryan’s high school and college days.
Max hadn’t touched it. Instead, he’d called the police, who’d collected the evidence and established the chain of custody.
When a detective had opened the locket, he’d found a picture of Heather Barnes on one side, Claire on the other.
“But was Bethany Hearst standing there at the moment you supposedly saw this necklace?”
Max glanced at Lana. “No, she was not. She’d stepped away for a moment.” Which was exactly what he’d said the last time Wayfair had asked this question at a previous hearing, though he hadn’t mentioned that Bethany had come back in a far skimpier outfit. Because nobody had asked.
“You really expect a jury to believe that Mr. Hearst left damning evidence lying around, and you happened to spot it? Couldn’t you just as easily have planted it?”
“Objection,” Lana bit out.
“Sustained. Save your argument, Mr. Wayfair.”
The lawyer smirked at Max, as if this was all going according to his plan. “Let’s switch gears. How long have you known Ms. Marchetti?”
“Fifteen years. Give or take.”
“How exactly did you meet?”
Lana sat up straighter at her table. Max watched her and waited to see if she would object, as she had instructed him to do. But she didn’t, so he went ahead and answered.
“She was my younger sister’s babysitter.”
“And your sister lived with Ms. Marchetti’s family for many years, isn’t that right? When your parents could no longer care for her?”
“Yes.”
Wayfair walked back over to the defense table, flipping through some papers. “Let’s go back to you and Ms. Marchetti.” He adjusted his glasses, looking up. “You two are close, right?”
“I don’t know. What’s close?”
“Do you currently have a sexual relationship with her?”
Lana shot to her feet. “Objection. This is irrelevant and inappropriate. He’s harassing the witness. And me.”
“Overruled.” The judge nodded at Max. “Answer the question, please.”
“What was the question again?”
Max was stalling, in case Lana had a full set of aces up one of her long sleeves.
Wayfair came closer to the witness stand. He smiled. The guy had more teeth than a shark. “Do you currently have a sexual relationship with Ms. Marchetti? Yes, or no?”
“No. I don’t.” You asshat.
But he already predicted what question would come next.
“Have you ever had a sexual relationship with her? Of any kind whatsoever?”
Again, Max waited for Lana to speak up, but she stared at the table, her hands flat against its surface.
“It was ten years ago.”
“That’s non-responsive. A yes or no, please.” Wayfair gestured at the court reporter. “For the record.”
“Then, yes,” Max snapped. “The answer is yes.”
The lawyer grinned, and his teeth seemed to multiply. “Thank you for that. I don’t have any further questions for you, Mr. Bennett.”