“I went by the shopping plaza several more times and at different times of the day and week. The parking lot was never full, not once, yet Mrs. Livingston had told both the police and me that she’d had to park to the side of the plaza since the lot was overflowing. That’s how she ended up getting mugged since the thief wouldn’t have been able to rob her if she’d been in the main part of the parking lot. Too many shop employees would have witnessed it.”
“You suspected something wasn’t quite true with her story?” Piper asked.
“Yes. I started following Mrs. Livingston, which I hate doing since I’m not the type of investigator you get to follow an unfaithful spouse. It’s one of my rules.”
“You thought Mrs. Livingston was having an affair?”
“I suspected it, which was confirmed two days later when I saw her with a man.”
“Who was that man?” Piper asked.
“I later learned his name is Bret Hardy.”
“What is Mr. Hardy’s relationship with the defendant, Guy Livingston?” Piper asked.
“I was told by Mr. Livingston that they were friends, golfing buddies.”
“Were you ever able to find the missing jewelry?”
“I was. I looked further at Mr. Hardy and learned he was having financial difficulties. The diamond necklace and bracelet were sold, and the money went to Mr. Hardy to pay off his debts.”
“How did you determine that?” Piper asked.
“I made the assumption that the jewelry might be pawned. I also assumed that the Maui Police Department had contacted all of the local pawn shops and had learned the jewelry was not taken there. I also guessed that the thief would know not to sell the necklace and bracelet to a Maui store. So, I checked other islands and discovered the necklace was pawned at a shop on Kauai and the bracelet was sold to another store on the same island.”
“Who took the jewelry to those pawn shops?”
“Bret Hardy. I saw him in the surveillance video in both shops,” I said.
“What did you do then?”
“I gave the video to my wife since I knew it was a police matter.”
“And what about Mr. Livingston?” Piper asked.
“He was my client and I owed him the truth. I asked him to meet me at Harry’s. I told him about Bret Hardy and his wife. I showed him a copy of the pawn shop videos.”
“What was his reaction?”
I didn’t immediately answer. Instead, I glanced at Guy Livingston, who was seated behind the defendant’s table. He didn’t look defeated. Rather, he looked angry – angry with Piper, angry with the police, with the justice system, and undeniably angry with me.
“What was his reaction, Mr. Rutherford?” Piper asked again.
I turned back to her.
“He said, ‘I should shoot her.’ Then he left the bar.”
“What did you do then?”
“I called my wife and informed her that I’d told Mr. Livingston about the affair and the recovered jewelry. I also told Detective Hu that Mr. Livingston had made a threat, but I hadn’t thought he was serious.”
“Yet less than two hours later, Mrs. Livingston was shot dead in her own home. No further questions, your Honor.”
2
Counter Points
After Piper walked back to her seat, the defense attorney took a run at me. There was no disputing the information I’d discovered about Mrs. Livingston’s adulterous affair with Bret Hardy, nor Bret’s trip to Kauai to sell the stolen jewelry, which turned out to not have been stolen.
Instead, Livingston’s attorney attacked my character. He claimed that I was in the police department’s back pocket, especially considering the fact that I often work with law enforcement as a consultant. That was true, at least in terms of one police detective’s back pocket. I’m sure you can guess her name.
That good favor didn’t extend to the rest of the department, though. If you’ve read any of my tales before, then you’ll know I often butt heads with the police when I feel they’ve gotten it wrong.
Livingston’s attorney concluded his attack by accusing me of having told the jury selective parts of my conversation with Guy Livingston.
Here’s a small snippet of his cross-examination for your amusement.
“Isn’t it true that you left out a pivotal part of your conversation with my client?” Henry Mitchell asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“After you informed my client about his wife’s infidelity, he said, ‘I should shoot her, but I won’t.’”
“No, that’s not what he said.”
“That you remember?” he asked.
“Excuse me?”
“I contend that you simply forgot that he said the words, ‘But I won’t.’ You were in a bar, after all. You’d probably been drinking.”
“I wasn’t,” I said.
“You were in a bar, but you weren’t drinking?”
“That’s right.”
“Let me get this straight. You went to your bar in Lahaina, but you didn’t have a drink?” he asked, and then he laughed.
“I co-own the bar. I frequently go there to check on the business, and that sometimes involves me having a drink. Often, I don’t have one. I didn’t have one on this occasion. Furthermore, I thought Harry’s was a good location to meet. I was worried about how Mr. Livingston would respond to the news of his wife cheating on him with his friend. I thought it was better to deliver that information in a public place. I felt terribly awkward about it and I thought it less likely he’d cause a scene at the bar.”
“So, you’re admitting that he might have said the words, ‘But I won’t.’ That is what you just said, isn’t it?” Mitchell asked.
“No. That’s not what I said.”
He went after me from several different angles, all of which were designed to trick me into admitting that I’d recounted the conversation incorrectly. It didn’t work. Of course, there’s the tried and true theory that if you repeat a lie many times, people will start to believe it. I’m not foolish enough to think that all of the members of the jury saw through his little act.
After leaving the courthouse, I walked outside and climbed into my silver BMW Z3 convertible. I’d bought the car from Foxx shortly
