Gallagher waved her up to his bench. Flapp followed. As the judge listened to what Eileen Martin had to say, his face remained a blank. He glanced past them once at Soupy and nodded before sending them back.
“Miss Martin,” he said. “Please continue reading.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” she said. “Picking up where I left off…The defendant Campbell became highly agitated and produced a twenty-two caliber pistol…”
In the jury box, the lawyer Shipman was motioning toward the bailiff, who was sitting to Gallagher’s right. The bailiff stepped over to Shipman. Shipman whispered in his ear and handed him a piece of folded yellow paper. The bailiff walked it over to Soupy’s table and handed it to Flapp.
“…The defendant Campbell brandished the firearm in a threatening manner. The decedent Blackburn and Redpath attempted, without success, to persuade the defendant Campbell to disarm himself…”
Flapp unfolded the paper and read it. He showed it to Soupy, who glanced at it and turned away, pressing his eyes shut.
“…The defendant Campbell then fired two shots. The first bullet missed the decedent Blackburn and lodged in his snowmobile…”
Flapp stood. “Your Honor,” he said, brandishing the note. Gallagher had followed the note-passing and was now glaring at Flapp.
“…The second bullet struck the decedent Blackburn-”
“Excuse me, Miss Martin,” Gallagher said. Eileen Martin looked over at Flapp, annoyed.
“Mr. Flapp?” the judge said.
“Your Honor,” Flapp said. “May I approach?”
“This had better be good, Mr. Flapp.”
A murmur rose in the gallery as Flapp and Martin stepped to the bench. Gallagher tapped twice with the butt end of his gavel. “Quiet, please.”
Flapp handed him the paper. Gallagher read it once, then again, and offered it to Eileen Martin, who read it and handed it back. I couldn’t see the attorneys’ faces, but Gallagher looked perplexed. The three of them had a brief, whispered discussion, then the judge looked over at Shipman and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Mr. Shipman, can you tell me why the deceased here would need a lawyer? Are you representing his estate?”
“Your Honor,” Shipman said, “Mr. Redpath retained counsel approximately one day after the snowmobile washed up at Walleye. I was asked to deliver this note should any tragedy befall Mr. Redpath.”
“He wanted you to deliver it to the defendant, Mr. Campbell?”
“To his counsel, Your Honor.”
“I see,” Gallagher said. “Approach, please.”
Shipman eased out of the jury box and went to the bench. The judge leaned down and asked him something. Shipman nodded emphatically. His lips said, “Yes, Your Honor.”
Gallagher sent them all back. Eileen motioned to Dingus, who stood and leaned close to her while she whispered something. He immediately looked over at Shipman. Dingus kept his eyes on the lawyer as he sat back down.
The judge took his glasses off and directed himself to the court reporter. “For the record, Miss Reporter, I have just been handed a note from the attorney, Peter Shipman, who is representing Leo-excuse me-the estate of the late Leo Redpath. I have disclosed the note’s contents to counsel for the prosecution and the defense.”
Flapp whispered something in Soupy’s ear. Soupy put his head down on his clenched hands and shook his head an emphatic no. The gallery leaned closer still.
“So, Miss Martin,” Gallagher said. “What do we do now?”
“With all due respect, Your Honor, this note is merely hearsay at this point. Until we’ve had an opportunity to verify-”
“Yes, yes, Miss Martin, don’t worry, I’m not about to dismiss the charges, but let me ask you this: You have no body, is that correct?”
“That is correct, Your Honor, but the county is prepared to dredge Walleye Lake at the first opportunity.”
Gallagher turned to Dingus. “Is that right, Sheriff?”
Dingus half stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”
“Had we only pursued such a seemingly logical step ten years ago, yes, Sheriff? Maybe we’d all be out watching the winter storm today. Instead, we’re here. So.” He looked at Eileen Martin. “Do we have a weapon?”
“Yes, we do, Your Honor.”
One of the other lawyers at the prosecution bench handed Eileen a clear plastic bag containing what everyone could see was a pistol. She held it up for the judge. “The county has marked this Exhibit 1-A,” she said. “It is a Browning Challenger III. 22-caliber pistol, manufactured in 1984. Although it was most recently in the possession of Mr. Redpath-our ballistics analysis indicates that he used it to inflict a fatal wound on himself-the gun was registered to the defendant, Alden Campbell, in January of 1988, and we have reason to believe it was used on the night Mr. Blackburn was killed.”
Another murmur rose and again Gallagher rapped with his gavel’s butt end. He looked skeptical. “Miss Martin, why would Mr. Redpath have had Mr. Campbell’s gun ten years later?”
Eileen lowered the bag. “Your Honor, what we believe we will elicit at trial is that Redpath had it for safekeeping.”
I looked at Soupy. His eyes were fixed on the table.
“Do you have other evidence, Miss Martin?”
“Your Honor, we have a witness who has additional testimony that, albeit indirectly, bears on the night in question. We would have had him here today but”-she turned and looked directly at Soupy-“he was detained.”
“Detained?” Gallagher said. “Just who is this witness?”
“Theodore Boynton, Your Honor.”
Of course. Boynton had known something himself and embellished it with whatever he’d picked up from Joanie and used it to blackmail Soupy. After Soupy stranded him at the zoning board, he’d gone to the police.
Gallagher turned to Flapp. “So what do we do, Mr. Flapp?”
Flapp stood. “Your Honor, based on the contents of the note delivered by Mr. Shipman, I would offer a motion to dismiss-”
“I wouldn’t do that, Counselor. Despite the fact that the circumstantial evidence in this case could just as easily point the finger of guilt at Mr. Redpath, and that this note proffered by counselor Shipman could just as easily be a cover for Mr. Redpath’s culpability, I am nevertheless inclined, for now, to give the benefit of the doubt to the prosecution out of respect for their professional integrity as well as that of Sheriff Aho, who in my experience does not bring defendants willy-nilly before this court.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Flapp said. “In the alternate then, this note, as Your Honor suggests, does raise serious questions about my client’s guilt in this matter. So again, addressing the question of bond, I would ask merely that Mr. Campbell be granted time to deal with the pressing matters pertaining to his livelihood.”
I didn’t think bailing Soupy out for even a few hours was a good idea. If he really cared about his business, his affairs would already be in order and he would have been at the zoning board meeting. The way he’d been acting of late, I thought he’d be safer-less of a threat to himself-behind bars.
Gallagher hitched himself forward. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips. “Tell you what, Mr. Flapp, I’m certain that everyone in the courtroom would love to hear what it is we’re talking about.” He produced the note Shipman had given him and held it out to Flapp. “Would you do me the favor of reading this aloud?”
“Objection,” Eileen Martin said.
“Overruled. Counselor?”
Flapp stepped forward and took the note from Gallagher. The judge motioned for him to turn and face the gallery. The judge then said, “Mr. Flapp will read into the record a one-page note, as yet unauthenticated, handwritten in pen on yellow legal paper, purportedly by the late Mr. Redpath. Is it dated, Mr. Flapp?”
“Yes, Your Honor. Sunday. Two days ago.”
“Proceed.”
Flapp cleared his throat and read:
To the good people of Starvation Lake,
