Let Me Call You Sweetheart

89

At twelve-thirty, a frightened Martha Luce, who for twenty years had been bookkeeper to James Forrest Weeks, sat twisting a damp handkerchief as she cowered in the office of U.S. Attorney Brandon Royce.

The sworn statement she had given to Royce months ago had just been read back to her.

“Do you stand by what you told us that day?” Royce asked as he tapped the papers in his hand.

“I told the truth as far as I knew it to be the truth,” Martha told him, her voice barely above a whisper. She cast a nervous sidelong glance at the stenotypist and then at her nephew, a young attorney, whom she had called in a panic when she learned of the successful search of Barney Haskell’s home.

Royce leaned forward. “Miss Luce, I cannot emphasize strongly enough how very serious your position is. If you continue to lie under oath, you do so at your own peril. We have enough to bury Jimmy Weeks. I’ll lay out my cards. Since Barney Haskell has unfortunately been so abruptly taken from us, it will be helpful to have you as a living witness”-he emphasized the word “living”-“to corroborate the accuracy of his records. If you do not, we will still convict Jimmy Weeks, but then, Miss Luce, we will turn our full attention to you. Perjury is a very serious offense. Obstructing justice is a very serious offense. Aiding and abetting income tax evasion is a very serious offense.”

Martha Luce’s always timid face crumbled. She began to sob. Tears that immediately reddened her pale blue eyes welled and flowed. “Mr. Weeks paid every single bill when Mama was sick for such a long time.”

“That’s nice,” Royce said. “But he did it with taxpayers’ money.”

“My client has a right to remain silent,” the nephew/attorney piped up.

Royce gave him a withering glance. “We’ve already established that, counselor. You might also advise your client that we’re not crazy about putting middle-aged women with misguided loyalties in prison. We’re prepared, this one-and only this one-time, to offer total immunity to your client in exchange for full cooperation. After that, she’s on her own. But you remind your client”-here Royce’s voice was heavy with sarcasm-“that Barney Haskell waited so long to accept a plea bargain offer that he never got to take it.”

“Total immunity?” the nephew/lawyer asked.

“Total, and we’ll immediately put Ms. Luce in protective custody.

We don’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Aunt Martha… “the young man began, his voice cracking.

She stopped sniffling. “I know, dear. Mr. Royce, perhaps I always suspected that Mr. Weeks…”