The Widow

Chapter 39

Raymond convinced Judge Pointer to skip a formal arraignment and allow Simon to enter a not-guilty plea on paper. It was a formality anyway, and given the throng that showed up for the simple bail hearing, Raymond preferred to avoid the attention. The not-guilty plea was recorded, and Commonwealth of Virginia v. Simon F. Latch entered the docket. Simon and Raymond agreed that there was no benefit in stalling and decided to request a speedy trial, the speedier the better. Cora Cook was not in a position to object. As the chief prosecutor, it was important for her to aggressively go after the criminals. She had, after all, ramrodded the indictment through the grand jury, then asked for a huge bond in an effort to keep Simon in jail. She could never show weakness, not that she was inclined to anyway. The voters expected nothing less. She agreed to fast-track the case, and joined the defense in a motion to place it on what was informally known as the “rocket docket.” Judge Pointer was happy to accommodate both sides and set a trial date of May 23.

The reality was that Simon’s was the only murder case in Braxton at the moment, and the town had never seen such attention. Journalists snooped around, digging for unique angles. Every lawyer in town was approached for a comment, though most declined. Two true-crime shows, allegedly from Hollywood but actually from Reno and St. Paul, excited the locals with their equipment trailers and bulky cameras. What they were filming was anybody’s guess. At least twice a day a reporter with a film crew stood on the edge of Main Street and shot footage of Simon’s office, with its permanently locked door. Tillie was just behind it, always jittery. She was monitoring the story in the press and online, and her scrapbook was filling up quickly. Simon had no desire to look at it.

“Simon sightings” were rare because he seldom left his building. He peeked through the shades upstairs and often saw reporters lurking in the alley. He was isolated, depressed, and frightened about the trial and his future. He seldom ate and Tillie fussed at him about his weight, as she continued to tone up.

He spent hours at his desk writing, by hand — nothing in the computer — and compiling his notes on Netty’s final days. He broke down each one, almost hour by hour, with as much detail as he could recall. Her movements, his movements, her auto accident, his trips to the hospital, who else was there, who were the doctors and nurses, and so on. She had been admitted on December 17, and died on Wednesday, December 30. He charted every day and asked Tillie to double-check her calendars and phone calls. She had made three trips to the hospital to check on Netty and take brownies. She took those damned ginger cookies that Simon had bought at Tan Lu’s. Who did she see at the hospital? Did she log in at the front desk, as required? Yes, the first time, but not for the second and third visits. The hospital was not strict about monitoring visitors.

The long dreary days of January gave way to more of the same in February. The phone simply wasn’t ringing, and for a street practice that depended on word of mouth, the traffic was far too slow. Word of mouth was out there somewhere, but it was not being kind to Simon Latch.

In the second week of February, Paula called with the news that she had found a promising job with a new retirement village in the town of Danville, four hours south on the North Carolina state line. Danville was roughly the size of Braxton, with good schools and even a small college, and about as far away as possible while still being in Virginia. She had found an apartment and they would be moving in a matter of days. Her parents were driving her crazy and the kids were climbing the walls. Yes, it was all quite unsettling, but finally they were making progress. He volunteered to help with the move-in and she invited him to join the party.

Landy’s reluctant efforts to find manufacturers, markets, and dealers for banned poisons was not going well. What she had found so far was something she already knew: there were thousands of banned and/or illegal chemicals, compounds, and drugs smuggled into America every year, for every reason, and from every entry point. Billions were spent trying to stop the flood of cocaine, heroin, and fentanyl. Poisons were not a priority and almost impossible to track.

Landy and her husband had filed their no-fault divorce and shook hands on the deal. As career FBI agents who moved frequently, they did not own a home. Their condo lease was up in a few months and she would remain in it until she found another apartment. Simon became a regular guest. He enjoyed being away from Braxton almost as much as he enjoyed the high-octane sex life they had jump-started. It was like a flashback twenty years to law school when they almost flunked out due to extracurricular activities.

But they were no longer twenty, and after a few weeks things cooled off as they slowly realized there was a good reason their old romance had not survived outside the bedroom. In late February, she surprised him with the news that she would be gone for a month on an assignment she could not discuss.

On a snowy day in early March, Tillie walked into Simon’s office and took a seat. She was obviously troubled and got right to the point. “I think it’s time for me to move on.”

He slowly put down a contract he was mulling over and said, “Okay.”

“I cannot in good conscience keep getting paid when we’re so low on cash and the business has dried up. We’re fooling ourselves, Simon, if we think things are going to improve. I keep the books. I see the income, what little there is of it. The phones might as well be unplugged. The front door stays locked, and if anyone knocks it’s usually a reporter. We get at least two prank calls every day from idiots who want you dead. I can’t take it anymore.” She was wiping her eyes.

“What are you going to do?”

“Leave town and go find a job somewhere.”

“Okay. Any ideas?”

“Maybe. I have a good friend down in Sarasota, a kid from school. She says there are plenty of jobs and I can stay with her for a few months. I’ll find something.”

“So it’s come to this?”

“Afraid so. I’ll always cherish these days, Simon, the good ones anyway. There weren’t many bad ones.”

“You’ve been wonderful and I don’t want to see you go.”

“I know. And I know that if you had the income and the business I’d stay forever, but that’s where we are. I’m so worried about you, Simon.”

“Thanks. Unfortunately, there’s plenty to worry about.”

They were silent for a long time as they stared at the walls and remembered the good days. She touched her eyes with a tissue and he felt like crying too. Finally, she said, “I’ll leave Friday.”

“You can always come back, you know?”

“I wish I could believe that, Simon, I really do.”

They stood and hugged for the first time, then hugged again for the last time.