Mirror Lake Murders Chapter One

First murder and First day of the Trial - Latest update 5-1-20

It’s strange to think that almost a half century ago; there wasn’t an internet, no cell phones and DNA was just in the early stages of being mapped.
But this is Friday June 11, 1977.

The First One

The sun’s set over the Mirror Lake Resort and twilights just turned to darkness. A car makes its way down an unlit road beside a huge fenced in property. The countryside is bathed in the pale blue light of a rising full moon.

Liz tells the driver to stop by a wide opening in the fence. As she slips out of her shoes, he looks at the coarse gravel road beyond the gate.

“Are you sure you want to walk it?” he asks; raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks, I’ll be fine… you can go…”

It's an unusually warm and calm night, with a clear star filled sky. She stands for a moment looking to where the bluestone driveway disappears into a stand of trees and ominous darkness.

As she begins to walk away, the driver watches. Her color and the colors of her clothing blend her into the surroundings and in a moment, he no longer can make her out. He puts the car in gear, turns around and drives back the way he came.

She hears the sound of her ride fade behind her. She looks up the gravel road; feeling the coarse stones bite at her feet. Liz is both elated and hesitant to visit this client at this location. She heard so many rumors about him.

Keeping a brisk painful pace, she reminisces about last year; the last time she made this trek. Kay’s been making money hand over fist from this guy; it’s my turn. Then a cold memory enters her mind, I hope he’s in a better mood than the last time I was here.

The forest is dense and dark; the canapé of foliage blots out the moon completely. After fifteen minutes, through the foliage, she can make out a few flickers of light from the cabin. The obvious isolation of this place sends a chill up her back. She knows that the only way out of here is to call a cab from his cabin or the main office. Her feet hurt like hell, but it’s better than breaking an ankle in those shoes.

Now she can see the lights of his cabin clearly. It’s just as she remembers. A log style ranch, with a large parking area, surrounded by a manicured lawn and a beach on the lake side. She sees him and his two Dobermans sitting on the porch facing the lake and his Red Alpha parked on the grass behind the house.

Liz painfully scurries across the parking area to the side lawn. She quietly stands there for a few precious moments; soothing her feet on the cool damp grass.

In less than a minute she hears fast heavy breathing. In the dark she sees his dogs circling her. She can feel their breath and cold noses sniff and touch her bare legs. Liz knows that they won’t hurt her; he has them trained

In a confident and commanding tone, she tells them, “Okay boys, call your master…”

They stop circling, sit, looking up at her and begin to bark. She hears his whistle and they both lay flat and stop barking. Liz turns her head to see him leaning against the corner of the building. He nods his head and they both begin to rip at her skirt; pulling and ripping the material. She’s not afraid, he had them do this last time…

She’s fighting to remain upright while the dogs are pulling her in all directions. She feels the waist band snap. Within seconds the skirt is at her ankles. Liz quickly does a high step before the dogs can trip her up. He’s trained the dogs well; it’s all part of his twisted little game.

He begins to approach her and stops, “It’s you! I don’t want you! I called for the other one… what the hell are you doing here…?” She can almost taste the seething anger in his voice. It scares her and she knows the answer is a lie.

“It’s her time… you know… her friend?” She watches the dogs turning her skirt into threads and scatter it all over the lawn. Last time he provided designer clothes to replace hers. Liz hopes there is a good selection this time.

Vehemently he replies “Bull-Shit… Don’t lie to me again.” With another short but loud whistle the dogs stop shredding and run to his side. “I guess, one black slut is as good as that white one… Get down on all fours and clean up your mess… and make sure you get all of it…” He begins to walk away, “Do it quickly and then come inside. I’m waiting…”

In about ten minutes she deposits the remnants of her skirt in a trash barrel by the porch.

Entering by way of the porch, the interior is plush with paneled walls, fireplace and polished hardwood floors.

He leads her to his play room. The room is large; almost a quarter of the building. It’s paneled with old unfinished wood boards. Lined with shelves and cabinets; it’s fitted with all the devices, fixtures and paraphernalia you’d find in a medieval dungeon or torture chamber.

He points at her blouse and gives her a nod; she knows what it means and begins to disrobe. He removes his robe leaving him only in shirt, shorts and a pair of black construction boots.

Holding her blouse, she’s looking for a place to hang it when one of the animals snatches it from her. She knows better than to complain. The same happens to her bra and thong.

Walking around her, the man is carefully examining her body. He begins to run his hands over her like a sculptor would be molding a work of art. He continues to toy with her for a while before tying ropes to her wrists and looping the ends through two widely spaced metal rings in a rafter.

Liz volunteered to take Kat’s place; this is her time in the barrel. It’s her big payoff. These freaks pay through the nose to do this. Its role-playing bondage and tonight’s Liz turn to be this guy’s submissive. But, tonight, she’s hoping that he’ll stick to a script and not go off the deep end. Every time Kay spent a weekend up here, she got twelve grand; Liz is expecting the same.

It isn’t long before Liz is suspended by her wrists. Her full weight is on her arms and shoulders; Liz extends her legs and toes; she can just barely touch the floor. He approaches her from behind and kneels; he begins to tie ropes to each of her ankles. One at a time he secures the ropes to metal loops that are screwed into the floor. Now she hangs there, her legs are held wide apart by the ropes and her toes dangle free from the floor; she’s suspended, spread eagle, in the middle of the room.

It’s a tough pose and very painful, but she’ll accept the pain for the payoff she knows is coming…

She watches as he opens one of the cabinet doors and sees it filled with brown bottles of liquid. She watches him carefully reading the labels of the bottles and selects one. “I call this the tenderizer.” He puts on surgical gloves and opens the bottle. “I asked for Katharine and they send me you instead.”

He begins to apply the oily lotion to her skin with a sponge. She feels her skin begin to tingle with a slight burning sensation. He takes his time and meticulously applies the substance to every inch of her body; her brown skin glistens in the bright florescent lighting.

The sensation turns from a tingle to a burning heat. He’s generously applied it to her most sensitive locations.

He slaps her butt a stinging blow, “You have a beautiful body, but you’re the wrong color and I don’t like you… I didn’t like you the first time I had you… When was that…? A year ago?” He pulls his shirt off and tosses it to the dogs; they promptly begin chewing on it.

‘Now. I understand that you and Kat are lovers… Is that true?”

Liz is breathing very hard now. The burning sensation between her legs is becoming unbearable. Tears are beginning to stream down her cheeks. “NO! We’re just friends and share a flat…”

Slapping her hard across her face, he yells. “Another lie! You do nothing but lie, don’t you?” Again, a slap.

Now Liz is scared. In the few times that she’s submitted to him, he’s never been this cruel. “What do you want from me?”

“The truth. Why isn’t that other witch here?”

Now angry, Liz can’t hold her temper. Screaming, she says. “She doesn’t want to come here anymore! She hates you, and this place…”

“I don’t believe that either… Maybe I should teach you lying ladies a lesson… not to mess with me…” He turns to one of the three wide wardrobes against the far wall. She remembers the last time he only opened the center one. The one with the nipple clamps, dildos, butt plugs and vibrators. All the things she’s used too.

But this time he opens the right cabinet to expose boxing gloves, bamboo canes and bull whips. “Never did push you very hard or test how much pain you can really take.” Running his fingers over a rack of whips. “Let’s see…” He selects one of the short fat bull whips. “Haven’t used this one in a while…”

Liz has been with the agency for over five years. She knows the first rule says, she's not allowed to deny a client anything. But do the clients have limits? She decides to test that first rule and says, “No. Not that.”

He begins to swing the five feet of carefully crafted leather over his head, “What did you say to me?”

“This isn’t in my contract.” She watches as the bitter end of the whip almost clips her nose. She's serviced clients with whip fetishes before. All of them pull back before hurting anyone. But she doesn’t trust this one. He has a bad reputation. She decides that this is going totally in the wrong direction and flatly says. “NO! Get me down; you can keep your fuckin money…”

His expression changes and he says, “Did you just curse at me?” He’s swinging the whip faster and closer to her.

Totally pissed off and hurting badly, she lashes out. “Fuckin ‘A’ mother fucker get me down…”

“Oh no. We can’t have this.” He comes face to face with her. She can see a fire in his eyes. He slaps her across her face. “You are in no position to argue.” He chuckles as he steps back and continues swinging the whip over his head.

“Listen man. No matter how much you pay me…” She’s watching the end of the whip swing past her breast on every revolution. “That thing’s goin to leave marks… permanent marks.”

“I know!” Quickly turning his body to one side, the arc of the whip changes from horizontal to vertical. The bitter end comes up and strikes her square between her legs.

He hears her empty her lungs in a long groan. And when she can, she screams. “BASTARD.”

He changes position again and the whip changes it’s flight.

“Keep your Fucking money, call it even… please get me down now…”

“Begging, I like that… I don’t want you coming back here, I pay for perfection.” On his next swing he reaches out and the end leaves a welt on her cheek. “Maybe that will clean your filthy mouth.” He lowers his aim and the end of the snake bites as it tears a blood welt around her ribs and back.

She screams out in pain as anger and adrenaline race through her. Then yells, “FUCK YOU, YOU SADISTIC PIG.”

In a very calm voice he firmly says, “I never use vulgarity; I find it so distasteful…” Three more times, the end of the whip bites into her flesh.

Beside her marked face, there are four dark welts circling her ribs and back. She’s really crying now and she sobs “Bastard…”

With an intent look of satisfaction, he says. “Keep it up… I can do this all night.”

Outside of the cabin the woods are calm and quiet. The pale bluish glow of the full moon reflecting off the smooth lake. It’s quiet, but for the occasional muffled scream and faint report of whip cracking. Soon there are no more screams, but the relentless report of the whip continues on for quite some time.

* * *

Liz awakens from a comatose stupor. Her body is racked in all kinds of pain and still burning. Her eyes are swollen shut by remnants of his mystery oil. She senses that she’s outside of the cabin and near the lake. She can smell the cool night air and the aroma of freshly mowed lawn. Her body hurts too much to try and move. Moving her fingers, she feels grass; she’s laying on the lawn.

Letting herself drift off, she suddenly senses that she’s being moved; someone is carrying her. Her next shocking realization is the water of the lake is ice cold. She’s suddenly weightless, floating, sinking. In a semi-conscious state, she doesn’t understand that she’s under water. Trying to inhale water, she panics. Her shoulders are dislocated and trying to swim is impossible so she starts kicking like mad… Finally, she breaks the surface and hears the rush of running or falling water. Her arms float useless in front of her. Her fingers feel a smooth spongy substance and she tries to hold on to it. But there’s a strong current pushing her, and her body easily slips over the slick, moss covered barrier.

Discovery

The old man sends the lure hurtling into space; the trajectory lands it right in the circle of his choice, fifteen yards away. It’s a perfect bright and warm June Saturday afternoon.

Old Harry’s been fishing this stream since he was ten. He and his father would spend almost every Sunday afternoon here. He remembered his dad pointing to that concrete wall at the head of the ravine and saying. “Fifty years ago, that was a big farm up there. The old man died and his family sold it to a developer. They built that dam and made the lake out of it.” He’d shake his head and added. “For centuries, this stream was cutting this gorge. And them SOB’s changed it all just ta make money. It’s a sin against nature!”

Harry decides to change location and starts to walk the narrow dirt path that follows alongside of the stream. Soon he’s looking down at the first shallow pool near the base of the falling water. Patiently, he stands perfectly still, rod and basket in hand. Smiling, he sees telltale wakes of fish movement, he sets his basket down.

There’s a steep slope into the pool; Harry decides to move up to a better spot near the base of the wall. The relatively smooth path turns rocky and rough. Harry carefully navigates his way up close to the falling water. Looking up at the moss-covered barrier; there’s a good flow coming over the lip and splashing down onto a pile of jagged rocks. He knows the rocks were put there to reduce erosion, but what he sees gives him concern.

A foot, it’s a bare brown appendage sticking up out of the rocks. Working his way closer, he climbs to a spot where he can look down and discovers the battered body of a nude woman: she’s wedged head down between the rocks.

Carrington Gazette

Headline – Was it murder? Wednesday, Harry Nobbs, while fly fishing near the Mirror Lake runoff, came across the naked body of a woman at the base of the overflow. Her body, severely disfigured, was discovered with unexplained injuries to her back, legs and chest. Sheriff Jenkins has called Buffalo homicide for help in the case, as much of any evidence was washed downstream from the falls. A friend of the deceased came up from New York City to identify the body. She could not provide any further details. - by. Ed Colon - June 17, 1977

Two Months Later

{i

}Headline – Mirror Lake Murders – It’s only been two months and once again a body has been discovered at the exclusive resort. The body of Mr. Martin Heller was found murdered in his lakeside cabin. Police aren’t releasing much information, but they say they do have a suspect. A young woman, Miss Katharine March, who had come forward to identify the last body; was found unconscious near the runoff at the base of the overflow. Evidence on her person showed her involvement. She is now in a coma at the Mirror Lake Medical Center. Mr. Heller was the owner and CEO of Parker Enterprises; a multinational concern with many subsidiaries. Martin is survived by his wife Margaret. - by. Ed Colon - August 15, 1977

Three Months Later

Headline – Update on Lake Murders – The prime suspect in the two murders who has been in a coma for the past three months was reported to have awakened Sunday evening. She was unable to provide any information as she is suffering from amnesia. Police and ADA Cid Chandler are proceeding with the investigation toward an indictment. - by. Ed Colon - November 7, 1977

The Trial Day

Katharine March sits staring. The room’s small with a large wood table at its center. Her gaze drifts up to the vaulted ceiling and then down to the dark mahogany walls. The windows are frosted; covered with wire mesh gates and the floor is a cold tan marble. In her bright orange jump suit, she's the brightest object in the room. There’s a uniformed court matron sitting by the door reading a paperback.

Katharine's about to be prosecuted for a crime she cannot remember and by another self she doesn’t know. She knows that they’ll give irrefutable evidence of her being involved.

Five weeks have passed since she awoke from a three-month sleep; a sleep that washed all memories of her prior life from her mind. Since her awakening, everyone seems to know all about her life. But all she’s learned about her life; she’s learned in the past five weeks. During interviews and conversations, she learned her name, her address and pieces of her history. All the things she should have known about herself but didn’t, were revealed one day. Last week, when the detectives let her see a photocopy of her diary.

It wasn't the whole diary; just the excerpts pertaining to her case. All the pages were sealed in plastic page protectors and bound in a loose-leaf. The handwritten pages seemed so familiar to her, but it was like peeking into another woman's life story. It was laid out in snippets, a few paragraphs at a time.

Most of what she read made no sense to her. The pages only exposed three years of her life. It started just finishing a years’ probation. The pages describe a woman leading a poor existence and then making some very bad decisions. For some reasoning that Katharine couldn't understand; the woman turned to prostitution. Upon reading this, tears began to well up in her eyes. Somewhere deep inside, she felt familiarity with the story that was unfolding. Tears slowly trickling down her cheeks, she thinks, 'This woman was... it is me.'

Katharine couldn't imagine some of the things she read about herself. I could never have done these things – it's impossible. A thought goes through her head, 'If I made all this money, where is it? Why do I have a public defender?'

There's a hard knot in her chest when she read that she had accepted her fate and had no misgivings, doing whatever she must do. As she reads on, the thought of selling herself for the past eight years makes her squirm in her chair. churns in her mind. And that last page; she stares at the words in horror, “I'll kill him.” Scrolled at the bottom of the page. She cried herself to sleep that night.

* * *

As she waits for her lawyer she slowly rocks forward and back, thinking and racking her mind for answers. Something to trigger a memory; but all she ever experiences is flashes of terrifying disconnected images. The one strong reaction she experienced was when a detective placed four pictures on a desk and her sudden feeling of revulsion at one picture. He had asked her if she knew the man and she thought she did but couldn’t say who or how she knew him. She was told that it was a picture of the victim. Without knowing him, his image raises a rage in her mind, and she didn’t know why.

* * *

Matt Cohn is rushing through the side entrance of the courthouse. He’s carrying a small carryon bag and attaché case in one hand and holding a garment bag over his shoulder with the other. He tries to pass the security desk holding his ID card in his teeth; but he’s stopped and escorted to the inspection counter. The officer behind the counter smiles at him and Matt smiles back… The officer asks, “What’s in the bags?”

Realizing he’s going to be late; he deposits everything on the counter. “My clients clothing, she’s waiting for me…” Looking in the officer’s eyes with a puppy’s innocence, “I’m late… Could I just…”

The officer isn’t smiling anymore and says, “You should know the process… Open the bags.”

The officer does his best to slowly examine everything. Fifteen minutes later Matt is on his way; without a cherished letter opener and nail clipper.

* * *

Her lawyer finally comes through the door and the matron steps out. Matt lays the garment bag and carryon bag beside her on the table. He says, “I picked up some of your things from your condo. I suggest you fix yourself up and change, ASAP…”

“I'm told that you are appointed...?”

“Yes, you must have representation. Don't think about defending yourself....”

“Don't be offended but I'm supposed to have money... I...”

Matt stops what he's doing and looks up at her. “They didn't tell you?”

A little confused she tilt her head to one side, “What?”

“You do have over three hundred K in your accounts but the IRS and SEC froze them... Something about not paying taxes... and investigating you on withholding funds from a prior case...?” He sees her composure wilt under this news and adds, “It'll be okay... without boasting... I can say I'm pretty good.” he chuckles.

She begins to unpack the clothing he brought in.

Matt moves to the far end of the table, taking a seat and opening his attaché case. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I noticed you only have short skirts and dresses. I picked the most modest outfit I could find…” He raises an eyebrow and adds, “It should be okay, but please keep your knees pointed away from the jury box and God… don’t cross your legs.”

She looks at the clear plastic garment bag and sees a dark blue skirt suit and white blouse. She recognizes neither. Opening the suitcase, there’s a small mirror, shoes, undergarments and cosmetics. Katharine stands and holds up a skimpy thong with one finger, “This is mine?”

“It came from your bureau… that’s all there was in there…” He busies himself with the attaché case and pulls out a manila folder.

She begins to unzip her orange jump suit; then looks at him and stops. Timidly saying, “Could I… Could you… You know…“ She looks and nods at the door.

A little embarrassed, he realizes she wants privacy but knows he can’t leave her alone. “Actually, I could leave but I need to finish this…” He holds up a neatly typed sheet and looks around… “Here, wait.” He turns his chair completely around, facing the wall and pulls an unused chair in front of him; placing his case on that chair, he asks, “Is this okay…?’

Nervously she responds, “Yeah, I guess so…”

He pauses as he hears the sound of the zipper; then goes about his business of preparing his opening statement.

About fifteen minutes pass and he’s deep into re-reading his statement and making last minute corrections when he hears, “Okay, how do I look?”

Twisting around and looking up at her; he’s first stunned by her transformation. He’s only seen her in prison coveralls, seeing her cleaned up takes his breath away for a second. Then a thought crosses his mind; maybe I should have bought her a more conservative pants suit and larger size blouse.

He sees that the skirt is still too short. The blouse, buttoned up to her collarbone, fit perfectly. But the buttons are straining against her bust. Quickly thinking, he reaches into his overcoat and pulls out a light blue silk scarf. Wrapping it around her neck once, he tucks the tails into the front of her jacket. “There, that’s a little better.”

There’s a moment of intimacy for both of them. Tucking the material into her jacket and touching her, brought unexpected feelings. This is the first time he’s actually been physically close to her and realizing his attraction. She appreciates his concern and is attracted to him, but is cautious about showing her feelings.

He steps back to visually appraise his client; his lawyers mind is taking over again. “Okay… Okay, remember, you say nothing; no outbursts… let me do all the talking… Got it?”

Her eyes are bulging and he can see her nervousness. She mumbles. “Yeah., A… Yes…”

“Stop… Close your eyes… Take a deep breath and let it out, slowly.” He watches her follow his instructions. “Do it again…” He can see the blush in her face subside to her cheeks. “Relax, calm down; you’ll do fine…” He knocks on the door and the matron opens it.

The Courtroom

Matt leads her through the door to the courtroom; followed by the matron. The matron takes a seat beside the door and they proceed directly to the defense table. She sees two other uniformed officers; one beside the judges’ bench and one at the main doors. Her lawyer’s little speech back in the jury room bolstered her courage a bit; until she notices his hand shaking and lip biting. She takes another deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment.

The jurors are all seated facing the defense table. Most are paying little attention to her; but there is one woman and two men staring at her. Looking over at the prosecutions table she sees two gentlemen. One is young, maybe in his late twenties and the other older and more distinguished, with gray flakes in his hair.

In a bellowing deep voice, she hears someone call out, “All rise…” Not remembering ever being in a court, or being on trial; the process seems so familiar. Katharine sits listening to the opening statements of the prosecution. She's half horrified and also interested in the facts he’s relating to the jury.

Prosecutions Opening

The handsome young attorney rises and faces the jury. He speaks with calm and deep confidence as he steps around the desk. “Hello, I am Marvin Kynde, Assistant District Attorney prosecuting this case. You may not know the defendants background or history.” He holds his hand out pointing toward Katharine, “so here is Miss Katharine March… For those of you who are not aware... Miss March was quite famous a few years back. Miss March is charged with the murder of Mr. Martin Heller, and you know we are all innocent under the law; until proven guilty...

As prosecuting attorney, it is my job so bring evidence that the accused is in fact the perpetrator of this crime. We will show evidence that she was capable of the crime, she was present at the time of the crime and we will produce physical evidence that she performed the crime. It’s public knowledge that the defendant had climbed the ladder of success, in a corrupt corporate institution. She gained her success by lascivious means, admitting to procuring her way to...”

Matt rises and interrupts the prosecutor with, “Your honor, Except for character assassination – what has all this got to do with this case?”

The judge says, “Mr. Kynde?”

“The defendants’ history goes to her character and frame of mind your honor...”

“Mr. Kynde, please keep your statements withing the proper guidelines.”

“Thank you...” He turns back to the jury box. “Ladies and gentlemen, all these things are history and are not part of this case. But… As the testimony unfolds, you'll see how they do reveal her immoral structure and demeanor. Was she capable of murder and did she have a motive? There's evidence that she visited the victim many times. You’ll hear about her friend who was murdered… that is still an open case…

Katharine notices that as he speaks, he slowly moves left to right and back again; looking each juror in the eye.

“Admittedly she was discovered badly injured. She was unconscious from a fall that resulted in a three-month coma. Now she says she has amnesia and can’t remember anything.” He slowly steps forward and places his hands on the railing. “You will hear testimony regarding her movements and activities during that week… including the day and night of the murder…” he moves to the prosecutions table and before sitting down adds, “When you hear all the testimony I feel certain that you will find Miss March guilty of premeditated murder… in the first degree. Thank you.”

Katharine stopped breathing halfway through the remarks and a cold chill rattles up her spine; she's trembling. She turns her head toward Matt who is beginning to rise; he closes the folder with his statement and approaches the jury box.

Defense Opening

“I am Mathew Cohen, Miss March’s attorney.” He looks over at the prosecutor saying, “That was an excellent attempt at character assassination.” He turns back to the jurors, “Have any of you ever done something terrible in your lives to survive a disaster? You have to admit, most of us have. What Marvin failed to say was that Miss March was brought up in a stable home and had excellent marks in school. In college, she graduated at the top of her class with a Master’s in Business Administration.” He glances at the prosecutor and then back at a juror. “I’ve noticed that a few of you have executive backgrounds. Have any of you seen or experienced gender bias in your workplaces?”

Two or three of the panel roll their eyes, one smile with a nod of his head.

Kynde raises his hand to the judge, “Same question. What’s this got to do with the case your honor?”

The judge quizzically looks down at Matt, questioning, “Well?”

“Just trying to fill in the parts of her life that the prosecution left out. Your Honor.”

The judge sits back, “Proceed.”

Matt turns and accidentally bumps into the prosecutors table, knocking some of his papers into his lap. “Sorry…” He smiles at Kynde.

“The company that hired my client as a low-level manager was corrupt with mob affiliates. Katharine was new to business and had never risen beyond salesclerk before graduating college. She watched as most of her female counterparts and she was being slighted or mauled. If they complained, they stayed in their positions or were let go. Then there were two or three women that maneuvered their way up the chain, and she mimicked them. She is a very attractive woman and found that she had a natural talent at setting people at ease. Admittedly she did sacrifice her moral codes a number of times, but never forcing or resorting to threats. I have witnesses to corroborate the legitimacy of her promotions. You may call that immoral, playing on the sentiments of another for capital gain, but she never blackmailed anyone to better her position.”

The judge interceded with “Mr. Cohn, You’re going a little too deep...”

“I’m sorry your honor. The prosecutors opening, attacked my clients’ character. Putting undue precognition in the jurors’ minds; just trying to level the field.”

The judge frowns at the jurors’ and then back at Matt, “You may proceed.”

Matt turns back to the jury box. “There are lawyers… and there are lawyers, like me. Some charge large sums of money to defend a client…” He shrugs, “and I work for the public defender’s office.” A chuckle rolls across the room, even the prosecutor smiles.

“Admittedly Katharine pleaded to a lesser charge and testified against her superiors. She served her time in probation. The law firm that represented her wasn't cheap… In fact, between the justice department and her lawyers she walked away dead broke. leaving her destitute and in the street. She had been an executive in a billion-dollar company and then she sat on a stoop with only the clothes on her back. But she wasn’t in prison.”

“Her MBA no longer meant anything. The newspapers had raked her reputation through a raging fire. Her life was in ashes. Acquiring a high paying legitimate position was out of her reach. Companies rely on prestigious head-hunting agencies to select their key personnel. Katharine was blackballed and turned away from even smaller agencies.

We don’t know who her friend was or how they met, but Katharine lived with this person for a few months. Her friend worked as a bar maid, so she worked as a bar maid also.”

“Mr. Cohn You’re taking too long…” The judge points at his wrist.

“Please bear with me a few moments; I’m almost done your honor.” The judge nods.

“Like most bars of this sort, there’s always illicit behavior. Being very attractive, Katharine was well liked and by consenting to doing favors, she did make money. She lived her life to be successful and she was going to do that however she could.”

“When her friend joined the escort agency, Katharine followed. Admittedly it was a totally illegal operation and again mob affiliated. Prostitution is illegal in this state, but that was all she did. It is on record with her agency that the victim was registered as a customer… client number forty-nine.”

“I will prove to you that Miss Katharine March was not the person responsible for Martin Heller’s murder. Thank you.”

Matt comes back and sits beside Katharine. He whispers, “I suggest you do your damnedest to remember some of this…” He glances at the jury box and adds, “It doesn’t look good.”

The judge strikes his gavel and announces, “We’ll break here for a two-hour recess and lunch. We will reconvene at two this afternoon.”

After Matt deposits his client in the jury room he excuses himself and leaves.

Pain of remembering.
12:56 pm.

Matt knocks on the door of the small jury room and the matron opens it. He’s carrying a canvas shopping bag full of framed pictures. He stands at the door and sees Katharine staring at the opaque glass of the windows. Her lunch, still wrapped in paper, sits on the table before her. He looks at the matron and asks, “How long she been like this…?”

“Since before they brought the food.”

“Okay…” He nods for her to leave and the matron steps out, closing the door behind her.

He puts the bag down on the table and starts to set the pictures up in an arc around her plate. He waves his hand in front of her eyes. “Kat… look. Look at the pictures...”

She blinks and bobs her head, glancing down at the photos. Her grim empty expression worries Matt. He knows they only have an hour before the afternoon session starts.

“I got these from your apartment. Do you remember anything… anyone?”

She’s sitting with her hands in her lap; her gaze slowly passes from one picture to another. Then she raises a hand and lifts one; resting it against the edge of the table, she begins to trace the images with the tip of her finger. “I… I… I think I know her…?”

He’s looking over her shoulder; the photo is of her with a dark-skinned woman. They’re on a beach and both are wearing bikinis. During his research, Matt discovered that the woman was Katharine’s friend and roommate. “Katharine, how do you know her?”

She hesitates and shakes her head. “I don’t know… She’s so familiar to me… I’m sure I know her.”

He pulls another unframed photo from the bag and takes the one she’s holding away. She gasps and sits back in her chair when she sees what he’s holding. “You do know this one; don’t you?”

“I don’t… I don’t know him… but he scares me and… I … don’t like him…” Tears begin to well up in her eyes. “He’s the one that died… isn’t he?”

He puts the photo face down on the table and draws a chair up beside her. “Hun, you need to face your fears. You’re going to have to remember. I need some ammunition to shoot back at this, or you’re going away for a long time.” He rests his hand on her shoulder. “Remember, breathe, calm down…”

Katharine breaks down in a full cry and leans her head on his shoulder. “What am I going to do? I must have done it…“ She’s sobbing. “I can’t remember anything but these feelings and a hatred for a photo of a man I don’t know.”

He waits a few minutes until she stops crying; he blots her eyes and cheeks with a paper napkin. “Okay, done is done. The guy’s dead and we can’t do anything about it. I firmly believe that you could not have done this, and we need answers to a lot of unasked questions.”

He picks up the framed photo and points at the woman beside Kat, “That was your roommate; she shared the rent on your condo. Your neighbors told me that you two were very close.” He puts his arm around her shoulder and holds her fast. “She was murdered seven and a half months ago. Her body was discovered, not twenty yards from where you were found.”

“I didn’t? I wasn’t? Was I?”

“No, you had nothing to do with it. But there is some sort of connection; both of you were discovered naked. Your friend was beaten to death and then dumped over the falls.” He touches her chin, turning her face away from the picture and looks into her eyes. “You identified her body, three days after she was found.” She looks back at the picture.

She traces her finger over her image and mumbles, “What was her name?”

“Lizabeth Williams…”

She stares at the picture. It’s coming back; she can see her smiling and laughing. Momentarily Katharine’s on that beach, she can feel the warm sun and almost hear her voice. A picture of a brutally disfigured person flashes in her mind; a person she loved, and she quietly whispers, “Liz…I knew her… That’s Liz!” Then she starts to cry again. “He killed her… I know that son of a bitch must have killed her…”

Suddenly Matt’s heart sinks: he thinks he’s uncovered motive.

Again, he waits for her to settle down; holding her, rocking with her as she pours out her grief. Finally, he sees that they only have fifteen minutes before they start again, he asks her in a very serious tone. “Don’t break up on me again, we don’t have time… But, do you now remember Martin Heller?”

She lifts the picture up from the table and looks at his face again. Stern and committed, she says, “The only thing that comes to mind is forty-nine… there was no name.” She throws the photo down on the table. Images begin to rush through her head; terrible images, things he did to her, things she let him do… for money.”

There’s fire in her eyes; he sees a rage building in her expression. “I’m sorry… I must have done it… I remember… he beat me… he enjoyed hurting women… He paid to beat me. He paid all of us…”

“You remember him…?”

“I only knew him as number forty-nine… Client number forty-nine.”

There’s a loud knock on the door and the matron pokes her head in. “Ten minutes…”

Matt pats her on the shoulder and points. “Cool off… Throw some water on your face. There’s a sink in the corner; wash up and try not to show any emotions when we go back in.” He begins to put all the pictures back into the bag.

“I still don’t remember, and I don’t know how; but I’m sure he murdered Liz.”

“Don’t let on. You still can’t remember… Don’t let them know that your memory is coming back.”