Guilty or Not. Alice Zogg
person’s relationship to the late Steven Moretti. She quickly pressed the reply key on her computer and wrote, “Thank you so much. R. A. Huber.”
Once more, she went over the information carefully. Listed as relatives and persons of interest of the murder victim were his father, who lived in San Diego; his brother, with an e-mail address but no phone number or place of residence noted next to his name; several board of directors of the Cucina di Enzo Corporation; friends of Steven and Rachel; a housekeeper; and of course, Jasmine Dewitt.
She smiled to herself when she thought of the wording in the e-mail. She could picture the lawyer telling his secretary, “Don’t include the expert witnesses, they’re none of her business.” In fact, Huber felt more than happy with the information at hand. Interviewing expert witnesses would have cost her a steep sum, if they’d have agreed to talk to her at all. And the benefit of such interviews would be doubtful.
She was about to take the first bite from her sack lunch when Jonathan Lighthart returned her call. Before she got a chance to say anything, he asked, “Have you already made a discovery that will help Rachel?”
“I don’t work that fast. What I need is some more input from you about Rachel.”
“Sure.”
He only uttered that one word, but Huber could hear the disappointment in his voice. She said, “You gave me Rachel’s phone number, but no address. Where did she move to when leaving Steven Moretti?”
He replied, “She temporarily stays with her parents, who live in Monrovia. The number I gave you is her cell phone.”
“Something else. Did you see her after her arrest?”
“Only once, and she is a changed person.”
“I can imagine that the drama of being charged with murder would change most people’s attitude.”
“Of course, but it’s more than that. She used to be full of energy and animation, and now all her pep is gone. She seems to have given up without a fight; that’s just not like her. It’s almost as - -” he stopped himself.
Huber finished the sentence for him “- - as if she were guilty?”
“No, no!” he shouted into the phone, “I don’t accept that.”
Then he said in a normal tone of voice, “Is there anything else you need from me? I have a patient waiting.”
Huber replied, “Just one more question. You told me that you went to Rachel’s engagement party, so you knew Steven Moretti. What did you think of him?”
He paused for a long time before he answered, “I only met him twice, so I can hardly say that I knew him. He was friendly enough on both occasions, but I didn’t like him. I got the impression of an aggressive man, always taking what he wanted.”
On that note they ended the call.
CHAPTER 6
When scheduling an interview with Rachel Penrose, Huber left it up to the young woman where she would rather have the talk: in Monrovia at her folk’s house, at R. A. Huber ’s office, or meet at a Starbucks somewhere in between. Rachel chose the detective’s office in order to have privacy. They set the date for the coming Monday, one of Rachel’s short days at work, and she would swing by on her way home.
She promptly arrived at the appointed time of 3:15 in the afternoon. There was grace in her movements as she walked to the client chair and sat down. She had a slender athletic figure, high cheekbones, and light-blue eyes that made a striking contrast to her dark hair. Those eyes held a haunted look of late.
To put her at ease, Huber said, “I understand that you are a speech therapist. I am unfamiliar with that profession. What education is needed for the job?”
She replied, “One needs a master ’s degree in either communication sciences or communication disorders. The next step is to complete between 300 and 400 hours of clinical training, pass a national exam, and finish at least nine months of professional experience after graduation. In addition, most speech therapists take educational courses. I took mine in child language disorders and stuttering.”
“So you work with children?”
“Yes, I provide my services in elementary schools here in Pasadena, helping students improve their language and communication skills. I work with children one-on-one or in groups to treat voice disorders, stuttering problems or learning disabilities.”
“I take it that you like your job.”
“Yes, I do. It can be rewarding.” The haunted look in her eyes intensified as she added, “Working has become difficult for me lately.”
“How so?”
“Parents and sometimes even students have been giving me strange looks ever since I got arrested. You can’t keep being accused of murder a secret.” She suddenly realized why she had come to R. A. Huber ’s office and said, “Pops shouldn’t spend so much money on me; I’m not worth it.”
Huber failed to correct her, letting her think that her father had done the hiring.
She asked, “Are you an only child?”
Rachel nodded, then continued with her previous argument, “It’s useless; we’re wasting your time.” And she stared in front of herself.
Huber became aware that Rachel clammed up and raised her voice a tad to get her attention, saying, “I am going to be honest with you. I had a talk with your lawyer, David Wachterman, and he told me that you are unapproachable. Is that true?”
She took some time before she raised her eyes to meet Huber ’s and said, “He bombards me with questions every time we meet.”
“He asks you questions that you either won’t or can’t answer, and so you keep silent?”
“I guess so.”
“Mr. Wachterman is trying to help you. He can’t defend you properly if he doesn’t know all about you and your circumstances. I am willing to help too, if you let me.”
Rachel did not answer, but went on instead, “My life fell to pieces on that horrible day. I’ve been numb ever since.”
“You mean on the day you caught your fiancé and the other woman in the act?”
Rachel re-lived the scene in her mind. She had come home early from her final wedding gown fitting. The gown, like all else planned for the big wedding reception on the Queen Mary, docked in Long Beach, had turned out perfect, and she literally glowed with anticipation for their big event. She had entered the house announcing, “I’m home, hon,” slamming the door behind her. When Steven was nowhere to be found on the ground floor, she ran up the stairs, taking two steps at the time. Finding the bedroom door ajar, she’d walked toward it, and pushing it open, proclaimed, “Guess what, I…” she had stopped dead at the threshold and stared in total shock. When her brain functioned again, all she could think was, I want you dead!
Huber eyed her keenly, waiting for an answer.
Rachel suddenly shook herself, the way a dog does when coming out of water. Then she said, “Yes, that day.”
“I know this is painful for you, but I need to ask you personal questions in order to fully grasp the situation. What town did you and Steven live in?”
“He bought a house in La Cañada Flintridge, and I moved in after we got engaged.”
“How long had you known each other and where did you meet?”
“We belonged to the same ski club and met in Mammoth over two years ago.” And a sudden spark lit up her blue eyes when she added, “We spent a glorious week challenging one another to all the double black diamond runs on the mountain. At the end of a particularly fun day, chasing me down Wipeout Chutes under chairlift 23, he said, ‘You are the first woman I’d like to spend my life with.’”