The Twelfth Child (Serendipity #1)(87)



“What was Miss Lannigan’s reaction to that?”

“She put the paper in the nightstand drawer and told me when I was ready to face the fact of life and death; it would be there for me.”

Then Destiny started sobbing like her poor little heart was going to break, so Judge Kensington called for a fifteen minute recess. When they returned to the courtroom, Charles focused on questions about household expenses, various checks that had been written, bank accounts, and whether or not she had any knowledge of the money that was allegedly missing. Of course, Destiny said she’d never known me to have that much money, and if I had, she’d no idea where it could have gone to, which I assure you was the absolute truth.

After Destiny had adequately accounted for every dime she’d ever spent, Charles went on to asking about my relationship with Elliott. When, straight-faced as a judge, she started telling how I’d said nobody who claimed to be a Baptist could ever be a Lannigan, the jury snickered – all except for Herman Cohen, a crotchety old fart who’d insisted on being the jury foreman. Once Destiny finished going over the rest of what I’d had to say about Elliott, Charles told the judge he had no further questions and asked if that might not be a good time for a noon recess.

After lunch, Hoggman started an antagonistic cross-examination of Destiny. “Do you honestly expect this jury to believe,” he sneered, “that you and eighty-eight year-old Abigail Lannigan were like sisters?” Before she could answer, he thundered on, “That you had no designs on her money? That your intention was not to swindle Elliott Emerson out of his rightful inheritance? That you –”

“Objection!” Charles said. “Your Honor, he’s badgering the witness, pounding her with suppositions and not allowing time for an answer.”

“Sustained,” the judge said and gave Hoggman a hard glare.

“Sorry, Your Honor,” Hoggman mumbled and then went back to his questioning. After almost an hour of picking at every aspect of our relationship, he asked, “Miss Fairchild, before you sought out Abigail Lannigan you knew that she had come into a sizeable inheritance, didn’t you?”

“No.”

“There is reason to believe you did. In fact, Elliott Emerson believes that you not only knew about the money, but worked to turn Miss Lannigan against him so that you alone would inherit the entire estate.”

“That’s not true, I never –”

“After Miss Lannigan’s demise, did you try to sell the house or probate the handwritten will to claim your inheritance?”

“No.”

“Of course you didn’t, because you knew that so-called will would never hold up in court! In fact this entire story is nothing but a giant fabrication, isn’t it?” Hoggman turned to the jury and gave the smug grin of a man who had proven his point. Herman Cohen, the self-appointed foreman nodded as did two other men sitting in the front row.

“That’s not why,” Destiny answered tearfully, “keeping Miss Abigail alive was more important to me than having her money. If I cashed in the accounts and sold her house, she’d be gone from my life. So, I kept the house and made believe she was asleep in the bedroom.” She twisted the left side of her mouth into a sad sort of half-smile, “Sometimes I’d forget it was just pretend and make two pork chops for supper or hesitate to turn on the television set because it might wake her.”

“Oh, please!” Hoggman sneered with an air of disbelief, but by then, Eleanor Farrell and Francine Walker – a woman with two kids and a deadbeat husband at home – already had tears rolling down their cheeks.

Seeing the jury’s sympathy slide over to Destiny, Hoggman moved on to questions about the money and where exactly the million dollars had gone to. After she’d said a number of times that she knew nothing of the money, had never seen it, nor had ever known Abigail Lannigan to have it, Hoggman exclaimed, “Are you asking this jury to believe all that money just disappeared, vanished into thin air?”

“Objection!” Charles said but right away Hoggman jumped in, claiming that Destiny was a hostile witness and he had the right to treat her as such.

“I’m not the least bit hostile!” she snapped back at him.

“Enough!” Judge Kensington said and rapped his gavel. “The objection is sustained, now move on Mister Hoggman.”

“You claim to know nothing of the money, but since Miss Lannigan’s death, you’ve purchased a new car, new furniture, extensive amounts of clothing, where did the money for those things come from?”

“Out of Miss Abigail’s account, but she’d said that money was mine.”

“Oh really? Well, if you believed that money to be rightfully yours, then why didn’t you at least present the will for probate so a court could verify it?”

Destiny shrugged.

“You have no answer, do you? That’s because you knew all along that the money should have gone to Elliott Emerson, a true Lannigan heir!” When Hoggman saw six nodding heads in the jury box, he said he had no further questions for the witness and court was adjourned for the day.

The next day started with a lineup of witnesses testifying as to the nature of Destiny and my relationship. Dear old Doctor Birnbaum was first and he told how she was right there by my side every time he saw me. “I’ve never known a more dedicated caretaker,” he told Charles. Then when Hoggman tried to twist those words around and make it seem that Destiny was a person who did little more than drive me to and from his office, Doctor Birnbaum told how she’d cried like a broken-hearted baby the day we found out I had pancreatic cancer.

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