Page 1 of Memory of Murder
Chapter One
Chicago
Monday, July 7
Colby Agency, 9:30 a.m.
Jamie Colby waited in her grandmother’s office, the package sitting in her lap. Her fingers tapped out a tune on the box that had gotten slightly battered in transit. The package and its contents had been in Jamie’s possession for a mere three days, but already she was convinced of what needed to be done. Quickly, she reminded herself. This had to happen as soon as possible.
Somehow she would make the indomitable Victoria Colby-Camp see that her plan was a good one. A necessary one that had to be carried out, even if pro bono. The agency did pro bono work all the time. Did it really matter that the actual client was deceased?
Not in Jamie’s opinion. The woman deserved to have her reputation restored. Some things transcended death.
The door opened, and Victoria breezed into the office and settled behind her desk. “Good morning.” She smiled brightly as she always did whenever she saw Jamie for the first time each day.
Jamie adored her grandmother. Her entire life Jamie had always known she wanted to be just like her.
No matter that she and Jamie had been working together now for nearly seven months, each day was like the first with hergrandmother. Calling VictoriaGrandmotheralmost always put off anyone who met them for the first time. Primarily because Victoria looked far younger than her seventy-two years. The silver threaded through her black hair spoke of sophistication and wisdom rather than age. But it was her keen eyes that warned she was no little old lady.
Jamie smiled. “Good morning, Grandmother.”
Victoria eyed the package in Jamie’s lap. “I understand you have a special case under consideration.”
So, Ian had spoken to her already. Jamie wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t as if she had told him not to tell Victoria. Perhaps he’d hoped to grease the wheels, so to speak. Ian Michaels was one of her grandmother’s closest friends and colleagues. His recommendation would go a long way—assuming he leaned in Jamie’s favor, and she suspected he would.
“Yes.” Jamie stood. She placed the box on the edge of her grandmother’s desk and removed the contents piece by piece. First the handwritten journal. Then the photos, the newspaper clippings, a locket, Polaroid-type photos and the baby blanket—the sort of receiving blanket given at birth, usually by a hospital. A detailed letter from the accused killer had accompanied the box.
As Victoria shuffled through the photos, Jamie explained, “Mary Morton was charged with first-degree murder thirty years ago. She was sentenced to life in prison. At the time she was pregnant, and the baby—a girl—was later born and subsequently taken from her. Since Mary had no other family or close friends able or willing to take the child, she was introduced into the foster system.”
Victoria moved on to the newspaper clippings. “Has the child—woman,” she amended, “been contacted about her mother’s death?”
Jamie nodded. “I spoke with the warden. He gives his best, by the way.” Her grandmother knew everyone who was anyone in key positions in the state and no small number of VIPs across the country. “A notification was sent to her last known address. I checked out the address, and she does live there. There’s every reason to believe she’s aware of the situation.”
Victoria reached for the journal. “Tell me why we should be interested in this convicted murderer’s history.”
Jamie resumed her seat. “At the time of the murder, Mary Morton was twenty-four years old. She had just completed her master’s in teaching, and she was already employed at an elementary school in Crystal Lake. On a personal level, she was engaged to a law student set to graduate the upcoming year. His name was Neil Reed. Both Mary and Neil grew up in Crystal Lake. Her parents were deceased, but his still lived in the area.”
“Reed was the victim in the murder case.” Victoria placed the journal with the other items.
Obviously her grandmother had already looked into the details. Possibly a good sign.
“Yes. Mary insisted throughout the trial that she was innocent, but the preponderance of evidence was overwhelming. Her prints were on the murder weapon. She had blood on her clothes. Her court-appointed attorney—a man swamped with cases—didn’t stand a chance against the newly elected hotshot district attorney determined to make a name for himself. My impression is that the case was decided even before a jury was selected.”
Victoria picked up a newspaper clipping, considered it a moment. “Why are we talking about this case, Jamie? The poor woman, guilty or innocent, is dead. I really don’t see how we can help her.”
“We can,” Jamie countered. “Mary’s greatest regret was that she couldn’t clear her name to prove to her only child that shewas not the daughter of a murderer. According to her letter, Mary didn’t care if she was ever released. She only wanted to clear her name for her daughter’s sake. Her attorney promised to appeal her conviction, but his meager efforts proved futile. Still Mary never gave up. No matter how earnest her efforts, it was as if whatever legal maneuvers she attempted were doomed from the outset. Every single time she was met with defeat. No reporter ever showed interest in her story. Fate simply turned a blind eye to her. I feel strongly that the justice system let her down.”
Victoria studied Jamie. “Or she was simply guilty and no one wanted to help change a righteous verdict.”
“That’s possible, yes. However, everyone—even the guilty—has the right to petition for an appeal. But guilt is not the sense I’m getting from what we have here.” Jamie gestured to the contents of the box spread over her grandmother’s desk. “Just before she died, Mary had lost all hope. She saw an article about you, Grandmother, and the story gave her hope that there were still good people in the world who might be able to help her. She put together this package and asked that it be mailed to our office. An indifferent guard never bothered to see that it was done. But after her death, there was some question about why all her personal items were missing, and another guard discovered the box in an office. She checked the contents and then hand delivered it here.”
Victoria continued to study her, waiting, apparently, for her to go on.
“After a thorough examination of all you see, and a review of the available public information on the case, I feel compelled to open a case and assign an investigator.”
“Who do you have in mind?” Victoria leaned forward and placed the items back in the box.
“Jack Brenner. He has extensive experience with cold cases. I believe if there is something to be found, he can find it.”
