A Deadly Judgment by Jessica Fletcher Page B

hear any DNA evidence presented by the prosecution during this trial. On second thought ‘unusual’ is a gross understatement. ‘Incredible’ is more like it. The reason you will not hear any witnesses presented by the prosecution concerning blood is that the blood found at the scene did not match the young man sitting over there, William Brannigan.” Malcolm pointed at Billy. “And no blood was ever found in Billy’s home or car, or on any item of clothing. Nor can the prosecution present to you the murder weapon because that has never been found.
    “And so what you will be presented with by the people, whose sacred duty it is to prove William Brannigan’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, is what they claim is a motive. Just that. A motive. People are not convicted of murder simply because the prosecution dreams up a motive.”
    Malcolm now went into a history of the Brannigan family: “James Brannigan, the defendant’s father, founded Brannigan’s Bean Pot over half a century ago. The company went on to market its baked beans nationally, and is today the second leading seller of baked beans. Perhaps you’ve enjoyed some yourself. The Brannigan family is a big Irish-Catholic family, seven children in all. Billy is the youngest at twenty-five. He chose not to work for the company, but that did not make him unusual. Of the seven children, only three are active in the management of Brannigan’s Bean Pot. Jack Brannigan was one of those three. Of course, they all enjoy tasting new recipes.” There were smiles in the jury box, and a few chuckles.
    “No one misses Jack Brannigan more than Billy Brannigan,” Malcolm said, sadness in his deep voice. “The day before Jack was murdered, Billy called Jack to give him some good news. He’d planned to ask Cynthia to marry him, and Jack was the first person with whom Billy wanted to share that exciting news. He also wanted advice from his big brother on the best way to propose. At the Red Sox game they planned to attend that weekend? At a cookout? Perhaps a boat ride? But the most important thing Billy asked his brother, Jack, was whether he would agree to be his best man.”
    Malcolm paused for effect.
    “What was Jack’s answer? ‘Only if you will let me throw your bachelor party in the tree house.’ He was referring to a tree house the two brothers had built in the backyard of the home in which they grew up.”
    Malcolm now leaned on the lectern—please don’t let it collapse under his weight I thought—and said, “I have been defending the innocent for my entire adult life. I have fought tooth-and-nail for men and women accused of heinous crimes, but who had not committed those crimes. And I can tell you without hesitation or reservation, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, that I have never defended a client in whose innocence I so strongly believe. William Brannigan, the young man whose life you will determine, loved his brother, Jack, more than any other person in this world. He is sickened and saddened at the loss of his brother. To even suggest that he was responsible for his brother’s death is blaspheme. And I am confident that when presented with the facts, you will waste little time in allowing this fine young man to get on with his life. I trust you to do that, and so does he. Thank you.”
    As Malcolm waddled back to the defense table, I saw two women members of the jury dab at tears with their handkerchiefs, and made a note of that next to their names in my notebook.
    No doubt about it. Malcolm McLoon with all his personal excesses, was good. If I ever ended up being accused of murder, I knew who to call.

Chapter Ten
    “You did? Good news, Ritchie. Bring her in.”
    We were in Malcolm’s office. It was nine o’clock, and we’d just returned from dinner after the end of the first day of trial. Malcolm had received the call from his investigator, Ritchie Fleigler, the moment we’d walked through the door. Judging from Malcolm’s side of the