Scandal in Fair Haven Read online

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Mrs. Matthews was the eldest daughter of a well-respected and long-established Tennessee family. The first Prentiss arrived in Fair Haven in 1843. Family members have included judges, lawyers, physicians, and legislators. Her father, the late Merriwether Prentiss, served as mayor of Fair Haven for three terms in the 1970s.

Mrs. Matthews's first marriage, to Stuart Pierce, ended in divorce. In addition to her husband, Craig Matthews, she is survived by her daughter, Brigit Pierce, and her sister, Mrs. Willis Guthrie, both of Fair Haven.

Hmm. Craig hadn't mentioned his stepdaughter, Brigit. Where was Patty Kay's daughter on a Saturday afternoon? Had Craig run away, perhaps leaving the girl to discover her mother's corpse? But no, an anonymous phone call summoned the police. Why hadn't Craig mentioned Brigit?

It would- be interesting to know what the anonymous caller said to the police.

The Monday-morning update showed a change in tone:

MATTHEWS TELLS POLICE WIFE WAS ALREADY DEAD

Craig Matthews admitted to police in a Sunday interview that he discovered the body of his wife, Patty Kay Matthews, in their Fair Haven home Saturday afternoon but made no effort to contact authorities.

Desmond Marino, Matthews's attorney, said his client was distraught by the gruesome discovery and he left the home in a daze and went directly to the vacation residence of an aunt, seeking family support. "His aunt urged him to call me and he did so at once. Mr. Matthews was completely shaken and unable to cope with the tragedy. It came as a complete surprise to him that he was being sought by the police. As soon as he realized the situation, he agreed at once to return for an interview and did so Sunday morning. I have here a brief statement from him for the press."

Statement to the press by Craig Matthews: "I came home Saturday afternoon with a fruit basket I thought my wife had ordered. I entered the house. Patty Kay didn't answer my call. I looked upstairs, then downstairs. When I went into the kitchen, I knew something bad had happened. Our kitchen had been vandalized. I ran outside. The playhouse door was open. I found my wife's body there, on the floor. I knelt and tried to lift her and then I knew she was dead. There was blood everywhere. I didn't see a weapon.

"It was such a shock, I ran outside. I don't know what I was thinking, but I wanted to go for help. I got in my car and drove to my aunt's vaca-

tion cabin. 1 have tried to be helpful to the police. 1 know of no reason why anyone would murder my wife. I ask anyone who has any information to please report to the police or to my lawyer, Desmond Marino."

Marino declined to answer further questions, saying his client was doing everything possible to help the authorities.

Police Captain J. T. Walsh said the investigation was continuing.

Funeral arrangements for Mrs. Matthews are pending.

I put down the paper and dug my Sony Walkman out of my gym bag. I turned it on, found a Nashville news station. It came as no surprise a few minutes later when the announcer said that Fair Haven police had arrested Craig Matthews late Sunday evening. They had charged him with murder in the death of his wife.

1 reached for my cellular phone, then paused. I had a decision to make.

What was I going to tell Margaret?

More important than that, what-if any-action was I prepared to take?

I was not surprised at the arrest.

But an arrest didn't mean Craig Matthews was guilty.

I found it intriguing, to say the least, that Craig received two phone calls at the bookstore where the caller promptly hung up.

Aaah, so what, the pro-police view would demand. Who said those phone calls occurred?

Craig Matthews.

But when the clerk answered, there was a message for Craig to pick up the fruit basket and bring it home.

Sure, the police could respond. Mrs. Matthews called. The lack of a basket could simply have been a mistake at the deli. Or perhaps Patty Kay thought she'd ordered the basket and hadn't. There could be lots of explanations. The fact that the store had no record of an order was no proof that the phone call to the bookstore was part of an elaborate plan to frame Matthews.

Because either Craig Matthews was guilty of his wife's murder or he'd been cleverly lured to the death scene.

To me, the strongest argument for Craig's innocence was the Johnny-on-the-spot phone call that brought the authorities to the site just after Craig arrived home.

It wouldn't impress the police.

Police everywhere receive a lot of phone tips. The calls can be accurate as hell, but the callers are not necessarily involved in the crimes they report. Many anonymous tipsters are semi-good citizens. They want to see justice done, but they definitely don't want to get involved.

A simple scenario could account for that phone tip: A neighbor observed Craig's arrival at the house, perhaps heard a noisy quarrel, and called.

A variation on that theme could account for the call even if Craig's story was true: A neighbor came to the house before Craig arrived, found Patty Kay's body, then scurried off to call the police but avoid involvement.

So the phone tip could have occurred whether Craig was guilty or innocent.

But clearly the phone tip could have been part of a clever plan to frame Craig.

I made my decision.

When I called Margaret, I didn't tell her not to worry. She wasn't a fool. But I promised to help Craig.

I changed from my holiday slacks and cotton top to a crimson linen suit with a jewel-necked jacket and a pleated

skirt, a crisp white blouse, and matching red pumps. As a fashion writer I once knew would have trilled, "Faux pearl earrings and necklace completed the ensemble." If I do say so myself, 1 looked elegant and absolutely trustworthy. It took me five more minutes to pack, then I was on the road to Fair Haven and traveling fast.

At the outskirts of Fair Haven, I stopped at a convenience store and bought the afternoon paper.

This headline was crisp:

POLICE ACCUSE CRAIG MATTHEWS OF WIFE'S MURDER

Police arrested Fair Haven businessman Craig Matthews, 29, late Sunday evening for the murder of his 38-year-old wife, Patty Kay, after teenage hunters found a pistol linked to her slaying in the brush several hundred yards from Highway 94 near Snell.

Fair Haven Police Chief J. T. Walsh revealed that Mrs. Matthews was shot three times.

Sheriff Coby Trent said Snell residents Michael Bettis, 15, and Jimmy Graham, 17, were shooting squirrels late Saturday afternoon when they saw Matthews discard an object after he stopped on a country road near Highway 94. Sheriff Trent said, "The boys saw the suspect
, whom they later identified as Mr. Matthews, get out of a green Porsche carrying a bundle. He unwrapped the bundle, looked around to see if he was observed, then threw a gun into the brush. Mr. Matthews then got into his car and drove off. The boys found the gun and brought it to us."

Chief Walsh said the weapon had been wiped,

but the laboratory found a partial print on the bottom of the trigger guard that matched Matthews's right index ringer. The bullets which killed Mrs. Matthews were shot from this weapon, the chief said.

Fair Haven attorney Desmond Marino said his client is innocent of the crime.

The murder of the well-known socialite on Saturday shocked residents of the historic community twenty miles south of Nashville. Next-door neighbor Carl Jessop said, "I don't believe he did it. Craig's a really nice, mild-mannered guy. He and Patty Kay got along real well. This has got everybody nuts. Nobody around here even locks their doors in the daytime. But now my wife's scared. Who'd want to shoot Patty Kay?"

Several neighborhood residents declined to be quoted, but their reports tallied with that of Jessop. All appeared shocked and surprised at Matthews's arrest.

Services for Mrs. Matthews will be at 10 a.m. Wednesday in St. John's Episcopal Church. The family requests no flowers. Memorials may be made to Walden School.

Craig had said: There was blood everywhere. I didn't see a weapon.

Now eyewitnesses claimed they saw him toss away the gun that killed his wife.

Obviously, another lie by Craig.

So what else was new?

In Craig's recital to me there was no mention of a gun or that surreptitious stop.

I didn't feel quite that I had been played for a fool. But

I certainly had to accept the fact that Craig Matthews had been less than candid.

The police would argue that the only reason to lie would be guilt.

But it could be fear, came the whip-quick thought.

1 lifted an eyebrow. Somewhere within me lurked a champion for Craig Matthews.

Craig Matthews. A civilized, delicate face. And frightened eyes. Not a very truthful man. The police discoveries surely augmented that judgment.

All right. But there were facts in his favor. And being a liar can indicate either poor character or stupidity, but it hardly equates with being a murderer.

I'd driven fast. 1 was glad. If anything could be done for Margaret's nephew, it had to be done quickly.

As a reporter 1 learned some horrifying truths about our legal system. I don't call it our system of justice. It is, instead, an often haphazard process relentlessly affected by the participants, who can be bright, stupid, indolent, industrious, incompetent, or brilliant.

If you question that, read some true crime books. Or go down to the courthouse and sit in on a murder trial. Either exposure should scare the bejesus out of you.

Bottom line: The cops wouldn't be trying to clear Craig; they would be busy amassing evidence so the D.A. could get a murder conviction.

I wasn't a cop. Or a private detective.

But there's no law against asking questions.

For whatever reason.

4

As I drove on into town, I spotted Patty Kay Matthews's bookstore. Books, Books, Books was housed in a large redbrick building across the street from the upscale Fair Haven Mall. I had a swift appreciation of Patty Kay's abilities as a businesswoman. Malls aren't it in the 1990s. Separate shops with plenty of parking and easy access definitely are.

It was another couple of miles on tree-shaded Henry Avenue to the turnoff that led directly to the heart of old Fair Haven. As I neared downtown, plenty of bronze plaques attested to protected historic homes, both antebellum and Victorian. I parked near the town square. As always, I'm stiff when I first get out of a car after traveling. I gingerly stretched, admiring the worn granite statue of a Confederate soldier and the recently painted brickfront buildings, the colors ranging from apricot to gray to mauve. I stopped first at a small cottage with a gilt sign proclaiming the Fair Haven Historic Society. I came out with maps, a history, and a quick summary of the efforts that

had gone into refurbishing downtown and making it a tourist mecca. Patty Kay Prentiss Matthews's name was all over the brochures.

Fair Haven can't compete historically with neighboring Franklin, of course, home of the Carter House which was so central to the anguishing Battle of Franklin. Five hours of fierce fighting on November 30, 1864, resulted in 6,552 Confederate dead, 2,326 Union dead. But Fair Haven has its own grim stories of war, including brave women who carried information past Union troops beneath hoop-skirts and a handsome Confederate spy hung by the Yankees while a sobbing maiden looked on.

Today Fair Haven's nineteenth-century main street was home to antique stores, funky little shops selling everything from handmade quilts to homemade jams and candies, and, of course, to Fair Haven's most prestigious law firms.

The offices of Desmond Marino, Counselor at Law, were on the second floor of a mauve brick building at the corner of Main and First. 1 opened the frosted glass door and stepped out of the nineteenth into the late twentieth century.

Sometimes it's hard to tell the office of a successful lawyer from the reception area in an upscale funeral home. The same ice-toned gray predominates in the drapes, walls, and carpets, enlivened occasionally by a discreet flash of gold in a vase or painting. The subliminal message is that silver and gold are our ultimate objective, whether in the streets of heaven or on those of earth.

Desmond Marino's Oxford suit was gray too, with the merest hint of a muted crimson stripe. His Hermes tie was jovial in comparison, a vivid carmine with a gold medallion pattern. One of those absurdly expensive watches glittered on his left wrist.

Marino had an interesting face, part monkey, part rac-

coon. A bright intelligence was apparent in the coal-dark eyes, wily caution evident in his careful smile.

Not that Marino was smiling overmuch after the initial though suitably muted (the circumstances) warmth of his greeting to Craig Matthews's aunt (me) after his secretary, slim and blond in a gray silk sheath, showed me in.

I hoped to find out a great deal from Desmond Marino, but there was one urgent question.

"Where is Patty Kay's daughter?"

"Oh, Brigit's okay. She's home."

"In that house. By herself?"

Desmond Marino looked surprised. "She lives with her dad. Didn't you know that?"

Fake aunthood obviously was going to have many pitfalls. "Oh, I suppose I misunderstood a recent letter from Craig. I thought Brigit had move
d back with her mother and Craig."

"Not likely."

I needed to get away from this subject pronto. I managed a smile. "I'm so glad I misunderstood. So there's no one at the house now?"

"That's right. Unless I can get bail for Craig."

"What are the chances?"

Marino waggled his hand. "Maybe so, maybe no. Judge Lehman's hard to figure. We're on his docket for tomorrow. The thing of it is, Craig's in a tough spot, Mrs. Collins. Not only did the police find the murder weapon where he'd dumped it, they've got the shirt he wore that day and it's-"

"Bloodstained. I know."

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