Fuller lies awake in his cell. It’s past midnight, and he needs to sleep. He has to look good for court. Appearance is everything.
He knows the jury watches him constantly. Looking for some trace of guilt or deceit. He’ll only show them what he wants them to see.
The vomiting was a masterstroke. The piece of beef had been rotting in his mattress for days. Less than the size of a grape, the smell alone was enough to make him gag. Popping it in his mouth produced instant nausea. Disgusting, but effective.
The real show will begin when he takes the stand. He’s hidden some red peppercorn flakes in his mattress – much more effective for bringing on tears than onions.
He knows the case will wrap up soon. Garcia wants to finish it before Thanksgiving, betting on the fact that the jurors will want to get the verdict in before the holiday. That leaves two days for testimony, and one for closing statements.
So far, everything is progressing smoothly.
There had been a bad moment, when Garcia told him about the tape. Some guard at Cook County jail had contacted Fuller’s attorneys, willing to sell them a recording of his conversation with Jack at the prison. Blackmail, is what it boiled down to. Pay me, or I’ll give this to the prosecution.
Fuller paid. He had to give power of attorney to Garcia, and authorized him to liquidate several things around the house – Holly’s jewelry, a signed Dali litho she’d bought with her modeling money, the Lexus.
Fuller had been worried that Garcia might turn on him, once he found out about Fuller’s deception. But the smarmy little bastard didn’t bat an eyelash. In fact, he ingeniously used the tape to discredit Daniels.
Who says money can’t buy a verdict?
The only problem at the moment is these damn headaches. They’re getting worse. He hasn’t explained to his doctors about how bad they’ve gotten, because he needs to give the impression that he’s cured. If headaches made him kill, and he’s still got headaches, they won’t let him out.
So he makes do with Tylenol and sheer will.
But he can’t hold out much longer.
There’s only one thing that helps him when the pain gets this bad.
“Just a few more days,” he whispers to himself. “Then I’ll be free.”
Fuller has Thanksgiving plans. He’s going to drop by the Daniels household. Get a little pain relief. He’s heard that Jack is living with her mom and ex-husband. What fun it will be to kill them both, in front of Jack, before ripping off her arms.
“Murder. The headache medicine.”
When he finally falls asleep, it’s with a smile on his face.