by Angela Hunt
“That’s right.”
Shirley shrugs. “I vacuumed all the carpets, dusted the entire house, scrubbed the kitchen sink and counters, cleaned the bathrooms, changed the sheets in the master bedroom, and put fresh flowers on the foyer table. Erin loves fresh flowers in the foyer.”
“Did your duties include cleaning the windows?”
A smile gathers up the wrinkles by the woman’s mouth. “Sure. I did the windows about once a month.”
“Did you raise and lower them, or just clean them on the inside?”
“I usually cleaned the inside.”
“Did you ever have occasion to raise the windows?”
“Well…sometimes when the weather was nice, I raised them up to let in some fresh air.”
“Did you always lower the windows before leaving the house?”
“Well…no.”
“Objection.” Bystrowski stands, a look of weariness on his face. “While this is fascinating, it’s also irrelevant.”
“I have a point, Your Honor,” Briley says. “If I may be allowed to continue, my reasoning will become clear.”
Judge Trask nods. “Objection overruled. Get to your point, Ms. Lester.”
Briley turns to the bewildered housekeeper. “Is it possible, Mrs. Walker, that after opening some of the Tomassis’ windows, that you might have left a window unlocked?”
The housekeeper’s smile dissolves. “Why—I didn’t mean to.”
“But on the days when you left and some of the windows were still open…someone might have closed a window without locking it, correct? And it remained unlocked for an indefinite amount of time?”
Her face goes pale as uncertainty creeps into her expression. “You mean…I might have let the killer in?”
Briley braces for another objection, and Bystrowski does not disappoint. “Objection—unresponsive. The witness did not answer the question.”
Trask sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Objection sustained. The jury will disregard that last remark.”
Briley tries her best not to smile. Mrs. Walker leaped to the appropriate conclusion, and the jury followed her. She turns toward her witness again. “Emptying the household trash cans—was that another one of your duties?”
“Yes.”
“Did you often see syringes in the trash?”
“Every once in a while.”
“Did you find these in the bathroom trash bin? Or did you ever find them in other areas?”
“The kitchen,” Shirley says. “Sometimes Mr. Tomassi would test his blood in the kitchen and give himself a shot at the sink.”
“Did he carry that syringe into the bathroom and dispose of it in the special sharps receptacle?”
“Shoot, no, he couldn’t be bothered. He’d drop it into the trash compactor. I learned to be real careful when emptying that machine. I didn’t want to get stuck with a needle. Those syringes come with plastic caps for protection, but Mr. Jeffrey never bothered to put them back on.”
“May I approach, Your Honor?”
The judge motions her forward.
Briley walks to the courtroom clerk and picks up the bag marked State’s Exhibit One. “Mrs. Walker—” she holds up the evidence bag “—does this look like one of the syringes you occasionally saw in the trash compactor?”
Shirley nods with great enthusiasm. “Yes.”
“And for the record, will you state whether or not the cap is on the needle?”
“It’s missing.” Shirley directs her gaze toward the jury. “No cap on that one.”
Briley smiles at the witness. “Thank you, Mrs. Walker.”
For some reason—probably because he looks so much like his dead brother—Erin tenses when the prosecutor calls Jason Tomassi to the stand. She sits beside Briley, her face pale, her eyes downcast, and her arms locked across her chest. Her right foot betrays her anxiety and begins a rapid-fire tap-tap-tapping on the carpeted floor.
Briley’s own pulse begins to pound as the prosecutor establishes Jason’s identity and relationship to the deceased. She tilts her head and imagines Jason Tomassi’s face covered by a red ski mask. How tall is he? What would his voice sound like in a ragged whisper?
As much as she’d like to ponder the matter, she needs to focus on the trial.
Bystrowski launches into a series of questions obviously intended to undermine the housekeeper’s benign opinion of Erin’s character. “Mr. Tomassi,” Bystrowski says, “were you surprised to hear that your sister-in-law had been arrested for the murder of your brother, Jeffrey?”
“No,” Jason answers, his expression tight and grim. “That woman is as crazy as a coot.”
“Objection!” Briley stands and narrows her gaze at Jason. “The witness stand is not a venue for expressing personal opinions.”
“Overruled.” The judge looks at Bystrowski. “I trust there’s a valid point to this line of questioning.”
“Yes, sir,” the prosecutor says. He looks at his witness. “You may continue.”
Jason shrugs. “There’s not much to say. Jeffrey loved Erin, but the more I got to know her, the more I thought she was a few bricks short of a load.”
“For the record, could you explain the metaphor?”
Jason scrubs the stubble on his cheek, then leans forward, a picture of earnestness. “At first I thought she was naïve. She always seemed kind of quiet and shy, sort of distracted. Then Jeff began to tell me—”
“Objection.” Briley stands. “This is hearsay. The witness does not have direct knowledge of these facts.”
“Objection sustained,” the judge rules. “Mr. Tomassi, you may testify only about what you yourself heard or know. The jurors should disregard that answer.” Trask points at Bystrowski. “Continue, Counselor.”
The prosecutor faces his witness. “Mr. Tomassi, were you and your brother close?”
“Very. We were twins. When we were kids, we spoke in a special language no one else could understand.”
“Did your close relationship continue into adulthood?”
“Yes. Jeff confided in me about everything—including things he didn’t share with his wife.”
“Really? Was there some kind of problem between him and his wife?”
“Jeffrey had doubts about Erin—”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Briley stands, struggling to mask her frustration. “This is hearsay and speculation. We cannot know what Jeffrey Tomassi thought about his wife.”
Judge Trask narrows his gaze and studies the witness. “Objection overruled,” he says, nodding at Jason Tomassi. “I’d like to hear this.”
Briley sinks back to her chair, her irritation increasing when she realizes that her hands are trembling. Is his voice affecting her on some subconscious level…or is she simply paranoid?
The prosecutor motions to his witness. “Please continue.”
“Well,” Jason goes on, “after a while Jeff began to wonder if Erin was mentally unstable. He said she talked to herself, and she had a tendency to rage when things didn’t go her way. He was worried about how she’d handle being in the public eye as a politician’s wife.”
“If he didn’t think she could handle her role as a politician’s wife, why’d he continue in his political career?”
“Because politics was his passion.” Jason transfers his gaze to the jury. “I’m not saying my brother didn’t love Erin—he did. But he’s been planning to run for national office ever since junior high. He was our eighth-grade class president, and he’s loved politics ever since. Erin knew all this before they got married. He was honest with her about his priorities.”
“I see. Do you have an opinion as to why the defendant might have killed your brother?”
“Objection!” Briley rises. “Opinions are not facts, Your Honor.”
The judge’s voice booms from the bench. “Objection overruled. I want to hear this.” He nods at Jason Tomassi. “You may continue.”
“Yes,” Jason says. “I have an opinion.”
“Would you care to share it with the court?”
Jason clears his throat and glances at the jury. “I believe my sister-in-law killed Jeff because she was tired of politics. The night Jeff died, they’d just come from a big fundraiser and Erin obviously didn’t want to be there. I think that night—and seeing how well Jeff was doing—convinced her that she was in for years of that sort of thing. Something in her must have snapped.”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Briley stands again. “The witness is not a psychologist. He cannot know the defendant’s mental state.”
The judge tips his chin in Briley’s direction. “Objection sustained.”
Briley sits, but the damage has been done. The jury knows Jason Tomassi thinks her client is crazy.
Bystrowski turns away from the lectern and flashes a grin in Briley’s direction. “Your witness, Counselor.”
Briley takes a moment to consider her options. None of Jason Tomassi’s opinions should be in the record; the jury shouldn’t have heard any of his testimony. She can move to strike, and the judge might actually be reasonable, but if she strikes Jason’s testimony she can’t cross-examine him on the issues he raised. The elephant has walked through the room; can she pretend no one saw it?
She gathers her notes and steps out from behind the defense table. “Mr. Tomassi, you’ve testified that you and your brother were close. How often did you see each other after he married Erin?”
Jason shrugs. “Several times a week. If Jeff didn’t have an event to attend, we ate dinner with our father every Friday night. And we played racquetball together every Wednesday morning if Jeff was in town.”
“That sounds like fun. Did you, by chance, make time for lunch together, as well? Or did Jeffrey play a quick game, shower, and run off to work?”
Jason’s eyes spark with indignation. “He took time. He’d shower at the gym and then we’d spend the rest of the morning together.”
“That’s nice. So you loved your brother, correct?”
Jason may have adored his brother, but the look he gives Briley is far from loving. “Yes.”
“Mr. Tomassi, are you a licensed psychologist?”
“No.”
“Are you a therapist? A psychiatrist? Did you, perhaps, take more than a basic psychology course in college?”
The witness shakes his head.
“We need a verbal answer, sir.”
“No.”
“Do you ever talk to yourself?”
Jason looks out at someone in the gallery, then turns his head. “Well…sure.”
“Really? Don’t you think that’s a little crazy?”
He forces a laugh. “I don’t do it all the time.”
“Speaking in a special twin language—isn’t that just a little odd? A few bricks short of a load, to use your own metaphor?”
“Objection.” Bystrowski stands, his eyes hot. “Counsel is badgering the witness.”
“I’ll withdraw the question, Your Honor.” Briley glances over her shoulder and searches for Antonio Tomassi. There he is, red-faced and determined, right behind the prosecutor’s table. She smoothes her face into pleasant lines and walks closer to the witness stand. “Mr. Tomassi, on the occasions when you saw Erin and Jeffrey argue—or, as you testified, you saw Erin go into a rage—what did she say? And may I remind you that you are under oath?”
Jason blinks. “I can’t remember every word.”
“Surely you can give us the gist of the conversation.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t recall.”
“Perhaps your memory is more attuned to the visual. When you saw Erin raging, did she storm about? Did she get physical with your brother? Or did she threaten him?”
Jason shifts in the hard oak chair. “She got angry, that’s all.”
“Did she pace back and forth? Throw things? Curse?”
Jason gives Briley a blank look, but his eye twitches. The man must suspect that he’s crossed the line into perjury…or he’s thinking about the last time he stood this close to her.
A sudden chill climbs the ladder of her spine as she peers into his eyes. “Not remembering much about your sister-in-law, are you? Then let’s talk about your late brother. What did Jeffrey do when he became angry? Did he hit Erin?”
Jason manages a theatrical grimace. “I’ve never seen him hit her.”
“No? Then surely you’ve seen the bruises. Mrs. Walker testified that she occasionally saw bruises on Erin’s body. Did you ever see bruises on your sister-in-law?”
“I did not.”
“That’s right, she took pains to keep them covered. Did Jeffrey do the same thing?”
“What?”
“Did your brother ever experience bruises from these alleged rages of Erin’s?”
He shakes his head. “How should I know?”
“Indeed, how could you? You played racquetball with him every Wednesday morning. You both showered at the gym. And you two were close, so close you even spoke in your own special language, right?” Briley pauses to let the obvious inconsistencies sink into the jurors’ minds. “Let’s be honest, Mr. Tomassi. Erin never hit Jeffrey, did she? She knew better. She was afraid to argue with him. She never resisted your brother, because she was terrified that resistance would only increase his brutality.”
“Objection!” Bystrowski stands, one corner of his mouth twisting in a derisive expression. “Counsel is testifying, not asking questions.”
Trask nods. “Sustained.”
The thin line of Jason’s mouth clamps tight and his throat bobs as he swallows. “My brother never brutalized his wife.”
“How do you know? Did he confess this in your secret language?”
“Your Honor!” The scrape of Bystrowski’s chair cuts into the dialogue. “She’s badgering the witness and opening the door to hearsay.”
“I’ll withdraw the question.” Breathing hard, Briley moves toward the defense table and struggles to maintain her momentum. This man is a pitiless liar, maybe a brute, and she needs to thoroughly discredit him. The jury shouldn’t—can’t—be allowed to believe a word of his testimony.
“Mr. Tomassi—” she turns toward the witness box “—are you married?”
Apparently relieved by the change in topic, Jason tosses a grin at the jury. “Not yet.”
Briley refuses to smile. “Do you believe marriage is the most important human relationship between two people?”
He hesitates. “Yeah. Yes.”
“Do you believe a husband and wife ought to be loyal to each other above all other relationships?”
“Sure.”
“Should a husband and wife defend each other, cling only to each other, and honor each other in all things?”
Tomassi’s forehead crinkles. “I feel like I’m in church.”
“That’s not an answer, sir.”
“Yeah, okay. I do.”
“Then does a man who insists on valuing his political career above his relationship with his wife violate a sacred trust valued by millions of people?”
For an instant, she almost feels sorry for Jason Tomassi. Apparently he has never given marriage a great deal of thought, but the jurors certainly have. Voir dire revealed that eight of the twelve are married, and three of them have been married more than fifty years.
When an audible murmur of disapproval rises from the jury box, Jason hears it. “My brother,” he says, glaring at Briley from beneath lowered brows, “didn’t deserve to die without even a chance to fight back. He would never have taken the cowardly way out, and only a coward would kill him while he was asleep—”
“The defense has no further questions for this witness,” Briley says, turning back to the defense table. “Thank you, Mr. Tomassi.”
Chapter Forty-Five
During the lunch recess, Briley, Kate, and William huddle in the courtroom to compare notes. Erin sits at the end of the counsel table while a deputy stands at the door. The scent of coffee hangs in the air, mingling with the
peppery scents of Chinese food. Briley watches William, noticing that he has no trouble managing his chopsticks with one hand while he holds a folded newspaper in the other.
“Nothing in the news about your assault.” He tosses the paper aside. “That’s good, at least.”
“You’re pretty good with those chopsticks,” she quips, slipping her feet out of the pumps that have begun to restrict the circulation to her toes. “You must eat a lot of Chinese.”
He shrugs. “Born just outside San Francisco’s Chinatown. I learned how to eat with sticks at an early age.”
“Well?” Kate shoots Briley a questioning look over the top of her latte. “Are you going to put our client on the stand?”
Briley glances at Erin, who hasn’t said more than five or six words since Judge Trask dismissed the court. She might be in pain from the beating she took last night, or perhaps Jason Tomassi’s testimony upset her. Briley would like to know what she’s feeling, but right now she needs to focus on the trial.
“What do you think, Coach?” William lowers his voice. “Before we dismiss today, you’re going to have to switch to offense. So what’s our game plan?”
Briley screws up her face. “I hate sports analogies.”
“Sorry.” William lifts both hands in an apologetic gesture. “But we need to pin this down. Bystrowski’s winding up.”
“I know.” Briley pulls out her trial notebook, in which she has outlined three possible approaches. “The problem isn’t that I don’t have a plan—the problem is that I have too many. And Erin isn’t happy about any of them.”
William and Kate both turn to look at the client, who is munching on an egg roll and staring at nothing.
Briley sighs. A more experienced attorney might know exactly what to do in this situation, but despite hours of preparation, she isn’t sure her client can handle the pressure of a hostile cross-examination. The woman is fragile, especially now, and tears on the stand might lead the jury to think she’s putting on a show for their benefit. On the other hand, if she cries in the right way and at the right moment, a few tears might convince them she is a grieving widow who has no idea how her husband died.
Only one thing is certain: if Briley puts Erin on the stand, she will not ask about Lisa Marie. If the jury thinks she’s unbalanced enough to believe in an invisible friend, they’ll have no trouble believing she’s unstable enough to kill an abusive husband.