‘No deal.’ Paget paused a moment. ‘And no defense.’
Redirect was over quickly, as Caroline knew it would be.
Salinas did his best. Yes, Keller affirmed, she believed the man in the hallway was Christopher Paget. At the time, she had not recognized the man in the picture or the lineup as Paget – to her, he was the man in the hallway. Wearing glasses to see would have done more harm than good, and she was too frightened to be drowsy. Listening, Caroline had no more idea who Keller had seen than did Keller herself; for all Caroline knew, it was Chris Paget. But that mattered as little as Victor’s redirect; as the key prosecution witness, Georgina Keller was damaged goods.
When it was over, and the jury excused, Caroline asked Judge Lerner for a meeting in chambers.
Glum, Salinas seemed to know what was coming. They sat in front of Lerner’s desk as the judge, leaning back in an overstuffed chair, contemplated the prosecutor with a certain sympathy. Caroline had been in Victor’s place; she knew too well what it meant.
‘It’s Friday afternoon,’ Lerner said pleasantly to Caroline ‘You’re not planning to make me work, are you?’
Caroline smiled. ‘Not until Monday morning, Your Honor. But I wanted to discuss our plans for the defense.’
The judge nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
‘We have none.’ Glancing at Salinas, she saw that he was determinedly stoic. ‘Under the circumstances, we plan to present no witnesses. But before final argument, I would like to move to dismiss this case for lack of evidence.’
The judge nodded again, as if he had expected this. ‘Eight o’clock Monday morning, then. But be prepared for final arguments.’ He looked at Salinas. ‘Anything else, Victor?’
Salinas shook his head. ‘Not at this time.’
‘Then there’s one thing I want to raise – this matter of Mr Slocum’s source.’ Lerner turned to her. ‘Is any part of your motion that the prosecution – or this reporter – denied you a material witness? Whoever this “source” is.’
Caroline shook her head. ‘No, Your Honor. If there’s final argument, we intend to make a point of the uncertainty this creates. But we’ve chosen to accept Mr Salinas’s compromise.’ She turned to Salinas, pinning him to the wall. ‘That is, if you and Mr Brooks still stand by it.’
Salinas looked like a man concealing some deep emotion: Caroline was certain that Brooks had ordered him not to let Slocum’s source become a witness and to accept the problems this created. She could well imagine the fury of someone as competitive as Salinas. ‘The D.A.,’ he said finally, ‘has decided to let Mr Slocum protect his source.’
Lerner nodded his satisfaction. ‘That’s it, then. See you Monday morning, for Ms Masters’ motion.’
That was all. ‘For the record,’ she told Salinas on the way out, ‘we’re not taking McKinley’s deal. But you can tell him he’s off the hook.’
Salinas merely shrugged. His expression was unfathomable; perhaps Caroline only imagined his disappointment. They trailed out of chambers, Salinas quiet, Caroline quietly pleased.
Lerner was the right judge; her strong sense was that, come Monday, he would dissmiss the case.
Christopher Paget was almost home.
Chapter 16
Paget spent the weekend quietly. Unlike Caroline, he seesawed back and forth, believing that Lerner would either throw out the case or let it go to a jury about which Paget still had grave doubts. The prospect of a quick exit – the case closed, the pursuit of new evidence cut off – both tantalized and tormented him. The hours passed too slowly.
It gave him time to think. But the summing up depressed him; that Carlo and Terri had lied for him was deeply painful in itself and because neither relationship could ever be the same. He cared much more about that than about the world at large, personified by the camera crews posted outside his door. But he had paid a price there too: even if he was acquitted Monday, the first thing people would think of when they met him was Ricardo Arias.
He saw Terri only once. There had been a call from Elena’s therapist; Terri seemed quite troubled, although she would say little. But for the first time, Terri appeared to be uncomfortable in his home; encountering Carlo, she was distant and preoccupied. She received the news that Paget would not testify with dead calm, wishing him luck and asking no questions. She left shortly after.
Whether he won or lost, Paget knew, there would be a reckoning between them. There were wounds and doubts, perhaps for both of them, which had yet to be addressed: Paget sensed that what would preserve their relationship for a time was a conviction, because Terri would feel obliged not to desert him. But that would be, Paget intended to tell her, no consolation at all.
The one bright spot was Carlo. Paget saw Caroline’s dismantling of Georgina Keller for what it was: the guile of a gifted lawyer who knew that eyewitness testimony, which seemed so damning to lay people, was often not hard to discredit. But Carlo chose to seize on it as vindication, as if to fill the vacuum created by his father’s silence. The knowledge that Carlo’s optimism was an act of will did not entirely dampen Paget’s pleasure: with his future in the balance, any lightening of Carlo’s mood afforded some relief.
He had been right to choose Caroline, Paget thought. Despite the restrictions he had placed on her, she had done an extraordinary job; Paget wondered if he himself could have done as well. There had been a real comfort in Caroline’s presence; her coolness and self-confidence were much more bracing than constant solicitude or burning zeal. And he had come to like her. Sometimes Paget wished that he could tell her the truth.
But between them, perhaps the truth did not really matter. Caroline was a professional; he knew she would spend the weekend preparing and would make an excellent argument. By Monday morning, Paget had half convinced himself that, within hours, he would be free again.
The first sign that something was wrong was the look on Salinas’s face.
They were in court, waiting for Judge Lerner. The jury was not present; reporters, notified by Lerner that Caroline’s motion would be heard, already packed the courtroom. But Salinas did not appear edgy and combative, as Paget would have expected; he seemed almost detached, and there was something in his bland expression that suggested a half smile. He looked like the only person in the courtroom who knew what was happening.
Paget turned to Caroline. ‘What’s with Victor – ?’
‘All rise,’ Lerner’s courtroom deputy called out. ‘The Superior Court of the City and County of San Francisco, Judge Jared M. Lerner, is now in session.’
Lerner ascended the bench. ‘All right,’ he said crisply. ‘Our first business this morning is the defendant’s motion to dismiss all charges. Ms Masters?’
Salinas stood. ‘Pardon me, Your Honor. But within the last forty-eight hours there has been a development which renders this motion premature, at best. The people ask leave of court to reopen the prosecution case, to present another witness. After disclosure of the prospective new evidence to Ms. Masters, of course.’
Paget was stunned: Salinas had underscored the word ‘new evidence,’ to tell him that the deal with Brooks could not be retrieved. ‘He’s sandbagged us,’ Caroline murmured in a taut voice, and quickly stood. ‘Just how did you discover this witness, Mr Salinas?’
‘She discovered us.’ Salinas’s voice had a shade of irony. ‘She recognized Mr Paget from television. A news report of Friday’s court proceedings.’
All at once, Paget knew what had happened. But Caroline, of course, did not. ‘Who is this?’ she asked Salinas. ‘Surely not another keyhole peeper.’
Salinas shook his head. ‘This person met Mr Paget in an entirely different context. A charitable donation, in fact.’
Caroline turned to Lerner. ‘A moment, Your Honor, if you please.’ She sat, turning to Paget with a look of worry and annoyance. ‘Do you know what this “new evidence” is?’
Paget felt sick. ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘I do. And any chance for a deal with Brooks is gone.’
>
Lerner gave Caroline the morning to prepare; the witness’s testimony was simple and straightforward and would not take long. At two o’clock, Anna Velez took the stand.
Except for a black suit, she was as Paget remembered her – lovely brown eyes, gold earrings, and vivid makeup, pleasantly plump. He had been a fool to hope that she would not remember him.
Salinas still seemed calm, almost matter-of-fact. ‘And where do you work, Ms Velez?’
‘At the Goodwill outlet on Mission Street.’
Paget’s memory of that day, he found, had a dreamlike quality: shaken by Monk’s questions, he had drifted through the next several hours, from one haphazard solution to another, settling on the most foolish. When, as fate would have it, he encountered Anna Velez. Of that, his memory was perfect.
As, it seemed, was hers. ‘And in November of last year,’ Salinas asked, ‘did you encounter the defendant, Christopher Paget?’
Velez had a face made for smiling, Paget recalled, but now it was somber. ‘I did,’ she said. ‘At the store.’
The jury, Paget saw, was attentive but mystified: they understood only that this was important. Quietly, Salinas asked, ‘And why did you choose, at this late date, to bring this to our attention?’
Velez folded her hands. ‘I was watching television on Friday night – only because my sister turned it on. The newsman was talking about this case, and they showed a film of Mr Paget.
‘“I know that man,” I said to my sister, and so I started paying attention.’ Furtively, she glanced at Paget. ‘It was about this lady who thought she saw another man leaving this dead man’s apartment and that he wore a double-breasted gray suit with maybe something on the sleeve. And suddenly it all made sense.’
Salinas seemed animated now. ‘What made sense?’
‘The reason I knew Mr Paget is that he came to my store with three suits and a new pair of shoes.’ Velez’s voice conveyed a certain horror. ‘One of the suits was gray and had a stain on its right sleeve.’
‘Jesus,’ someone murmured. In a few brief hours, Paget thought bleakly, he had gone from the verge of acquittal to facing a life in prison. The jury seemed startled, as if their sense of the case had just turned around.
‘Was there a particular reason, Ms Velez, that the defendant stuck in your mind?’
She nodded. ‘It was the whole thing – him and what he brought. At first, it was that he was good-looking and that the shoes and suits were so expensive but he didn’t seem to care. Like he was rich. He didn’t even want a receipt for taxes.’ She paused. ‘After we closed, I looked at the suits again. They had foreign labels – Italian, I think – and the wool was like I’d never felt before, light and very soft. It really amazed me that someone would just give away what seemed like a thousand-dollar suit. And then I saw the stain.’
‘Could you describe it?’
Velez nodded. ‘It was like spots. Or a spatter of something.’
Everything she said, Paget thought, made things that much worse: even her ingenuous touches – his wealth and carelessness – would be deadly with the jury, and Caroline could do nothing.
Salinas paused for attention. ‘What, if anything, did you try to do about the stain?’
Velez spread her hands. ‘The suit was so nice, Mr Salinas, that I decided to take it home and try to clean it.’
‘And did you?’
‘I tried, I used soap, stain remover – everything, even cold water. It wouldn’t come out.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘It was like ink, I remember thinking. Or blood.’
Caroline glanced up but otherwise did not react; to move to strike the answer would only drive it home.
‘You also mentioned shoes,’ Salinas said. ‘Could you describe them?’
‘Not as well as the suit. But they were black leather and soft to touch.’ Velez glanced at the jury. ‘What I really remember is that they were almost brand-new. Like even the heels were barely scuffed.’
‘At the time Mr Paget gave you the shoes, did you ask him about this?’
‘What he told me was they didn’t fit right.’ Velez frowned, then shook her head. ‘I remember thinking I’d take them back to exchange.’
Did you find fibers on any shoes? Caroline had asked Monk. Paget wondered if the jury was following this, and then he saw Joseph Duarte make a note.
‘Do you know where the shoes are now?’ Salinas asked.
Velez shrugged, shaking her head. ‘I couldn’t find them at the store. So I guess we sold them or gave them away. From our records, you can’t be sure.’
Salinas paused again. ‘What about the suit?’ he asked softly. ‘With the stains like ink. Or blood.’
Paget felt himself tense. In the jury box, Marian Celler turned to Velez, awaiting her answer. ‘No,’ Velez said. ‘It’s gone too. We don’t know where it is.’
For a moment, Paget closed his eyes.
‘Did you have a receipt,’ Salinas asked, ‘from Mr Paget’s visit?’
‘We have a copy.’
Salinas held up a small square of paper. ‘Your Honor, by stipulation with the defense, I would like to introduce this as People’s Exhibit 17 and ask the witness to identify it.’
He passed the scrap to Velez. ‘Is this your handwriting?’ he asked.
Velez held it gingerly. ‘It is. This is the receipt I gave to Mr Paget.’
‘And could you tell us what it shows?’
Velez nodded. ‘It shows that on November I, Mr Paget gave us three suits and a pair of shoes. Just like I remember.’
Salinas took the slip, proffering it to Caroline. ‘We’ve seen it,’ she said, and then Salinas walked to the jury box and handed it to Joseph Duarte. Duarte read the receipt, and then gave it to Marian Celler. Paget watched it begin passing from juror to juror – a piece of paper with lines for each item and the word ‘Padgett’ scrawled at the top.
‘No further questions,’ Salinas said.
Rising, Caroline looked puzzled, inclining her head toward the jury box. ‘I’d understood you to say that Mr Paget didn’t want a receipt.’
‘He said he didn’t need one. But I told him he should have it.’
‘And what did he say?’
Velez looked at the ceiling. ‘I guess I don’t remember,’ she said after a time. ‘But he must have taken it.’
‘How did you get Mr Paget’s name? To put at the top of the receipt.’
‘I asked him.’ Velez paused. ‘I remember wondering how to spell it but not wanting to ask.’
‘So he wasn’t trying to hide who he was.’
Velez thought about the question. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘But he gave me his right name. I just didn’t spell it right.’
Caroline nodded. ‘When Mr Paget was in the store, did you talk to him?’
‘A little bit.’
‘How did he seem to you?’
‘Nice.’ For the first time, Velez seemed to feel bad about what she had done. ‘He wasn’t superchatty, but I thought he was real nice. I remember joking with him about something or other.’
‘Would you say he was friendly?’
‘I’d say so, yes. He wasn’t stuck-up or anything. Or really quiet.
It was all Caroline had, Paget thought: to make him seem an amiable man, running a routine errand. ‘Did he appear nervous?’ Caroline asked.
‘Nervous? No. I never thought that.’
Caroline moved closer. ‘And so, at the time, the impression Mr Paget left was that he was generous?’
The word seemed to puzzle Velez. ‘You mean, giving away new things?’ She considered for a time. ‘Yes, I guess I thought that was generous. I mean, you don’t usually get things that nice. Even the suit with the stain.’
Caroline nodded. ‘About that stain – you have no idea what it was, correct?’
Velez hesitated. ‘That’s right.’
‘On a gray suit, you couldn’t even tell what color it was.’ Velez shook her head. ‘Except that it was darker than the suit.’
>
‘So when you said the stain reminded you of ink or blood, it was because it wouldn’t come out?’
‘That’s what made me think of it.’
‘And ink, or blood, were just examples of stains you think are hard to get out?’
‘That’s right.’
‘You don’t claim to be an expert on bloodstains?’
‘Oh, no.’
‘Or, for that matter, stain removal.’
Velez grinned. ‘I guess I’m not. I couldn’t get this one out.’
For the first time, Caroline smiled. ‘So in summary, a pleasant man came to your store, turned in a pair of shoes and three suits, one of which had a stain you can’t identify, joked with you a little, gave you his name when you asked, and let you fill out a receipt recording his visit. Is that right?’
Velez seemed to tick off the points in her mind. ‘That’s right.’
Caroline’s smile faded. ‘When you found out, over the weekend, that the man you met had been charged with murder, were you surprised?’
Velez looked troubled. ‘Yes. I was.’
‘Because he seemed so nice.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And because his behavior didn’t seem suspicious.’
Velez pondered that. ‘I thought he was careless, in a way. About his things. But he was nice.’
Caroline smiled again. ‘Some millionaires are like that, I suppose – careless but nice. Anyhow, I guess he didn’t seem like a homicidal maniac.’
Salinas stood at once. ‘Objection. Lack of foundation, calls for speculation. Murderers come in all shapes and sizes, Your Honor. And guises.’
‘Sustained.’
But Caroline had made her point. Casually turning back to the witness, she asked, ‘By the way, Ms Velez, do you like red wine?’
For a moment, Velez looked bemused. ‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Especially Rioja. You know, from Spain.’
‘Ever spill any?’
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