Suffering Fools

by Ed Gaffney

  So far, the Gardiner trial was going fine. The scheduling was a little odd—the judge had some other cases he had to handle, so he couldn’t work a full day on the first two days of the trial. That meant they only could do jury selection on day one, and on day two, they were only able to do opening statements and a few of the shorter witnesses, like the victim’s employer. Today they’d spend the whole day traveling to the convenience store and to the site where the body was found. Tomorrow began the really important witnesses, starting with the one who was probably most important, Detective John Morrison.

  In some ways, Louis had a tremendous amount of respect for the detective. Morrison had a terrific reputation, and was obviously a great cop. And in most of the cases that Louis had handled in which Morrison testified, he was a good, and sometimes great, witness. Maybe a little bit of a showman, but that was his personality.

  What was troubling was that in this case, Morrison seemed agitated in some way. He just wasn’t quite himself. The facts were a little unusual—Morrison knew that since the victim couldn’t testify, he was going to have to spend a lot of time describing exactly what went on between them—and maybe that was what was upsetting him.

  Or maybe Morrison was freaked out because Hirsch disappeared only hours after he’d told the detective that Babe Gardiner had threatened him. Maybe Morrison was feeling embarrassed, or guilty about the victim’s death.

  Whatever it was, the conversations that Morrison and Louis had in preparation for the trial left Louis with an uneasy feeling. Maybe it was nothing.

  Or maybe there was more to this case than anybody expected.

  “SO, WHAT KINDS OF THINGS DO YOU LIKE TO DO away from the job?” Vera asked John as they sat down for their second date. They were back at Stella’s—the same restaurant they’d gone to their first night out. Not the greatest sign. But if all that came of going out with John Morrison was that Vera got a chance to have dinner out with a nice guy, then that would be fine.

  “I don’t know,” John answered. He was wearing a dark blue suit today, with a black-and-silver striped tie and a white shirt. He looked good. Maybe a little more corporate than usual, but there was nothing wrong with that. “I had to be ready to testify in that Gardiner case today, you know, but they didn’t get to me. So I’m on for tomorrow. Lou Lovell, the A.D.A. that’s doing the case, says I’m going to be fine. But I don’t know. I don’t like those defense attorneys—Zack Wilson and Terry Tallach. I’ve run into them a few times on some old cases. Something about them rubs me the wrong way. I don’t know.” He flashed the big smile and shrugged. “I’m just gonna be glad when it’s over.”

  That was a little strange. Vera had heard from the other detectives in the squad that John liked being a witness, and that he was really good at it, too. Maybe he just put up a good front when he was around them.

  John’s cell phone rang; he checked the caller ID and excused himself. Just like on their first date.

  That was kind of disappointing.

  It was also a little disappointing that he didn’t answer the question about what he liked to do when he wasn’t being a cop. And, to be honest, it was a little disappointing that Zack Wilson and Terry Tallach rubbed him the wrong way.

  Vera had to admit that when she had met the two attorneys, back when she was questioning their client, she had been impressed with Wilson. He seemed like he was a straight shooter. Unlike a lot of defense attorneys Vera had met since she’d first joined the force, he didn’t seem afraid of learning the truth about things.

  And his partner, Terry Tallach, boy, he was some piece of work. A living, breathing supernova of passion. About everything from the subject matter of her questions to where to eat lunch. He looked like he’d be a lot of fun to spend some time with.

  As long as his hair didn’t burst into flame every five minutes.

  John made it back over to the table just in time to ogle the pretty waitress’s tight red tank top. They ordered drinks, and then they looked at each other and smiled. Here was another chance to see what John Morrison was really like. “So, about those things you like to do outside the squad…” she said. Anybody home behind the Super-Cop costume?

  “Yeah, I don’t know, you know. My dad was a cop—I guess it’s kind of hard thinking about not being a cop.” He leaned forward, grabbed a piece of bread from the basket on the table, took a bite, and sat back. “So, how are your cases going? I heard that DOA they dragged out of the lake turned out to be that Zwaggert guy you were looking for.”

  Ah well. So it was just going to be dinner out with a fellow cop who had no boyfriend potential. So what if John Morrison wasn’t turning out to be the dream date kind of guy? He was still nice to look at. And everybody needed to eat dinner. At least this one wasn’t going to be lonely. And who knows? Maybe John had a brother or a friend he could introduce her to. “Yeah. He was easy to ID. Whoever dumped him left his wallet in his pants. He’d been shot right in the chest. He was dead before he made it into the water.”

  “Hey—we’re on a roll. First my armed robbery turns into a homicide, then your missing person turns into one, too. We better be careful if we ever work a case together, huh?” He laughed hard at his own joke as the drinks arrived.

  Vera smiled. She wanted to laugh, but it just wasn’t that funny. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was going to be a lonely dinner.

  TWENTY-ONE

  BODY DISCOVERED IN NEIGHBORHOOD LAKE

  The decomposing corpse of what police believe was a man somewhere between twenty and forty years old was discovered in Glass Lake early this morning by area fishermen.

  Brothers Frank and Peter Maretti and William Skyler were fishing from their boat at the north end of the lake, when Skyler unintentionally hooked a piece of the victim’s clothing and reeled the body to the surface. The three men then called the police, who immediately restricted access to the lake and cordoned off the surrounding area, pending their investigation.

  Authorities have not yet determined a cause of death, nor have they released the identity of the victim.

  (Boston Post, September 9, 2004)

  September 10, 2004

  Day 4 of the Babe Gardiner trial

  “MR. WILSON,” JUDGE PARK SAID AS THE A.D.A. sat down. “Cross-examination?”

  Zack was going to have to be very careful with Detective Morrison. He was the prosecution’s most important witness, and it was through him that A.D.A. Lovell had introduced the video of the robbery and gotten into evidence the statement of the clerk that Babe was the robber.

  Terry had objected to that testimony as hearsay, but the judge properly overruled the objection, on grounds that it was an excited utterance.

  At the exchange between Terry and the judge, Zack had to work hard to keep from smiling. It was always funny when his friend got involved in those kinds of discussions, since it seemed that every third thing out of Terry’s mouth was itself an excited utterance.

  Oh my God, look at that waitress!

  Oh my God, this traffic sucks!

  Oh my God, our client is such a fucking asshole!

  But when it came to deciding who was going to do the questioning of the good-looking hero-cop, it was a nobrainer. It would have been impossible for Terry to cross-examine Morrison without letting everyone know that he really thought the detective was a grandstanding windbag. And that would have sent a very bad message to the jury. The people deciding this case needed to know that the defense appreciated and respected the hard work of all police, including this handsome detective. After all, he was just doing his job, right?

  But there were enough little things in the case that Zack could raise in his cross-examination—most respectfully, of course—which might just give the jury something to think about.

  Unfortunately, thanks to their client’s pathetic inability to trust them, that was pretty much the entire strategy of the case. Besides Babe’s testimony, which was going to be a catastrophe, they didn’t have a hell of a lot else. They were going
to have to try to raise a reasonable doubt in the jury’s minds with the small but curious and unanswered questions that ran through the case. And it was going to have to start here, with Detective Morrison.

  Zack stepped up to the podium, carrying his three-ring trial notebook. To his right, A.D.A. Lovell sat at his table, preparing to make notes on a legal pad. To Zack’s left was the defense table, where Babe, then Terry, then Sean sat. Although Babe had brought his legal file to court, remarkably, he was watching Morrison and not doodling. Sean, however, was writing notes furiously.

  It was as if the two young men with the slouched shoulders had some kind of pact. No matter what, one must be scribbling at all times.

  “Good afternoon, Detective. My name is Zack Wilson, and I’ve just got a few questions about that night you went to the convenience store, and later arrested the defendant.”

  “Great, Counselor.”

  Oh man, good thing Terry wasn’t asking the questions. Morrison was already breaking out the swell-guy persona, and they hadn’t even gotten started yet.

  “Without telling us your address, it’s safe to say that this convenience store and the defendant’s home are both located fairly close to where you live, isn’t it?”

  “Oh yeah. Pretty close. Like I said, I go to that convenience store a couple times a week.”

  “Good. Now, when you first went into the store and the clerk told you that he had been robbed, did he tell you what had been taken?”

  Zack expected the A.D.A. to object to that question, since it was technically hearsay—the cop would be reporting what the clerk had told him. The judge was sure to let it in, though, since he’d already ruled that the clerk’s statements were excited utterances, but the typical A.D.A. would object anyway. They’d take a chance, figuring, what the heck? Maybe they’d get lucky, and the judge would sustain the objection and make the defendant’s attorney look bad.

  But not A.D.A. Lovell. No objection.

  “Yes. He said the guy ran off with money and lottery tickets.”

  “I see. Did he say how much money was taken?”

  “No. He said the robber just grabbed what was in the cash drawer. He didn’t think it was too much. Maybe a hundred bucks.”

  “The exact amount was determined by the owner of the store sometime later, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “You’re just telling us now what Mr. Hirsch, the clerk, told you that night.”

  “Right.”

  If there was one thing that Zack hated, it was when lawyers confused juries. It was tempting, sometimes, to try it as a defense attorney, especially if your guy looked like he did it. But in the end, it almost always blew up in your face. Juries weren’t stupid. If they got confused because a defense lawyer misled them or a witness, they usually took it out on the defendant.

  There was also just something about it that didn’t sit well with him. So he usually went out of his way to make sure everybody was on the same page.

  “Now, about what time did you come into the convenience store?”

  “It was a little before midnight. I had just finished watching the news, and I wanted to grab some milk before I went to bed.”

  “But you didn’t get to bed for some time that night, did you?”

  “No.” The detective flashed the Hollywood smile. “That was a late night.”

  OH BROTHER. TERRY KNEW THAT ZACK WAS SETTING the cop up for a couple of shots in a few minutes, but oh brother. That phony smile really set Terry’s teeth on edge.

  The jury was loving everybody so far. The movie-star detective, the golden-boy lawyer, both smiling, pleasant, friendly, respectful. That was also just the way Zack wanted it.

  It was early in the day, and everyone on the jury was fresh, and paying close attention. That was good. Because it was going to get fun soon, when that detective’s fake smile disappeared.

  “So, what time again was it when you arrested the defendant, Mr. Gardiner?”

  “According to my report, it was 2:30 A.M.”

  “I’m glad you mentioned the report, Detective, because I’d like to come back to that in a minute. But before I do, let me just ask you about the arrest. The store was robbed at 11:45, and the arrest took place at 2:30. So, there was approximately three hours between the time of the robbery and the time of the arrest, correct?”

  “Let’s see. Yep. Three hours.”

  “Okay. Now, you said you were familiar with the area of the robbery, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And can you tell me how many businesses in that area are open after 11:45 at night?”

  The detective wasn’t expecting that one. He wasn’t exactly sure where Zack was going, but the expression on his face looked a little less cocky.

  “Uh, gee, I never really, um, I guess I’d have to say everything in the neighborhood is closed. There’s an all-night gas station about fifteen minutes away….”

  “The one in Clear Springs?”

  Zack’s question made it sound like he was very familiar with the area. It unnerved the detective a little.

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s credit card sales only, after midnight, correct?”

  And then a look of understanding passed over the detective’s face. He knew he was in for some trouble. “Yes. That’s right.”

  The good thing about Zack was that his cross-examination style was just him being his earnest self. Just a guy trying to put the whole picture together. “But aside from the gas station in Clear Springs, which does only credit card sales after midnight, where is the business nearest to the convenience store that is open late at night? That is, after 11:45?”

  “I suppose that would be in downtown Springfield,” Morrison answered. “There are a couple of restaurants open ’til two in the morning, and the bars are all open until then, too.”

  “I see. And how long would it take to drive to Springfield from the convenience store?”

  “About forty, forty-five minutes or so.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Zack turned a page in the notebook he always used at trials. “Now, turning to the arrest itself, that took place at 2:30 A.M., correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you were the arresting officer?”

  “Yes. I had backup from a uniform patrol car, but I arrested the defendant.” The message to the jury was that he was such a humble guy, he’d never make it look like he did all the work. They loved it.

  “And did you search the defendant at that time?”

  “Yes, I did. He was unarmed.”

  “Right. But how much money did he have on him at the time?”

  Even a witness as good as Detective Morrison couldn’t hide his frustration. He exhaled and said, “I don’t remember exactly, but it wasn’t much. Less than five dollars.”

  Zack made a little show of checking the police report. “Would it refresh your memory if I told you that you wrote in the police report that the defendant was carrying exactly two dollars and forty-three cents?”

  If Terry had been asking the questions, by now he would have been pounding the podium and shouting. He liked being obvious with the jury. If he was going to make a point, he was going to be damn sure the jury knew it.

  Zack liked keeping it calmer, especially when he felt like the jury was fully engaged. He also never wanted to seem like he was a bully. But if there was ever a witness that was begging to be bullied, it was this walking toothpaste commercial.

  The detective tried to look reflective. “Two forty-three sounds about right.”

  “And after the defendant was arrested, you searched his house, didn’t you?”

  Detective Morrison took a deep breath. “Yes, we searched his apartment, but we didn’t find any weapon, and we didn’t find any stolen money.”

  “In fact, the only other money you found in the apartment was in the defendant’s mother’s purse, correct?”

  “That’s correct.”

  Zack again consulted the police repor
t. “A five-dollar bill, three singles, and some spare change, totaling nine dollars and sixty-five cents, correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So, at this point, your investigation has not been able to account for the money that was stolen from the convenience store?”

  “We didn’t find a hundred dollars under the defendant’s mattress, if that’s what you mean.” Oh ho. A little bit of testiness was starting to ooze out of the witness stand. That was nice. Keep up that attitude, Spiffy, and Zack will eat you for lunch.

  “Well, I didn’t mean that exactly, Detective. I was more wondering if you asked any of the people working at the bars in Springfield if they saw Mr. Gardiner spend in the neighborhood of a hundred dollars that night.”

  Oooh. From the look on the poor detective’s face, he suddenly wasn’t having a very good morning. He knew that Zack knew that nobody asked anybody anything. The cops had a victim who clearly identified the robber, and then later, they had the robber’s DNA on the victim’s dead body. Why the hell would they waste their time running all over town, trying to find out where a hundred dollars went?

  But because Zack was who he was, he was making that kind of investigation sound as logical as it seemed. And the lack of it sound like the sloppy police work that it was. And Detective Morrison was stuck with it.

  “No. We did not make those inquiries.”

  “Oh.” Zack paused, registering a slight disappointment in the police force that he so respected and appreciated. “I see.” He took a breath and then asked, “But you did check for fingerprints in the convenience store, though, right?”

  Morrison tightened his lips. Gone was the toothpaste commercial. “Yes. We checked for fingerprints in the convenience store.”

  Zack nodded. Then he turned a page in his notebook, peered down at it again, and turned it back. Looking back up at Detective Morrison, he asked, with just the right amount of incredulity, “But you didn’t find any of the defendant’s?”

  “No.”

  “Not even on the cash register?”

  “He might have been wearing gloves. You can’t tell from the video.”