The schoolteacher on the jury raised an eyebrow. The artist smirked.
Peyton had known it was coming—the hearsay objections had all been overruled in pretrial motions—yet it was still impossible not to react. She could almost hear the pencils scratching on reporters’ notepads. Now everyone in the courtroom knew what Peyton Shields supposedly did when her husband was out of town. Soon, with the power of the media, the whole blessed world would be in on the dirty little secret.
“Did you ever tell Mr. Stokes about this?” Ohn asked the witness.
“Yes. We were playing basketball one Sunday. I told him exactly what had happened.”
“What was his reaction?”
“He pretty much blew his stack.”
“He got angry?”
“Livid, I’d say.”
“Thank you. No further questions.” Ohn seemed pleased as he returned to his seat.
Jennifer rose for cross-examination, but Tony gave a hand signal, as if to say I’ll take this turkey. He grabbed the grand jury transcript and moved to within ten feet of the witness, feet planted firmly.
“Mr. Beasley, you testified before the grand jury in this case, did you not?’
“Yes.”
“Mr. Ohn asked you about the phone call from Peyton Shields. Specifically, about the man’s voice in the background.”
“That’s right.”
“You told the grand jury what the man said.”
“Yes.”
“At that time you gave the following answer.” He opened the transcript to the clipped page and read. “He said, ‘Don’t be shy, I’ve already seen you naked.’”
“Right. And that was also my testimony today.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Tony went back for his legal pad, checking his notes. “According to your testimony today, the man in the background supposedly said, ‘Don’t be shy, Peyton, I’ve already seen you naked.”
He blinked twice. “That’s what he said. He mentioned her name.”
“That’s the way you remember now?”
“Yes. He mentioned her name. I’m sure.”
“I’m sure too,” said Tony, indignant. “I’m sure it makes it easier for the prosecutor to prove he was actually talking to Peyton.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Let’s move on,” said Tony, hands in his pockets. “Sir, are you aware that Mr. Varne dated Dr. Shields before she married Kevin Stokes?”
He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t know about that.”
“So, assuming that this man in the background was actually Gary Varne, and assuming that he was talking to Peyton, and further assuming that he actually uttered the words ‘I’ve already seen you naked,’ you don’t know if he was referring to the previous night or ten years ago.”
He thought for a moment, then answered reluctantly. “No, I couldn’t say.”
“Now, let’s talk about how Mr. Stokes got so mad on the basketball court. ‘Livid,’ I think was your word.”
“That’s right.”
“Just to elaborate, is it fair to say that he accused you of making the whole thing up?”
“That’s exactly what he did.”
“He told you he didn’t believe that Peyton had been unfaithful.”
“That’s right.”
“He didn’t say that he was mad at Peyton, did he?”
“Well, no. I guess not.”
“He didn’t even say he was mad at Gary Varne, did he?”
“Not that I recall.”
“The only person he was mad at was you.”
“That’s—yes, as far as I know.”
Tony scratched his head, as if confused. “So, what does this boil down to, a case of misdirected anger? Mr. Stokes got so mad at you that he and his wife decided to kill Gary Varne?”
“Objection,” said Ohn, groaning.
“I’ll withdraw it. That’s all the jury needs to hear, Mr. Beasley. Unless there’s some other aspect of your grand jury testimony that you’d like to change now.”
“Objection.”
“Sit down, Mr. Falcone.”
“I’m sitting, Judge,” he said with a thin smile. “I’m sitting.”
I’m dying, thought Peyton, still stung by Beasley’s testimony, sharing little of her lawyer’s thrill of victory in the courtroom war of words.
Sandra Blair was fighting back tears.
It was cool, but sunny, colored leaves ablaze against magnificent blue skies, the perfect autumn day to cruise in a convertible Mercedes with the top down and the heat on. She wasn’t really much of a car person, but her ex-husband had been a collector. This vintage vehicle was one of the spoils of defeat that she’d taken for raising his children and playing his fool.
She was tired of being the fool.
Sandra had told no one about the night in Providence, but it was well known at the firm that she and Kevin had been friends. It was also no secret that she had been speaking to the prosecutor, though no one knew for certain whether she would be a witness and, if so, what she might say. Lawyers at the firm were under strict orders not to discuss the case with her. Nonetheless, as the trial wore on, Marston & Wheeler became an increasingly uncomfortable place for Sandra. Things were especially tense on the day Steve Beasley took the stand, so she decided to get out of town and visit her youngest stepchild at Dartmouth.
Of her three stepchildren, Sandra had always felt closest to Chelsea. She was just six years old when her real mother had passed away and eight years old when Sandra had married her father. Sandra had taken her literally from pigtails to a college dormitory, from SpaghettiOs to Domino’s. She had always felt a real bond with Chelsea and thought Chelsea had felt the same. Sandra was perfectly comfortable driving up on a whim to see her at Dartmouth.
So when Chelsea asked her not to do that anymore, Sandra could hear only her ex-husband’s voice.
She sucked back one last tear as she headed into Boston, and her thoughts returned to Kevin. With the Peyton-and-Kevin show playing out in the media, Sandra had been thinking a lot about Kevin lately. There was no doubt in Sandra’s mind that he was being used. It was beyond dispute, at least in Sandra’s mind, that Peyton and Gary Varne had been lovers. Sandra was equally convinced that Kevin was no killer, which left only one obvious explanation for Gary’s murder. She hadn’t laid it out that clearly the last time she’d spoken to Kevin, but she was still worried about him. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end up paying way too much for his loyalty to an undeserving and downright dangerous woman.
She was suddenly angry at herself for even caring what happened to him. The wind in her face made her forget her worries for a moment, though a quick glance in the rearview mirror reminded her that she wasn’t twenty-eight anymore. She was just passing the Salt and Pepper Bridge over the Charles River when another Charles rang her on the cell phone.
“I hope you take a lesson from your coworker,” said the prosecutor.
Sandra pulled the phone away from her ear; Charles Ohn had one of those pipe-organ voices that carried way too loud over wireless networks. “What are you talking about?”
“Steve Beasley got himself sliced and diced this morning. A little disparity between today’s testimony and his grand jury transcript.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“I’m not saying that you do. I’m just telling you that if there’s someone you Marston and Wheeler lawyers are trying to impress, please knock it off.”
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Ohn.”
“I know that certain people at your law firm aren’t too happy about the novel Kevin Stokes wrote. Your managing partner even took him to court trying to get an injunction against publication—which I understand was denied just recently. As a postscript, the firm probably wouldn’t shed a tear if Stokes went down in this trial. So don’t stretch your testimony by pandering to the powers that be.”
“Is that what Steve did?”
“All I know is that we had Beasley recounting the ‘I’ve seen you naked’ remark, coupled with a long-distance phone bill that shows Peyton Shields was calling from Varne’s apartment. Now that evidence is totally discredited, all because he tried to insinuate the name Peyton into the conversation. I don’t know why he would do that, other than to please his boss.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Just take the stand and tell the truth, damn it. Don’t be trying to please me, please your boss, or please anyone. Don’t let anyone shape your testimony.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, then hung up the phone. But her mind was still racing. Shaping her testimony. What a concept. No one was shaping Sandra Blair’s testimony.
No one but me.
54
KEVIN FELT THE WEIGHT OF THE PROSECUTOR’S STARE AS OHN ROSE to make his announcement.
“The state calls Sandra Blair,” he said.
Kevin’s heart sank. He’d been on edge since leaving her outside the Christian Science complex, where she’d offered to be his alibi witness. He’d never even considered getting back to her, but it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps that wasn’t the end of the matter. Maybe she had her own agenda. Maybe she had even been wearing a wire.
Did she set me up?
Heads turned as she walked down the center aisle of the courtroom. The prosecutor met her at the swinging gate and directed her to the witness stand. She was dressed in a dark business suit, simple jewelry, nothing sexy. Kevin crossed his fingers. Mercifully, she hadn’t dressed the part of the femme fatale. He could only hope that she’d limit her self-description to that of “coworker.”
Sandra’s offer to be his alibi had thrown Kevin. Before going to see her that night, Kevin had resolved to tell Peyton about Sandra. But by the time he’d returned home, he had completely changed his mind. He’d actually convinced himself that she probably wouldn’t testify at trial, particularly since he had no intention of taking her up on her alibi offer. If Sandra wasn’t going to be a witness at trial, Kevin’s reasoning had gone, telling Peyton about her at this juncture would only put more needless strain on their marriage and their joint defense. Kevin would tell his wife everything in due time, after the trial. Clearly that kind of cowardly thinking had bordered on delusional.
Peyton glanced his way as Sandra swore the oath. Kevin could appreciate his wife’s confusion, as Sandra hadn’t testified before the grand jury. He should have told Peyton about her last night, last week, last month, last winter. Now, here she was in the flesh, with no grand jury transcript to tip off the defense as to her possible testimony. Just about anything could pop out of her mouth. “Anything,” however, wasn’t what he was worried about.
Just please don’t let it be everything.
“Ms. Blair, where do you work?” asked Ohn.
She leaned toward the microphone and told him.
“Did you know Kevin Stokes when he worked at Marston and Wheeler?”
For the first time since entering the courtroom, she made eye contact with Kevin. “Yeah. We know each other.”
“Know him well?”
Kevin was starting to sweat. She glanced his way, then back at the prosecutor. “Fairly well, yes.”
Ohn stopped. Or at least it seemed as if he’d stopped, as Kevin braced himself for the next question.
“How about his wife? Do you know her?”
Kevin could breathe again. Miraculously, he was moving on.
Sandra said, “I wouldn’t say I know her. I’ve seen her before.”
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Stokes?”
The tightness was back in Kevin’s chest. Again, he wondered: Did she set me up?
Sandra said, “I believe the last time I saw Kevin was at a dedication and fund-raising event at Harvard University. He was with his wife.”
Kevin was only partially relieved. No mention of the night at the Christian Science complex. But the fund-raiser had its own pitfalls.
The prosecutor asked, “When was that event?”
“Last summer.”
“In relation to the day Gary Varne’s body was found in the trunk of Dr. Shields’s car, when was it?”
“Three days before.”
“Three days,” he said, underscoring the importance for the jury. “Did you speak to Mr. Stokes?”
“Briefly.”
“Did you happen to have the opportunity to hear Mr. Stokes speaking with his wife?”
“Yes, I did.”
“How did that come about?”
“I was on my way to use a pay phone. I overheard them shouting at each other at the end of the hall.”
“Were they alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you make your presence known?”
“No. I was actually quite embarrassed for them.”
“Come now, Ms. Blair. Let’s just be upfront about this. You were eavesdropping, weren’t you?”
She blushed, and Kevin prayed that this wouldn’t lead to a discussion of why she was so interested in their marital disagreement. “I really did go to use the phone,” she said. “But yes, once I heard the shouting I did what anyone would probably do. I listened.”
“We’re not here to pass judgment. At least not on you. Can you tell us what you heard, please?”
Tony rose. “Objection. Hearsay.”
Ohn replied, “These are admissions by the defendants themselves. That’s not hearsay.”
“Overruled.”
Sandra said, “Kevin was very angry and quite loud. Apparently someone had said something to upset him.”
“Just tell us what he said, please.”
“He accused Peyton of having spent the night at Gary Varne’s apartment while he was away on business.”
“What was Peyton’s response?”
“I believe she said, ‘Kevin, do we have to talk about this here?’”
“She didn’t deny it?”
“Not that I heard.”
Kevin started as Peyton grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. He knew it had been purely instinctual, knew that she wanted to jump up and shout to the courtroom, the world. Regardless of whether he’d believed her, he recalled that Peyton had denied any intimacy with Gary at least twice.
“Then what happened?”
“Just a lot of sniping back and forth. At this point my sense of curiosity was giving way to my sense of…well, it was just getting ugly. He was screaming at her for getting drunk and sleeping at Gary Varne’s apartment, that sort of thing.”
“Then what?”
“He stormed away. Flew right past me in the hallway.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“Yes.”
“How did he look?”
She looked at Kevin, then at the prosecutor. “I don’t really remember.”
The prosecutor’s expression fell, as if his witness had suddenly turned against him. “You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
Ohn went to his assistant, who handed up Sandra’s signed statement. “Perhaps this will refresh your recollection. Do you recall giving a statement to me in my office about a month ago?”
“Yes.”
“Do you recall my asking you how Mr. Stokes looked as he left the event you just described?”
“Yes, I recall that.”
“Do you recall giving the following response: ‘Kevin looked like he could kill someone.’”
“Objection,” shouted Tony.
“Move to strike,” said Jennifer.
“Overruled and denied.”
Again, Sandra glanced at Kevin. Then she lowered her eyes, as if embarrassed for having spoken out of anger, particularly to a prosecutor. “Yes. I believe I said that.”
Ohn was clearly enjoying it, though careful not to gloat too much in front of the jury. “I may have already asked, but just so we’re clear
, this happened how many days before Gary Varne’s body was found in the trunk of Dr. Shields’s car?”
“Three days,” she said.
“Thank you. No further questions,” he said, returning to his seat.
Peyton finally released Kevin’s hand. She was whispering something to Tony, presumably her repeated denials of the affair. Kevin sat in silence, watching Sandra. He didn’t see contempt, didn’t see resentment. With her eyes, she seemed to be saying that she had just called it as she’d seen it. Then, slowly, in a gesture that only seemed casual, she pushed her long hair back behind her ear. Kevin tightened his focus and saw the message.
She was wearing the earrings she’d worn the night they’d slept together.
It was as if she’d reached across the courtroom and hit him between the eyes. Without words, she was telling him something. At first blush it seemed like a threat: I have the power to bury you. But as their eyes met once more, he sensed no ill will. To the contrary, maybe in her own peculiar way, she was hinting at reconciliation. It might have been a tacit renewal of the offer she’d made that night outside the Christian Science complex.
I could be your alibi.
“Ms. Dunwoody, your witness,” said the judge.
It was Jennifer’s turn for the defense. She started to rise, but Kevin stopped her. He cupped his hand to her ear and whispered, “No cross-examination.”
“What?”
“Don’t go there.”
The judge said, “Ms. Dunwoody, if you please.”
She remained locked in debate with Kevin, whispering. “We have to cross-examine. She killed us.”
“It can get a lot worse. Just let it go.”
Her look was incredulous, but with a touch of concern. “Let’s talk about this.”
The judge said, “Does the defense have any questions for this witness or not?”
Jennifer rose to address the court. “Your Honor, I’d like to have a brief recess to speak with my client.”
“Forget about it. I’m not going to stop the trial every time you want to have a chat. We’ll be here all year. Now proceed with cross-examination or the witness will be dismissed.”
Tony rose, confusion on his face. “Could I have just thirty seconds with my co-counsel?”
Lying with Strangers Page 26