Trial and Terror

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Contents

  * * *

  1. What Happened on the Night of August 14?

  2. Free PI Service

  3. Garbage

  4. The Missing Keys

  5. A Foreboding Fortune

  6. The Seventy-ninth Floor

  7. Members of the Press

  8. Cross-examination

  9. A Shred of Evidence

  10. The Face on the Screen

  11. Danger in the Basement

  12. A Race through the Flames

  13. Sing Sing

  14. Dark at the End of the Tunnel

  15. The Whole Truth

  1 What Happened on the Night of August 14?

  * * *

  “I wonder what this trial is all about,” Joe Hardy said as he and his brother, Frank, took seats in the spectator gallery of a criminal courtroom. A trial was about to continue after a lunchtime break, and the room buzzed with excitement.

  “Keep a lid on, little bro’,” Frank said, “and we’ll soon find out.”

  Frank had volunteered to observe some court trials as part of a civics class project. Since he was doing the assignment over the Christmas break, Frank decided to watch some trials in New York City, which was just an hour’s drive from the Hardys’ hometown of Bayport. Frank knew the city would offer a greater variety of cases.

  When Joe heard that Frank was going to observe actual trials, he invited himself along.

  Frank and Joe had spent the morning looking in on several different cases. They could see that this courtroom was far more crowded than the others. By now almost every seat in the spectator gallery was taken.

  “Let’s see,” Joe said. “So far today, we’ve seen trials involving burglary, embezzlement, and shoplifting. You know what we need now?”

  “What’s that?” Frank asked.

  “A good murder trial,” Joe said.

  “I think we’re in luck,” Frank said, his brown eyes twinkling.

  Tall and dark-haired, Frank was eighteen years old. He was in excellent physical shape, but he prided himself more on his brain power.

  Blond-haired Joe was an inch shorter and a year younger than his brother. Joe often found himself guided more by his emotions and his muscle power than by logic and reason.

  “Okay, let’s get this show on the road,” Joe said now, glancing around impatiently. He could see two men with their backs to the spectators, sitting at a long table. One of them, a man in his late twenties, turned around and glanced at Joe, almost as if he had heard what Joe had said. He was dressed in a blue suit, and his black hair was slicked back. Though his face seemed kind, his nervousness indicated to Joe that he was the person on trial.

  “The defendant doesn’t look like a murderer,” Joe said to Frank.

  Frank studied the man. “Time will tell, I guess.”

  Just then, one of the court officers, who the Hardys knew from the morning’s proceedings was called a bailiff, stepped forward and called out, “All rise!”

  Everyone stood as the judge, a distinguished-looking man dressed in a black robe, entered the room. He took a seat behind a massive desk that was elevated off the floor. Everyone sat back down.

  “Miss Daggett, you may proceed with your case,” the judge announced in a deep voice.

  A tall woman whom Frank guessed was in her forties stood at another long table. She wore an elegant outfit, and every strand of her frosted blond hair was in place. Frank realized Daggett was the prosecuting lawyer, the person who would try to send the defendant to prison.

  Frank couldn’t tell how long the trial had been going, but he knew from civics class the general procedure the trial would follow. First the prosecuting lawyer would call a series of witnesses whose testimony would indicate the defendant’s guilt. Then the defense lawyer would call witnesses whose testimony would indicate the defendant’s innocence. The two lawyers were like warriors, each struggling to win victory over the other.

  “Your Honor,” Daggett said in a firm voice, “the prosecution calls Karen Lee to the stand.”

  All eyes watched Karen Lee enter the courtroom and walk to the witness stand. She was a pretty woman whom Joe guessed to be in her late twenties. Silky black hair grazed the shoulders of her dress.

  A bailiff approached Lee and instructed her to raise her right hand. When Lee did so, the bailiff said, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”

  “I do,” Karen Lee said. Joe thought she seemed calm and collected but not very happy to be there.

  Daggett began by asking Lee some questions about who she was. Lee explained that for several years she had been a struggling actress, taking all sorts of odd jobs to make money. Then earlier this year, she had landed a role on a soap opera called Days of Destiny.

  “That might explain why there are so many people here,” Joe whispered to Frank. “People come out of the woodwork to see a celebrity.”

  Then Daggett got down to business. “Miss Lee,” she said, walking toward the witness, “let me take you back to the night of August fourteenth of this year. Could you please tell the court what you were doing at approximately eight o’clock on that night?”

  “Yes. Nick Rodriguez came by my apartment to talk with me,” Lee replied.

  “And what was your relationship with Nick Rodriguez?” Daggett asked.

  “We were engaged to be married, but we had broken up two months before,” Lee said. She paused. “Actually, I had broken up with Nick, and he was upset about it. That’s what he wanted to talk to me about.”

  “Is Nick Rodriguez in this courtroom?” Daggett said. “And, if so, could you point him out?”

  Karen Lee hesitated a moment. Then Joe watched her point at the defendant. “That’s him in the blue suit,” Lee said softly.

  Daggett looked at the defendant, her eyes cold as ice. Then she turned back to Lee and asked, “How did your talk with Mr. Rodriguez go?”

  “Not so well,” Lee said. “We ended up arguing, and Nick left around nine o’clock.”

  “Was he distraught at the time?” Daggett said.

  “Yes, he was,” Lee answered.

  “Did he have anything with him?” Daggett said.

  “He had a large shopping bag,” Lee said. “He told me he had been to a department store to buy some towels for his home.”

  Joe saw the defendant, Nick Rodriguez, shifting uneasily in his chair. The defense lawyer scribbled a note on his legal pad.

  “Then what happened after Mr. Rodriguez left your apartment?” Daggett asked.

  Lee cleared her throat. “A few minutes later,” she said, “there was a knock at my door. When I opened it, I saw a person in disguise.”

  Until now spectators had been rustling and whispering, but now the courtroom fell silent.

  “What kind of disguise?” Daggett asked.

  “The person wore a long black coat and black gloves, and the face was completely covered by a black ski mask,” Lee answered.

  Frank kept his eyes glued to the witness, trying to see if anything in her manner would let him know if she was telling the truth.

  “What happened next?” Daggett asked.

  Lee cleared her throat again. “The person pushed me aside, got into the apartment, and closed the door behind,” she said. “I tried to scream, but I was so frightened that nothing came out of my mouth. Then the intruder pulled a long knife from a coat pocket and lunged at me, the knife in the person’s right hand.”

  Lee touched her throat and closed her eyes, almost as if she were reliving the moment.

  “Take your time, Miss Lee,” Daggett said. “I realize this is very difficult for you.”

  Lee took a deep breath, then continued. “I grabbed the hand just before the blad
e reached my chest. I held the hand tightly, struggling to get control of the knife, but finally the other person managed to pull it away. Again the knife came at me. Again I tried to scream, and this time I screamed really loud. When I did this, the person in black fled the apartment.”

  “Then what happened?” Daggett asked.

  “I called the police,” Lee said. “And some of my neighbors came to my door. But none of them had caught a glimpse of the person in black.”

  Daggett paused to let the story sink in.

  “It’s not a murder case,” Joe said to Frank, “but at least it’s an attempted murder case.”

  Frank looked to the side of the courtroom where the jury was sitting in two rows behind a railing. After both lawyers had presented their cases, it would be the jury’s job to decide if this man, Nick Rodriguez, was guilty or not guilty of attempting to murder Karen Lee.

  Daggett questioned Lee for another few minutes before returning to her chair. Then the judge told the defense lawyer, a man named Myers, to begin his cross-examination.

  Frank leaned forward. He knew that after one side questioned a witness, the other side always got a chance to ask some questions of its own.

  Myers stood, hands in his pockets. Frank guessed he was in his early thirties. His rumpled suit and tousled hair made him seem an unworthy opponent to the elegant Daggett.

  “Miss Lee, how are you this afternoon?” Myers asked. He was acting friendly, but Frank knew he would now try to cast doubt on Lee’s testimony.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Lee said, calm again.

  “You say this person who attacked you on the night of August fourteenth was wearing a long coat and gloves, and the person’s face was completely covered by a ski mask,” Myers said. “Is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is,” Lee said.

  “In other words,” Myers said, “you really couldn’t see this person at all.”

  “I guess not,” Lee admitted. Frank noticed Lee crossing her legs, looking a little uncomfortable now.

  “How tall was this person?” Myers asked.

  “Average height,” Lee answered.

  “Average height,” Myers said, as if thinking deeply about this. “What does that mean exactly? Somewhere between three and eight feet tall.”

  There was a ripple of laughter in the room. “Between five foot six inches and five foot ten inches, I would say,” Lee answered. “I was flustered at the time.”

  “I’m sure you were,” Myers said with a sympathetic nod. “In fact, you were probably so flustered you wouldn’t be able to describe this person’s weight or posture or shoe size or really any physical detail. Is that correct?”

  “I suppose it is,” Lee said, nervously touching a hand to her hair.

  Myers pulled off a pair of glasses and looked at Lee. “Miss Lee,” he said, “can you say with absolute certainty that the person who attacked you on the night of August fourteenth was Nick Rodriguez?”

  “No,” Lee said. “Not with absolute certainty.”

  “Oh, come on,” Joe whispered to Frank. “It seems pretty obvious Rodriguez is guilty, doesn’t it? The knife and disguise were in the shopping bag, probably buried under the towels he said he had. He had decided if she didn’t get back together with him, he was going to kill her.”

  “There might be a lot more to the story,” Frank said, never one to jump to conclusions. “The testimony only proves that someone attacked Lee—not who attacked her.”

  After a few more questions, Lee was dismissed. Then Frank watched as Daggett called a police detective to the witness stand. The detective told how he and his partner went to Lee’s apartment shortly after the attack. After questioning Lee and collecting some physical evidence, the two cops went to Nick Rodriguez’s apartment.

  Rodriguez was already home, the officer explained. He insisted he was innocent and showed the cops the towels he had bought, along with the receipt for them. The cops left. However, they went back to Rodriguez’s apartment the following afternoon with a search warrant. This time they found a black ski mask and a pair of black gloves stuffed under the mattress in Rodriguez’s bedroom. Rodriguez was then arrested.

  “Man, he’s looking guiltier by the minute, isn’t he?” Joe whispered to Frank.

  “Looks that way,” Frank said. “But we can’t jump to conclusions.”

  Myers briefly cross-examined the cop, then the cop was dismissed. Daggett’s next witness was a thin man named Roth. Joe thought Roth looked bored, as if he had done this many times.

  “Mr. Roth, what is your occupation?” Daggett asked the man.

  “I work in the police crime lab,” Roth said. “My job is to evaluate physical evidence in New York City criminal cases.”

  “Have you examined the ski mask and gloves found in Nick Rodriguez’s apartment?” Daggett said. Frank saw she was twirling a ring on her finger.

  “Yes,” Roth answered.

  “What did you find?” Daggett asked.

  “I found nothing useful in the gloves,” Roth replied. “But I found several hair samples in the ski mask. We analyzed them, then got some samples of Nick Rodriguez’s hair and compared them.”

  “Did the hair samples you found match with the samples taken from Nick Rodriguez?” Daggett asked.

  “In my opinion, they did,” Roth said as he straightened his tie. “All of them.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Daggett asked.

  “Every person’s hair is different if you analyze it under a microscope,” Roth explained. “Hair samples, in my opinion, can be matched with almost as much accuracy as fingerprints.”

  “What are the odds the hairs found in the ski mask are not from Nick Rodriguez?” Daggett asked.

  “Those hair samples belong to Nick Rodriguez,” Roth said, glancing at the defendant. “I would say the odds against it are a million to one.”

  Excited voices passed through the courtroom, and the judge banged his gavel for order.

  “Are you convinced he’s guilty now?” Joe said.

  “Just about,” Frank replied.

  Then a young woman in the front row of the gallery stood up and cried to the crowd, “No! He’s innocent! I swear to you, he’s innocent!”

  2 Free PI Service

  * * *

  One of the bailiffs hurried over to the woman. Everyone turned to watch, and suddenly the room was alive with excited chatter.

  “Order in the court!” the judge boomed, banging his gavel on his desk. “Order in the court!” The crowd quieted down as the bailiff escorted the young woman out of the courtroom.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the judge warned, “any more outbursts like that, and I will clear this room of all spectators. This is a court of law, not a circus. Now let us continue with the testimony.”

  “Let’s go check on that woman,” Frank whispered to Joe. “I want to see if she’s all right.”

  “Good idea,” Joe said, grabbing his coat.

  The Hardys slipped out of the courtroom and entered the corridor outside. Frank saw the bailiff had brought a chair and a glass of water to the young woman. As the bailiff returned to the courtroom, the woman sat in the chair, holding the water and staring blankly into space.

  Frank and Joe approached the woman. “Are you okay, ma’am?” Frank asked.

  “I’m not sure,” the woman said quietly.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Joe said.

  “This is just very hard for me,” the woman said, looking up at the Hardys. “That’s my twin brother on trial, and I know he didn’t do it.”

  Frank could see how much the woman resembled Nick Rodriguez. She was the same age, with the same features and the same coloring. She was an attractive woman, but sadness now filled her eyes.

  “I’m Frank Hardy,” Frank said gently, “and this is my brother, Joe. I’m here watching some trials for a school civics class.”

  “Hello,” the woman said, managing a small smile. “My name is Nellie Rodriguez.”

&
nbsp; “If your brother is innocent,” Joe said, “I’m sure his lawyer will get the jury to see that.”

  “But the evidence is all against him,” Nellie said with a helpless shrug. “When that man talked about the hair samples, I could see every member of that jury convicting Nick with their eyes.”

  There was a blinding flash of light, and Joe turned to see a woman with frizzy red hair pointing a camera at Nellie. The woman was in her thirties, dressed in a turtleneck sweater and short leather skirt.

  “Miss Rodriguez,” the redhead spoke out, “I wonder if I might have a few words with you?”

  “No,” Nellie said angrily. “I’ve told you before, I have nothing to say to you. Please, can’t you leave me and my family in peace?”

  “It will only take—” the woman persisted.

  “Can’t you see she’s upset?” Joe barked at the intruder. “Now get out of here!”

  “Okay, okay, I’m going,” the redhead said as she stuffed the camera into her large shoulder bag and hurried back to the courtroom.

  “That’s Lisa Velloni,” Nellie said. Joe could tell that Nellie disliked the woman. “She’s a reporter. Several newspapers, mostly tabloids, are covering this case because Karen is on a soap opera.”

  Nellie took a sip of water, then spoke again. “I’m told Patricia Daggett seldom loses a case. And she’s prosecuting this one especially hard.”

  “Why is that?” Joe asked.

  “Before she landed her TV role, Karen Lee worked as a secretary in the district attorney’s office,” Nellie explained. “That’s where all the prosecutors work. She was only there a few months, but during that time Daggett and Lee got to know each other. That gives Daggett all the more reason to nail the person who tried to kill Karen.”

  “Daggett’s tough,” Frank said, “but it seems as if your brother’s lawyer is also good.”

  “Bernie Myers is doing his best,” Nellie said, “but he’s not even sure my brother is innocent. Nick swears he had never seen those gloves and ski mask before, let alone put them under the mattress. But it sure looks like he did.”

  “Maybe your brother was framed,” Frank said.