Trial and Terror

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Can I ask a stupid question?” Joe said, following Frank inside. “We’ve got two days left to solve this case. What are we doing here?”

  A saleswoman stood behind a glass counter that displayed articles of gold and silver, some glittering with precious gems. Frank looked at a display area on top of the counter where the jewelry seemed more fun than expensive. “Callie is leaving town tomorrow to spend Christmas with her grandmother,” Frank told Joe as he picked up a ring. “And I haven’t gotten her a present yet.”

  “Say no more,” Joe said. “If you mess up with a girlfriend’s present, it’s not a pretty sight.”

  Frank held one ring with a decorative flower and another with a decorative butterfly, both made from brightly painted enamel. “Those rings are very popular,” the saleswoman told Frank. “Either one would be an excellent choice.”

  “Joe, what do you think?” Frank said, studying the two rings. “The flower or the butterfly?”

  “I think the flower is better,” Joe said, impatiently tapping his fingers on the counter.

  “Uh . . . let’s see,” Frank said to the saleswoman. “I believe I’ll take the butterfly.”

  “So much for my advice,” Joe muttered.

  “I’m sure the young woman will be very pleased,” the saleswoman assured Frank with a courteous smile.

  It was ten-thirty when the Hardys arrived at the criminal court building. The trial was taking a mid-morning break, and some of the spectators were stretching their legs in the gloomy corridor outside the courtroom. The Hardys caught Bernie Myers on his way back from the rest room and quickly explained what they had learned about Fred Garfein.

  “Great, stay with it,” Myers said, pulling some official papers from his rumpled suit. “And listen, I filed a motion this morning and got permission for you to view the physical evidence from the crime scene. Daggett put up a little fight, but the judge sided with me. Here, take these forms with you.”

  “Did you begin your defense?” Frank asked as he took the papers.

  “I sure did,” Myers said. “I’m starting with character witnesses. People who can tell the jury what a decent and reliable person Nick is. I put Nick’s parents on the stand this morning, and right after the break I’m putting Nellie on. The truth is, I expect her to be my best witness.”

  Suddenly the blond prosecutor, Patricia Daggett, was standing beside Myers, perfectly dressed and groomed again. Her high heels made her nearly as tall as Frank. “So these are your teenage PIs,” Daggett said, her voice tinted with scorn.

  “Yes, they are,” Myers said proudly.

  “Well, if they don’t stop hounding Karen Lee,” Daggett said, pointing a finger at Myers, “they may soon be keeping Nick Rodriguez company in jail.”

  Joe scowled at Daggett, but Frank was pleased to see the fashionable prosecutor was wearing a ring similar to the one he had just bought for Callie. Except, he noticed, Daggett had the flower instead of the butterfly. My taste must be okay, Frank thought.

  “I’ll have you know,” Myers said, placing a hand on Joe’s shoulder, “these teenagers are doing a terrific job. For example, they discovered that Karen Lee kept a set of keys to Nick Rodriguez’s apartment, which disappeared right around the time of the crime. And that you knew about this yet failed to include it in your report to me.”

  “What’s your point?” Daggett said.

  “Some judges might consider that withholding evidence,” Myers said. “A crime for which you could possibly be put in jail yourself.”

  “Bernie, I’ll ignore that remark,” Daggett said with a vicious smile. “I’ll assume you’re just in a bad mood because your case isn’t going so well.”

  “What exactly does ‘withholding evidence’ mean?” Joe asked as Daggett stalked away.

  “If the prosecution learns something important about a case,” Myers explained, “the law says they have to share that information with the defense, no matter which side the information helps. And I’ve heard that Daggett has broken this law before.”

  Joe nodded, then moved toward the courtroom. Frank watched Daggett insert coins into a pay phone down the corridor. “How did she know we were the PIs working for you?” Frank asked Myers.

  “When I filed the motion for you to look at the evidence,” Myers said, “I had to explain who you were. You know, that you were teenagers and all that. Based on this, I guess she recognized you and also figured out you were the ones who spoke to Lee yesterday. That’s one of the reasons Daggett is so good. She makes it her business to know absolutely everything that concerns her job.”

  “And I suppose she really wants to win this case because Karen Lee worked in the prosecutor’s office for a short while,” Frank remarked.

  “No, Pat Daggett always wants to win,” Myers said, scoffing. “You see, all the prosecutors are classified as assistant district attorneys. And they have to answer to the head district attorney, which is one of the most powerful positions in the city. Well, when the current district attorney retires, Daggett hopes to be in line for the job.”

  “So ambition, not justice, is what makes her want to win so badly,” Frank said, understanding.

  “Exactly,” Myers said, adjusting his tie. “I’d better get back in there now. I’ll see you around later, or give me a call at my office tonight.”

  “Good luck,” Frank called as Myers entered the courtroom.

  As Myers walked away, Joe returned. “I was looking for that Velloni woman, but I didn’t see her,” Joe told Frank. “I think some of those guys over there are also reporters, though. Maybe they can give us some information on her.”

  Nearby, a half dozen men were clustered together in conversation. After a moment of eavesdropping, the Hardys learned they were all members of the press.

  Leaning against the wall, not talking to the others, was the clean-cut young man Joe had seen the day before across the street from Karen Lee’s apartment building. Because he looked nicer than the other reporters, Joe approached him first. “Do you by any chance know Lisa Velloni?” Joe asked.

  The young man shook his head, then looked down.

  “He seems awfully shy for a journalist,” Joe said, returning to Frank.

  “Excuse us,” Frank said, approaching the other men. “Do any of you know Lisa Velloni?”

  Chuckles came from the group, making it clear these men found Velloni an object of fun. A short man with a toothpick dangling from his lips spoke first. “Oh, sure, we all know Lunatic Lisa. Why?”

  “Just looking for a little information on her,” Frank said as if he were a fellow reporter.

  A man with a long ponytail spoke next. “Most of us work for various tabloids, but Velloni’s on her own. A freelancer. She just gets a story and then tries to sell it to whoever will buy.”

  A man who hadn’t shaven in several days added, “No one wants to hire her on a regular basis. Even the tabloid publishers think she’s too bananas.”

  Again, the men all chuckled.

  “Until recently she had only done real smalltime stuff,” the short reporter informed the Hardys. “You know, tidbits about minor TV stars and people with strange pets. Things like that.”

  “What happened recently?” Joe asked.

  “When Karen Lee first landed her role on Days of Destiny,” the man with the ponytail explained, “Velloni did a story on her. A ‘struggling actress gets her first big break in television’ type of thing. Then when this attempted murder story broke, Velloni got exclusive rights to Lee because they were already acquainted.”

  “So now she’s the only one who gets interviews with Lee,” the short one said. “Which means she’s getting paid some decent money for her stories.”

  “More than any of us,” another man muttered.

  “And she’s even been approached about doing a book on Karen Lee,” another man grumbled.

  “Which could make her some really good dough,” another man said bitterly.

  “Does Lisa Velloni ever do anything il
legal to get her stories?” Joe asked. The question was immediately followed by a round of snickering.

  “What’s so funny?” Frank asked.

  “Lisa will do anything to get a story,” the unshaven man said. “And I mean anything.”

  “There’s a rumor she once sent a bunch of threatening letters to a famous actor,” the short one said, gesturing with his toothpick. “Under a fake name, of course. It was a stunt, you see, just so she could have an intriguing story to report. No one knows if it’s true or not, but I’m—”

  Before he could finish, a pair of hands shot out, and the short reporter went flying backward into the wall. As others stepped back in surprise, Joe whipped around to see Lisa Velloni glaring at the short man as if she planned to kill him.

  8 Cross-examination

  * * *

  “What’s the big idea, Lisa?” the short man shouted. “Shoving me against the wall like that!”

  “You were telling lies about me!” Velloni shouted back. “I’ve told you a hundred times, short boy, I never sent those letters!”

  Like the day before, Velloni was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a leather miniskirt. Her eyes were on fire, and she was now moving toward the short reporter with her fist ready to deliver a good punch in the face.

  “Hey, hey, hey, take it easy,” Frank said, pulling Velloni back by the shoulders.

  “Let them slug it out,” the unshaven man said. “We can all place bets.” The other press members clapped and laughed uproariously.

  “Listen, you creeps,” Velloni said as Frank held on to her. “I’m a respectable reporter. More respectable than any of you. Though that certainly isn’t saying very much!”

  “What about the time you jumped in front of a police car and then made them take you along for a high-speed chase?” one of the men called out.

  “You guys are just jealous because I got exclusive rights to Karen Lee,” Velloni said. “You think journalism is a man’s job and women are only qualified for the powder puff stories. And you boys just hate when a woman gets the better of you!”

  “Ooh, Lisa, we get so scared when you talk that way,” one of the men said.

  “You guys have been making fun of me for years,” Velloni said, shaking her fist in the air, “but not anymore. Just you wait.”

  Before things could go any farther, a bailiff announced the trial was about to resume, and the reporters all scurried like mice back to the courtroom.

  “Miss Velloni,” Frank said as he released her, “could we talk to you a second?”

  “What about?” Velloni said, eyeing Frank and Joe suspiciously. “Aren’t you the guys who gave me grief yesterday?” Frank wondered if she also recognized them from last night on the rooftop.

  “My brother and I stumbled on some information related to the Karen Lee case,” Joe said, “and we thought you might like to know about it.” Joe figured this was the best way to get Velloni to speak with them.

  “Right now I’ve got to get back to the trial,” Velloni said, interest sparkling in her eyes. “Can I meet you later? Right here, quarter after five?”

  “Sure,” Joe said.

  “Perfect,” Velloni said, rushing away.

  The Hardys took a seat in the back row of the courtroom, figuring they would watch some of the trial before continuing their investigation. First Bernie Myers called Nellie to the witness stand.

  Myers got Nellie to explain that Nick had always been a model boy when they were growing up, never once getting into trouble with the law. She also explained that Nick was a very loving person, someone she and her parents could always count on.

  Joe noticed a middle-aged couple sitting in the front row. By the family resemblance, he could tell they were Nick and Nellie’s parents.

  “Myers was right,” Frank whispered to Joe. “Nellie seems to be making an excellent impression on the spectators and jury.”

  When Myers finished with his questioning, he sat down and gave Nick’s arm a supportive squeeze. Frank watched Patricia Daggett stand for the cross-examination. She studied Nellie a moment, and Nellie looked right back at her, not the least bit intimidated by the prosecutor.

  “Miss Rodriguez,” Daggett said pleasantly, “I take it you and your twin brother are very close.”

  “Yes, we are,” Nellie said.

  “And I take it you’ve looked after each other a good deal over the years,” Daggett said.

  “Yes, of course we have,” Nellie said.

  “In fact,” Daggett said with a smile, “I’ll bet when you were kids, if one of you did something wrong, the other would help cover it up.”

  “Objection,” Myers called out to the judge. “Miss Daggett has no way of knowing this.”

  “Sustained,” the judge said with a nod, indicating that he agreed with Myers. “Stick to the line of questioning,” he said sternly to Daggett.

  “Let me put that a different way,” Daggett said to Nellie. “Did you help cover for each other when one of you did something wrong?”

  “Objection,” Myers called to the judge. “This question has no bearing on the case.”

  “On the contrary,” Daggett told the judge, “this is a very important point.”

  “Overruled, Mr. Myers,” the judge said. “You may proceed,” he said to Nellie.

  Daggett returned her gaze to Nellie, waiting for an answer. “Yes,” Nellie said calmly. “I suppose Nick and I helped cover for each other when we were kids. But that doesn’t mean—-”

  “And now that you two are adults,” Daggett said, walking slowly toward the jury box, “I suppose you would still do just about anything to help your brother. Is that correct?”

  “Within reason, I suppose,” Nellie said.

  “In fact,” Daggett said, resting a hand on the railing as she gazed at the jury, “I suppose you might pretend your brother did not try to kill his ex-fiancée when, in fact, you know that he did.”

  A flurry of whispers blew through the courtroom. “Objection!” Myers cried out, rising to his feet. “Your Honor, the prosecutor is way out of bounds here! She has no way of knowing if—”

  “Sustained,” the judge said, casting a stern look at Daggett. “I will ask the jury to ignore that last comment by the prosecutor.”

  “He can ask the jury to ignore the comment,” Joe whispered to Frank, “but they still heard it.”

  “Which is exactly what Daggett wanted,” Frank whispered back. “She sure is sneaky.”

  Daggett now approached Nellie, her high heels clicking on the courtroom floor. Something about the way she moved reminded Frank of a spider spinning a web. “Miss Rodriguez,” Daggett said, “is it true that approximately one month before the crime you and your brother attended a Fourth of July party?”

  “That is correct,” Nellie said, a worried look crossing her face.

  Myers glanced at Nick, obviously unsure of what was coming. Nick kept his eyes on his sister, but Joe could see Nick’s fist was clenched.

  “And I believe,” Daggett said to Nellie, “Karen Lee was also at this party, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, she was,” Nellie said quietly.

  Frank noticed Karen Lee sitting nearby. She was nervously fingering her silky hair.

  “Tell me,” Daggett said, standing near Nellie. “At this party, did you happen to witness an argument between your brother and Miss Lee?”

  “Objection,” Myers said. “This has no—”

  “Overruled,” the judge cut in. “Miss Rodriguez, answer the question, please.”

  “Yes,” Nellie said. “I witnessed an argument between my brother and Miss Lee at this party.”

  “What was this argument about?” Daggett asked.

  “Karen had broken off her engagement to my brother a month before this party, and he was still upset about it,” Nellie explained, shifting in her chair.

  “I understand there were some real fireworks that night,” Daggett said with a sly smile. “And I don’t mean in the sky. Tell me, did your brother be
come angry during this argument?”

  “People often get angry during arguments,” Nellie said, struggling to stay composed.

  “Just answer the question, please,” Daggett insisted.

  “Yes, he became angry,” Nellie admitted.

  “Did he yell at Miss Lee?” Daggett asked.

  “Yes, he raised his voice a bit,” Nellie said. Joe could see that she was growing irritated with the prosecutor.

  “And did he make an especially threatening comment to Miss Lee?” Daggett asked, fixing her cold eyes on Nellie. “A comment that was overheard by a number of the people present?”

  “Yes,” Nellie snapped, “but it was merely a figure of speech. He didn’t mean—”

  “What was that comment?” Daggett said firmly.

  Nellie hesitated—as if she was afraid to answer, Frank thought.

  “I will remind you,” Daggett told Nellie, “that you have sworn to tell the whole truth up here. Failure to do so would be a criminal act.”

  Nellie took a deep breath, then answered the question. “My brother said, ‘Karen, sometimes you make me so mad I want to kill you.’ ”

  Cries and whispers resounded throughout the room. As the judge banged his gavel for order, Frank glanced at the jury box. Just about every member of the jury was staring harshly at Nick Rodriguez.

  “No further questions,” Daggett said, returning to her table with a satisfied expression.

  “Yeah, Daggett’s good,” Frank said after a sigh. “So much for Nellie’s excellent impression.”

  Knowing they had better get back to work, the Hardys left the courthouse and walked to a small park across the street. The day had warmed a bit, but a gray pall darkened the sky, as if reflecting the trial’s grim turn of events.

  “I doubt Nick really meant what he said at that party,” Joe said as he and Frank sat on a bench, “but Daggett sure made it seem as if he did. And it doesn’t help that this information came from the mouth of Nick’s own twin sister.”

  “At this point,” Frank said, “it may not be enough for us to come up with evidence suggesting someone else might have done the crime. After what just happened, to get Nick off, I think we need to prove someone else did it. And soon.”