11-Trial

by Parnell Hall

  “What about the other night?”

  “Huh?”

  “The night his wife was killed—he was at her place—so wouldn’t the doorman know what time he went in and out?”

  “Sure, if he was on duty. But it’s one of those buildings they lock the front door at eleven.”

  “With no one in the lobby?”

  “There you are. And even if there was, you’re talking a month ago. Who’s gonna remember that well?”

  “Right. What about her?”

  “What about her?”

  “Did you talk to her after you talked to him?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “What’s your verdict?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How does she come across? Is she the type to lie and give him an alibi if he really wasn’t there?”

  Richard grimaced, shook his head. “Close point.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t think she’s lying. I think he was there. On the other hand, you put your finger right on it. Is she the type to lie like that? Absolutely. Wouldn’t put it past her. It’s just the sort of thing that she’d do.”

  “Great.”

  “Right. If I can see it, the jury can see it. Which makes her absolutely worthless. Not that she wouldn’t be, anyway.”

  “But you still buy her story—about him being there?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Then he didn’t kill Phil Janson.”

  “Of course not.”

  “So who did?”

  “Huh?”

  “Who killed Phil Janson?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “Well, isn’t that what we have to concentrate on now?”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Don’t you think the same person that killed him killed her?”

  “Oh, absolutely. I’d think that even if the means were different. Which they weren’t. Of course, you could put that down to a copycat crime. But I don’t think so. Not in this case. And I can’t imagine anyone else thinking so, either. The killer strikes again, that’s what we’re left with here.

  “Which is a bit of hard luck for Anson. If I hadn’t done such a good job of getting him out on bail, this murder would have put him in the clear.” Richard shook his head. “Only, if he’s in jail, it doesn’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t be silly. My client has been framed. Whoever framed him isn’t going to blow it by doing something that exonerates him.”

  “You’re saying if he was in jail, Phil Janson would be alive?”

  “Not at all. If Phil Janson had to go, I’m sure he would. Only, the means would be different. The killer wouldn’t cut him up with a knife. Wouldn’t try to make it look like a similar crime. In that instance, the killer would go out of his way to make it look like something else. Preferably an accident. Getting run down by a car would fill the bill.”

  “Uh-huh. But with Anson out of jail, the killer tries to make it look like him?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So who’s the killer?”

  “I have no idea. But it doesn’t matter. As long as I can raise the inference that such a man exists.

  “And that’s the tack I gotta take. Tomorrow morning, this whole thing blows up. God knows how the judge is going to rule, but one thing for sure, it won’t be for me.”

  “Rule on what?”

  “My motion for a mistrial, for one thing. Well, you can forget that. I’d have a better chance of winning the lottery. But then there’s all the other stuff. What happens to the testimony? Does he strike it out? Does he let it stand? Either way, there’s gonna be a brawl. My man gets killed so I lose his testimony? No way. On the other hand, the testimony goes in and Wellington doesn’t get to cross-examine? I imagine he’d have something to say about that.

  “Then there’s the perjury counts. The charge of suborning perjury. And the prospect of me getting disbarred.” Richard stopped, shook his head, looked at me. “Can you imagine the irony there? I build up a multimillion-dollar negligence business from trying civil suits and try one criminal case and lose it all.”

  The irony of that was not lost on me. It just didn’t seem my main concern at the moment.

  “What about the witnesses?”

  “What about ’em? The way things stand, they’re on the hook for perjury. I figure we can count on them making deals to save their ass.”

  “Not them. I mean the ones who haven’t testified.”

  Richard shrugged. “Same difference. This one guy’s already crossed over, you figure the others to. It doesn’t matter. The thing is, it takes all of them to make the alibi. It only takes one of them to blow it.”

  “I mean, without the witnesses, what have you got?”

  There. I had said it as tactfully as possible. It was the closest I’d come to an I-told-you-so for his sarcastic eggs-in-one-basket rejoinder to my got-another-string-to-your-bow?

  It didn’t faze Richard at all. “Good point,” he said, as if it were a novel concept. “Without the witnesses providing an alibi, I’m left raising reasonable doubt. Which isn’t as bad as it seems. The prosecution’s case is full of holes. And the tiniest hole, you put your fingers in, you start pulling, before you know it there’s this huge gap.”

  Richard broke off. Chuckled. “Granted, we have this small gap of our own. A basic credibility gap. For providing a phony alibi. But there’s a saving grace. It wasn’t Anson that did it. It was his buddies tried to give him a boost. Big deal. Not his fault. My client hasn’t told his story yet.”

  Richard raised his finger. “When he does, it’s gonna be a four-hankie weeper. There’s not gonna be a dry eye in the house. You are going to see a man bare his soul. He’s gonna get up there and confess to being a low-life scum. A man caught in the throes of passion. A man so hopelessly head over heels in love that it blinded him to everything else. Made him forsake his wife. Betray his wedding vows. You are gonna see a man put his cards on the table, the good and the bad. You are gonna see a man bare his very soul.”

  I think he’d said that before. But I had to admit, on the whole, Richard was doing the sob-story routine pretty well.

  “Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s fine, Richard. And what about me?”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you there in court, just like always.”

  “No, I mean now. Tonight. Whaddya want me to look into?”

  “Look into?”

  “Investigate. What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing. There’s nothing to do.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Not at all.”

  “But we have no idea who did this.”

  “And we’re not gonna have,” Richard said. He held up both hands, looked at me with concern. “Stanley, how often do we have to go through this? I can’t solve this crime. Even if I could, that’s not my job. My job is to present the case in a manner that results in the jury letting my client off. Failing that, my job is to sucker the judge into making a questionable ruling that would be grounds for a reversal or appeal.”

  Richard cocked his head. “I think you doubt me because I’m a negligence lawyer. You figure a criminal attorney would know better. Well, I got news for you. William Kuntsler wouldn’t play it any different. You think he runs around finding out who did it? No. He listens to the police theory of the case, then he comes up with his own theory that contradicts it. You argue that, you raise reasonable doubt, your client walks and you’ve done your job. If I do that, I’m a good lawyer. But you, schmuck, will figure I failed for not solving the crime. Am I right?”

  I said nothing.

  “Come on,” Richard said. “Is that how it is?”

  I sighed. “No,” I said. “No, it isn’t.”

  But it was.

  44

  “YOU CAN’T LET IT GET TO YOU.”

  Fine for Alice to say. She wasn’t there. She di
dn’t have to sit in court day after day doing nothing. And then watch all the work she’d done blow up in her face. Easy for her to talk.

  “Fine,” I said. “I shouldn’t let it get to me. Can you suggest anything I should be doing instead?”

  “Why don’t you solve the crime?”

  “Huh?”

  Alice swiveled the desk chair around. She’d been typing at the computer when I’d come in. Turning away from it was no small concession on her part. Alice is a computer junkie. Taking her eyes off the monitor represented a major sacrifice.

  “I said, why don’t you solve the crime? You’ve got the whole evening to work this out. Why don’t you go ahead and do it?”

  “Richard isn’t interested in solving the crime.”

  “So what? Who cares about Richard? You need him to think it out? Not likely. You’ve solved tougher things than this.”

  “Alice, I’ve been working on this for two months now.”

  “Sure, but now you’ve got a lead.”

  “What lead?”

  “The second murder. You’ve got a whole fresh start now.”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve got a crime just like the first crime. Nobody thinks it’s anything different.”

  “Yeah, but who cares what they think? The point is what you think.”

  “I don’t know what I think. And Richard doesn’t give a damn what I think. All he cares about is creating reasonable doubt.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It doesn’t solve the crime.”

  “Which is why you’ve got to solve it.”

  “How?”

  “What about the witnesses you interviewed?”

  “What about them?”

  “They were lying. Now that they’re telling the truth, what have they got to say?”

  “Nothing. They’re not involved. They were a phony alibi that didn’t work. But, in point of fact, they had nothing to do with it at all.”

  “Then who did?”

  “The bimbo. What’s-her-name. Connie Maynard.”

  “Right. So what’s her story?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You haven’t talked to her?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I took a breath. Ticked them off. “In the first place, I wasn’t asked to. In the second place, when this began, she was peripheral, she wasn’t important. She was just an unfortunate circumstance we hoped the police wouldn’t come up with.”

  “But now she isn’t. Now she’s the whole alibi.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So, don’t you want to talk to her?”

  “What’s to talk about? According to her, Anson was with her up till the time he went home and found his wife.”

  “Right. Which is what makes her so important. I would think you would want to know the details.”

  “The details?”

  “I don’t mean of their sex life. Stanley, why is this a problem?”

  I wasn’t really sure. I took a breath. “I think it has something to do with exceeding my authority. This whole case I’ve been terribly frustrated by the fact that I wasn’t in charge. This is the first time I’ve ever been employed by a lawyer. In a murder case, I mean. And I’m not acting for me, I’m acting for him. Richard’s interviewed the woman. He talked to her today. He just gave me his assessment of her testimony.

  “Now you say I should talk to her. And it’s like second-guessing him. That’s like saying maybe I can do a better job than he can.”

  “Well, maybe you can.”

  “Alice—”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. Richard’s a lawyer. That doesn’t make him right. In point of fact, you’ve had more experience with murder cases than he has.”

  “That’s not the same as questioning witnesses. That’s his job. That’s what he does.”

  Alice threw up her hands. “Stop. Please. How did we ever get so far off the track? Never mind whose responsibility it is or who’s stepping on whose toes. You say Richard talked to the woman. Fine. What was the result?”

  “Huh?”

  “What did he tell you? What did he find out?”

  I spread my arms, palms up. Shrugged. “Just what I already said. She confirms the poker alibi was faked, he was with her and went home and found his wife.”

  “And Richard’s opinion of her story?”

  “He believes her. But that’s as far as it goes. On the other hand, he says she doesn’t make a good impression, and he doubts if the jury will believe her. He says she’s the type of woman who gives the impression she’d be perfectly willing to lie.”

  “All the more reason to talk to her.”

  I looked at Alice. “Huh? I’m afraid I’m not following this. I just got through saying Richard thinks her story is true.”

  “Exactly,” Alice said. “Which means Anson Carbinder didn’t kill his wife.”

  “So?”

  “So someone else did. The problem is to find out who. I would think this woman would be an excellent source of information.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t be stupid. She was having an affair with the guy. Then his wife got killed. Assuming it’s not a random crime, it’s personal. The motives are going to have to do with the personalities of the people involved. I can’t think of a better source of information than the mistress.”

  I sighed. “Alice, I hear what you’re saying. But it’s like I said. If I talked to her now, it would be like undercutting Richard. That’s for starters. In the second place, I doubt if she’d even talk to me.”

  “She knows who you are?”

  “Sure she does. I met her the first day, when Anson was in her apartment. And I see her every day in court. Not to speak to, but she must see me talking to Richard.”

  “You couldn’t tell her Richard—”

  “No, I couldn’t!” I interrupted hotly. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re pushing me into a corner. It’s like you want me to defy Richard and do something he wouldn’t want me to do. Well, Richard happens to be our main source of income. Do you really think I should jeopardize that?”

  “Fine, if that’s the way you feel about it.”

  “Feel about it? How can you say feel about it.”

  “He wouldn’t fire you.”

  “Huh?”

  “No matter what you did, he wouldn’t fire you. You’re his only steady investigator. You’re the one he depends on. You really think he’d fire you?”

  “Alice—”

  She put up her hands. “I know, I know, that’s not the point. It would be very unpleasant to have him really pissed off at you. Plus, you don’t think she’d talk to you anyway and the whole bit. And—” She broke off at the expression on my face. “What is it?”

  “It just occurred to me—what I said just now—about meeting her in her apartment.”

  “What about it?”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  “Huh?”

  “I mean at first. It was just me and Anson.” I put up my hand. “You gotta understand, this was two months ago and the story just changed, so some of this is slow clicking in. But I got beeped and sent to the address to meet Anson Carbinder. And at first I thought it was his apartment. There was no one else there. And I wasn’t given any other name. Just the address, the apartment number, and him. I had no idea he didn’t live there until she came walking in.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So where was she? See, it wasn’t important at the time because he wasn’t there. He was at a poker game until two in the morning, then he was home, then he was with the cops. When they released him, he didn’t want to go home because it was a crime scene, so he came there. I remember I made a big deal about the fact that, from the way they greeted each other, he hadn’t seen her since the murder. At the time, all it meant to me was he must have had a key to her apartment to have let himself in. Which was going to be damaging as hell. But never mind that. The thing is, where was she?”


  “What do you mean?”

  “You wash out the poker game, and now Anson was with her in her apartment until two in the morning. He leaves, goes home, finds his wife, gets hauled in by the cops, bailed out by Richard, then goes to her apartment and lets himself in with a key sometime in the early-morning hours, I don’t know when, but, say, six or seven. Connie isn’t there, and she doesn’t show up until I’m interviewing the guy around ten.

  “So where was she from two in the morning till ten?” Alice said.

  “Exactly.”

  “You see?” Alice said. “These are questions that should be answered.”

  “I’ll talk to Richard.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll find out if he asked her, and, if not, I’ll suggest that he does.”

  “Uh-huh,” Alice said.

  I looked at her. “What’s the matter? That’s not good enough? It doesn’t count unless I do it myself?”

  “Don’t be silly,” Alice said.

  But she didn’t look happy.

  45

  “YOUR HONOR, I AM ATTEMPTING TO PREVENT a gross miscarriage of justice.”

  I had to hand it to Richard. For a man without a leg to stand on, he was doing one hell of a hornpipe.

  Judge Blank was not impressed. “Mr. Rosenberg, your motion for a mistrial has been denied. I am concerned with procedure now, specifically with regard to the testimony of the witness Phil Janson. What is the defense position in this matter?”

  “My position is that the death of this witness abridges the defendant’s constitutional right to a fair trial.”

  Judge Blank scowled. “Need I repeat myself? I have already ruled. The trial is proceeding. You may take that as a given. Now, with that understanding, what is your position regarding Phil Janson’s testimony?”

  “I have no position, Your Honor. The witness has testified. The testimony speaks for itself.”

  Judge Blank frowned. Turned to the ADA. “Mr. Wellington, what is the prosecution’s position on that?”

  Wellington put up his hands. “Fine by me, Your Honor. As far as I’m concerned, the witness’s testimony may stand.”

  “Without cross-examination? That would be highly irregular.”

  “I’ll waive my cross-examination, Your Honor.”

  Judge Blank nodded. Turned to Richard. “Is that acceptable to the defense?”