by Nancy Moser
Although Abigail had an open mind about the outcome of the trial, she couldn’t help but wonder if this one costuming detail might be a fatal error.
***
I should ask her out.
As soon as the words reached Ken’s consciousness he shook his head, appalled. Patti was the defendant. She was on trial for murder. What was wrong with him that the sight of a pretty young thing hurled him into wolf mode?
She does look good today.
He forced the small of his back into the hardness of the chair.
***
Bobby was confused. Patti’s voice did not match her looks. It matched her old looks, the way she’d looked every day of the trial so far. Today her looks called for a seductive voice, smooth yet confident, the voice of a woman used to getting whatever she wanted. Instead, her tentative voice elicited a request that the microphone be moved closer so she could be heard.
Which woman was the real Patti? The sexy lady or the sweet young thing?
“State your name for the record, please.”
“Patti McCoy.” She looked to the judge. “Actually it’s Patricia Jo McCoy.”
“What is your occupation?”
“I’m a dishwasher at The Pines restaurant.”
“How long have you worked there?”
“Two years.”
“Do you enjoy your work there?”
She shrugged. “Would you like washing hundreds of dishes every day with steaming hot water?”
Although the judge smiled, he said, “Answer the question, Ms. McCoy.”
“I can think of better things I’d like to do. But it pays the bills.”
“Where and when did you first meet Brett Lerner?”
“At work.” She smiled at the jury. “He was the maître d’ and one Saturday before the busy season last year, management put on a barbecue for all the employees. Brett and me had talked before then, but just during work, about work. The barbecue was the first time him and me actually got to talk about other things.” She beamed broadly. “He came up to me.”
Stadler’s eyebrows rose and he nodded slowly as if this was particularly significant. “Did he make advances toward you?”
She shook her head. “Not at all. He was a complete gentleman. We just sat at a picnic table under a big elm tree and talked.”
“About what?”
“Not much really. Just flirting talk.”
“Flirting talk?”
“You know, teasing each other about the weather, our jobs, old bosses. Stuff we had in common.”
“When did you first go out on a real date?”
She hesitated. “Brett wasn’t a real-date kind of guy.”
“So what did you do when you were together?”
Patti blushed and looked at her lap. “We did go on drives sometimes. But mostly we stayed in.”
“In?”
“We were either at my apartment or his house. I cooked for him a lot. I’m a good cook. He really liked my meat loaf and corn bread. It’s my mom’s recipe.”
“Did you move in together?”
She shook her head emphatically. “I said I wouldn’t.” She straightened her shoulders and looked at the jury. “Not without being married.”
Bobby mentally filled in what the defense handily left out. But you had no trouble sleeping with him.
“Did you love him?”
Her face turned serious. “Very, very much.”
“Did he love you?”
She hesitated just a moment, then nodded. “Very, very much. He told me so. He did.”
Bobby didn’t believe it. Though Brett wasn’t there to defend himself, Bobby found it odd that he and Patti never went anywhere. It sounded like Brett wanted the perks of Patti without the public scrutiny. A maître d’ and a dishwasher. In the hierarchy of a resort, they were as far apart as a prince and a pauper.
“We’ve heard testimony from witnesses who overheard you arguing. Did you argue?”
“Of course.” She looked at the jury. “Everybody argues.”
Bobby agreed, but he and Becky never threw things. Broke things.
Stadler flipped a page on his yellow pad. “On the night of January thirteenth, why did you go to Brett’s house?”
“I often went there after work. Lots of times. Like I said, he liked my cooking.”
“Were you going to cook for him that night?”
“Maybe. Or else we’d order takeout. Brett loved Chinese. Kung pao chicken was his favorite. He liked things spicy.” After a moment, realizing the innuendo, she blushed. “Well, he did.”
“Take us through the events that occurred on the night Brett died.”
Patti moved her hands from her lap and gripped the arms of the chair as if gaining strength from their presence. “As I said, I went over to his house when I got off work. I pulled up front and parked across from his house, then went to the front door. I rang the bell tons of times then knocked. He didn’t answer.”
“Why didn’t you leave?”
“Because he was supposed to be home. We’d talked about me coming over.”
“So what did you do?”
“I went around back. Brett liked sitting in the hot tub, especially when it was cold out.” Her hands returned to her lap. “I didn’t see him at first. But the tub was on, and it was bubbling and steam was rising from it and ... that was the first thing I heard when I came around the corner to the back. The jets going full blast.”
“Did you hear or see anything else?”
“As I got closer I saw there was a toppled wineglass next to the tub and a broken wine bottle. I didn’t understand what was going on. I looked around the yard and—”
“Did you search the yard?”
“No. I just looked around. From the patio.”
“So the person who murdered Mr. Lerner could have been hiding in the trees or in the—”
“Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.”
“Sustained.”
Although Stadler had been shot down, Bobby took note of the possibility someone had been hiding.
Stadler pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose. “What did you do next?”
“I was worried about the broken wine bottle. If Brett had dropped it, why hadn’t he cleaned it up? I mean, you don’t want broken glass next to a hot tub where you’re going to be barefoot. That’s when I started thinking he’d gone inside to get a broom and a dustpan. Thinking that, I bent down and starting picking up the mess. To help.”
“So you touched the bottle?”
“Sure. All over the place. I moved the neck part of the bottle to the side and started dropping the littler pieces in my hand.” She mimicked this motion, placing invisible shards in the palm of her hand, looking at the space just beyond her knees as if making sure she didn’t miss any. “There was wine spilled all over the concrete too. It was white wine so it didn’t stand out, but I could smell it, and I recognized the bottle as a kind we’d drank together before. But then I noticed a little bit of red on the concrete, right where the neck part of the bottle had been sitting.”
Suddenly Patti closed both hands and sucked in a breath. “And just when I was thinking how odd that was and wondering what that red could be, the hot tub stopped bubbling.” She turned her head to the left, one hand moving to her mouth. “That’s when I saw him. Saw his . . .” Both hands were at her mouth now, as if trying to stop her from saying the words. “I saw his hand first, floating at the top. Then his head, then his shoulders.” She covered her face, bursting into tears. “He was facedown, just floating there, and there was a gash, and blood in the water.” She sucked in a breath.
Stadler pulled a tissue out of his inner suit coat pocket. “Here, Ms. McCoy.”
She used the tissue but kept crying.
“Would you like a short recess?” the judge asked.
“No!” Stadler said, almost too quickly.
With a glance to her attorney, Patti collected herself slightly and said, “No. I’ll be okay.
”
It was then Bobby realized Stadler wanted his client to cry on the stand. He needed her to cry and didn’t want a recess to break the moment. Bobby looked at Patti with new eyes— though her tears seemed real enough.
Stadler walked back to the defense table, where he got another tissue, making Bobby wonder if this prolonged scenario also had a purpose.
Stadler gave Patti the tissue.
“One more thing,” she said through a sniffle. “When I saw Brett, that’s when I cut my hand on the pieces of glass. I must’ve flinched and got cut, and that made me drop all the little pieces of glass back on the patio.” She held up the tissue he’d just given her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He waited while she dabbed her eyes carefully, beneath the lashes, like women did when they didn’t want to ruin their makeup.
“After discovering Brett’s body, what did you do?”
“I think I screamed. I don’t really know, but I seem to remember hearing a scream, and since I was the only one there, it must’ve been me.”
Stadler cleared his throat and she continued.
“I was upset and shocked. I ran to my car. I just needed to be home. Somewhere far away from there.”
“But your car wouldn’t start?”
“It does that. I’ve been saving to get it fixed. And then the police drove up.”
Stadler lifted a hand, obviously not wanting her to take the lead. “A police car drove up. What did you do?”
“I panicked. Again, I just wanted to be home. So I ran. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was upset.”
“When the police officer caught up with you, accosted you, what did you do?”
“I stopped running. I went with him. Everything changed then. Just seeing another person, being able to talk to them, to tell them what I’d seen…suddenly that became more important than getting home.”
“So you answered their questions willingly?”
“Of course. By that time I was thinking more clearly and I knew someone had killed Brett and I wanted the cops to get ’em. Arrest the murderer.”
Stadler nodded once. “So, Ms. McCoy. Did you kill Brett Lerner?”
Patti took a deep breath and sat up straight. This answer she knew. “No, sir, I did not.” She looked at the jury. “I loved him. Loved him more than I’ve ever loved any man.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor.”
***
Jonathan Cummings took his time moving from the prosecutor’s table to his spot. Abigail admired how he didn’t hurry and gave the jurors time to adjust to his presence. It wasn’t hard. Where Stadler was annoying like a sty in the eye, Cummings was a balm.
“Ms. McCoy, did you try to get Brett out of the tub?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Did you try?”
“No. He’s a lot bigger than me, and he was facedown in the water. He was dead.”
“So you’re an expert?”
“Objection.”
Cummings lifted a hand, conceding. “Why didn’t you call for help?”
“I would’ve. But I didn’t have my phone with me. It was in the car. If I would’ve got the car started, I would’ve called.”
“Why didn’t you go into Brett’s house and call?”
“It was locked.”
“The back door was locked? Most people don’t lock their back doors if they’re out on the patio.”
“Actually, I didn’t try that door. The front was locked.” She hesitated, then looked at Cummings. “But if he was dead, 911 wouldn’t have helped anyway, right?”
Cummings shrugged. “Most people would have called. It’s instinctive.”
Stadler rose. “Objection, Your Honor. Supposition on what ‘most people’ might do.”
“Sustained. Move on.”
Cummings brought his index finger to his lips and held it there a moment. Then he nodded, as if completing a thought. “So you didn’t call for help. I guess the big question that needs to be answered is, why did you run? I know you said that you wanted to get home, but somehow that doesn’t ring true.”
“I…I heard sirens.”
“Do you usually run when you hear sirens?” Cummings made a sweeping gesture around the courtroom. “People hear sirens every day and don’t run.”
Stadler rose. “Supposition again, Your Honor, as to what people do or don’t do.”
Cummings looked at Stadler. “Do you run when you hear sirens, Mr. Stadler?”
The judge banged his gavel. “Enough. Stick to what the defendant did, Mr. Cummings.”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Cummings put his hands behind his back. “What you did, Ms. McCoy, is run away. Or try to. Your car wouldn’t start, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And when the police came, you didn’t wait to talk to them, to tell them your lover was in trouble or even dead. You ran.”
“I wasn’t thinking straight. It was…instinctive.”
Abigail had to smile. For little Patti to use the prosecutor’s own terminology… Chalk one up for the underdog.
“Can I say something?” Patti asked. She looked to the judge.
“If it’s relevant.”
Patti turned toward the court. “I’m not a complicated person. I reacted without thinking about it or planning my next move. I am who I am. I don’t pretend to be anything more.”
Cummings allowed a moment of silence. “Is that all?”
Patti looked up, then at him. “Yes, I think so. Thanks.”
Such a simple girl. In so much trouble.
***
Patti was a goner. Any thought of dating or even being attracted to her had long evaporated from Ken’s mind.
The prosecutor, Cummings, leaned against the edge of the prosecution table, his whole demeanor shouting cool and confident. “Let’s backtrack a bit, Ms. McCoy. When you first came to Brett’s house you knocked on the door. So you didn’t have a key?”
“Brett said he didn’t give out keys. To anyone.”
Ken wasn’t into giving out keys either. A man needed his privacy.
Cummings nodded but continued. “And you parked in front of Brett’s house, yet across the street. Why not in the driveway?”
“Brett told me he didn’t want grease on the driveway.”
“Does your car leak oil?”
She blinked. “Not that I know of.”
“So, perhaps there was another reason he told you to always park across the street, not directly in front of his house?”
“Objection,” Stadler said. “There is no way Mr. Cummings or even Ms. McCoy could know the intent of the deceased.”
“Sustained.”
Although Cummings was not making any deep points, he was raising questions in Ken’s mind.
“Did Mr. Lerner know you were pregnant on the night he was killed?” Cummings asked.
“Objection, Your Honor,” Stadler said. “I object to the use of the term killed.”
Cummings turned to the judge. “Your Honor, my colleague objects to me saying killed… What term, pray tell, does he wish me to use? Mr. Lerner did not hit himself over the head with a wine bottle. I will gladly use the term murdered if he would like.”
“Can the sarcasm, Mr. Cummings,” said the judge. He looked at Stadler. “Objection overruled. Mr. Cummings does have a point, Counselor. The deceased did not pass away of natural causes. If he had we wouldn’t be here.”
Ken wondered if Stadler had caused more harm than good by bringing it up. The words murdered and killed had gotten more attention during the objection than they had by being a part of a question.
“Let me ask the question again,” Cummings said. “Did Mr. Lerner know you were pregnant on the night he was killed?”
“Well…no.”
“Wasn’t the real reason you were going to see him that night so you could tell him?”
“Yes, I mean, I hoped the chance would come up so I could tell him. But I didn’t tell him. When I got there he was dead.”
&nb
sp; “Because you killed him.”
“No! 1 loved him. I’m going to have his baby. I wanted the baby to have a father.”
Cummings appeared unimpressed by the outburst. He calmly walked around to the prosecution table, where he retrieved a piece of paper from a folder.
“Let’s backtrack one more time. I’m a bit curious about your many violent, volatile arguments with the deceased.”
Stadler rose. “Your Honor, do we really need such dramatic descriptions?”
“Overruled. But watch it, Mr. Cummings.”
“What did you argue about?”
Ken decided that every time Patti shrugged it made her look younger, more immature. More pitiful. A shrug is worth a thousand words.
“Give us a few examples, Ms. McCoy.”
“Well, he didn’t want to meet my family. That was a big one.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said he wasn’t into families much.”
“So your supposition that he would be happy about the pregnancy was based on…?”
“I…I...”
Cummings raised a hand. “Withdrawn. One more thing, Ms. McCoy. In your heartfelt declaration of innocence you stated, ” he looked at the paper in his hand, “‘I loved him. Loved him more than I’ve ever loved any man.’ Is that correct?”
“Oh yes.”
“I’m a little curious about the ‘any man’ you mentioned. Have you ever had another relationship on the same level as the one you had with Mr. Lerner?”
“Objection, Your Honor. The defendant’s past is not on trial here.”
“No, it isn’t, Your Honor,” Cummings said. “But she herself opened the door when she compared her love of the deceased with other loves in her life.”
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Answer the question, please.”
“Yes, I’ve had other boyfriends.”
“Boyfriends you slept with?”
“Well, yes.”
“Have you ever been pregnant before?”
“I... just the once.”
Ken heard his own gasp added to others. So she wasn’t such an innocent after all.
“Where is that baby?”
Stadler was out of his seat. “Objection, Your Honor. The location of this baby is not—”
“There is no baby,” Patti said, interrupting. “He made me get an abortion!”