“I agree,” I said.
“Can you guys finish this by Friday if we take the afternoon off?”
“Yes,” we said in unison.
“Okay. Let’s let the jury know what’s going on, and we’ll call it a day.”
I called J.D. and asked her to alert the sheriff to the fact that there would be no court that afternoon. She would tell the sheriff that the fireworks would begin on Thursday morning. I planned to spend some of the rest of the day getting ready for the big guns.
CHAPTER 46
ON THURSDAY, UNDER a sky bruised by dark clouds, I shared the morning drive to the courthouse with my fifth cup of coffee. J.D. had met with the sheriff the afternoon before and then spent the night with me. She had slept in while I was up early preparing for the day. I’m afraid I wasn’t very good company the evening before, but J.D. understood. She would join me later at the courthouse.
I was jumpy from the caffeine I’d drunk while preparing for the day, and my mind was playing over the possibilities of the coming session in court, skipping quickly from one scenario to another. I knew that Ruth Bergstrom would be taking the stand. I had to somehow defuse the impact of her testimony. She would testify to the conversation she supposedly had where Esther threatened to kill Olivia Lathom. I knew that was a lie, and if she would lie under oath about the threat, I expected her to lie about other things, too. I just wasn’t sure what else Meredith would want to elicit from her. I could only cross-examine on issues that the prosecutor brought up in her direct examination.
If I were Meredith, I think I’d put her on the stand and ask about whether she had given Esther’s manuscript to Olivia, which she would deny, and then try to paint Esther as delusional enough to kill the object of her fantasy. I wouldn’t go into anything else.
However, Meredith would know that I could call Ruth in my case as an adverse witness, which would give me the right to essentially cross-examine her by asking leading questions on any subject I decided to bring up as long as it was relevant to the issues we were facing in the trial. I would also be able to impeach her by questioning her veracity just as I would have on cross-exmination. I would not be restricted to the areas of enquiry the prosecutor had raised. On the other hand, if Meredith knew I had something that would reflect negatively on her case, she might bring it up herself. Such a maneuver would lessen the impact of my putting it into evidence.
It was all a matter of strategy, making decisions on how the flow of evidence should be managed, each lawyer knowing that there would be testimony that was inimical to his or her case and had to be dealt with. My ace in the hole, if in fact Meredith hadn’t figured it out, was what I knew about Ruth, thanks to J.D. Meredith would have ferreted out some of the negative stuff and be prepared to rebut it, but, hopefully, I knew things that the prosecutor did not.
A light rain was falling by the time I got to the courthouse. I parked as close to the entrance as I could and moved quickly through the steady drizzle, my umbrella giving me a little protection. I cleared security and took the stairs to the courtroom on the second floor. Even a little exercise might relieve the anxiety brought about by a surfeit of caffeine.
I stopped in the restroom and used paper towels to dry off my trial bag and the wet umbrella. Meredith was walking toward the courtroom as I stepped back into the hallway. “Good morning, slick,” she said.
“Slick?”
“Just like ole Billy Ray said. You’re slick as a greased pig.”
“Did I make you mad?”
“No. Actually I meant that as a compliment. You bobbed and weaved all over the evidence. I think you completely confused the jury.”
“I thought you did a great job of getting everything you needed into evidence.”
She snorted, a kind of truncated laugh she didn’t mean to let out.
“Do you have any other witnesses besides Ruth Bergstrom this morning?” I asked.
“No. I’ll put her up and rest as soon as you finish chewing on her.”
“I’ll be gentle,” I promised.
Meredith laughed. “I’ve heard that before.”
“Depending on how your direct goes, I might put her up first in my case.”
“Okay. It’ll save her a trip back to the courthouse.”
We walked into the courtroom and took our seats. The court deputy told us that the prison guard on the jury had returned that morning so there would be no need to seat one of the alternates. I had a few notes to go over before we got started and, from the looks of it, so did Meredith. Spectators were slipping into their seats when the court deputy called the court to order. Everyone rose as Judge Gallagher entered the courtroom and took the bench. He waved us to our seats and asked, “Do counsel have any matters for my attention before we bring in the jury?”
We both stood and advised that we didn’t. “Deputy,” the judge said, “if you would be so kind as to bring in the jury, we’ll get started.” Meredith and I stayed on our feet while the jury filed into the box. When they were seated, we sat, and the judge greeted them and asked if they had anything for him before we got started. They all shook their heads, and the judge said, “Ms. Evans, call your first witness.”
“The state will call Ruth Bergstrom,” Meredith said.
The deputy went to the door and leaned into the hallway. He came back down the aisle followed by Ruth, who took the stand and was sworn by the deputy clerk of court.
Meredith took her through the preliminaries of name and place of residence. “Did you know Olivia Lathom?”
“Yes, she was my friend.”
“How did she come to be your friend?”
“We worked together at a Fulton County Library branch in Atlanta for almost twenty years.”
“Were you aware that Ms. Lathom was a writer?”
“I knew that she wrote and self-published two books and then hit it big with her third one.”
“That was Beholden?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know she was writing the book that was subsequently published as Beholden?”
“Only in the vaguest sense. My husband and I had retired and moved to The Villages, so I didn’t see Liv regularly like I did when we worked together.”
“But you knew she was writing a book?”
“She told me in phone conversations that she was writing, but she was always writing, so it didn’t occur to me that she was working on a best seller.”
“When did you find out about Beholden?”
“She called me one day to tell me she’d sold it to a publisher.”
“Did she ever mention anything about how much she was paid for the book?”
“No. It didn’t come up.”
“Weren’t you interested?”
“No, ma’am. It was none of my business.”
“When did you first see the book?”
“About six months before it was published. She sent me an advanced reader’s copy, one of those pre-publication books that go out to booksellers and critics.”
“Did you see Ms. Lathom while she was visiting The Villages?”
“No. She called me about getting together, but I had already committed to taking a friend to the Orlando airport and I couldn’t back out on short notice.”
“Do you know whom she was supposed to have dinner with the night she was killed?”
“No. She didn’t mention anything like that to me when we talked on the phone.”
“Ms. Bergstrom, do you know Esther Higgins?”
“I do.”
“How did you come to know Ms. Higgins?”
“We’re in the same book club in The Villages.”
“Do the members of that club ever read written works of other members? Sort of a critique group?”
“Yes. Regularly.”
“Did Ms. Higgins ever give you a manuscript to read?”
“She did.”
“Did you read it?”
“I read the first several chapters. It was awful.”
; “So you didn’t think it was a publishable work.”
“Not by a long shot.”
“What did you do with the manuscript?”
“I gave it back to Ms. Higgins and told her I had been too busy to read it. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings by telling her how bad it was.”
“Did you ever give a copy of the manuscript to Olivia Lathom?”
“Of course not.”
“Did Ms. Higgins ever accuse you of giving it to Ms. Lathom?”
“Yes. She told me I had given her book away and that the one Liv published was identical to the one Ms. Higgins had given to me.”
“Was there any truth in her assertion?”
“Not a whit.”
“When did this conversation take place?”
“A couple of weeks before Liv was coming to The Villages back in March.”
“Did Esther Higgins say anything else about Ms. Lathom in that conversation?”
“Esther Higgins said she was going to kill Olivia Lathom for stealing her book.”
“Did you think she would do it?”
“Not really. Frankly, I thought she was delusional, but I knew she had a gun. She’d shown it to our book club group a few days before.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor,” Meredith said.
“Just a couple of questions at this time, Ms. Bergstrom,” I said. “When did my client give you a copy of her manuscript?”
“Just before Christmas a year ago. I remember that because several of our book club members were baking cookies for a Christmas party we were having.”
“And when did you give it back to her?”
“A couple of weeks later. I don’t remember the exact date.”
“Thank you, Ms. Bergstrom.” I turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I have Ms. Bergstrom under subpoena. I’ll call her in my case.”
“Ms. Bergstrom,” the judge said, “you’re excused for now, but you’re still under subpoena and subject to recall. You are not to discuss the testimony you’ve given or that you will give with anyone during the duration of this trial. Someone will let you know when you’re to return to this courtroom. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She left the courtroom.
Meredith stood. “The state rests, Your Honor.”
CHAPTER 47
OPENING STATEMENTS ARE tricky things. They give you the opportunity to tell the jury what you intend to prove during your case, to give the jurors a preview of the finished jigsaw puzzle. You want them to anticipate what’s coming as you methodically introduce each piece of evidence so that at the conclusion of your case, the puzzle is complete and the jury has a clear picture to study as they deliberate.
The tricky part is making sure that you’ll be able to prove everything you promise. If you’ve told the jury that you’ll present certain evidence and then for some reason the testimony is ruled inadmissible, the jury will only know that you didn’t deliver on your promise. You can bet the opposition will comment on that omission and your veracity will suffer. The jurors will be asking themselves if the lawyer can be trusted since he or she didn’t do what he told them he would do in the opening statement. It can prove devastating to your case.
I rose with the usual trepidation to begin my opening statement. I had the advantage of knowing the state’s case, but I had to be careful not to overstate my case. “Ladies and gentlemen,” I said, “thank you for doing what is often a thankless, but nonetheless important, job. My client and I appreciate your attention during the course of this trial.
“The state has put on its case, and if I may say so, it’s pretty thin. We have the testimony from the experts that a pistol owned by my client, Esther Higgins, was the murder weapon and that my client’s fingerprints were the only ones on the gun. We do not dispute that, but we will show you why none of that points to Esther as the murderer. In fact, the evidence we will present will explain exactly how that happened.
“The only other evidence that links Esther to the murder of Olivia Lathom is the testimony of Ruth Bergstrom. You will see that Ms. Bergstrom lied to you, that my client never said that she’d kill Ms. Lathom. You’ll also see that Ruth Bergstrom lied to you about the manuscript that became Olivia Lathom’s book Beholden. In fact, the book was written by my client and the only way that manuscript could come into the possession of Olivia Lathom was through the good graces of Ms. Bergstrom, who stood to profit from its publication.”
Short and to the point. I turned to the judge and said, “Your Honor, may I call my first witness?”
“Proceed.”
“The defense will call Amber Marris,” I said.
Amber took the witness stand and in answer to my questions testified as to her name and address.
“Are you employed?”
“I’m a bartender at the World of Beer restaurant in Brownwood in The Villages.”
“Were you working on the evening of March 13th of this year?”
“I was.”
“What time did you get off work?”
“I left the restaurant about one forty-five in the morning.”
“That would be on the morning of March 14th?”
“Yes.”
“Did you have anything unusual happen as you were leaving the restaurant?”
“Yes. A white van came shooting out of Paddock Square onto Brownwood Boulevard and almost hit my car as I turned onto West Torch Lake Drive.”
“Which way was the van heading?”
“Toward Highway 44.”
“How far from Paddock Square does the street intersect into Highway 44?”
“Less than a mile, I think.”
“Can you describe the van?”
“Yes. It was a white Dodge Promaster City van.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. My husband and I had looked at one just like it at the Dodge dealer’s the Saturday before. We were thinking about buying one.”
“Did you get a look at the driver?”
“No, sir. It happened real fast.”
“Were there any markings on the van? Graphics, that sort of thing?”
“No. It was plain white.”
I showed her a picture of the van that Meredith and I had stipulated into evidence. “Did the van look similar to the one in this photo?”
“Identical.”
“What did you do after the near collision with the van?”
“Nothing. I went home.”
“So, you wouldn’t have any idea about whether there was a body in the square at the time the van was leaving.”
“That’s correct.”
“Thank you, Ms. Marris. I have no further questions.”
“Ms. Evans?” the judge said.
“I’ll be brief, Your Honor.” She turned to the witness. “You don’t have any idea if the van that almost hit you has any connection to the body that was found later that morning in the square, do you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“And you can’t identify the driver of the van?”
“I can’t.”
“Did you get a tag number on the van?”
“No.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
“Nothing further, Your Honor,” I said. “May the witness be excused?”
“You’re excused, Ms. Marris,” the judge said. “It’s almost lunchtime. Who’s your next witness, Mr. Royal?”
“Lionel Steerman.”
“Will he be short?”
“Afraid not, Your Honor.”
“Okay, then. The court will be in recess until one o’clock.”
CHAPTER 48
IN THE GUISE of Jade Conway, J.D. had announced her departure for Germany the day after I talked to Josh Hannah. Her divorce was final, her leave was up, and the Army needed her. We’d decided that since her job in The Villages was finished, she shouldn’t stick around. If any of the witnesses put two and two together and decided that J.D. was not who she appeared to be, and that she and I were somehow connected, we
might see a change in their testimony. It might be necessary for me to put J.D. on the witness stand to testify about her conversations with some of the witnesses if the witness lied, but that was the only way I would use her in the trial.
In the two weeks before the beginning of the trial, I was spending most of my time on Longboat Key. J.D. was back at work with the LBKPD, and Jock had returned to the murky world and the wars where he plied his deadly trade against the enemies of his country. J.D. had been stewing about Kelly Gilbert since their conversation at Sonny’s in Lake Sumter Landing. That meeting had raised red flags, not the least of which was Kelly’s excessive drinking.
On one of those evenings in mid-April, after J.D. had returned to Longboat, she and I were sitting in my living room enjoying the salt-scented breeze blowing through the open patio doors. A full moon was rising above the bay, its reflection on the dark water appearing as an errant moonbeam aimed directly at us. I was reading up on the rules of evidence and J.D. sat at my computer. I interrupted her. “Do you have that picture of the van driver taken by the security camera?”
“Sure.” She tapped a few keys and said, “Here it is. You want me to print it?”
“No. You think your department geek is home?”
“I can call him. What do you need?”
“I’d like to send him that picture and ask him to Photoshop it. I’ve had a nagging feeling the last couple of days that I know that guy from somewhere. See if the geek can manipulate that picture by adding a full beard and a ball cap.”
She had the picture within about ten minutes. I took a quick look and said, “I’ll be damned. That’s the guy who came after me in Darrell’s Café a couple of weeks ago. That’s got to be Buford Steerman, Chunk’s brother, known as Biggun. Who the hell is the grandma, Sally Steerman?”
“You know, I went through the property records and didn’t find anything on her in the three-county area. She didn’t pop up on Google, either.” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got an idea.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard. She’d stop periodically, stare at the monitor, and type some more. Ten minutes went by and she sat back and said, “Listen to this. I went into the Florida Department of Health’s Bureau of Vital Statistics and found the marriage license of Kelly and David Gilbert. Guess what her name was before she married Mr. Gilbert.”
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