And why couldn’t he shake the feeling that his father had been trying to tell him something? Recently?
He scooped the polenta into bowls, then poured the mushroom ragu over it. A dose of specially prepared crema, a bit of lemon zest, and a sprinkling of Maldon sea salt. Voila! He carried plates to his partners as they gathered around the kitchen table. Like it or not, they needed to discuss the case. Kilpatrick said he planned to wrap up the prosecution tomorrow.
“Who do you think Kilpatrick will call for his grand finale?”
“No way of telling,” Garrett answered. “Another advantage of the hired gun. Someone like Jazlyn has to worry about her long-term relationship with fellow members of the bar. This guy is free to alienate everyone in town. He doesn’t care. He’ll collect his fee, blow town, and never see any of us again, in all likelihood.”
“Another reason for the DA to bench Jazlyn, I guess,” Jimmy said.
“I personally don’t think he wants Jazlyn to succeed him,” Dan said, “so he didn’t want her getting a big publicity coup on the cusp of election season.”
“Really?” Maria said. “You think this is politically motivated?”
“I think it’s Sweeney-motivated.”
“Which is politically motived.”
“Because everything is politically motived. Got a fix on the jury? Any problems?”
“Our consultant is worried about the skinny guy on the front row. He scowls almost every time you speak.”
“Wonderful.”
Jimmy tried to calm him. “One rogue juror isn’t enough to convict.”
“It might be,” Maria suggested. “He looks pushy. If he’s chosen foreperson, he’ll lead the discussion. He won’t be shy about telling people what to think.”
“Doesn’t mean everyone will listen,” Garrett said.
“Yes, we’d all like to think they will all stick to their guns and apply the standard of ‘beyond a reasonable doubt’ as instructed. But sadly, even for adults, peer pressure is a powerful influencer. It’s much easier to go with the flow than to chart an individual course. But I’m sure you can steer them in the right direction, Dan.”
“Any other concerns?”
“Our consultant is somewhat confused about...what our defense case will be.”
“Our strategy is clear. Blame the cops, the DA, and other highly placed muckety-mucks.”
“Yes, but what witnesses will you call?” She gave him a stern look. “Truth is, you only have one, and historically, you’ve opposed calling the defendant to the stand.”
“Because it’s incredibly risky. But in this instance, we have no choice. No one can tell Ossie’s story but Ossie. And there are parts even he can’t tell, because he doesn’t remember. Still, the jury needs to hear from him. I think all this nonsense about him swiping drugs and concocting elaborate murder schemes will disappear once the jury sees that he’s basically just a kid trying to find his place in the universe.” He paused. “Like all of us.” He finished his bowl. “If we have nothing more to discuss, I’m heading back to the crib.”
Maria popped up. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You will not. I’ll be fine.”
“You said that before.”
“Mr. K has a squadron of people watching me. I spot them occasionally. They’re good, but hardly invisible.”
“Still coming,” Maria said, grabbing her purse.
“Really no need...”
“Maybe I just want to get you alone.”
“Not buying it.”
“My Fitbit says I haven’t met my steps quota.”
“You’re not wearing your Fitbit.”
She pulled a face. “Damned nuisance, working with a guy who notices everything.” She opened the front door. “I’m still coming. Race you to the curb?”
* * *
The following morning, Dan fumbled with his cell phone as he hustled to the courtroom. Normally he didn’t talk and walk at the same time, but he decided to make an exception for his beautiful girlfriend who was also the mayor of the city.
“How did you sleep last night, cicada?”
He was honest. “I barely slept at all.”
“Ribs still aching?”
“Some. I never sleep during trials.”
“You know, I could help with that.” There was a soft purr in her voice.
“You could try. Probably wouldn’t work. But the attempt would be enjoyable.”
“I thought maybe we could get dinner tonight.”
“Sorry. I expect to spend long hours getting Ossie ready to go on the stand. He’s already terrified of what Kilpatrick might do to him.”
“Boo. Your girlfriend feels neglected. You need to carve out some quality time for her.”
“After the trial. I don’t expect our case will be lengthy. After Ossie, it’s in the jury’s hands.”
“And the jury is in your hands.”
“We’ll see. Let’s plan on dinner this weekend. Where would you like to go? Chez Guitano?”
“You know...” The purr returned to her voice. “My boyfriend is the best chef in the city. And his boat is extremely cozy...”
Well now. That was an offer he couldn’t refuse. “Consider it a date.”
Dan spotted several familiar faces in the courtroom gallery—the whole Coleman clan, Margaret Tully, Bradley Ellison, even Quint, the Dumpster diver. Could Kilpatrick be planning to recall a previous witness? Or was Quint just trying to get off the streets?
Phil Coleman, the youngest of Zachary’s sons, slapped a folded piece of paper into his hand. “Discovery request. For the civil case.”
“Seriously? Your bigshot lawyers couldn’t do this the proper way?”
“I told them I was going to see you. Why waste money on a stamp?”
“We’ve already produced everything relevant.”
“So you say. But if your client goes on the witness stand and says anything new, expect a major investigation.”
“Why would you think that’s going to happen?”
“Because you’re a clever lawyer, and he’s a kid pretending to have amnesia. If he has a sudden burst of memory at an opportune moment, we’re going to be all over you like butter on a hot skillet.”
He frowned. “You should never put butter on a hot skillet. Use olive oil. Healthier and tastier.” He walked on past.
He almost collided with Jazlyn. Given the circumstances, he didn’t expect to see her anywhere near. “Glad Kilpatrick allows you in the courtroom.”
She gave him a smirk. “Only because he needed me to bring him a file. He’s extremely territorial.”
“Not surprised. His career is based on his reputation as a superstar. Superstars don’t have assistants.”
Jimmy leaned in. “Batman has Robin.”
Jazlyn smiled. “Is Robin an assistant? More like a companion. Those two seemed very close.”
“What are you implying?”
“Stay calm, Jimmy. I don’t want to be Kilpatrick’s Robin. Not a fan of the man’s style.”
Interesting. “And how would you describe his style?”
“Win at any cost.”
“Is his fee dependent upon winning?”
“No. But the next fee might be. Superstars with poor records don’t get hired.”
“You think he’s on Sweeney’s payroll?”
“He doesn’t need it. He’s getting plenty of money through official channels.”
“I know Sweeney’s backing the DA’s mayoral campaign.”
“Yes. I so wish Camila would stay here forever. But it’s too much to ask.” She laid her hand on Dan’s wrist. “The police are still investigating the attack on you. But so far, they’ve come up with nothing.”
“I don’t think the cops kill themselves trying to protect defense attorneys.”
“There’s probably some truth in that, but I don't think anyone knows anything. Whoever orchestrated this attack covered his tracks.” She leaned closer. “And they may not be finishe
d.”
“Believe me, Jazlyn, if those three thugs had wanted me dead, they could’ve killed me.”
“They didn’t want you dead then. They hoped the attack would be enough. But you clearly haven’t stopped, and if it starts to look as if this trial is going the wrong way...”
“I have people looking after me. I can take care of myself.”
She squeezed his hand. “Except it’s becoming increasingly clear that you can’t. And I don’t want to see you killed.” She paused. “Esperanza would be heartbroken.”
She turned abruptly and headed toward the door.
Chapter 43
Kilpatrick’s final witness was the pole dancing prodigy, Vanessa Collins. She was dressed considerably more conservatively than when he’d met her before, but her manner was just as forthright and unapologetic. She established her identity, how she made a living, and her previous relationship with Harrison Coleman.
“When was your last contact with him?” Kilpatrick asked.
“The night he was murdered.”
“You saw him?”
“Not at first. He was busy. I went backstage at the theater. I knew he liked to hole up on opening night, reading or playing chess with himself. But to my surprise, on this occasion, he was not alone.”
“Who was with him?”
She pointed toward the defense table. “That boy. The one who claims to be Ossie Coleman.”
“Do you believe he’s Ossie Coleman?”
“I know Harrison didn’t. He told many people that if anyone was in a position to know who deserved to inherit the estate, it was him. And this kid wasn’t the one.”
“So Harrison was a major obstacle to the defendant inheriting the money.”
“I assume so. I had several reasons for visiting him that night. Found some of his clothes in the back of my closet I wanted to return. Plus I had a question I wanted to ask. Anyway, when I got to his office, I could tell immediately that he was not alone. The door to his office was closed, but I could hear people talking inside. Loudly.”
“And when you say you could hear them—who did you hear?”
“Harrison. And the defendant.”
“Could you make out what they were saying?”
“Perfectly. There was a lot of noise onstage, so maybe no one else heard, but when I pressed close to the door, it was clear as day.”
“What were they talking about?”
“Money, of course. The kid wanted Harrison to back his claim. And he refused. Harrison called him an imposter. The kid offered him money to—”
“Objection,” Dan said, rising. And here we go. Arguing a technical evidentiary matter of grave import to a judge who still wore training wheels. “This is hearsay.”
“But clearly an exception to the rule,” Kilpatrick said. “The declarant is deceased.”
“My client is not. He can testify about what happened during this meeting.”
Kilpatrick laughed out loud. “Yes, and I’m sure he’ll include every word, warts and all. With respect, your honor, we’re entitled to introduce another witness, one who has no stake in the matter. No incentive to lie. She’s a completely objective observer.”
There’s no such thing. “The fact that she was present demonstrates that she’s not completely objective. She had a relationship with the victim.”
“But none with the defendant. She has no reason to invent incriminating evidence.” Kilpatrick paused. “And this will be extremely incriminating.”
Judge Smulders frowned. “I don’t know...”
“Let me make it easier for you, your honor. Just let me introduce the recording. Then we’ll see if there’s a problem.”
According to Vanessa, once she realized she was eavesdropping on something hot, she pulled her phone out of her purse and started recording it. He’d filed a motion to exclude on various grounds, but the judge had not granted it. Apparently electronic eavesdropping did not offend Smulders as much as it did him. “We completely object to that, your honor. On numerous grounds.”
“But the recording eliminates the problem with unreliability,” Kilpatrick said.
“It’s wiretapping, your honor, which violates federal law.”
“It’s not like she tapped his phone. There was no opportunity to ask for consent.”
“But the fact remains, she didn’t obtain consent. Illegal recordings can’t be used in court.”
“Unless there are strong and valid reasons to do so. Like here. This is a murder case.”
“That does not change the law. Nor does it change my client’s constitutional expectation of privacy.”
“What privacy?” Kilpatrick spread wide his arms. “Your honor, they were shouting so loudly they could be heard outside the door.”
“That argument actually makes sense to me,” Judge Smulders said. “We all know everyone on earth has a cellphone that can record conversations. If you’re going to shout in a public place, you have no right to expect privacy. I’m going to allow the recording to be played for the jury.”
“Exception. Permission to take an interlocutory appeal.” He wondered if the judge even understood what he was saying.
“Whatever. We’re not going to delay the trial for you.” Which made it pointless. “Play the tape.”
Kilpatrick used the same AV system that had displayed the photos. Although the jury wouldn’t see any images during the playback, they would be able to read captions. Dan had reviewed the captions beforehand and agreed that they appeared to be accurate. He had also agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to post-production sound editing that removed much of the background buzz and made the recording easier to hear.
After some crackling static, the conversation gradually became comprehensible. Kilpatrick had edited it down to the parts he most wanted the jury to hear.
Ossie’s voice was much higher pitched than Harrison’s, so they were easy to distinguish. “You gotta back me on this.”
“Sorry, son,” Harrison replied. “That will never happen. I spent lots of time with Ossie. I loved that boy. And you are not that boy.”
“Without you, I got no chance.”
“Probably. The old man trusts me.”
“Help me. I’ll make you glad you did.”
“Sorry, no.”
There was a loud noise, as if furniture were being knocked over. “I won’t ask again!”
“Break anything you want. It won’t change my mind.”
“Will this?”
They heard a loud sickening sound. Even without a visual image, it was obvious someone had just been hit. The cry of pain that followed cemented that impression.
“Get out of here!”
“I won't leave till you promise you’ll help me.”
“I will not—ever—”
Another crashing sound, louder than before. It sounded as if Harrison had been knocked to the ground.
“I’ll—call someone.”
“Not if I can help it. Do you think I’m going to let you ruin everything for me? Do you?”
Harrison’s voice sounded weak. “I can’t...tell...”
“I won’t let you ruin my plans. I won’t!”
The jurors’ eyes widened. The looked from one to another, stunned, as if they had just heard a confession. If they could’ve voted then, he suspected, they all would vote to convict. And deliver the death penalty.
Kilpatrick switched off the recording and returned his attention to the witness. “What happened next?”
Vanessa looked distraught, as if she was hearing this for the first time. “I pounded on the door. Eventually, Harrison opened it. He assured me he was okay. I saw the defendant in there, glaring toward the door. I asked Harrison if he needed help, but he told me it was just a little disagreement and nothing to worry about.” Her lips tightened. “I wish to God I’d called the police then and there. But I didn’t. And look what happened.”
“You shouldn’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing what would happen.”
&nbs
p; “I should’ve. I should’ve stayed with him. But I didn’t. And now he’s dead.”
Kilpatrick nodded his head gravely. “No more questions. Mr. Pike?”
He knew he had to make an impression—fast—or this case was irretrievably lost. “I interviewed you shortly after I took this case, Ms. Collins. You never mentioned that you had a recording.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“You knew I’d be interested.”
“But you didn’t ask. And the DA told you about it, so who cares anyway?”
“Were you hoping to get Ossie out of the way so you could inherit more of the estate?”
“Me? I’m not a beneficiary.”
“But you claim you were the common-law wife of Harrison Coleman. You could use that claim to get a piece of the action.”
“That’s absurd.”
“But you have made that claim, haven’t you?”
“All I want is what the law says I’m entitled to have.”
“I have to ask myself why you didn’t come clean with me when we first talked. Were you working with the police?”
“I wanted them to catch Harrison’s murderer, if that’s what you mean.”
“You said you saw my client in Harrison’s office.”
“That’s right.”
“How long did you see him?”
“Only a moment.”
“Were the office lights on?”
“No. I think a lamp had been knocked over.”
“How can you be sure who you saw?”
“I saw him and heard him. Voice analysis shows it was the defendant.”
“On the tape. But how can you be sure who you saw when you peered through the door?”
“I saw the defendant.”
“Have you talked to the District Attorney about your testimony?”
“Yes.”
“What about Conrad Sweeney? Have you talked to him?”
“No. I don’t know who that is.”
“Why did you record the conversation?”
“He threatened to murder Harrison!”
“Did he say the word ‘murder?’”
“It was obvious what he meant. Just listen to—”
“But you started recording before the alleged threat.”
Trial by Blood Page 23