Then he picked up the hard copy of an e-mail that Henry Hartz had sent him that day, complying with one of Judge Templeton’s directives.
“I received an e-mail,” he said in a serious tone, “from the prosecution, about one of the witnesses they are going to call at your trial. Woman named Shelly Hollsaker. Does that ring a bell?”
Vinnie shook her head, but she could tell that Blackstone was concerned about this particular witness.
“She’s the woman who shared a cell with you in the detention center right after you were arrested,” Blackstone said.
Then the lights went on.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “I didn’t click with her name.”
“Did you make a telephone call when you were with her?”
“We were in this huge room, they called it a ‘holding cell.’ This woman, Shelly, was there, too.”
“What’d she look like?” he asked.
“Middle-aged. Tall.”
“Race?”
“White. She had glasses. Frizzy hair.”
“Do you know why she was there?” Blackstone asked.
“I don’t know what she was being charged with, no. There was a telephone at the far end of the room. They said I could make a call out.”
“So you did.”
“Right. I did,” she said. She saw Blackstone’s brow furrowed. Then she added, “Was that wrong for me to do that?”
But Blackstone didn’t answer. Instead, he kept following the fox hunt he had started. He glanced down at the e-mail, then asked Vinnie the next question.
“Exactly how many phone calls did they let you make?”
“They said I could make several if I wanted. Which surprised me. I had already heard, you know, on TV and stuff, that you get one phone call when you’re arrested. I’d never been arrested before, so I really didn’t know.”
“It is unusual for the feds to give you that kind of accommodation,” he said. “They usually go by the book. Which makes me wonder.”
“What?”
“Whether this was a setup,” Blackstone said. “After all, they put you in the cell with a repeat offender. Shelly Hollsaker had a prior record. The government just provided me with a copy of her conviction record in their e-mail as part of their discovery disclosure. So, she had something to gain by being a snitch. And the government had a lot to gain by encouraging you to talk in front of her. And Vinnie, you had a lot to lose by making your phone calls under those circumstances.”
Vinnie buried her face in her hands for a few seconds, then took her hands away and looked up at Blackstone.
“So, what now?”
“You have to be absolutely clear and honest with me,” Blackstone said.
“Of course I will.”
“How many phone calls did you make?”
She thought for a moment.
“Two. I made two calls.”
“One was to me, to my private, unlisted number at my condo,” Blackstone said. “It went to voice mail.”
“Right. I was very upset.”
“I have always wondered,” he said. “How did you get my unlisted number?”
“Well,” she said with a smile, “Magister gave it to me.”
“How did he get it?”
“Oh, I’m not sure. He says his security people have all kinds of access to information that regular people can’t get. And I know he has channels with the British government too, being in the House of Lords, so he can get private information that way. He gave it to me after you and I had our first office conference. He thought I might need it.”
“So,” Blackstone said, “one call was to my voice mail. Who was the other call to?”
“It was…a call to Magister.”
“They let you make an international call to Lord Dee?” Blackstone said incredulously.
“It was an international collect call. But yes, they let me make it.”
“Anyone else?” he said.
“No. That’s it.”
“Are you sure?” Blackstone said. His voice was harsh.
“J.D., darling, yes. I’m telling you the truth. Why?”
“Shelly Hollsaker is telling the government that you made three calls. Not two. But three.”
“That’s a lie,” Vinnie said with a shocked look on her face.
“Shelly is telling the government that one call was when you were crying about being arrested, and she said it sounded like it was a call to your lawyer.”
“That’s the one I left on your voice mail.”
“Hollsaker then says that there was another call that was very involved, that you asked for an international operator, and then you were talking about getting a lawyer, and being arrested, and needing some money, and saying you really appreciated his friendship.”
“That was my call to Magister Dee.”
“Then there was this call,” Blackstone said, pausing and looking down at the e-mail he had received from Henry Hartz.
“This call,” Blackstone said, now speaking very slowly and deliberately, “according to Shelly Hollsaker, was made by you first, before the other calls. In that telephone conversation, this is what Hollsaker says in her statement to the feds:
I heard her call someone first. She was really angry and upset. Not crying. Just really angry. Here is what she said: “I thought you told me I was not going to be a suspect. You promised me I wouldn’t be tied-in to this. What happened?” Then there was a pause, like she was listening to someone on the other end talking. Then she said, “Why did he do that? Are you sure it was Langley’s computer, and not someone else’s?”
Vinnie had her lips parted just slightly, as if frozen in the split second before forming the words to say.
Then she responded.
“That—what you just read—all of that is a pack of lies. You said yourself this Shelly person is a previously convicted woman with a record. She would say anything to get a break from the cops. Right?”
“Did you make three calls?”
“I told you already, no. Absolutely not,” Vinnie said, her face now flashing with anger.
“Did you make any of those statements I just read out to you—‘I thought you told me I was not going to be a suspect. You promised me I wouldn’t be tied in to this. What happened?’ Did you say that…or anything even remotely close to that?”
“No!”
“Did you say this—‘Why did he do that? Are you sure it was Langley’s computer, and not someone else’s?’ ”
“No, I did not!” she said vehemently.
“Well,” Blackstone said quietly. “We have our work cut out for us. I’m not going to minimize this. We have major damage control ahead of us. Up to now their case against you was very circumstantial and thin. They’ve obviously been sitting on this witness from the very beginning. She could be devastating to your case.”
“You’ll be able to destroy that witness, Shelly Hollsaker. Right?” she said. “You’re brilliant, J.D. You will destroy her in court?”
“I need ammunition to do that,” he said calmly. “You can provide that.”
“How? Just tell me what to do.”
“You need to think back very hard to that day in the detention cell. To everything that went on. What you might have said that this Shelly Hollsaker might have misconstrued. And what you talked to Shelly about when the two of you were together.”
“I can tell you one thing,” she said. “I didn’t say a word to her. I was scared to death. Why would I want to talk to another prisoner?”
Blackstone nodded. Then he gave her reassurance that her case was the primary and single focus of his office and that they were going to pull out all the stops to defend her.
After she left, Blackstone dialed the U.S. Attorney’s Office and asked to speak to Henry Hartz.
When Hartz answered the call, he asked whether Blackstone had received his e-mail about Shelly Hollsaker.
“I did. That’s why I’m calling,” Blackstone said. “One thing I need to know.
Where’s the surveillance audio of Vinnie’s telephone conversations?”
“What makes you think that we record phone calls of prisoners?” he barked back.
“Come on, Henry. Please,” Blackstone said. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You’ll say it’s purely for jail security. Okay. Fine. I’ll buy that. Just tell me when I can get a copy.”
“Truth is,” Hartz said, “I’ve already checked into that. They tell me there was no audio for that time.”
“Why not?”
“I’m checking into that.”
“How convenient!” Blackstone barked back. “So the only evidence to those calls, outside of my client, is this Shelly Hollsaker. What kind of a deal did you cut with her?”
“No deal. Just what I said in the e-mail,” Hartz said. “If she testifies truthfully at Vinnie’s trial, and if we think she gave us substantial assistance in the case, we’ll advise the sentencing judge in her insurance fraud case and the court can take that into consideration. No other promises.”
“I’m hoping I don’t have to ask the court,” Blackstone said, “to order you to produce an explanation about the missing audio of the telephone calls.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Hartz said. “As soon as I find out what the story is, I will let you know in writing. Frankly, I would like to know myself what happened.”
“I’m counting on that,” Blackstone said.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Hartz added. “About Shelly Hollsaker.”
“Yes?”
“She passed a polygraph test in our office.”
“And some people with severe personality disorders, like sociopaths,” Blackstone said, pulling that one out of the hat, “are famous for being able to fool lie detectors.”
Hartz, unconvinced by Blackstone’s comeback, gave a sardonic chuckle at the other end.
“Have a really good day,” he said.
CHAPTER 45
Blackstone was getting ready to leave for the day when he ran into Julia. She looked like she was leaving too. She had something in her hand.
“Hey there,” he said, very upbeat. “Going my way? Want to catch dinner?”
“Here’s the DVD of my cross-examination of Vinnie,” she said and handed it to Blackstone. “You can review it at your leisure. I think it speaks for itself.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking the DVD. “And as for my question, which you adroitly didn’t answer?”
“Did you want to talk about Vinnie’s case?”
“Not particularly.”
“Do you want to discuss any of my other cases, which I have been struggling to keep up with while also helping you out in the Smithsonian case?” she said in a slightly irritated voice.
“No, not really,” Blackstone said.
“So this is not a professional conversation you want to engage in tonight then, right?”
Blackstone was getting her drift. He shook his head.
“Then in light of that, I think I’ll pass,” she said and walked past him and out the front door.
Alone, Blackstone locked up the office, turned off the lights, and headed home in his convertible.
On the way home he kept mulling over Julia’s interaction with him. And assessing his relationship with her over the last year and a half. And then there was Vinnie. Her case. What lay ahead if she was convicted at trial. And his thoughts about her as a woman—thoughts that stretched far beyond the strategies of his criminal defense.
And then there were the inevitable, haunting memories too, about Marilyn. Everything he thought about other women always took him back to her. And then, like a landslide, that gravitational force, the aching for his daughter, Beth, that would immediately follow.
Blackstone took a drive over to his college campus. He parked his car in his faculty parking spot. Then he headed up to his uncle’s office. He told himself that he needed to catch up with Reverend Lamb about his expert opinions regarding the Langley note.
That is what he told himself.
Reverend Lamb was in his office with a young man. Blackstone waited in the chair outside. He could hear snatches of their conversation. The student sounded like he was thinking of dropping out of school.
After fifteen minutes, the student left and Blackstone entered his office.
“Got a minute, Uncle?” he asked.
“Always for you, J.D.”
Blackstone sat down on the little couch that was in front of a cluttered bookshelf.
“I had told you previously that I’ve retained you and one other expert, on the Langley note.”
“Yes. I remember.”
“Frieda will schedule a kind of face-off with both of you in my office.”
“Face-off?”
“Well, that’s what I’m calling it,” Blackstone said. “I figured ‘gun-fight at the OK Corral’ would be a little melodramatic.”
Reverend Lamb laughed.
“Here’s the layout,” Blackstone said. “I think I can only use one of you—or neither of you, depending on your conclusions. But I won’t be able to use both of you under any circumstances. It’s fatal to a criminal defense to give alternative, inconsistent theories.”
“I think I follow you,” Reverend Lamb said. “You want both of us to present our findings on what the Langley note meant—that is, decipher the Booth diary page that he copied—and we are to do that in front of each other and with you. Right?”
“That’s the gist,” Blackstone said.
“Why the ‘face-off’ format?” his uncle asked. “Do you want each of us to take potshots at each other’s conclusions?”
“Something like that,” Blackstone said. “Look, I know scholars like you guys detest this kind of situation. But your expert opinions have to be forensically defensible in the most intensively combative environment imaginable. At trial, your credentials will be challenged. Your methodology will be ridiculed. Every published word you’ve ever written will be held up to scrutiny. That’s the playing field when you testify as an expert witness in a criminal case.”
“I understand,” Reverend Lamb said. “Don’t worry about criticizing my opinions. I’ve got thick skin.”
Lamb paused for a minute to study Blackstone, who was reclining on the couch, gazing out into space.
“So, apart from the case,” Lamb said, “how’s life, Nephew?”
“Challenging,” Blackstone said.
“I’ve never known you not to enjoy a good challenge.”
“Then maybe I’d better pick a different word.”
“You’re a good communicator. What word would you pick?”
“Struggling.”
Then Blackstone thought of something.
“That college kid that you were talking with in your office—let me guess, he was a freshman wondering about continuing on this fall as a sophomore?”
“Yes, he was,” Reverend Lamb said. “He’s struggling, to borrow your word. Wants to jump ship. Had some bad grades and thinks he wants to give it up. Quit college.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Oh, nothing very profound. I just told him that it’s never a good idea to make decisions out of desperation. That he needs to get a higher perspective on what he wants to do with his life, his talents, and his opportunities.”
“It’s hard to be objective,” Blackstone said, “when you’re drowning.”
“Yes. That’s true,” his uncle said. And then, without fanfare, he walked into a subject matter laden with land mines for his nephew.
“You must be lonely without Marilyn and Beth.”
“Yup.”
“We never talked, you and I,” Reverend Lamb said, “about the two of them, and me, and what you thought about all of that.”
“No, we didn’t,” Blackstone said.
“After the funeral,” Lamb said, “I don’t think the two of us ever mentioned their names in conversation. I wanted to. But I knew how upset you were that Marilyn and Beth had been attending my chapel services.”
“But I am sure you wondered why she thought she needed Christianity.”
“That did cross my mind.”
“What did you finally conclude?”
“Every one of us has a vulnerable point,” Blackstone said. “For some, fear. For others, insecurity. An unfinished part of our personality. She must have had some little wound that needed a Band-Aid. Religion…your brand of Christianity obviously provided some soothing salve. It wasn’t my right to deny her that.”
“Well,” Reverend Lamb said with a smile, in a quiet voice. “I don’t think that was why she embraced Christ. Why, she accepted Him as her Savior, right here in my office one day. Confessed that Christ died on the cross for her and received Him into her heart by faith.”
“Oh?” Blackstone said in a biting tone. “And what is your explanation? What do you think she needed?”
“Forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness from what?” Blackstone said, irritated.
“Sin.”
“Your medieval ecclesiastical mantra is ridiculous. Marilyn was the most loving person I had ever met. Frankly, I didn’t deserve her. How can you pass moral judgment on her?”
“I don’t pass judgment on anyone,” Lamb said. “J.D., you pride yourself on your rational, analytical, objective approach to things. Yet, in a real sense, Marilyn, who I’m sure you thought was the emotive and subjective one, was much more objective than you.”
“Oh? This ought to be good,” Blackstone snapped. “How, pray tell?”
“She considered, very dispassionately, what the biblical record had to say about who she was. What God desired of her. And what she had to do to connect with God. To be reconciled with a holy Creator. That’s it.”
“You’re doing religion-speak now,” Blackstone said. “I don’t speak your language. It went out of style, I think, around the time of Henry the Eighth.”
“If you mean the King James Bible,” Reverend Lamb said, with a calm smile, “actually, that was under James I. Early seventeenth century, sometime after King Henry, I’m afraid.”
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