The Underground Man sw-3

by Parnell Hall

  Tracy snatched off her glasses, folded them up. “Dammit, you know what. Jack Walsh. The body. Is it him?”

  Steve sighed. “How the hell should I know?”

  Tracy glared at him. “I know you don’t know. I mean what do you think? What you said in court-was it all bullshit? Or do you think it might be true? I mean, I know what you’re doing. You’re stalling because you don’t want to cross-examine the witness. But is that all it is, or do you think there’s some truth to it?”

  Steve shrugged. “You’re right on both counts. Yeah, I don’t wanna cross-examine the witness. And do I think the body could be someone else? Yeah, I think it’s a good shot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Jack Walsh.”

  Tracy frowned. “Don’t get cryptic on me, say what you mean.”

  Steve tipped his chair forward, leaned in on the desk. “All right, look. We know Jack Walsh. We know what kind of a man he was. He was a nut, but he was a clever nut. There was a method to his madness. And I look at this murder, and the whole thing is so typically Jack Walsh.”

  “How so?”

  “O.K., take the will. He gets the kid out of school, takes the kid down in the subway and writes the will. Presumably leaves everything to the kid. Just the sort of thing that will drive the rest of the relatives bananas. Not twenty-four hours later he’s dead, the kid’s got the will, and the relatives do go bananas. And the will is drawn without a final signature so it may or may not be legal, and even if it is, the kid may not be able to inherit because he may be found guilty of murdering Jack Walsh. From the point of view of a vindictive madman who wanted to get back at his relatives, it couldn’t be better.”

  “But that would have to mean-”

  Steve nodded. “That he did it himself. Exactly. This is what I’ve been looking for all along. Someone who could have done this crime besides Jeremy Dawson. Someone with motive, method and opportunity. Well, the motive is clear. Method and opportunity? Well, the big stumbling block is Jeremy Dawson’s gun which was in Jeremy’s locker. But if somehow Jack Walsh had the combination to that locker-which isn’t that farfetched a premise-well, Jesus Christ, here he was on the day of the murder hanging out in the hallway of Jeremy Dawson’s school.”

  “You mean he could have taken the gun?”

  “Sure he could. I’ve been pounding Jeremy Dawson over the head all afternoon, trying to get him to remember if he saw the gun in the locker before he left with his uncle that afternoon.

  And wouldn’t you know it, the fucking kid can’t remember. Yes, he opened the locker before he left with his uncle. No, he can’t remember for sure whether he saw the gun.”

  “So you think Jack Walsh-”

  “It’s not what I think,” Steve said. “It’s a case of what might have happened. I have to create reasonable doubt. To explain the facts of this case by a reasonable hypothesis other than that of guilt. Well, that’s the hypothesis. Say Jack Walsh takes the gun. Gets Jeremy down there, writes the will. Sends Jeremy away. What happens then? Jack Walsh finds some old bum-probably has the guy already lined up. The requirements aren’t that rough. Has to be an elderly white man about Jack Walsh’s size and weight, and he’s gotta have no teeth. So what does he do? He takes the man to the 66th Street Station, gives the man his coat with his wallet in the pocket. Probably gets the man drunk so he passes out. Then he probably waits until an express is going through the station so no one will hear the shot, and he takes Jeremy Dawson’s gun and plugs the guy in the back of the head. Then he douses the body with gasoline, sets it on fire, and gets out of there. Sometime later that night he breaks into the high school, sticks the gun back in the locker, and takes off free as air, leaving his relatives to stew over the results.”

  Steve shrugged. “And there you are. A reasonable hypothesis other than that of guilt.”

  “Yeah,” Tracy said. “Very reasonable. You’re trying to prove the corpse committed the murder.”

  Steve smiled. “There is that one small drawback.”

  The phone rang.

  Tracy leaned forward, scooped it up. “Steve Winslow’s office.” She listened a moment, said, “O.K., come on down,” and hung up the phone. “Mark Taylor. Says he’s got something hot.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Christ, let it be good for once. It’s about time we got a break.”

  Tracy looked at him. “Are you serious? About Jack Walsh, I mean. About Jack Walsh doing all that? I mean, do you really believe it?”

  Steve shook his head. “Hell, I don’t know. Tracy, I’ll tell you honestly, I sift through the facts, and I make up this bullshit off the top of my head, and sometimes I think it’s right. Sometimes I think it’s true.” Steve took a breath and looked her right in the eye. “And sometimes I’m just like you. Sometimes I think Jeremy Dawson’s a lying little punk who set the whole thing up and killed Jack Walsh to feed his crack habit. I have to put that behind me, ’cause I’m his lawyer and I can’t think that way. But if you want the truth, the truth is I’m insecure and I always have doubts, and defending this case is not exactly my idea of a good time.”

  They looked at each other for moment.

  Tracy said, “Hey look, I’m sorry if-”

  “Forget it. I understand you not liking this case. But do me a favor. Every time you get too pissed off at me for what I’m doing for Jeremy Dawson, ask yourself how you’d feel if I was defending that rich guy’s son who killed his girlfriend.”

  Mark Taylor opened the door to find the two of them looking at each other.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Not at all,” Tracy said. She straightened up and shoved on her glasses. “Steve’s just giving me his new version of the case. It turns out the corpse committed the murder.”

  Taylor looked at Steve. “That’s the angle?”

  “That’s it. You got anything that’ll help?”

  Taylor flopped into the clients’ chair, shook his head. “No, and you’re not gonna like what I got. Pipeline got the word from headquarters. Dirkson’s all in a dither about the question of identity. Turning the place upside down trying to get something that’ll stick. Medical examiner’s workin’ overtime on the body, looking for something he missed. Cops are interrupting him every five minutes trooping people in there to look at the body, even though they know it’s a lost hope. And Dirkson’s questioning everybody he can get his hands on.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So they got something. I don’t know what it is, but they got something. Lids on, so my man can’t find out what. Only one thing he knows for sure.”

  “What’s that?”

  Taylor grimaced. “Hate to rain on your parade. They I.D.’d the body as Jack Walsh.”

  34

  Judge Grimes looked down from his bench at Steve Winslow and Harry Dirkson. “Gentlemen. Since yesterday I’ve gone over the testimony of the witness, Joseph Bissel, and considered Mr. Winslow’s motion. I am now prepared to rule. However, as I now understand it, Mr. Dirkson has some new evidence which could render my ruling moot. Nonetheless, here is the situation. With regard to the motion to strike the testimony of Joseph Bissel, it is at least in part denied. An examination of his testimony shows that it is not true that the sole purpose of the testimony was to implicate the defendant, Jeremy Dawson, in the crime. Indeed, the greater part of his testimony, that he saw Jack Walsh in the subway station on February 26th, that he personally observed Jack Walsh writing something on a piece of paper, is not only relevant and admissible, but is actually part of the circumstantial evidence which the prosecution can use for making a case that the body found in the station was indeed Jack Walsh. Therefore, the only part of the testimony in question is that where Joseph Bissel identifies the man he saw in the subway station with Jack Walsh as the defendant, Jeremy Dawson.”

  Judge Grimes paused and frowned. “I have given the matter careful consideration because I must say frankly I believe it t
o be a close point. However, I find that I must hold with the defense attorney and rule that the prosecution does not have sufficient grounds to introduce the evidence at this time. I am therefore striking the testimony regarding the identification of Jeremy Dawson from the record. However, I am prepared to reinstate it, if and when the prosecution produces sufficient evidence to warrant my doing so. However, I am striking it from the record at this particular time.

  “Now, with regard to matters of procedure. Mr. Winslow, Mr. Dirkson has concluded his direct examination of the witness. You now have the right to cross-examine. But naturally, only on that portion of the testimony which now remains in the record. If you do, and Mr. Dirkson then makes an additional showing which results in the reinstatement of the remainder of Joseph Bissel’s testimony, you would at that time be given an opportunity to cross-examine on that. That being the case, I ask you if you would care to cross-examine the witness now, or whether you would care to defer your cross-examination until such time as it is determined whether the remainder of his testimony is to be reinstated.”

  Steve smiled. “Your Honor, in the event that his testimony is not reinstated, rather than cross-examine, I think I would find I had another motion to make.”

  Judge Grimes smiled. “I’m sure you would, Mr. Winslow. Though if the corpus delicti is not proved, the motion to dismiss would not be necessary.

  “Now, Mr. Dirkson. Are you prepared to proceed?”

  “I am, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. Bring in the jury.”

  When the jurors had been seated, Judge Grimes said, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I apologize for the delay. Allow me to explain the situation. At this time I must ask you disregard the testimony of the witness, Joseph Bissel, with regard to identifying Jeremy Dawson as the person he saw in the subway station with Jack Walsh. You are to put it from your minds, and give it no weight.

  “Now, with regard to the witness, Joseph Bissel. He has not completed his testimony. The defense still has the right to cross-examine. However, he has been withdrawn from the stand at the present time so that the prosecutor may introduce additional evidence.

  “We are now prepared to proceed. Mr. Dirkson.”

  Dirkson rose. “Thank you, Your Honor. Recall Dr. Murray Abraham.”

  The medical examiner entered from the back of the courtroom and took the stand. It was obvious that he was still smarting from the effects of Steve Winslow’s cross-examination. He did not glance once at the defense table, and his lips were set in a firm line.

  When the medical examiner had seated himself on the stand, Judge Grimes said, “Dr. Abraham. You have already testified. Let me remind you that you are still under oath. Mr. Dirkson.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Abraham, since yesterday have you performed any additional tests on the body of the decedent?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Can you tell us about those tests?”

  “Yes, sir. I went over the body of the decedent again with the express purpose of looking for some medical anomaly which could be used as the basis for establishing the identity of the victim.”

  “And did you find anything?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And what was that?”

  “I found a hairline fracture of the right fibula.”

  “For the benefit of us laymen, Doctor, just what is the fibula?”

  “It is one of the lower leg bones. The smaller bone in the back of the lower leg.”

  “I see. And you say the victim had a hairline fracture on his right lower leg bone?”

  “That is correct.”

  “Can you tell us anything about that hairline fracture?”

  “Several things. For one, the fracture had probably not been medically treated.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because of the way it healed. The split bone is slightly askew. In other words, it healed in precisely the position it cracked. It was not set. No attempt was made to hold the bone together. From which it is apparent the leg was never put in a cast.”

  “I see, Doctor. But how is that possible? Wouldn’t a man with a broken leg require medical attention?”

  Dr. Abraham shook his head. “Not with a hairline fracture of the fibula. You see, the fibula is not the support bone. The tibia is. A person with a hairline fracture of the fibula should have medical attention, to make sure it heals properly and in order not to risk a permanent disability. But since it is not a support bone, a person with a hairline fracture of the fibula can walk on it. Although they are apt to experience pain and walk with a slight limp until such time as the fracture has healed itself.”

  “And the fracture was this type of injury?”

  “It was.”

  Dirkson nodded his approval. “Very good, Doctor. Now let me ask you this. Can you tell us anything with regard to the time of the injury? When it occurred?”

  “Only in a general way. It is obvious the injury is not recent. From the age of the calcium deposits built up around the fracture, it is clear that this is an old injury. Most likely twenty to thirty years old.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. That’s all.”

  “Mr. Winslow?” Judge Grimes said.

  Steve Winslow stood up. “Ah yes, Doctor. With regard to this hairline fracture-this fracture that you missed in your initial autopsy-”

  The medical examiner set his jaw. “I beg your pardon,” he snapped. “I did not miss it in my initial autopsy.”

  “Oh?” Steve said. “Did you find it?”

  “No, I didn’t, but-”

  “Then you missed it, didn’t you?”

  The medical examiner scowled. “I didn’t miss it. It wasn’t what I was looking for.”

  “Oh? And what were you looking for?”

  “I was looking for the cause of death. That is the purpose of an autopsy.”

  “I see,” Steve said. “You didn’t miss it because you weren’t looking for it. Then tell me, how is it that you happened to find it this time?”

  “Because I was specifically looking for it.”

  “And why was that?”

  “You know why. The prosecution asked me to examine the body and see if I could find anything that would determine the identity.”

  “I see. And when the prosecution asks you to look for something, you look for it. Is that right, Doctor?”

  Dr. Abraham took a breath. “As a medical examiner, that is my job.”

  “I see. And when the prosecution asks you to find something, you find it. Is that right, Doctor?”

  “Objection,” Dirkson said.

  “Sustained.”

  Steve smiled. “Thank you. No further questions.”

  Steve Winslow sat down, wondering what was next. The prosecution obviously had no medical records, not with Dirkson having the doctor testify how these hairline fractures could heal without medical attention. And in his opinion, none had been given in this case. So how was Dirkson going to tie it up?

  When the medical examiner had been excused, Dirkson said, “Call Carl Jenson.”

  Jeremy Dawson grabbed Steve’s arm. “Why are they callin’ Carl?”

  “I don’t know. Wait and see.”

  “Yeah, well he’s a lyin’ sack of shit. Don’t trust him.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Steve watched Carl Jenson take the stand. In Steve’s opinion, Carl did not make a good impression. He was wearing his best suit and tie, and he was clean shaved and his hair was well groomed. But there was always something about him that was not quite right.

  And it showed.

  After Jenson had been sworn in, Dirkson said, “Your name is Carl Jenson?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What is your relationship to the decedent?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” Steve said. “Assuming facts not in evidence.”

  Dirkson frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

  “The word ‘decedent,’” Steve said.

  “Sustained,�
� Judge Grimes said.

  “I’ll rephrase the question, Your Honor. What is your relationship to Jack Walsh?”

  “He is my great-uncle.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “All my life.”

  “How well did you know him?”

  “Very well. I lived in his house most of my life.”

  “Very good,” Dirkson said. “Then let me ask you this. Do you have any personal knowledge of any injuries Jack Walsh sustained in his lifetime?”

  “Objection to ‘in his lifetime,’” Steve said.

  “Sustained. That phrase may go out.”

  Nettled, Dirkson said, “Same question, omit the phrase. Do you have any personal knowledge of any injuries Jack Walsh ever sustained?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Could you tell us about that, please?”

  “Yes, I could. It was a long time ago. I must have been nine or ten years old. I was living in Jack’s house at the time.”

  “And where was that?”

  “In Great Neck.”

  “Thank you. Go on.”

  “I was out in the backyard, and Uncle Jack was playing with me.”

  “What were you playing?”

  “Baseball. Whiffleball, actually. Jack was pitching and I was hitting the ball.”

  “What happened?”

  “I hit a popup. Uncle Jack ran to get it and tripped and fell.”

  “Was he hurt?”

  “Yeah. He hit his leg on a rock.”

  “Which leg?”

  “His right leg.”

  “What part of his leg hit the rock?”

  “The bottom of his leg. Right there.”

  “Let the court reporter note that the witness is indicating a spot in the back of his right leg midway between the knee and the ankle.” Dirkson turned back to the witness. “So what happened then?”

  “Nothing. Except we stopped playing ball.”

  “Did Jack Walsh go to the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “Or see a doctor?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I am. I remember, I said, ‘Uncle Jack, you gonna go to the doctor?’ and he said, no, it was nothing. But I know he couldn’t walk on it. He sat with his leg up for a couple of days. After that he limped for a while.”