Dan shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
* * *
Dan spent almost an hour establishing who Sweeney was and allowing the jury to know him better. Started as a small businessman. Had a failed business. Had a failed relationship. Redoubled his work commitments afterward. “I focused on what I did well, not what I was obviously completely incompetent at.” He forgot about women and discovered a new passion—art. Got into tech at just the right moment. Diversified into many other fields. Became the richest man in the city. Wanted to give back, so he became the most high-profile philanthropist in St. Petersburg.
Dan watched the jury the whole time. Were they buying it? He thought he detected some healthy skepticism, especially when Sweeney talked about his philanthropy. Which convinced him that he needed to be the one to bring up a bit of unpleasantness. Better he tackled it head-on than left it for Jazlyn to wrap around Sweeney’s throat like a noose.
“Would you consider the women’s shelters to be the crown jewel of your philanthropic efforts?”
“Absolutely. We built fourteen of them. Hundreds of women and mothers were given a safe refuge when they had nowhere else to go.”
“Has there been some...unpleasantness associated with those shelters?”
“Sadly, yes. The police uncovered a pornography operation in the basements. I believe you played a role in the discovery.”
“Did you have anything to do with those porn shops?”
Sweeney turned slightly and looked directly at the jury. “Absolutely not. I find the whole situation disgusting. I created those centers to help women, not to abuse them.”
“But if not you, then who?”
“I don’t know. I’m hoping the police will be able to provide answers someday.” Sweeney gazed into the gallery, locking onto Hernandez. “But I understand that a great deal of crime in this town has been linked to a Central American cartel—”
“Objection,” Jazlyn said, rising. “The witness is not speaking from personal knowledge. He has no proof of this assertion.”
“I believe he already acknowledged that,” Dan replied.
“The objection is sustained,” Judge Smulders said. “Please stick to what the witness has seen and heard. Without speculation.”
He had planted the seed. The jury had to be given some idea who might’ve been behind the porn scheme. He would just have to apparoach it differntly.
“Earlier, the prosecutor made mention of a Central American cartel. Have you been involved with a cartel?”
“Never. Which is why they’re out to get me. And this is not speculation. This is what I know. They want to get into tech. The sex trafficking and organ smuggling businesses are eroding. Tech is the future and they want a piece. That’s probably why they targeted my shelters. They tried to put me out of business. It’s industrial sabotage.”
“What’s the current status of the shelters?”
“Prior to my arrest, I was working with the oversight committee to get them up and running again. The police shut them down during their investigation. And I understand why they felt that was necessary. But those shelters were helping people. There was never anything wrong above the ground. I want to see the shelters reopen.”
Couldn’t do any better than that. Time to get to the heart of the matter. “Sir, did you know Christopher Andrus?”
“I did.”
“How did you know him?”
“He was an art dealer and, as I’ve already explained, I’m an art collector. Or was. He helped me find pieces that were on the market but that, for one reason or another, were not being sold through the traditional channels. Auction houses and such.”
“Why would that be?”
“Some sellers wish to avoid the glare of the spotlights. Old families. Old money. They see auctions as undignified. Shabby. And in some cases, people are selling works due to financial problems they don’t want the general public to know about.”
“Did you buy anything from Andrus?”
“Many times. He knew how to get the best works, and often at bargain prices, due to the distress of the seller and the fact that they needed ready cash in a hurry.”
So far, so good. “Sir, we’ve heard testimony alleging that you met with Andrus at a place called Beachcombers shortly before his death. Is this true?”
“Yes. He and the woman he brought. Tulip Krakowski.”
“Was he brokering another painting for you?”
“No. This time, I was the one who was selling. And wished to do so...quietly.”
“Can you explain that?”
“I made some unwise investments. It’s an axiom of business that you either grow or die. I wanted to grow. But I picked the wrong horse. I invested in a bio-quantum computing venture that ultimately cost almost half a billion dollars. Was supposed to be the next big thing after the next big thing. But it came to nothing. I later learned that some of the investment offering documents had been falsified. The man who promoted the investment is now in prison and there’s no way I can get my money back.” He paused and, for a brief moment, Dan wondered if he was going to brush away a tear. “Selling one of my paintings was like selling a child. But I had to do it.”
“Did you write the check entered into evidence by the prosecution?”
“I did. Andrus said he needed a small sum up front, so I gave it to him. And yes, I used my blue fountain pen.”
“Sir, we’ve heard reports that you became angry during this conversation. Is that true?”
“Absolutely false. I was sad, not angry. Maybe that eavesdropper can’t tell the difference. My voice might’ve risen, but not in anger. In grief.”
“Were you having trouble persuading Andrus to sell your paintings?”
“Far from it. He knew what my collection was worth. Even if he only sold half of it, he stood to make a bundle. No, his only concern was the cartel.”
He saw Jazlyn straighten, ready to bounce back to her feet if Sweeney crossed the line.
“Can you please explain?”
“Andrus knew the cartel was gunning for me. He was afraid that if he helped me, they might come after him. And if you ask me—they did.”
“Objection,” Jazlyn said. “Once again the witness is speculating.”
Dan turned back to Sweeney without waiting for a ruling. “Do you have any evidence of that assertion?”
“Absolutely. The cartel sent a man to my office to kill me and very nearly succeeded. I got lucky. If I’d been a second slower, it would’ve been me tumbling out that window.”
“Any other evidence?”
“Look how Andrus was killed—it’s an obvious mob hit. I’m on trial in the biggest frame of all time. Based on planted evidence. Tainted forensics. A bribed witness. Police who just happened to be there when body parts appeared in my freezer.”
“The inner office where the body parts were found had a fingerprint scanner on the door, right? So no one but you could get in.”
“That’s how it was supposed to work. But it’s clear someone either hacked the system or duplicated my fingerprint. I don’t know how they did it, but I know it can be done. Since iPhones started using fingerprint ID, apps for overriding fingerprint scanners have been everywhere.”
“There’s also been talk about a paperweight being used as the murder weapon.”
“I doubt that. It’s steel, true, but hollow. Swinging that around in a sock and hitting someone’s head would’ve hurt. But I doubt it would kill anyone.”
“What happened after the meeting at Beachcombers?”
“Not much. Andrus did not return to the office with me. That security footage was switched. I never saw him again. And I certainly did not kill him. I was as surprised as anyone when...” He swallowed. “When his head rolled out of my ice cream freezer.”
“Which obviously led some to believe you committed the murder.”
“Look.” Sweeney drew himself up, broad shoulders, square chin, earnest expression. “I have not led a blameless life.
I will be the first to admit it. I’ve made mistakes. But that doesn’t make me a murderer. I’ve never taken a life and I hope I never will. But if I did, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave body parts lying around in a room only I use when I know the police are coming over.” His jaw tightened. “This is so obviously a frame I can’t believe anyone would be suckered into it. The police have nothing on me. And you know why?”
He looked straight into the jurors’ eyes. “Because I did not commit this crime.”
Chapter 43
Dan knew he would never get a better exit line than that, so he ended his direct. As soon as he stepped back, Jazlyn jumped into the fray with an eagerness—an energy, even—that was intimidating. And more than a little frightening.
Jazlyn’s body language sent Sweeney a clear message. I’m not afraid of you. “Mr. Sweeney. Let’s talk about the man who tumbled to his death from the window of your penthouse office shortly before your meeting with Andrus.”
“Objection.” Dan couldn’t let this pass without a fight. “We’ve already addressed this business of dragging in other crimes. Relevance.”
“Sweeney raised the incident himself.” Jazlyn tried a new argument. “Goes to pattern. The defendant’s history of violence and disregard for the sanctity of human life.”
Judge Smulders pondered. “I would prefer that the evidence presented concern the crime with which the defendant has been charged. Pattern evidence is problematic at best, and frankly, if you wanted to go down this road, you should’ve raised the issue at the pretrial.”
Jazlyn hung in there. “Your honor, there is substantial evidence—”
“If the evidence is substantial, why haven’t you pressed charges? Why isn’t he on trial for two murders?”
Exactly what Dan had said during his opening.
Jazlyn persisted. “This is not the first time the other murder has been mentioned. The defendant did it only a few minutes ago.”
The judge appeared troubled. He considered. “I will allow you to reference the incident. But I will not allow this to become a cross-examination accusing the defendant of a different crime.”
“Understood.” Jazlyn returned her attention to Sweeney. “Isn’t it true that a man tumbled to his death from the window in your penthouse?”
“Sadly, yes.”
“Who was that man?”
“I didn’t know him, but the police say his name was Fabian Fuentes. He was an El Salvadoran émigré and is believed to have been involved with the cartel I mentioned.”
“You claim you’d never seen him before?”
“True.”
“And you weren’t in league with his cartel.”
“Definitely true.”
“And yet somehow Fuentes managed to get into your building and your private offices.”
“Yes.” Sweeney shifted his weight. “At this point, it’s rather clear that my office security needs an upgrade.”
“I will submit that he knew how to get in because he’d been there before.”
“Incorrect. I believe your office scoured months of security camera footage and never found Fuentes.”
“Of course, thanks to your lawyer, we’ve learned how unreliable that security camera footage is.”
“We learned that one substitution has been made. To hurt me, not to help me.”
“You say Fuentes tried to kill you.”
“And I had bruises to prove it. I visited my personal physician immediately after the incident. I believe he has records and photographs.”
“But somehow you, an overweight man in his mid-fifties, were able to overcome a trained assassin from a Central American cartel.”
“I didn’t get where I am today by being weak. I never quit, and I never give in. But the truth is, I got lucky. He fired once and missed. We wrestled for a long time and I managed to knock away his gun. He lost his balance. I took advantage. The struggle went on for what seemed like an eternity. But I managed to prevail. I tackled him and knocked him into the window. That glass is reinforced and I didn’t think it would break. But it did. The bullet had weakened it.”
“So you tossed him out the window to his death.”
“It was self-defense. Which is why you haven’t charged me.”
“If you never worked with the cartel, they would have no reason to kill you.”
“Wrong. It was my complete refusal to help them that put me on their hit list.”
“I have another theory. I think they were angry about the video-porn operation in the basements of your shelters.”
“As I’ve said, I knew nothing about that.”
“I think the cartel knew nothing about it. And when they learned their partner-in-crime was running a high-risk but highly profitable operation and not giving them a cut, they were angry. When the operation was exposed, they were even angrier. You ceased being an asset and became a serious liability.”
Dan was impressed. He’d had similar thoughts himself. But Jazlyn managed to piece it together without the assistance of his client.
“You’re wrong,” Sweeney said, maintaining impressive calm. “I had nothing to do with the cartel or the pornography. And I have to point out, once again, that you have not charged me with any crime relating to the cartel or the video-porn. Which proves you have no evidence.”
“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
“No. Where there’s smoke, there’s a desperate prosecutor trying to make her name by persecuting a prominent citizen. But you don’t have the evidence to back up your offensive insinuations. Not on this trumped-up murder charge or any of the rest of it.”
Dan and Maria exchanged a look. Sweeney was doing fine, but he wished his client wouldn’t bait Jazlyn. He didn’t need to make her angrier than she already was.
Jazlyn strode right up to the witness stand, laying one arm on the rail. “Mr. Sweeney...what happened to your power tools?”
Sweeney appeared surprised. Perhaps it was the abrupt change of subject. Dan had no idea what she was talking about.
“My...power tools?”
“You’re a bit of a handyman, aren’t you? An amateur carpenter? I read that in a magazine article about you.”
Sweeney shrugged. “I like to tinker in my spare time. Which I have little of. I have a workshop in the parking garage beneath my office building.”
“What do you do there?”
“I’ve made chairs. Small tables. It’s a retreat and a release. Gives me a chance to work with my hands, to build something tangible. Reminds me of the work I used to do when I was younger, before tech became my life.”
“What equipment do you have in your little workshop?”
“The usual. Screwdrivers and pliers and such.”
“A table saw?”
“Yes.”
“A rather large one, in fact.”
“I like to work with high-quality woods.”
“Hand saws?”
“Certainly.”
“Knives?”
“A few.”
“Lathes? Electric planers? Plastic tarps?”
“I use the tarps to protect my works-in-progress.”
“So this is a fully equipped workshop. The perfect thing for making a cabinet.”
“Yes.”
“Or dismembering a body.”
The sudden silence felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the courtroom.
“That’s...absurd.” Sweeney’s tongue seemed thick and slow. “I would never—”
“That’s been the big mystery in this case. Not who did it. That was obvious from the start. But how was the body dismembered? Where? Why is there no blood in your office? Those were unanswered questions—until we discovered your little workshop. I hear the big cartels have workshops just like that. For the same purpose.”
“Objection,” Dan said, just to interrupt the flow. “This is pure speculation.”
The judge shook his head. “Overruled. Counsel may proceed.”
“Why didn’t
you tell the police about your workshop, Mr. Sweeney?”
“They didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t think it was relevant?”
“I still don’t think it’s relevant.”
“You know, the interesting thing about that workshop is that, even after we learned about it—from a third party, not you—we couldn’t get in. It was locked up tight. So the police obtained a warrant and forced their way in. But by the time they got inside, it had been swept clean. Looked brand-new. Like it had been scrubbed and disinfected for an inspection by a five-star general.” She leaned closer. “Or the police lab techs.”
“This is—this is—nonsense,” Sweeney sputtered. Dan could see juror eyes narrowing.
“I also checked with the man in charge of waste disposal at your building,” Jazlyn continued. “He hauls off the trash for the entire building every morning bright and early. You know what he said?”
Sweeney’s lips thinned. “I’m sure I don’t.”
“He says you were at the office uncommonly early, the day after your last meeting with Andrus. In fact, he thought you’d stayed at the building all night. Your clothes were wrinkled and...you had an odd smell about you. And you asked to borrow his truck.”
“Your honor,” Dan said, “I object. This is hearsay. If Ms. Prentice has this custodian, put him on the stand.”
The judge disagreed. “This is cross. She can ask the question. If the witness believes the statement is untrue, he’s free to say so.”
“Why did you want the truck, Mr. Sweeney?” Jazlyn asked.
“I—I don’t—”
“I do in fact have the custodian in the courthouse and I can call him if necessary. And I have his sworn affidavit. Would you like to see it?”
Sweeney pushed back in his chair. “If you must know, I was delivering some furniture I’d made for...a friend of mine.”
Dan’s eyebrow arched. Sweeney had a friend? He looked back at Prudence. She didn’t appear to know anything about it either.
“I needed the truck to deliver a little desk and chair set I’d made. And yes, after it was delivered, I cleaned the workshop. That had been a big project and the place was a mess.”
“So you disinfected the floor and walls?”
Final Verdict Page 22