Mistaken Identity

by Lisa Scottoline

  Connolly leaned over. “Leonia Page was her girl, if you get my drift.”

  “Please approach the stand, Ms. Harting, and the deputy will swear you in,” Judge Guthrie said, peering over the dais. The jurors’ heads wheeled expectantly to the back of the courtroom, but the witness entered from the side, through the door that led to the holding cells.

  “A prisoner?” Bennie said under her breath, and Connolly nodded yes. “What’s she gonna say?”

  “She’s gonna lie her ass off,” Connolly whispered back.

  Oh, no. Bennie shifted to the edge of her seat as Harting walked to the witness stand. She was tall, black, and too thin to be healthy, and her coarse hair had been ironed into a paintbrush ponytail. She was dressed in blue jeans with bell bottoms and a red nylon top that caught the eye. An inmate who could incriminate Connolly, with revenge as a motive to lie. No wonder Hilliard had saved her until last. Bennie gestured backward to DiNunzio, who left her seat and came over.

  “What?” Mary whispered.

  “Go, now. Find out everything you can about this woman. Take Lou with you. Tell him to get the dirt from his cop buddies.”

  “Lou’s not here.”

  Bennie’s eyes flared. “He was at the office this morning.”

  “He left when court started. Said he’d be back tonight.”

  Bennie fumed. So Lou had gone to see Citrone. “Then take Carrier. I want everything you can get on this witness. Go!”

  DiNunzio took off, and Bennie watched Harting place her long fingers on the Bible, take the oath, and ease into the witness stand. She could have been a model but for her eyes. A dull, sulking green, they didn’t bother to please and engaged no one directly, least of all the prosecutor. “Ms. Harting,” Hilliard began, his tone almost stern, “please tell this jury where you have been living for the past year.”

  “County prison, sir.”

  “That same prison that housed Alice Connolly until this trial?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please tell the jury why you were incarcerated, Ms. Harting.”

  “I’m doin’ time for possession and distributin’ crack cocaine. Also some weapons violations, I think.”

  The jurors in the front row sat engrossed, while the videographer stifled a smile. The court reporter typed away, the steno machine spitting a white paper tape into a tray, in folded strips.

  “Ms. Harting, did I contact you and ask for your testimony, or did you contact me?”

  “I called up your office from the house, I mean, prison.”

  “Ms. Harting, have I or anyone else representing the Commonwealth made any threats or promises to you in return for your testimony today?”

  “No.”

  “So, Ms. Harting, it’s your testimony that you came here today on your own initiative?”

  “Yeah. Yes, I called you and axed could I come.”

  “Fine.” Hilliard nodded and thumbed through a folder on the podium. “Now, would you please tell us how you know the defendant?”

  “We on the same unit. We friends, her an’ me, and she teaches the computer class I take.”

  At defense table, Bennie was gauging the jury’s response. Each juror was listening carefully, many of them seeing a felon for the first time. Connolly passed Bennie a legal pad. On it was written, LIES!!! SHE HATES MY GUTS. SHE’S TRYING TO BURY ME.

  “Ms. Harting,” Hilliard continued, “did there come a time when the defendant had a conversation with you alone, after computer class?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you remember when that conversation took place?”

  “It was sometime last year is all I remember.”

  Connolly scribbled, NEVER, NEVER HAPPENED, but Bennie waved her to stop writing. The jury was watching Connolly’s reaction to the testimony.

  Hilliard checked his notes. “Ms. Harting, please tell the jury about the conversation you had with the defendant on the day in question, if you would.”

  “Well, Alice tol’ me—”

  “Objection,” Bennie said, on her feet. “Your Honor, this is hearsay.”

  Hilliard shook his head. “Your Honor, it’s not hearsay. It’s not offered for the truth and again, it’s an admission.”

  “Overruled, Ms. Rosato.” Judge Guthrie waved Bennie into her seat and nodded in the direction of the prosecutor. “Please continue, Mr. Hilliard.”

  “Ms. Harting, please face the jury and tell them what the defendant said to you.”

  The witness turned her chair toward the jury. “Well, Alice tol’ me that she capped her boyfriend, Anthony. That she killed him. She said that nobody would never catch her. Said she was too smart for the cops, too smart for everybody.”

  A juror in the front row gasped, and two others exchanged looks. Bennie forced herself to sit stoic, though Connolly glared straight ahead at the witness. Harting crossed her legs, seeming to relax into her new role as star witness for the Commonwealth, and faced Hilliard.

  “Ms. Harting,” he said, “what did you say to the defendant when she said this?”

  “I tol’ her you kill a cop in this town, you pay with your life.”

  “And what did she say in response?”

  Bennie half rose. “I have a running objection to this line of questioning.”

  “Duly noted,” Judge Guthrie said dismissively.

  Harting nodded, shaking off the interruption. “She said she’d get away with it, ’cause she was about to hire her the best lawyer in Philly. Was gonna try and convince the lawyer she was her twin, so she’d take her case on.”

  On the dais Judge Guthrie cocked an eyebrow and looked over, and at defense table Bennie felt her face flush with embarrassment. Connolly, next to her, was writing hastily, DON’T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT.

  “Ms. Harting, did you believe what the defendant told you about her plans?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Why was that?”

  “Because I seen her. Alice was the computer teacher, like I said, and she got in the computer room all the time. She studied about that lawyer on the computer, looked up pictures of her, got all kind of information. She had it all planned out.”

  Bennie struggled to control her emotions. It explained Connolly’s accuracy in matching her wardrobe, down to her shoes. She’d been had; it had all been a carefully devised scheme from the outset. Her thoughts raced ahead. Still, even if Connolly had planned to dupe her, Connolly didn’t kill Della Porta. Lenihan had tried to kill Bennie for a reason, but the jury would never know about Lenihan’s attempt on her life. They would credit Harting and convict Connolly.

  Hilliard skimmed his notes. “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

  Judge Guthrie nodded at defense table. “Ms. Rosato, do you wish to cross-examine?”

  Bennie stood up, slightly weak at the knees. “Your Honor, my associates are busy gathering valuable information for the defense’s cross-examination of this witness. They will not be finished until the end of the day, if that. I request that we begin my cross first thing tomorrow morning, Your Honor.”

  “Your Honor,” Hilliard said, raising his chin, “the Commonwealth objects to recessing right now. My office promised the warden of the county prison we would return Ms. Harting tonight.”

  “Your Honor,” Bennie argued, “this testimony comes as a surprise, as Ms. Harting did not testify at the preliminary hearing. The defense questions the reliability of her testimony. Surely the court wants to ensure the reliability of all of the testimony before the jury.”

  Judge Guthrie paused, undoubtedly aware that the jury awaited his ruling. “You may have your night, Ms. Rosato,” he said finally, reluctance weighing his tone. “Be in court in the morning at nine, sharp. Mr. Hilliard, please have Ms. Harting returned tonight and brought back tomorrow morning. Make my apologies to the warden.” The judge turned to the witness. “Ms. Harting, you may step down,”

  “Thank you, sir,” the witness said, and climbed out of the stand while the jury was led
from the mahogany box. Harting avoided Connolly’s eyes while she walked to the paneled door, but Bennie shot Connolly a warning glance. It didn’t help the cause that Connolly looked ready to kill.

  Bennie packed her briefcase. She had her work cut out for her and no time to lose. “I’ll be there in five,” she said as the deputy came for Connolly.

  “I told you all I know about Shetrell,” Connolly said from the other side of the bulletproof plastic. “I got nothing to do with that bitch.”

  “Jesus.” Bennie paced the interview room, but it was barely wide enough for five steps up and back. “She sent someone to kill you and you don’t know why?”

  “It was the cops, I’m telling you. Any idiot can see it. They put a contract out on me. Shit, they tried to kill me and when they fucked up, they tried to kill you.”

  “Why use Harting?”

  “Why not? She’s connected on the outside, she’d be easy to reach. Plus, she’s a gangbanger and she had people to do it for her. Shetrell’s a good choice, a great choice. If I was gonna put out a contract, I’d use her, too.”

  “It was very damaging testimony.” Bennie reached the blank white wall and turned around. “I have to cross her with something.”

  “You want to put me up? I’ll sell it, believe me.”

  Bennie glared at her. “It was true, what Harting said about the pictures and the computer. You researched my life, my clothes. The twin story, it was all bullshit.”

  “I told you, she’s lying.”

  “Then how did she know it?”

  Connolly’s eyelids fluttered. “Okay, okay. Some of it’s true. I did research you on the Web. Your clothes and shit. Your website. She musta spied on me. Bitch has spies everywhere. Half the gang sells for her.”

  “She runs a drug business, in prison? How is that possible? How is any of it possible?”

  “Money,” Connolly said with a grim smile. “You know how much money is in drugs? You can buy girls, boys, guards, and cops. Judges and lawyers. Police and deputy mayors. Anything and anybody, tax-free. How you think the cops bought Hilliard and Guthrie?”

  Bennie’s heart sank, and for the first time since the trial started, she saw that the defense was going to lose. Connolly would go onto death row for a crime she didn’t commit. Bennie would be invited to witness the execution. As much as she loathed Connolly, she couldn’t bear that sight. “I have to get to the office,” she said, ashamed at the thickness in her throat, and left the interview room.

  78

  “All we got is this?” Bennie said, reading the documents back at the office. The conference room table was blanketed with sheets of Shetrell Harting’s prior convictions. It was after hours, so the office was empty except for the three lawyers working on Connolly. The air smelled faintly of hazelnut coffee and leftover pizza. Bennie would have felt good to be back on her own turf if her case hadn’t been sliding down the tubes. “But drugs, prostitution, it’s not enough. It’s standard cross of a jailhouse snitch.”

  “It’s the best I could do,” Mary said, and Bennie waved her off, her hand reflected in the dark windows.

  “I’m not criticizing you. We need something more. Something better.”

  Judy came around and read over Bennie’s shoulder. “Don’t underestimate its impact on a jury. You think those old ladies are gonna like that Harting sold herself for money? You just gotta play it up.”

  “I agree,” Mary said, reaching for the jury diagrams. “The librarian, she wears a crucifix. The Asian woman in the back row, Ms. Hiu, she was frowning the whole time Harting testified. They don’t like her.”

  “Christ.” Bennie gulped coffee but couldn’t wait for it to kick in. “We have to go forward. We were in decent shape until Harting, we have to get back on track. We’ll counter Harting with a good defense case.”

  Ping! went the elevator, and they all looked through the glass wall of the conference room to the elevator bank. In the other conference room across the hall, Mike and Ike came to attention over their dinners and newspapers. The elevator doors opened and out came Lou, stepping nimbly toward the conference room, waving his hand like he was hailing a cab.

  “Hey, Rosato!” he shouted, so loud they could hear him though the glass.

  “Somebody’s excited,” Bennie said, hopeful. She’d been worried about him, too, though she hadn’t realized it until he burst grinning through the conference room door.

  “Go ahead, ask me how was work.” Lou flung his arms wide. He couldn’t remember when he’d felt this good.

  “You were supposed to be canvassing the neighbors. You went to see Citrone.”

  “You could say that.” Lou yanked out a chair and told them the whole story, about seeing Citrone and the Popeye in the precinct parking lot. “Then I went home, had myself a beer, and waited.”

  “For what?” Bennie asked, nervous.

  “For a phone call.”

  “Did you get one?”

  “Naturally,” Lou answered, obviously enjoying the suspense.

  “From who?”

  “From a cop who says he has the goods on Citrone. We arranged a meet.”

  “Wow!” Judy hooted, and Mary looked astounded. Only Bennie’s expression showed dismay.

  “You’re gonna meet him, Lou? How do you know he’s for real? What did he say?”

  “I know what you’re worried about, and you don’t have to worry.” Lou patted her hand, but Bennie wasn’t comforted.

  “What’s his name?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me, he was afraid. Said he couldn’t trust me yet, and I don’t blame him. He’s from the Eleventh, though. He saw me having conniptions in the lot.”

  Judy leaned over. “So we gonna meet him?”

  Lou smiled. “Not you, sailor man. Me. He wants me alone.”

  Bennie shook her head. “I don’t like this, Lou. If he has evidence of police corruption, he should go to the D.A., to the FBI. We can meet him there, even take him there.”

  “He ain’t goin’ to the D.A. or the feds. He doesn’t want to be a crusader, he just wants to get it done. He trusts me because I’m a cop. He gives me the skinny, I’ll take it forward.”

  “He told you all this?”

  “No, but I can tell.”

  Bennie shuddered. “If this guy was setting you up, that’s just what he’d say. You made yourself a target today, Lou. You declared open season on yourself. These cops are killers.”

  “It’s not a setup. He’s a cop, sounds my age. He wants to meet with me, and I’m going to do it. You don’t have to worry, I can handle myself.” Lou stood and smoothed down his jacket. “I know the mentality better than you do. You do the courtroom bit. I’ll handle the cops.”

  “Where’s the meeting? I’m going with you.”

  Lou’s lips set firmly, his grizzled jowls soft. “The hell you are.”

  Bennie stood up. “I’m going. If I don’t go, I’ll follow you. I’ll take Mike and Ike with me.”

  “We’ll be right behind her, Lou,” Mary said, and found herself standing up. She wasn’t about to let Lou get hurt. She’d grown to like him when they canvassed together. “I’ll bring my parents, too. My mother, Lou.”

  Judy rose, too, beside Mary. “I’m standing up only because everybody else is. I don’t have anybody to bring, but I can box.”

  “You can’t box,” Mary said.

  “I can, kind of. I watched people boxing. I know how to stand while someone else is boxing.”

  Lou shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But you did,” Bennie said, “so we make a deal. You and I meet the cop, and Mike and Ike back us up in a car. The associates stay here in case we get killed, so there’s somebody left to try the case.”

  “Damn!” Mary said, and Judy looked over with a surprised smile.

  The night got blacker outside Mary’s office window, but the associates huddled at the computer. Mary sat the keyboard, chewing Doublemint like a demon. It was the only time s
he treated herself to sugared gum, at trial. A lawyer’s is a fast and dangerous life. “See, Jude? Nothing.” She hit the ENTER key and a message appeared. The search yielded NO MATCHES.

  “Let me think about this.” Judy squeezed her eyes shut. “You searched cases that Hilliard tried before Guthrie and you got six. Henry Burden, most recently vacationing in Timbuktu, was in none of those cases.”

  “Yes.”

  Judy opened her eyes. “Any cases at all that Burden had with Hilliard, whether they were before Guthrie or not?”

  “No, I tried that. I checked their birthdates in Martindale-Hubbell. Hilliard is thirty-five and Burden is fifty-five. That’s twenty years’ difference, for you math-phobes. Burden and Hilliard didn’t even overlap at the D.A.’s office, much less try cases together.”

  “Rats.” Judy thought harder. “You’re searching cases with Hilliard as a lawyer. Try cases with Hilliard as a party.”

  “In a criminal case? There are no parties.”

  “I meant as a complainant. When did you get so smart?”

  “Since Bennie told me what a superb lawyer I was. Didn’t you hear?”

  Judy smiled. “We’ve created a monster. Plug in Hilliard as a complainant, whiz.”

  Mary searched the program’s libraries for complainants. “Can’t. They don’t index it that way, maybe for privacy reasons.”

  Judy sighed. “The government concerned about our privacy? Impossible. There must be another way.”

  “Hold on.” Mary tapped out “Hilliard” in the ALL CASES category, as if it were a standard word search. The screen read, YOUR SEARCH WILL YIELD 1,283 CASES. ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CONTINUE? Y/N. Mary pressed Y. “You betcha,” she said, champing her gum.

  “Are you nuts?”

  “Clearly.”

  “A thousand cases. It’ll take all night.”