Private Vegas (7 page)

AFTER JUDGE JOHNSON instructed the jury, she asked Dexter Lewis if he was ready to make his opening statement.

Rick thought,
Right, like, is a shark hungry?

The kid said, “Yes, Your Honor,” stood up in his sharp blue suit, and went through the short gate to the middle of the courtroom.

He said “Good morning” to the jurors, looking like he could be the kid or grandkid of some of them: a polished, attractive young man with fire in his belly and blood in his eye.

Lewis said, “Folks, this is a straight-up case of aggravated assault. The People will prove to you that on June fourteenth of this year, Mr. Del Rio went to the house of the victim, Ms. Victoria Carmody, a defenseless woman of forty, and gave her a beating that almost killed her.

“Ms. Carmody isn’t in court today. She’s in a coma because of that beating—but before she slipped into this state of unconsciousness, she did testify to the police that Mr. Del Rio was the one who assaulted her.”

Rick clasped his hands together so hard they hurt. He thought of other things: the boat he was building in his garage, what he would name it, what colors he would paint the hull, that if he got out of here, he was going to take a gun to the range and blow off a little steam.

Lewis was saying, “This tragic story actually started a year ago, when Mr. Del Rio was dating Ms. Carmody. Ms. Carmody is an independent tax consultant and a quiet person who lives by herself. She met Mr. Del Rio in a singles chat room, and after a few months of seeing him, she decided that they were ultimately incompatible and she ended the relationship.

“Then, six months after the split—that is, three months ago—Mr. Del Rio called up Ms. Carmody and said he had something that belonged to her and could he bring it over? And Ms. Carmody, having not seen the defendant in a while, said, ‘Sure.’

“At the arranged date and time, five thirty the next evening, Mr. Del Rio went to Ms. Carmody’s house—and there is no dispute regarding that fact. A UPS deliveryman, Mr. Brad Sutter, is a witness and he will testify that he saw Mr. Del Rio ring Ms. Carmody’s doorbell.

“Mr. Sutter knows Ms. Carmody because he does pickups and deliveries from her in-home business. He knows Mr. Del Rio from times he has seen him with Ms. Carmody. Mr. Sutter knows him by name.

“On this particular evening, Mr. Sutter plainly saw Ms. Carmody answer the door and welcome Mr. Del Rio into her house.

“After the defendant went inside and closed the door, Mr. Del Rio slugged Ms. Carmody in the face. He broke her nose, right here at the bridge.”

Lewis indicated the site of the break for the jurors, turning so that they all got a good view of it. But he wasn’t finished talking.

“Mr. Del Rio then proceeded to crush her right eye socket and knock out three of her front teeth. He also put bruises on her body and kicked her in the kidney, lacerating it.

“As she raised her arm to protect herself, the defendant seized a table lamp, ripping its cord out of the wall, and used it to break Ms. Carmody’s right arm in two places.”

Rick jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair, which fell, clattering loudly behind him.

“This is bullshit,”
he shouted.
“That did not happen.”

JUDGE JOHNSON SLAMMED her gavel down a few times, the crack of wood against wood sounding a lot like gunfire, causing Rick to violently hunch his shoulders, a startle reflex left over from the war.

The judge said, “Mr. Caine, this is your one and only warning. If your client
ever
speaks in this courtroom again without having been sworn in, he will be excluded from this trial and
you
will be fined. Heavily. Get me?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” Caine leaned over to Del Rio, whispered, “Apologize, Rick. Do it now.”

Rick sat, feeling the scalding rush of blood through his veins and the fury pushing against the inside of his skull; hearing Bambino’s harsh growl, the jangle of his paws against the fence, his teeth gnashing; seeing the drool flying off his chops.

“Your Honor, I’m sorry for my outburst. I won’t do it again.”

Rick, feeling Dexter Lewis’s eyes on him, turned his head and gave the guy across the aisle a look that could peel paint off the
Last Supper.
It had no visible effect on the little shit.

Caine murmured at his side, “Take it easy.”

Rick felt shame wash over him. He’d made a mistake, and now Dexter Lewis was a very happy little shit, because the jurors had seen him lose his temper. It would be easier than before for someone to prove to them that he’d beaten Vicky, that sad little bitch.

Lewis was speaking now.

“Your Honor, if I may show this to the jury.”

“Go ahead, Mr. Lewis.”

The ADA lifted a poster-size photograph of Victoria Carmody in the Cedars-Sinai ICU, looking like roadkill that had been lying in the sun for about a week. Lewis took the photo enlargement over to the jury box and held it up as he walked from one end of the box to the other, talking the whole time.

“Ms. Carmody has had fifteen surgeries. Her face is disfigured, and one of her kidneys has been removed, as well as one of her eyes. And if she comes out of her coma, she will only have sixty percent use of her right arm. The extent of her brain damage cannot yet be assessed.

“Ms. Carmody never stood a chance against the defendant, this ruthless man whom she had trusted.”

Lewis said, “That’s what this trial is about, ladies and gentlemen. The People will prove to you beyond a reasonable doubt that Mr. Del Rio, a former first lieutenant in the U.S. Marine Corps, well-versed in the art of hand-to-hand combat, currently an investigator for Private, a lawless private investigation firm, did viciously assault Victoria Carmody without provocation, and without mercy.

“It is by the grace of God that she survived, and with your help, we will put Mr. Del Rio where he can’t hurt anyone else for a long time.”

RICK GLIMPSED THE faces of the jurors as Lewis took his seat. They were horrified. Dexter Lewis, that bastard, had done a good job burying him.

Judge Johnson said, “Mr. Caine? Are you ready to give your opening statement?”

Eric Caine stood up, said, “I am, Your Honor.”

He buttoned his jacket and stepped out to the lectern in the well. He had no notes. And he didn’t need any.

He greeted the jury, then said, “I’m going to make this short and sweet.

“My client, Mr. Del Rio, is entirely innocent. He did not beat Ms. Carmody. Didn’t lift a hand to her, had no reason to, and never would.

“On the thirteenth of June, having not had contact with Ms. Carmody in six months, Mr. Del Rio called to tell her that he had come across a small camera that she had left in his house way back before they broke off their relationship.

“Ms. Carmody said, ‘I thought I’d lost that camera. Well, yes, I’d like to have it back.’

“And Mr. Del Rio said, ‘When would be good for you?’

“They agreed on a time for the return of this little camera, so the next evening, Mr. Del Rio went to Ms. Carmody’s house, where a witness saw Ms. Carmody open the door for Mr. Del Rio, who then entered the house.

“Once he was inside, Ms. Carmody made tea, and these two people had a polite conversation in the parlor lasting about fifteen minutes and consisting of pleasantries and the return of the Coolpix. Mr. Del Rio never touched Ms. Carmody, unless you count the cheek kisses that were exchanged when Mr. Del Rio left Ms. Carmody.

“After Mr. Del Rio left Ms. Carmody’s home, he went to his own place in Venice, took a six-pack out of the fridge, and spent the rest of the evening watching
The Fog of War
on the Sundance channel, alone. At eleven, he went to bed.

“That’s the end of the story.

“Or at least, it should be.

“But when Ms. Carmody was questioned by the police after she had suffered a traumatic head injury, she identified Mr. Del Rio as her attacker, a statement that cannot be corroborated.

“In legal circles, this is referred to as he-said-she-said, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is
really
what this case is about.

“To continue with this story, late that night, approximately six hours after Mr. Del Rio left her, Ms. Carmody called an ambulance, and en route to the hospital, in this profoundly traumatized condition, she was interviewed by a detective, Sergeant Michael Degano.

“Sergeant Degano videotaped the interview with his phone camera, and when he asked Ms. Carmody who had beaten her, he showed her a picture of Mr. Del Rio, at which point she said Mr. Del Rio’s name.

“After that, she went into surgery, and she survived that surgery but has not spoken again; she has been in a coma ever since.

“It’s reasonable to ask, Why would Ms. Carmody name Mr. Del Rio as her attacker if he never touched her?

“I would suggest that she recognized his picture, and that she even remembered that he had come to visit her that evening. I would further suggest to you that Ms. Carmody had suffered so much injury to the brain that she was an unreliable witness for herself.

“So what happened then is that the police had their suspect, and they had no reason to look for another. They had testimony from the victim, and because Mr. Del Rio had been in Ms. Carmody’s house, they had evidence placing him at the scene.

“Mr. Del Rio had a cup of tea, and left his fingerprints and DNA. He was witnessed going into the house, but he wasn’t seen coming out.

“But in fact, he did leave Ms. Carmody’s house, and she was fine when they said good-bye. After that, while Mr. Del Rio was watching TV in his own house, someone went into Ms. Carmody’s house and attempted to kill her. Someone else did that. Not Mr. Del Rio.

“In the old days, there were colorful terms for the unfortunate sap who took the blame. He was called the dupe. The fall guy. The patsy.”

Rick didn’t like being characterized as a fool, but he thought Caine was doing a great job telling what had happened. Over at the prosecutor’s table, Dexter Lewis played with his pen like it was a drumstick:
tat-tat-tat
on the tabletop, just enough sound to draw the jury’s attention and, maybe, break Caine’s rhythm.

But Caine didn’t acknowledge the sound, didn’t look at Lewis at all. He walked to the jury box, all six foot three of Harvard-educated success story.

Caine said, “So now we have the whole short and not-so-sweet story. Someone beat Ms. Carmody. She had a subdural hematoma and an intracranial hemorrhage. She had brain damage, ladies and gentlemen, and during a semilucid moment as she was being taken by ambulance to the hospital, she named my client.

“But Mr. Del Rio didn’t lift a hand to Ms. Carmody.

“He’s the scapegoat, the designated fall guy. He didn’t beat up his friend Vicky. Someone set Rick up. Or Rick was at the wrong place at the worst possible time. We don’t know who attacked Vicky Carmody or why it happened.

“But this we know for sure: Rick Del Rio didn’t do it.”