“No.”
“And it’s possible, isn’t it, that he may have faked his suicide andfled the country?”
Skipper’s up.
“Objection. This is all hopelessly speculative.”
It certainly is.
“Sustained.”
“Inspector, there was evidence confirming that Mr. Russo was in Mr.Holmes’s office that night, wasn’t there?”
Roosevelt eyes me slowly.
“Yes, Mr. Daley. We found his fingerprints on the desk of Mr. Holmes.However, we have no way of knowing what time he was in Mr.
Holmes’s office, and we did not find a single shred of evidence thatsuggests that he was involved. His fingerprints were not on theweapon. His fingerprints were not found anywhere near the bodies ofMr. Holmes or Ms. Kennedy. As a result, we ruled him out as asuspect.”
Sure.
“Inspector,” I say, “you were able to determine who was present in thebuilding that night by reviewing the security tapes, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you were able to rule out several individuals as suspects becausethe security tapes indicated that they left the building, right?”
“That’s correct.”
Now, for some serious smoke and mirrors.
“Inspector, are you aware that it is possible to get into the buildingwithout passing by the security desk in the lobby? In fact, it ispossible to enter the building by the stairways or the freightelevator, isn’t it, Inspector?”
“The stairways and the freight elevators are kept locked,” he says.
“I understand. But it is theoretically possible for someone to haveentered and exited the building via the stairways or the freightelevator without passing by the security desk, isn’t it?”
“Objection. Relevance.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes, it’s theoretically possible,” Roosevelt says.
“However, you would need a key to access those areas.”
“I know. But if somebody had a key, or a stairway door was proppedopen, it is possible somebody could have gotten upstairs and enteredand exited the Simpson suite without passing by the guard desk,right?”
“That’s true.”
“And it’s true that there are no security cameras on the stairways orthe freight elevator, right?”
“That’s also true.”
“So somebody could have entered the building, gone up the stairs or thefreight elevator, killed Mr. Holmes and Ms. Kennedy, and left thesame way, without ever being detected, right, Inspector?”
“Objection. Speculative.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes, Mr. Daley,” Roosevelt says.
“That’s theoretically possible.”
I glance at Rosie, who nods. We have one more item on today’sagenda.
“Inspector,” I say, “we’ve heard a lot of talk about the personal livesof Joel Friedman and Diana Kennedy.”
“We certainly have,” he agrees.
“You’ve testified that you believe Joel and Diana were having anaffair, which she terminated.”
“That’s correct.”
“And you base your conclusion on the testimony of Mr. Patton and Mr.
Hutchinson?”
“Yes.”
“You realize Mr. Patton did not say he actually saw Joel and Diana inbed together.”
“That’s true.”
“And you realize Mr. Patton saw Joel and Diana in the same roomtogether immediately after he attempted to attack her?” A bit of astretch, but I decide to go for it.
“Objection.”
“Overruled.”
Roosevelt looks right into my eyes.
“We questioned Mr. Patton at length. We have no reason to doubt theveracity of his testimony.”
“Mr. Hutchinson claims he saw them in a bar and in a hot tub. YetMr.
Hutchinson admitted that he was intoxicated at the time. Surely, youmust have doubted Mr. Hutchinson’s testimony?”
“We had no reason to question the truthfulness of Mr. Hutchinson’stestimony, either.”
Great.
“Inspector,” I say, “Mr. Hutchinson said he thought he saw them in ahot tub from a distance of about a hundred yards away. He could havebeen mistaken. It was dark that night. He’d had a lot to drink. Otherthan the highly tentative testimony of Messrs. Patton and Hutchinson,you really don’t have any evidence that Joel Friedman and Diana Kennedywere having an affair, do you?”
Skipper leaps up.
“Objection, Your Honor. Speculative. Leading. Asked and answered.”
All of the above.
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.” I return to my seat. The courtroom issilent.
Judge Chen turns to Skipper.
“Mr. Gates, I think we’ll call it a day.”
She pounds her gavel.
Joel, Rosie, Mort and I sit in the consultation room behind thecourtroom. I’m beyond exhausted.
“Mike,” Mort says, “that was nice work on cross today.”
“Thanks. Coming from a pro like you, it means a lot to me.” A smalllie.
Rosie’s always a step ahead.
“We’ll move for dismissal tomorrow.”
Joel perks up.
“Do you think they’ll really dismiss the case?”
Mort gestures with his cigar.
“Maybe. Mike got Johnson to admit they have no hard proof that youfired the gun. He made a lot of points on motive. That’s always beenthe weakest part of their case. They’ve never been able to proveconclusively that you and Diana were having an affair.”
“That’s because we weren’t,” he replies.
Mort adds, “I’ve seen cases tossed for a lot less.”
Joel smiles briefly.
“I’m not going to get my hopes up too high,” he says.
“We’ll see tomorrow,” I say.
Roosevelt is waiting for me by my car.
“Nice work today,” he says.
I toss my trial bag into the trunk.
“Thanks, Roosevelt. I’m sorry if I beat you up in there a littletoday. Nothing personal.”
He glances at the cars roaring by on the 101 freeway.
“I hear they’ve found something. I don’t know what it is. You’regoing to find out tonight and it’s going to come down tomorrow.”
I pause.
“You think he’s innocent, don’t you, Roosevelt?”
“There’s a lot of evidence that points in his direction. There are alot of holes in the case, too.” He motions toward the Hall andshrugs.
“But it’s not up to me. The guy on the third floor is making thedecisions.”
I watch a police car drive by on Bryant. He’s silent as a uniformedcop walks by us.
“I’ve got to run,” he says.
“It’ll be my ass if anybody sees me talking to you.” He turns andwalks away.
“Thanks, Roosevelt,” I call out to his back.
CHAPTER 42
THE FACTS OF LIFE
“District Attorney Prentice Gates says he’ll call only one more witnesstomorrow. Court watchers expect Friedman’s defense attorneys to movefor dismissal.”
—KCBS NEWS RADIO. monday, march 30. 6:00 P.M.
Rosie’s secretary, Rolanda, hands me a large manila envelope when Ireturn to the office at six o’clock the same evening. Theoretically,she’s supposed to be working just for Rosie. During the trial, she’sbeen helping me out, too.
“Thanks for sticking around,” I say.
“You did a nice job on cross, today. Even the bitchy woman on CNN saidso.”
Small consolation.
“Thanks.”
I tear open the envelope and pull out a thick stack of paper.
“Skipper didn’t call, did he?”
“No. But McNulty did. Said it was important. He left his pagernumber.”
“Thanks.” I rifle through the pages.
“What is it, Mike?”
I give her page 5 of the report.
“Read this,” I say.
Her eyes get bigger. “
“The blood and DNA tests conclusively prove that Joel Friedman was thefather of Diana Kennedy’s unborn child.”
” She stares at the report.
“Shit,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I think Rolanda’s going to go to law school after she finishesat City College.
“I’ll call McNulty. Could you see if you can get Mort and Pete to comedown here? Rosie’s on her way.”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me tonight. You okay, Mike?” Justgreat.
We’ve built our defense on the fundamental proposition that my clientwasn’t sleeping with the victim and therefore had no motive to killher. I’ve probably created enough doubts in the minds of the jurors toget an acquittal. And now I realize he was probably lying all along.
“I’ll be okay. It may be a long night.”
“Bill McNulty speaking.” Even on a cheap cellular phone, his deliveryis crisp.
“It’s Mike Daley.” My voice is hoarse as I cradle the phone in myshoulder.
“You get the lab results?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to introduce it into evidence tomorrow.”
“I’m going to ask the fudge for some time to study it and have our ownexperts look at it.”
“She won’t go for it. You pushed for the early trial date. You’regoing to have to live with it.”
“If she doesn’t give us some extra time, we’ll appeal.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
I would, if I were in your shoes.
“It doesn’t change anything, Bill, You guys still can’t prove your casebeyond a reasonable doubt. You still can’t show he pulled thetrigger.”
“We’ll take our chances.”
Asshole.
Pete arrives first. He walks in with authority, dressed in blue jeansand a black leather bomber jacket. He glances at the report.
“Looks like we’ve got a problem,” he says.
“You got that right. You know any good DNA guys?”
“Not really.”
“I’ll ask Mort.” I rub my eyes.
“We had them. We were going to move for a dismissal.”
“They said on the radio your cross on Johnson was really good.”
It was.
“Anything new on the search for the elusive Vince Russo?”
“Nothing. We’ve drilled a bunch of dry wells. They’re supposed to belooking for him at border crossings. Fat chance.”
Rosie is already here when Mort walks in. He’s heard.
“So,” he says, “turns out our client was the father after all.”
“Seems that way, Mort,” I reply. I show him a copy of the paternitytest in the report.
“You realize, of course, we’re completely and totally fucked.”
Rosie snaps, “That’s helpful. Got any other suggestions, Mort?” Shemay as well have added, “you asshole.”
“Easy, Rosie,” Mort says.
“I’m not ready to throw in the towel just yet. We’ve still got somecards to play.”
“He’s right,” I say.
“When in doubt, go back to the evidence. Point one: If we can put on agood enough expert to rebut Rod Beckert, we can argue it was a suicide.We could win the case right there.”
Mort smiles.
“Now you’re starting to think like a lawyer again.”
“Our expert better be good in court,” I reply.
“He’s the best. Full professor at UCSF. And he’s my brother-in-law,for God’s sake. If he fucks up, he’s going to have to listen to mepiss on him at the Passover seder for the next twenty years.” He turnsserious.
“Wait till you see him in court. He’s beaten Beckert. He can do itagain.”
Rosie’s quiet. She’s thinking.
“Point two,” I say.
“Even if the jury decides it wasn’t suicide, they still can’t show Joelfired the gun. Maybe he handled it, but they can’t prove he fired it.Reasonable doubt right there.”
“Another perfectly legitimate argument,” Mort agrees.
Rosie still isn’t biting.
“Point three. They’ve got a problem with the computer keyboard. Joel’sfingerprints are all over it. But Bob’s aren’t. It doesn’t makesense. If Joel was going to try to fake a suicide, why would he gethis fingerprints all over Bob’s keyboard?
“Point four. The paternity test will prove Joel and Diana had anaffair.
They’re going to argue he killed her because she broke it off to getback together with Bob. If we can show that Bob and Diana weren’ttogether at the end of the year, it blows a big hole through theirmotive.”
Rosie shrugs.
“It’s tough to prove a negative, Mike.”
“I know. But we’ve got to try.” I look at Pete.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“The mystery woman at the Fairmont?”
“Exactly. If we can prove she wasn’t Diana, we’ve got a pretty goodargument that Bob and Diana never got back together. It might be agood time for you to have a talk with Nick the Dick.”
“He’ll testify,” Pete says.
“He has another book coming out this fall. It’s free publicity.”
I stop to think for a minute.
“The one thing we haven’t considered is the possibility that Joel isn’tthe father. We could argue the test results were flawed. How reliableare these tests, anyway?”
Silence. Rosie finally says, “Ninety-nine percent.”
Mort adds, “It probably means we’re ninety-nine percent fucked. On theother hand, I know a guy at UC who’s good. I can get him to confirmthe test results.
It’ll take a little time, though.”
“You guys got any better ideas?” I ask.
Mort says, “You forgot point five.”
“Point five?”
“Yeah. If everything else fails, we’ll use the S-0-D-D-I defense.”
“SODDI?” Pete asks.
“Some Other Dude Did It. We need to try to pin it on somebody else.Give the jury a choice.”
He’s right. It may be our best shot.
“Vince Russo’s perfect,” I say.
“He’s dead. He can’t defend himself. If he didn’t do it, why did hejump off the Golden Gate Bridge? Art Patton’s a great candidate, too.For one thing, he’s a first-rate asshole. For another thing, he’s beensleeping with the Widow Holmes. And he put the moves on Diana. Wedon’t have to prove anything. We just have to suggest it to the juryin a plausible manner to give them something to let them reachreasonable doubt. Hell, we should try to find a way to work in thefact that Skipper was there that night.”
“You’re stretching, Mike,” Rosie says.
Mort tells her, “You’ll see, Rosie. It works.”
She isn’t convinced. I’ve always trusted her instincts.
Mort rubs his fingers around a cigar.
“Well,” he says, “what should we do first?”
“Rosie, I need you to prepare papers to get things delayed until we canfind our own expert and do our own tests. Mort, I want you to callyour guy at UC. Pete, I want you and Wendy to go to the Bahamas rightaway and see what you can dig up before Trevor Smith gets back. Beforeyou leave, I want you to set up a meeting for me with Nick Hanson. AndI need you to pound on a few more witnesses to see if we can nail ArtPatton. And anything you can get on the whereabouts of Vince Russowould be greatly appreciated.”
“What are you going to do tonight?” Rosie asks me.
“I guess it’s time for me to have a little talk with our client aboutthe facts of life.”
“We need to talk.” I meet Joel at the front door of his father’s houseat nine-thirty that evening. I try for my best subdued tone. He seemsto be in a pretty good mood. Then I remember that the last time wespoke, we were suggesting that we may be able to get the case dismissedtomorrow.
“Whatever you need, Mike.” He smiles.
“Great job on cross today.”
“Thanks.” My eyes dart.
“Your mom or dad around?”
“No. They’re at an Israel Bond dinner.”
Relief.
“Good.” We walk into the living room and sit down. The TV is tunedto
CNN.
“Something’s come up. It’s serious.”
His smile vanishes. His eyes bore in on mine. I look right back intohis.
“I
thought things went pretty well today.” He finds the remote and turnsoff the set.
“They’ve gotten the test results back on Diana’s baby.”
The color leaves his face.
“And?”
“I think you know.”
He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes.
“It’s me, isn’t it?” he whispers.
“Yeah.”