Reilly 02 - Invasion of Privacy (33 page)

34

THE TREETOPS YELLOWED UNDER A BLISTERING HIGH mountain sun as the one-week-to-trial countdown began. Midsummer was a bad time for a trial. Court reporters, clerks, witnesses, all wanted to be somewhere else. No one returned phone calls. Paul wanted to be out on a boat or turning over a king and an ace at Caesars.

Instead, he wrote up reports on Doreen Benitez Ordway, mildly censored, and Sergeant Cheney, and the parents of the girls, and wrote a note about Terry London’s fur coat, which was gone and uninsured, and passed them all on to Sandy by the middle of the week. He didn’t see Nina. She was at a pretrial conference that Sandy told him would last all day.

The missing coat was interesting. Murders had been committed for less: the lynx was worth over ten thousand dollars, even though, as it turned out, Terry had inherited it from her mother. But why not take the lipstick-size camera, the Steenbeck editing equipment, the video recorders, all now repossessed? Those items would be easy to hawk, easier maybe than the lynx.

Sandy gave him copies of the experts’ reports. Their fingerprint expert hadn’t been able to I.D. any of the partial prints, quite a disappointment, though he was sure some of the partials were not the prints of either Scott or London. Win a little, lose a little. The expert lip-reader hadn’t helped much, either, but his time might come if Willie Evans’s testimony left any loop-holes.

The independent lab tests were also uninspiring— London’s blood splattered all over the wall and pooled on the floor; Kurt’s blood trailed from the studio floor outside. No sign of a third party nicking his finger. No third-party evidence under Terry’s nails.

No third-party physical evidence at all, in fact, except prints all over the studio of about two dozen people. Smeared and useless prints on Terry’s camcorder. Smeared prints on the rifle along with clear prints from Terry and Scott.

He pored over his copies of the autopsy reports on both women, the ballistics results, the witness statements. Nothing. What kind of defense was Nina going to put on?

He called on Thursday, and Sandy said Nina was a mess. They had a last meeting of the Gang of Four at her office on the Friday before the trial. Wish, who Paul had kept busy running around to the experts and tracking down the small stuff, lay down on her couch immediately. "Your second home," Paul said.

"I think better lying down," Wish said.

Nina had temporarily abandoned her contacts for horn-rims that she must have kept since college. They made her look smarter and distracted his attention from the full lips and womanly curves crying out for his attention. She started right up. She thought Jerry Kettrick’s eyewitness testimony could be attacked. She had formed a plan to attack Willie Evans’s lip-reading. Other than that, she seemed to be spinning her wheels.

They talked once more about the problems: Kurt’s statements when he was arrested, the death video, Jerry Kettrick, and the registration and prints on the Remington. They talked about the new problem: Scott’s escape from custody and beeline for Tamara Sweet’s remains.

"Their main problem is still motive, even if it’s not a required element of proof," Paul said. "It’s important to the jury."

"The jury may not need that much motive, Paul," Nina said. "A boyfriend and girlfriend, Tamara a drug user, late at night in the woods. Milne’s going to let in the rifle registration, the rifle casing, the finding of the bones, the relationship. It’s not much, but if they think it’s enough, covering up Tam’s murder would provide enough of a motive for killing Terry. And there’s the note Kurt sent her, telling her to leave him alone."

"And we know he was worried about you," Sandy said.

"So he says," Paul said.

"How could that come into evidence?" Sandy said. "Since he won’t testify."

"Collier will ask me about any contacts I had with Kurt before the shooting," Nina said. "There’s no attorney-client privilege for events occurring before Kurt retained me."

"I keep coming back to the fact that the film doesn’t specifically implicate him," Paul said.

"That’s right, Paul. It’s a weakness in the prosecution’s case, and I’m going to exploit it all I can."

"It’s pretty weird that you have to testify," Wish said from the couch. "Who’s gonna be your lawyer in case you do something wrong?"

"I’m up on the law, Wish. I don’t need a lawyer. I know I don’t have to go into some things that are privileged. But some events aren’t. I fought the good fight at one of the pretrial hearings, and I lost. I’ll be a witness."

"Aren’t you supposed to, you know, spring some big surprises for them? Something brilliant, so someone stands up in the audience to confess?" Wish said.

"Unfortunately, though it looks good in the movies, it’s not something that’s going to happen. We’re waiting for them to make a mistake," Nina said. "They will. Every case has weaknesses."

"Oh."

"I’m a lousy substitute for Perry Mason," Nina said. "Sorry, Wish."

"And I’m no Paul Drake," Paul said, getting into the spirit. "In spite of the similarly unflawed talent."

"And I’m not good ol’ Della," Sandy said, smoothing her fringed cowgirl skirt.

"Who are these guys?" Wish asked. "O.J.’s lawyers?"

On his way out, Paul said, "Nina, let’s get together Saturday night. Don’t shake your head, you can’t work all the time. You need to relax."

"I can’t, Paul. When I’m not working, I sleep and try to take care of Bob. It’s all I can do right now. I’m sorry.

"If that’s how it has to be. Have you got anything for me to do over the weekend?"

"I don’t think so. I’m working up witness questions and preliminary jury instructions."

"Then I’ll just head down the hill to my neglected life in Carmel." And have a bourbon and soda at the Hog’s Breath, and maybe pick up a nice blond tourist from Sweden, and good luck to you, lady, he thought, exasperated. Competing with both Scott and her workload was getting irksome. "See you Monday."

Back at Tahoe on Monday morning at nine-thirty, Paul ducked reluctantly from the glorious outdoors into the stuffy Superior Court courtroom. He sat next to Nina at the defense table, while she shuffled papers and psyched herself up, ignoring Collier Hallowell and his consorts, ignoring even Paul after a brisk greeting.

Even before the jury selection began, the day slid downhill like a spring avalanche. Kurt dragged in, the deputies helping him shuffle his chained feet. Nina exploded at the sight. Collier Hallowell refused to stipulate that Scott’s shackles could be removed while he was in court, although he had no problem with allowing him to wear his own clothes.

The two lawyers argued heatedly for some time in front of Milne. Nina, who had definitely had a rough weekend, used phrases like "chain him like a wild animal" and "just a ploy to prejudice the jury."

"He’s charged with murder. His home is in Europe, and he’s already engineered one escape from custody," Hallowell practically shouted. "He knocked over a deputy, stealing the key for the handcuffs. I don’t intend to give him a chance to pull another stunt like that one."

"He turned himself in! He didn’t hurt anyone!"

"He was trying to hide the evidence of his wrongdoing," Hallowell said. "He only came back because Mr. van Wagoner, here, managed to talk him into it, and he’s got the bruises to prove it. I’m not going to stipulate to removing those shackles. If she hates them so much, maybe we can cover them up with a blanket or something."

"Sure, make it even more obvious. Humiliate him. Make him look like a dangerous fiend who can’t wait to jump up and rip the throats out of the jurors’—"

"It’s awfully early in the morning for oratory," Judge Milne said. "It’s the policy of the El Dorado Superior Court to shackle defendants in all court appearances after an escape attempt or any violent act. I realize this leads to some prejudice on the part of the jury, Ms. Reilly. If you want, I will caution them that in their deliberations they are not to consider the fact that the defendant is shackled."

"That sort of admonition is just a verbal blanket over his feet, Your Honor. The jurors won’t be able to think about anything else."

"Can you suggest some alternate method of mitigating the prejudice?"

"Well, he could just plead guilty right now," Nina said hotly. "He looks guilty and dangerous sitting there in chains. The jury can see the court considers him dangerous. Please, Your Honor. Don’t shackle him."

Milne said, "Once in a while, couldn’t we just have a trial start on time? All those people are standing around outside, wondering why they had to report so early. Why didn’t you raise this earlier?"

"I didn’t know they were going to chain him up until they brought him in!"

"I’m afraid Ms. Reilly wasn’t aware of the court rules, Judge," Hallowell said. "She isn’t in here day in and day out, familiarizing herself with the processes of this court. She’s off in the mountains running around with escapees."

"Why, Mr. Hallowell, Ms. Reilly here brings out a sarcastic streak in you," Milne said. "Let’s calm down. I don’t want to hand you an issue for appeal this early in the game, Ms. Reilly. I’ll give both of you until noon to bring me some case law. Just attach complete copies of the cases to a sheet with the case heading. Don’t bother to write up an argument. I’ve already heard your points. I’ll read it over the lunch hour, and at one-thirty we will start jury selection, is that understood?"

"Thank you, Your Honor," the two lawyers said in perfect unison, ignoring each other while the audience tittered. Nina came back to the defense table, overtly squeezing Kurt’s shoulder as he was hauled to his feet and herded out. She packed up all the files she had just unpacked, and marched smartly out into the hall, which was full of curious eyes, then made her way toward the law library, with Paul ambling beside her.

"I won’t let Collier get away with this," she said, not slowing her step.

"I thought you were on pretty good terms with him," Paul said.

"That was then. We’re in trial now."

"You started off with fireworks. Why not save them for a grand finale?"

"Listen, I’m sorry. I’ve got to run, Paul. Collier’s going to be back in his office, handing out assignments to a bright paralegal or two. They’ll sit at a computer and access some computerized legal research service. That’s the fast way to go. And people assume with that kind of access they’re getting everything. But you can miss a case, especially if you’re trying to beat the obvious precedents. I’m counting on that. And I’m going to have to dig deeper, over a wider area."

"So split, Paul," he said, sorry for her at that moment. She looked immobilized by the weight of her responsibility, as if the gravity around her pulled harder than it did on other people. "Okay. I wish I could help you."

"You’ve helped enough."

"Is that a crack? You still mad at me?"

"There’s no room for anything inside me right now except to hang on. Try to understand, Paul."

"I’ve got something I left in my car for you. I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes," he said as she tapped off toward the law library. She left without smiling. He’d seen a moment there when she looked like she might, before the old iron wall clanked down.

Shackles. She looked it up in Witkin under S, knowing it wouldn’t be there. Those unworldly scholars who indexed legal books and computerized legal research didn’t think like she did. She was going to have to find every case Collier might come up with in support of his position, as well as offer countervailing authority. Local court rules, exceptions to ... inherent powers of the judiciary ... escape ... prisoners, physical restraints on ...

Paul came back and dropped into a chair beside her.

"Not right now, Paul."

"I’ll just leave these with you, then, and go and have a big breakfast at Heidi’s before I head off to serve subpoenas."

"What are they?"

"Last-minute supplemental reports on the witnesses."

"Anything new?"

"Yeah. Four items. First, I finally lined up the police report from 1984 where Jonathan Sweet supposedly pushed Tamara down the stairs. Jess Sweet signed the statement. She tried to withdraw it the next day, but they wouldn’t let her. He went into some kind of diversion program and the assault charge eventually was dropped. You ought to be able to raise some hell with the report."

"Good work. I can use it to impeach him. It ought to be easy to set him up."

"It could have been Sweet. He doesn’t live up to his name".

"Even if he killed his daughter, I doubt anyone would believe he could kill Terry from a wheelchair."

"One murder at a time," Paul said. "Okay. Second, the prosecution’s lip-reader, Willie Evans, has an estimable reputation. His testimony is really damaging, and our expert’s not helping. Maybe you can get Evans to change his mind."

"Well, I can try. What else?"

"The third thing is that the patrol officer, Jason Joyce, who stopped Kurt the morning after has as bad a reputation for honesty as Willie’s is good. I told you all about it in the reports."

"Thanks, Paul. It’s a big help." Shackles. Fetters, bonds, chains, leg cuffs, irons, manacles ...

"One more fun item, and I’ll go. Jerry Kettrick checks Ralph into the local psychiatric ward once a year, whether he needs to or not."

"Go on," Nina said, keeping her finger in the book to hold the page.

"But that isn’t the most fascinating thing."

"What is?"

"Don’t let me keep you from your books. I’ll just go off and eat my eggs and—"

"Don’t play with me! What?"

"You lawyers can be so humorless," Paul said. "Now, why is that? Ralph is having the occasional psychotic episode. He starts thinking rats are climbing out of the walls and floors and coming to get him. He’s terrified of rats. They think his mother’s drug use during her pregnancy screwed him up."

"God. And I almost let Bobby get up in the cab with him. Where did you find this out?"

"The Filipina nurse on the graveyard shift at the hospital," Paul said. "Of course, if you want the psych records, we’ll have to come up with a reason for a subpoena."

"Okay," Nina said. "I’ll put a subpoena and declaration together tonight. Milne will have to issue it. The hospital will fight." Maybe some smoke and mirrors would appear to obscure the case. "Rats!" she repeated thoughtfully.