Just Take My Heart (14 page)

"No. No. Never."

Emily, her eyes blazing, pointed her finger at the witness stand. Her tone loud and sarcastic, she said, "You killed your wife that morning, didn't you? You shot her and then you left her, thinking that she was already dead. You drove back to New York and then maybe jogged around Central Park, hoping you'd be seen. Isn't that right?"

"No, it is not!"

"And then a little while later, you returned the rental car that you had used to spy on your wife. Isn't that right, Mr. Aldrich?"

Gregg Aldrich was now standing up and shouting. "I never hurt Natalie. I could never hurt Natalie."

"But you did hurt Natalie. You did more than hurt her. You killed her," Emily shouted back at him.

Moore was on his feet. "Objection, Your Honor, objection Counsel is badgering the witness."

"Sustained. Prosecutor, lower your voice and rephrase the question." Judge Stevens's tone left no doubt that he was irritated.

"Did you kill your wife, Mr. Aldrich?" Emily asked, her voice now gentle.

"No ... no ... ," Gregg Aldrich protested, his voice breaking. "I loved Natalie, but. . ."

"But, you had admitted to yourself. . ." Emily began.

"Objection, Your Honor," Moore thundered. "She won't let him complete his answers."

"Sustained," Judge Stevens said. "Ms. Wallace, you are directed to allow the witness to complete his answers. I don't want to have to admonish you again."

Emily nodded in acknowledgment of the judge's instructions. She turned back to Aldrich. Her voice lowered, she said, "Mr. Aldrich, didn't you go to Cape Cod because Jimmy Easton had backed out of the deal to kill your wife for you?"

Gregg shook his head hopelessly. "I met Jimmy Easton in a bar, had a few minutes'

conversation with him, and I never saw him again."

"But you had paid him to stalk and kill her. Isn't that the way it happened?"

"I didn't hire Jimmy Easton and I could never hurt Natalie!" Gregg protested, his shoulders shaking, his eyes filled with tears. "Can't you understand that? Can't anyone understand that?" His voice cracked and he broke into dry, racking sobs.

"Your Honor, may I request a recess?" Moore urged.

"We will take a fifteen-minute break," Judge Stevens ordered, "to give the witness a chance to compose himself."

A short time later, court resumed. Gregg had calmed down and returned to the witness stand. He appeared pale and seemingly resigned to enduring more of Emily's scathing crossexamination.

"I just have a few more questions, Your Honor," Emily said as walked past the bench toward the witness stand. She stopped directly in front of it and, for a long moment, looked at him intensely.

"Mr. Aldrich, you acknowledged on direct examination that in the living room of your apartment in New York, you do have a side table with a drawer that, when it is opened, emits a loud and distinctive squeak."

"Yes, that is true," he answered faintly.

"And would it be fair to say that Jimmy Easton accurately described that table and that sound?"

"Yes, he did, but he was never in my home."

"Mr. Aldrich, you told us that this drawer is somewhat of a joke in your family, and that you all referred to it as 'a message from the departed spirits.'"

"Yes, that is true."

"Sir, as far as you know, did Mr. Easton know any members your family?"

"As far as I know, he did not."

"Did you have any mutual friends with Mr. Easton who might have joked about this drawer in his presence?"

"As far as I know, we have no mutual friends."

"Mr. Aldrich, do you have any explanation whatsoever as to how Jimmy Easton could have so accurately described this piece of furniture and the sound it gave off if he has never been in your living room?"

"I have racked my brain as to how he could have known. I have no idea." Gregg's voice was beginning to break again.

"One more thing, Mr. Aldrich. In the articles that appeared in various magazines about Natalie, was this drawer ever mentioned?"

"No, it was not," he said, despairingly. Clutching the arms of the witness chair, he turned to the jury. "I did not kill my wife," he shouted. "I did not kill her. Please believe me. I . . . I . . ." Unable to continue, Gregg buried his face in his hands and wept.

Ignoring the devastated figure on the witness stand, Emily said crisply, "Your Honor, I have no further questions," then walked back toward her chair at counsel table.

Moore and his son whispered quickly and decided against posing any further questions themselves. Richard Moore stood up. "Your Honor, the defense rests."

Judge Stevens looked at Gregg Aldrich. "Sir, you may step down."

Wearily, Gregg arose, murmured, "Thank you, Your Honor," and slowly, as if every step were painful, went back to his chair.

Judge Stevens then addressed Emily. "Is there any rebuttal from the prosecutor?"

"No, Your Honor," Emily said.

The judge then turned toward the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, the testimony in this case is completed. I will take a forty-five-minute break to allow the attorneys to gather their thoughts for their summations. Under our rules of court, the defense attorney goes first, and then the prosecutor. Depending upon how long the summations take, I will give you my final legal instructions either late this afternoon or tomorrow morning. After my instructions are finished, we will randomly select the alternates and the final twelve jurors will begin their deliberations."

When court recessed on Monday afternoon, Emily had just finished her powerful summation. Moore did his best, she thought, but he couldn't get around that drawer. She had left the courtroom cautiously optimistic that soon Gregg Aldrich would be in a prison cell. The case would be given to the jury tomorrow. How long will it take them to decide? she wondered. And hopefully there will be a decision. She shuddered at the thought of a hung jury and having to d this all over again.

On the way home she stopped in the supermarket, intending only to pick up some basics like milk, soup, and bread. But when she passed the meat counter, she stopped. The thought of a steak and baked potato for dinner, particularly after all of the take-out food the last few months, was suddenly very appealing.

Exhaustion was seeping into her bones as she took the items to the checkout counter. By the time she was pulling into her drive fifteen minutes later, she wondered if she would have the energy to grill the steak.

There was no sign of Zach's car and she remembered that he had told her that his hours at work had changed. The new flower beds had been soaked in the driving rain that had lasted most of the day. She found it unsettling to look at them.

As she unpacked the grocery bag, she let Bess run in the backyard for a few minutes, then went upstairs to her bedroom. She changed into an old pair of cotton jogging pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and stretched out on the bed. Bess snuggled up to her and she pulled the coverlet over both of them. "Bess, I have fought the good fight. Now let's see what happens," she said as she closed her eyes.

For two hours she slept and was awakened by her own voice whimpering "Please don't.

. . please don't. . ."

She bolted upright from the pillow. Am I crazy? she asked herself. What was I dreaming?

Then she remembered. I was frightened and I was trying to stop someone from hurting me.

She realized that she was trembling.

She could see that Bess was aware that she was upset. She pulled her dog close to her and said, "Bess, I'm glad you're here. That dream was so real. And pretty scary. The only person I know who would really want to get me is Gregg Aldrich, but I'm certainly not afraid of him."

A thought suddenly struck her. And neither was Natalie. She, too, believed he would never hurt her.

My God, what's the matter with me? she asked herself, impatiently. She looked at the clock. It was ten of eight. Time to cook a decent dinner, catch up on the paper, and then watch Courtside.

After everything that went on today, she thought, let's see if Michael Gordon is still so sure his buddy is innocent.

It was not a good day in court for Gregg Aldrich," Michael Gordon said somberly as the opening credits for Courtside appeared on-screen. "A confident and seemingly credible Gregg Aldrich on direct examination last Friday came across very differently today. The courtroom was stunned when for the first time, he admitted that he had hidden in the bushes at midnight outside his wife's Cape Cod home and watched her as she sat alone. This occurred just about thirty-two hours before Natalie Raines was shot in the kitchen of her New Jersey residence, after returning from Cape Cod."

The Courtside panel all nodded their heads in agreement. Judge Bernard Reilly, who on Friday evening had expressed understanding of how a chance encounter in a bar could lead to bizarre and unfair accusations, now acknowledged that he was deeply troubled by Gregg Aldrich's performance under blistering crossexamination. "I felt for Richard Moore when Aldrich admitted he had his nose pressed against the windowpane at midnight. I'll bet anything that he had never told Moore he did that."

Georgette Cassotta, a criminal psychologist, said, "Let me tell you. That image sent shivers through the women on the jury. And you can bet that the men on the jury also reacted strongly. He went from the concerned husband on direct examination to a Peeping Tom on crossexamination. And going back past her house again on Sunday, after he admitted that he was satisfied by Saturday night that she was alone, could have sealed his fate."

"And there's something else that really helped the prosecution's case today," Judge Reilly added. "I think Emily Wallace was very effective in the way she approached the issue of the squeaky drawer. She gave Aldrich every opportunity to suggest an explanation for Easton's knowledge of that table and that drawer. He couldn't come up with anything. He and Moore had to know that she was going to pound on that. The problem is that he didn't come across as someone who honestly just didn't have an explanation. He came across like someone who had been cornered."

"But if he really didn't do it," Gordon said, "and if he really doesn't know, couldn't that have been the reaction of a man who feels entrapped and in despair?"

"I think at this point that Gregg Aldrich's best shot is that one or two jurors react that way and he gets a hung jury," Judge Reilly responded. "I just don't see twelve jurors voting not guilty, frankly."

Just before the program ended, Michael Gordon reminded his viewers that as soon as Judge Stevens finishes his instructions on the law, the jurors would begin to deliberate.

"Probably around eleven o'clock," he said. "And at that time you will be able to vote on our Web site as to whether you believe Gregg Aldrich will be found guilty or not guilty of the murder of his wife. Or, whether there will be no unanimous decision either way, which would result in a hung jury and another trial.

"I seriously doubt that we will have a verdict by broadcast time tomorrow evening," Michael continued. "You can cast your vote right up until the jury informs Judge Stevens that they have reached a verdict. If there is no verdict by tomorrow night, we'll talk about the results of the voting so far. And now good night from all of us."

It got really bad today," Belle Garcia glumly told her husband, Sal, as Michael Gordon said good night to his viewing audience. I mean, only last Friday, Michael came out and said that he thought: Gregg was innocent. But tonight, he admits that Gregg's performance didn't help him one bit."

Sal looked up over his glasses. "Performance? I thought actors performed."

"You know what I mean. I mean he didn't come across like didn't do it. He got confused and tripped up on what he was saying. He started crying when Emily got after him about Jimmy Easton and that loud drawer. I bet he wishes now he had had it oiled. And to make matters worse, he really started blubbering and they had to take a break. I felt sorry for him but, being totally neutral, I have to say this: I think today he was coming across as sorry that he had killed his wife."

Fully aware that Belle was geared to have a serious discussion about the trial right now, Sal knew that it was time to put down his newspaper. He asked Belle a question that he was sure would evoke a lengthy response and require only minimal reaction from him

"Belle, if you were on the jury, as of right now how would you vote?"

Looking pensive and troubled, Belle shook her head. "Well . . . It's so hard . . . It's all so sad. I mean, what's going to happen to Katie? But, oh, Sal, if I were a member of that jury, I'm forced to say, with my heart breaking, I'd vote guilty. On Friday I really thought that Gregg was starting to make sense out of what had looked, even to a real dope, to be so suspicious. That squeaky drawer worried me, but anyone can tell Jimmy Easton is a born liar. But just now, when I saw those clips of Gregg on Courtside, I felt as if I was looking at a man who was going to confession. You know what I mean, not quite confessing as in admitting you did something you're not proud of, but kind of confessing by explaining how it happened, if you know what I mean."

Jimmy Easton, Sal thought.

Belle was looking straight at him and he hoped he didn't show the worry that the sound of Jimmy's name evoked in him. He had not told Belle that Rudy Sling had phoned him this afternoon. Nearly three years ago, his crew had moved his old friends Rudy and Reeney from their apartment on East Tenth Street up to Yonkers.

"Hey, Sal, by any chance have you been watching that Courtside show about the bigshot agent who shot his wife in the Garden State?" Rudy had asked.

"I'm not really paying attention to it, but Belle wouldn't miss a moment of it. And then I have to hear all about it."

"That guy Jimmy Easton was one of your crew when you moved us to Yonkers three years ago."

"I don't remember. He was an occasional backup when we were busy," Sal answered cautiously.

"The reason I'm telling you is because of something Reeney talked about this morning. She reminded me that when you moved us, you said we could tape the dresser drawers closed so we didn't have to unload everything."

"That's right. I told you that."

"My point is that when your guy Easton was pulling the tape off the drawers of the bedroom furniture, Reeney caught him going through them. She couldn't find anything missing, but she's always believed he was looking for something that was worth stealing. That's why we both remembered his name. You weren't on the job that day. Remember I called and told you to watch out for him?"

"Rudy, I never hired him again. So all I can say now is, so what?"

"So nothing. I mean, it just makes it kind of interesting that a guy who worked for you is making the headlines testifying he was hired by Aldrich to kill his wife. Reeney wondered if he maybe delivered something to that Aldrich guy's apartment for you and maybe opened that drawer, and that's how he knew it squeaked."

Easton is also one of the many guys I've paid off the books, Sal thought, nervously.

"Rudy," he said, "I gave you a pretty nice break on that move, didn't I?"

"Sal, you were a prince. You moved us without a nickel down and waited two months till we paid you."

"And I've never delivered anything to Park Avenue where that Aldrich guy lived," Sal snapped angrily. "And you'll do me a real favor if you don't talk to anyone about Easton. I'll be honest. I paid him off the books. I could get in trouble."

"Sure, sure," Rudy replied. "You're my pal. Anyway, I guess there's nothing to it. I thought you'd get a chance to be a hero and maybe get a reward if you could honestly tell them that Easton had made a delivery to Aldrich's apartment. And you know how much Belle would love it if you guys got your picture in the newspaper."

My picture in the newspaper! Sal thought with dread. That's all I need!

His conversation with Rudy rushed through Sal's mind as Belle finished explaining how Emily, the prosecutor, had just about destroyed Gregg on the stand. "She was like one of those avenging an-gels," Belle said.

At that point in the narration, she sighed, reached down, and pulled over the hassock. She put her feet on it and continued. "Sometimes the cameras were on Alice Mills, Natalie's mother. Oh, I should tell you, Sal. Natalie's real name was Mills but she didn't think it was a good show business name so she changed it to Raines in a tribute to Luise Rainer, an actress who won the first two back-to-back Academy Awards that were ever presented. That was in People magazine today. She didn't want to take exactly the same name, but she wanted it close."