Lassiter 06 - Fool Me Twice (37 page)

“
You terminated the
relationship with the defendant?”

“
Yes, I dropped
him.”

Hey, who dropped whom?

“
Did you lose touch with
the defendant?”

“
Yes, for several years.
Oh, I’d see him in the Justice Building once in a while, walking
some three-time loser out of court, but we no longer had a
relationship. Then, I ran into him when he was defending my brother
in a fraud case. After the trial, I learned how they ingratiated
themselves into Simmy’s…Mr. Cimarron’s venture.”

“
You’re talking about Rocky
Mountain Treasures, Inc.?”

“
Yes. It was Simmy’s dream.
Buried treasure. I know it sounds foolish, but it was part of his
love of the old West. He knew most of the legends were just that,
but he believed some were true, and he wanted to explore. He had
studied the old maps and diaries, and he would talk about it for
hours. It was my brother’s idea to raise money through a public
sale of stock. Unfortunately, he and Jake embezzled money from the
cash Simmy put up.”

“
Objection!” Patterson
thundered. “There’s been no predicate laid for such a conclusion.
The testimony is prejudicial and inflammatory and should be
stricken.”

“
Sustained. The jury will
disregard the last remark of the witness.”

Sure. Just try.

“
What did Mr. Cimarron tell
you concerning the stock sale and Mr. Lassiter’s
involvement?”

“
Objection,
hearsay!”

“
Not at all, Your Honor,”
McBain replied. “It’s not coming in for the truth of the statement.
Perhaps Mr. Cimarron was wrong about Mr. Lassiter. It doesn’t
matter. The statement is coming in to show what Mr. Cimarron
believed, and once that belief was communicated to Mr. Lassiter, it
is relevant to the issue of Mr. Lassiter’s intent to commit the
homicide.”

“
Respectfully, Your Honor,”
Patterson said, “Mr. Cimarron’s state of mind is not at issue here.
It doesn’t matter what he—”

“
Overruled. I’ll give the
state some leeway here.”

“
Simmy said that Jake stole
seventy-five thousand dollars from him, but even worse, he helped
my brother in the stock scam. They defrauded investors and
threatened the existence of the company.”

“
Were you present at a
conversation between Mr. Cimarron and Mr. Lassiter to that
effect?”

“
Yes. Last June, in my
house in Miami.”

If that was a “conversation,” Ah versus
Frazier was a tea party.

“
And what
transpired?”

“
Simmy and Jake exchanged
words ...”

To say nothing of fists.

“
Simmy accused Jake of
stealing. Jake hit Simmy, but Simmy is…that is, was…quite large and
very strong. He got the best of Jake that time.”

Her voice cracked on the last words, and her
eyes teared.

Judge Witherspoon was looking at his watch,
and McBain was thumbing through his notes. It was a few minutes
before six and had been a long day, at least for me.

“
Perhaps this would be a
good place to recess,” the judge said. “Your witness can resume at
nine in the morning.”

“
Just one more question,
Your Honor.”

A lawyer promising to ask only one question
is like a kid promising to eat only one jelly bean.

The judge nodded, and McBain came closer to
the witness stand. “Ms. Baroso, I seem to have quite forgotten to
ask something. What was your relationship with the deceased?”

Her voice was as soft as a fluttering
snowflake. “He was my hus ...”

That’s funny. For a second, I thought she
said ole Kit was her…

“
Please keep your voice up
for the jury, ma’am.”

“
Kit Carson Cimarron was my
husband,” she said, in a strong, proud voice. “I am his
widow.”

CHAPTER 25

YOUR MONEY AND YOUR
WIFE

My brain trust couldn’t agree whether to
lather the margarita glasses with salt, so how could I expect
coherent advice on cross-examining Josefina Baroso? We were in the
kitchenette of Granny’s double-wide, the four of us scrunched onto
stools at the Formica counter.

“
That girl’s lying through
her teeth,” Granny said, as she squeezed limes the old-fashioned
way, in her clenched fists. “She never got hitched to that cowboy,
or Jake would know about it.”

“
McBain showed me the
marriage certificate,” Patterson said, glumly. “A civil ceremony in
Nevada six years ago. Uh, no salt on mine, please. Watching my
blood pressure.”

Granny growled and kept squeezing. “Six
years! Criminy, Jake, you been sniffing after a married woman.” Now
she poured tequila into the juice. “You like yours with a dash of
Triple Sec or Cointreau?”

“
The bottle of tequila will
do just fine, Granny, and I broke up with her before she met him.
It just beats me why she kept the marriage a secret.”

“
Maybe the cowboy was
already married,” Granny said conspiratorially.

“
Yeah,” Kip chimed in,
digging into a bowl of chocolate ice cream. “Maybe he was a
bigamist, like Clifton Webb in
The
Remarkable Mr. Pennypacker
.

“
Nothing so sinister,”
Patterson said. “He wanted to live out west and dig for Coronado’s
gold. She wanted to prosecute criminals in Miami. They tied the
knot but didn’t tell anybody. She kept her name and her job. For
the first couple of years, they’d fly back and forth every few
weeks, but that got old. They began to see each other less. I
suppose you could say they separated, except they did that right
after the honeymoon. But they kept getting back together over the
years. Essentially, what you had were two strong-willed people who
were drawn to each other, but neither one would budge on geography
or lifestyle.”

“
So why’d she invite me to
her bed in Miami six months ago?

“
It never happened,”
Patterson said.

“
I need that tequila, right
now, Granny.” I turned back to my lawyer. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“
When the widow lady
testified today, did you hear anything about her exchanging bodily
fluids with you?”

“
No, she just said I was at
her house, and Cimarron and I had a conversation. Then I hit him
but lost a fistfight, something like that.”

“
And you want me to get her
to admit on cross that she was in bed with you when Cimarron broke
in?”

“
Of course I do, and for
lots of reasons starting with destroying her credibility. She’s
going to testify I sexually assaulted her in the barn,
right?”

“
About a dozen hours from
now.”

“
Well, why would I have to
attack her if she was a willing bedmate?’’

“
You wouldn’t, so she must
deny the sexual interlude ever took place.”

“
Well, I’ll say it did,” I
said, somewhat petulantly.

“
Did Josefina ever tell
Socolow that Cimarron rousted you from her bed?”

“
No, I don’t think
so.”

“
Did you?”

“
No. I don’t kiss and tell,
but I figured he knew what was going on.”

“
Yet, he cannot dispute her
testimony, can he?”

I didn’t answer, so he asked another
question. “How did Cimarron get into the house?”

“
I don’t know. I was asleep
at the time. There was no sign of forced entry.”

“
Well then, I’ll tell you,”
Patterson said. “He had a key. Always did. Had it on his key chain
the night he died. As you know, he owned the house in Miami.
Josefina knew he was in town. He was, after all, staying there with
her. Now, you’re going to ask the jury to believe she invited you
to spend the night when she knew her husband would be coming
home.”

“
So what the hell was I
doing there?”

“
According to Josefina,
discussing Blinky and Rocky Mountain Treasures, waiting for
Cimarron to show up for a meeting.”

“
That’s crap! We were
fastened onto each other like—”

“
Jake!” Granny gave me her
steely stare, “There’s tender ears on the premises.”

“
Where?” Kip asked. “Hey,
Granny, I saw
Basic Instinct
where Sharon Stone crosses her legs and puckers
up--”

“
Hush!” Granny
commanded.

Patterson drained his margarita. “Jake, it
doesn’t matter what the two of you did because I can’t prove it.
You want to testify that you bedded her down in Miami, you’ll come
off as a boorish lout who’s accusing the grieving widow of
infidelity.”

“
Infidelity? Who gives a
flying fandango? She’s accused me of murder!”

“
And I’m trying to keep you
from proving her case.”

I took a hit on the tequila straight out of
the bottle. It was intended to make me think more clearly, but it
made my lips feel like rubber worms. Still, the outline of a
thought was forming. “H.T., maybe it’s starting to make sense,
now.”

“
What is?”

“
What you were saying the
other day. She set me up, all right, starting with that night in
the cottage.”

“
Keep talking,” he
said.

“
At the time, I thought she
craved my body. Desire under the mangoes.”

“
Elms,” Kip corrected me.
“Sophia Loren and Anthony Perkins.”

“
Boy am I
stupid!”

“
Don’t state the obvious,”
Patterson said. “Get on with it.”

“
Just like you said, she
knew Cimarron was coming over. Coming home, in fact. She
wanted
me in her bed when
he showed up. She wanted me to fight him. Who knows,
maybe

Cimarron would be carrying a gun and one of
us would buy the farm right there. If not, there’s always a second
chance after she got me to chase her to Colorado. H.T., you’ve been
right all along.”

“
I have been, as surely as
God makes little brown babies, but what am I to do with it? I can’t
prove a word of it. I guarantee you that no member of the jury will
buy it.”

Here I was getting pumped up, and my
lawyer’s defeatist attitude rankled me. “Hey, Counselor, whose side
are you on?”

Patterson looked hurt.

And must have been.

He didn’t ask for a refill. He just grabbed
his wool ski cap, put on his orange parka, and headed for the door.
“We’re all a little tired, Jake. I’ll see you in court.”

I didn’t tell him good night.

Now Granny was scowling at me. “You know,
Jake, you’re a fine specimen of a man.”

“
What’s that supposed to
mean?”

“
Well, you got about an
acre of shoulders, a bushy head of hair, all your own teeth, and a
by-God full allotment of mouth.”

“
Okay, okay, I was a little
tough on H.T., but I’m getting so frustrated, I feel like hitting
someone.”

“
Don’t worry, Uncle Jake,”
Kip said, his upper lip coated with a chocolate stripe. “If that
woman’s saying bad things about you, no one will believe her. No
one could believe you did anything bad.”

“
Kip, I love you, do you
know that?”

“
Sure.”

“
I’m sorry I haven’t been
able to spend much time with you.”

“
It’s okay. I like it here.
The snow and all, it’s like
Dr.
Zhivago
.”

“
You been making any
movies?”

“
Can’t.” He looked into his
bowl of melting ice cream.

Granny said, “He’s been afraid to tell you.
In all the commotion, moving around and all, he lost the
camera.”

“
I’m sorry, Uncle Jake. I
just don’t know where—”

“
Hey, it’s okay. When’s the
last time you had it?”

“
That night in the barn.
Maybe the cops took it.”

“
I don’t remember it on the
inventory,” I said, consigning the information to the repository in
my brain where I store odds and ends that don’t fit anywhere
else.

***

“
I know this sounds
ridiculous,” Josefina Baroso said, “but to this day, I don’t know
if it was rape. It’s so difficult to explain. Jake forced himself
on me, but ...I didn’t fight back. He hit me. He had before, so
that was nothing new. He tore at my clothes. He told me he would
have me whether I wanted it or not. He used to get like that, so
full of anger, so violent. He just wore me down, and I let him. I
just let him.”

With that, a tear tracked down a sculpted
cheekbone. I felt my face heat up. The jurors were riveted to their
chairs. No darting eyes, no coughs, no fidgeting. They just watched
Josefina Baroso with empathy and concern for this brave woman. She
was so damn good. She gave the appearance of trying to be fair. No,
she can’t call it rape. Of course not, she never told the cops
she’d been raped. A physical exam would have disproved that
lie.

It was a flaw in her story, at least until
she explained it away with her sob story about not knowing whether
it was rape at all. Still, Patterson could cross-examine as to why
she didn’t tell the cops the whole story.