The Last Innocent Man (15 page)

“Mr. Walsh, how are you employed?” David asked once the witness had been sworn.

“I’m a zone distribution manager for Mercedes-Benz of North America.”

“What does a zone distribution manager do?”

“For sales purposes Mercedes has divided the United
States into zones and subzones, and I’m in charge of sales in the San Francisco zone, which covers the Pacific Northwest and Northern California. I order all the cars for the zone and distribute them to the dealers in the subzones.”

David picked up the photograph of Larry’s Mercedes and handed it to the witness.

“How long have you been with Mercedes-Benz, Mr. Walsh?”

“It will be twenty-two years this April.”

“I’ve just handed you a photograph which has been marked as State’s exhibit five, and I ask you if you can identify that car for the jury.”

“Certainly. This is our model 300SEL, 1991. It is beige in color.”

“What does 300SEL mean?”

“The 300SEL is a four-door sedan with a gas engine. Three hundred is the engine size. S means the car is one of our super-class models, the largest sedan we sell. E means the car has fuel injection. L stands for a long wheel base.”

“Do you also sell a 300SE model?”

“Yes, we do. That model looks identical, but it’s four inches shorter.”

“Thank you. Now I am handing you three other photographs,” David said, handing Walsh the pictures he had shown to Ortiz on the preceding day. “Can you identify the cars in those pictures?”

Walsh studied the photographs, then stacked them and turned toward the jury as David had instructed him to do at their pretrial meeting. He held up the top photograph.

“This photograph, which is marked defendant’s exhibit seven, is a beige Mercedes-Benz.”

“Is it a 1991, 300SEL?”

“It is not. It is a 1981, 300SD.”

Several of the jurors leaned forward, and Monica cocked her head to one side, focusing her attention on the witness.

“And exhibit eight?”

Walsh held up a picture of another beige Mercedes.

“This is a 1985, 300SE model.”

There was a stir in the courtroom.

“And the final car?”

“Exhibit nine is a 1987, 420SEL.”

“If I told you that a person who had viewed those photographs had described all three cars as being the same type as the defendant’s 1991, 300SEL, would you be surprised?”

“Not in the least. From 1981 to 1991 Mercedes-Benz made several models in that basic body style that were, with minor differences, very similar. From 1981 to 1983 there was a model 300SEL, a four-door long-wheel-base sedan. From 1981 to 1985 there was the model 300SD. In 1984 and 1985 there was a 500SEL and the 380SE. From 1986 through 1991 we had a model 560SEL, which was similar in appearance to the 300SEL and the 420SEL. And we had a diesel engine car in 1986 and 1987 with the same body. In 1990 and 1991 we had diesel models 350SD and 350SDL.”

“With all these cars looking so similar, how were you able to tell that the three cars in exhibits seven, eight, and nine were not the 300SEL?”

“Exhibit seven shows a 1981, 300SD. The most obvious difference is that the 300SD is four inches shorter. If you look at the front and back doors and windows, you can
see that they are roughly the same size in the 300SD, but the back door and window of the 1991, 300SEL are longer than its front door and window because of the longer wheel base. This difference is obvious to me but would not be noticeable to someone who is not familiar with Mercedes-Benz body types.

“The 1985, 380SE in exhibit eight is also shorter, and the wheel design is different. The 1991 car has a solid disk where a hubcap would normally be, but the 1985 car has a concave disk with a center hub about the size of the fueltank cap.”

“Mr. Walsh, what discernible difference is there between the 1991, 300SEL and the 1987, 420SEL, the car in exhibit nine?”

“Mr. Nash, there is no difference at all. Not even an expert can tell the difference between those two cars. I knew they were different only because I supplied you with the photograph.”

“Was there any difference in the number of cars sold for the four models in the four photographs?”

“No. They all sold roughly the same in all four years.”

“And what color was the most popular color for the four models we have been discussing?”

“Beige.”

David turned and smiled at Monica. To the witness he said, “Thank you, Mr. Walsh. I have no further questions.”

“A
ND HOW ARE
you employed, Mr. Waldheim?” David asked the distinguished-looking businessman who had just taken the witness stand. Across from David, Monica listened with one ear as she carried on a hurried conversation with Detective Crosby. Walsh’s testimony had hurt, and
she wanted Crosby to start looking for ways to rebut it. She was painfully ignorant about cars and had asked no questions of Walsh. That meant that, as of the moment, Ortiz’s testimony about the Mercedes was virtually worthless.

“I am the vice president in charge of menswear for Sherwood Forest Sportswear.”

“Where are your headquarters located?”

“Bloomington, Illinois.”

“And that is where your office is?”

“That is correct.”

From a pile of exhibits David selected the shirt that had been seized from Stafford’s house and brought it to Waldheim.

“I hand you what has been marked as State’s exhibit twenty-three and ask you if you recognize this shirt.”

Waldheim took the shirt and examined it. “Yes. This is part of last year’s summer line.”

“Would you tell the jury how many of these shirts your firm distributed nationally.”

Waldheim turned slightly and addressed the jury.

“Last year was a very good year for menswear. This particular shirt was one of our most popular items. I checked our records before flying here, and I would say that we sold some five thousand dozen of this shirt nationally.”

“How many shirts are five thousand dozen, Mr. Waldheim?”

“Well, one thousand dozen equals twelve thousand shirts, so…let me see…sixty thousand shirts.”

“And that is a round figure?”

“That is correct. The actual number was in excess of five thousand dozen.”

“Mr. Waldheim, are you aware of the shirt patterns used by your competitors?”

“Certainly. We have to keep tabs on the competition.”

“To your knowledge does Sherwood Forest, or any other shirt manufacturer, make a shirt with a pattern similar to this shirt?”

“Yes. That forest pattern was so successful, especially in this area of the country, that we put out another similar line, and so did two of our competitors.”

“Thank you, Mr. Waldheim. Nothing further.”

Monica had been doing some calculations while David questioned Waldheim. There is a rule of cross-examination which holds that an attorney should never ask a witness a question unless she knows the answer. Monica had a question she wanted to ask, and Waldheim’s testimony was so damaging that she decided to break the rule.

“Mr. Waldheim, your company distributes shirts nationally, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“How many of the shirts you were just shown were distributed in this state?”

“Uhmm, something in excess of one hundred dozen, I believe. The shirt did very well here.”

“And of those one hundred dozen, how many were distributed in Portland?”

“I’m not certain, but I would guess more than half.”

“So we are talking about approximately six hundred shirts in the metropolitan area?”

“A little more than six hundred. Yes.”

“Nothing further.”

Monica was troubled. She had softened the impact of
Waldheim’s testimony a little, but six hundred shirts was still a lot of shirts, and there were all those knockoffs from other companies. David was starting to cut away the basis for Ortiz’s identification, and if he did that successfully…

There was a stir in the courtroom and Monica looked around. While she had been lost in thought, David had called his next witness—Jennifer Stafford.

J
ENNIFER WALKED TO
the stand without looking at David, but she did pause momentarily by Larry’s side. The look she gave him was one the jury could not see and David could not read.

Jennifer took the oath, then seated herself in the witness box. She sat erect, her hands folded primly in her lap. There was a trace of tension at the corners of her lips, and a tightness about her that betrayed her uneasiness. When David addressed her, she jerked slightly, as if she had experienced a minor electric shock.

“Mrs. Stafford, are you employed?”

“Yes,” she answered softly. The court reporter glanced at the judge, and Judge Rosenthal leaned toward the witness.

“You’ll have to speak up, Mrs. Stafford,” he said gently.

“Yes, I am,” Jenny repeated.

David noticed that Larry was leaning toward Jennifer, listening to her testimony with an intensity that David had not noticed when the other witnesses were on.

“Where do you work?”

“I teach second grade at Palisades Elementary School.”

“How long have you been teaching there?”

“This will be my third year.”

“How long have you and Larry been married?”

“A little less than a year,” she answered, her voice breaking slightly from the strain. David waited for her to compose herself. He fought the urge to go to her and hold her.

“Can you remember when you first saw your husband on June sixteenth of this year?”

“Yes. We got up together and ate breakfast. Then Larry went to work.”

“Was he acting unusual in any way?”

“No.”

“When did you next see him?”

“Around eight o’clock, when he came home from work.”

“Was it unusual for Larry to work so late?”

“No. His job was…is very demanding. He would often keep late hours.”

“Tell the jury what happened after Larry came home.”

“We just watched some television. I can’t even remember what. Then we had a snack and went to bed.”

“You and Larry sleep together?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said, blushing and looking at her lap.

“Where was Larry when you woke up the next morning?”

“In bed.”

“Do you have any reason to believe that he left your bed at any time that evening?”

“No. I’m a light sleeper, and I would have heard him if he got up.”

David paused. He had established Larry’s alibi. There
was no reason to ask any more questions, and he wanted to make Jenny’s ordeal as easy as possible. He turned toward Monica.

Monica acknowledged David’s nod. Jennifer Stafford had been very believable, and her alibi would be difficult to break down. She did not know what to do to attack it, and she was beginning to feel helpless. She had put an investigator on the Staffords and had come up with nothing. She risked a look at David. He was chatting with the defendant, looking very sure of himself. Monica felt herself tighten with anger. She could not lose this case. She had to do something. But what?

“Mrs. Stafford, you are a wealthy woman, are you not?”

“Objection,” David said, standing.

“This goes to motive, Your Honor,” Monica replied.

“We went through this before, Mr. Nash, in chambers. You may have your objection.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Monica said. “Are you a wealthy woman, Mrs. Stafford?”

“I don’t know what you mean by that. I am well-off financially.”

“If neither you nor the defendant were working, could you get by?”

“Larry wouldn’t accept my money. He—”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Mrs. Stafford.”

“I don’t need to work,” Jennifer said stiffly.

“But your husband does?”

“He has saved money from his job. He works very hard and—”

“Your Honor,” Monica interrupted, “would you please
instruct the witness to confine her answers to the questions?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stafford. Answer only the question put to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jennifer answered nervously. Monica was pleased with the course of the questioning. Stafford’s wife was becoming defensive, and that would help cast doubt on her credibility.

“You purchased your house for four hundred seventy-five thousand dollars, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Stafford could not have purchased the house without your money, could he?”

“No,” Jennifer answered. She was angry and David began to worry.

“In fact, if you and he were divorced, it would seriously alter his lifestyle, wouldn’t it?”

“Objection,” David said.

“Sustained. That is highly speculative, Ms. Powers.”

“I withdraw the question,” Monica said, satisfied that the jury had got the point.

“Mrs. Stafford, do you love your husband?”

David looked up. He knew that her answer would mean nothing, but he tried to read something in her eyes: a message he hoped he would see there.

Jennifer hesitated a second and Monica noticed. She wondered if the jury had, and she turned in its direction.

“Yes,” Jennifer answered softly.

“Would you lie to help him?”

“Yes,” she answered, “but I did not lie, because I did not have to. Larry was with me, Miss Powers. He couldn’t have murdered that poor woman.”

D
AVID SELECTED THE
Georgetown for lunch because it was dark and the individual wine-red booths provided privacy.

“I was so frightened,” Jenny said.

It was the first time they had met during the day someplace other than his office. David reached across the narrow table and touched Jenny’s hand.

“You were fine.”

“And Larry?” she asked.

“He was fine, too. The trial is going very well.”

Judge Rosenthal had called a recess for lunch as soon as Larry had finished testifying. Stafford had been nervous but had handled himself well. On direct, David had limited himself to asking the defendant where he had been on the evening of the murder and filling in items of his biography that had not been provided by other witnesses. On cross, predictably, Monica had delved into Larry’s feelings about not making partner and asked about his relationship with his wife. Stafford was well prepared to handle this line, as David, playing the role of district attorney, had grilled him far worse in the jail than Monica did on the stand. David enjoyed Monica’s frustration as it became clear that she was making little headway. Her final questions concerned Stafford’s sex life, and David felt they were sufficiently embarrassing so that the overall effect was to create sympathy for his client. When Monica asked her final question, “Have you been with a prostitute in the past two years?” Larry’s answer—“Why would I do that, when I have a wife like Jenny, who loves me?”—had caused several of the jurors to nod their heads in approval.