Hard Evidence (43 page)

Pullios, playing affable and deferential, began to walk Freeman gently through some establishing testimony, then commenced zeroing in on the events of the previous June.

‘Mr Freeman, do you know the defendant?’

‘Yes.’

‘For how long?’

‘I’ve known the judge for many years.’ He didn’t so much as glance at Hardy.

‘Would you say you were friends?’

‘We’ve had a courteous professional relationship. We don’t see each other socially. Sort of like me and you.’

He smiled. She smiled. The jury seemed to like it.

‘Last June, did your relationship change?’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘The judge hired me.’

Chomorro: ‘Mr Freeman, we’re all aware that the defendant was a judge in this court. For accuracy’s sake, please refer to Mr Fowler either by his name or as the defendant.’

Freeman said it was a habit, he was sorry.

‘And what did Mr Fowler hire you to do?’

‘To defend May Shinn, who had been charged with killing Owen Nash —’

Chomorro’s gavel came down with a crash. Hardy suppressed a smile. Nice, Dave, he thought.

‘Mr Freeman, restrict your answers to the questions asked.’

‘I’m sorry, Your Honor, I thought that was what was asked.’

But there it was in the record. Pullios could not very well object since she had asked the question. There was nothing to do but press on. ‘Mr Fowler hired you to defend May Shinn, who, as you say, was charged with murder?’

That’s right.‘

‘Were you surprised by his request?’

‘Not at first.’

This was a wrinkle Hardy had not expected. In his deposition Freeman had said he was stunned by it. Now he was not surprised ‘at first.’

Pullios went with it. ‘Why not “at first”?’

‘Sometimes the court will want to check out a couple of defense firms before giving a criminal assignment. See if they might be overloaded, that type of thing.’

‘But that wasn’t the case here?’

‘No.’

‘What was the case here?’

‘Well, the judge — excuse me, the defendant — wanted to hire me as a private person.’

‘To defend Ms Shinn?’

‘Yes.’

‘And was that unusual?’

‘I’d say, yes, it was.’

‘Was there anything else unusual about the arrangements?’

Hardy stood at his table. ‘Objection. Overbroad.’

‘Sustained.’

Pullios tried again. ‘Was Ms Shinn to know about this arrangement?’

Hardy was up again. Conclusion from the witness and hearsay. Pullios might be getting it out, but it was going to be pulling teeth. She smiled tightly. ‘Can you describe to us the conversation you had with the defendant regarding her defense?’

‘Up to a point, yes.’ Freeman said. He spoke directly to the jury. ‘After I accepted the job, of course Mr Fowler became my client and our conversations were privileged.’

Freeman wasn’t giving up a thing. Hardy had been planning on drawing him out on cross, going into the false arrest of May Shinn, all of that. But it seemed Freeman was doing his work for him.

Pullios, however, could read the signs, too — this one said ‘Ambush Ahead.“ Freeman was, in prosecutor’s lingo, going sideways. Witnesses did it all the time. Pullios had seen it before. She got a little less friendly.

‘Mr Freeman, is it a fact that Mr Fowler asked you to keep your relationship with him a secret from Ms Shinn?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it a fact that bail of five hundred thousand dollars was set for Ms Shinn?’

The facts continued to come out: that Fowler had put up his apartment building as collateral; that Ms Shinn was indicted by the grand jury for murder, putting the case in Superior Court; that Shinn’s trial was assigned to Fowler’s courtroom…

Now Pullios was on a roll and there wasn’t much to do about it. ‘Now, Mr Freeman, knowing as you did the relationship between the defendant and Ms Shinn, what was your reaction to the assignment of Ms Shinn’s trial to Mr Fowler’s courtroom?’

Freeman thought about his answer for a moment. ‘Well, I had mixed feelings. I thought it would be good for my client if the trial went on in Mr Fowler’s court, but I thought there was no chance that would happen.’

An answer Pullios wanted. ‘You expected Mr Fowler to recuse himself?’

Hardy objected, citing relevance. ‘Who cares what Mr Freeman expected?’

Chomorro thought, I do, and said, ‘Overruled.’

Pullios repeated the question, asking whether Freeman expected Fowler to recuse himself.

‘Of course.’

‘But he did not?’

Freeman gave it a second, but there was really no avoiding it. ‘No, he did not.’

*     *     *     *     *

Hardy thought he could make a few points.

‘Mr Freeman, Ms Shinn was charged with killing Owen Nash, the same individual the defendant is now charged with killing?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Before you had agreed to defend Ms Shinn on that charge, and hence before you had established an attorney-client relationship with Mr Fowler, did the defendant tell you why he wanted you to defend Ms Shinn?’

‘He wanted an attorney he knew would present a strong defense.’

‘Did he say Ms Shinn would need a strong defense?’

‘Yes.’

‘In your opinion, Mr Freeman, did Mr Fowler think Ms Shinn was guilty?’

‘Objection!’

Hardy rephrased it. ‘Did Mr Fowler tell you he thought Ms Shinn was guilty of murdering Owen Nash?’

‘Yes, he did. He thought so.’

‘You have won acquittals in several murder cases, have you not, Mr Freeman?’

‘Objection, Your Honor. This isn’t relevant here.’

Hardy was matter-of-fact. ‘Your Honor, the prosecution went over Mr Freeman’s credentials at the beginning of his testimony. I want the jury to be aware of Mr Freeman’s reputation not just as a defense attorney but as an
excellent
defense attorney.’

‘All right,’ Chomorro, as he often did later in the day, was getting surly. ‘But let’s move it along.’ He had the recorder reread the question, and Freeman answered that yes, he had won several acquittals.

‘In fact, wasn’t it through your efforts that the charges against Ms Shinn were dropped?’

‘Yes. Largely.’

‘Now let’s see if we can get this straight. Mr Fowler, knowing your reputation, hired you to represent Ms Shinn, who was subsequently cleared of the murder charge through your efforts?’

‘Yes, true.’

‘And that reopened the investigation, leading to Mr Fowler’s own arrest for the same crime?’

‘Objection,’ Pullios said. ‘Calls for a conclusion.’

‘What’s your question, Mr Hardy?’

Hardy thought he had made his point by inference, at least. Would a man who was guilty of murder hire an attorney whose past record of successes made it likely he could get the case reopened? The most reasonable explanation for hiring Freeman was that, in fact, Fowler did believe May had been guilty. And, of course, if he thought that, then
he
wasn’t.

‘I’ll leave it, Your Honor,’ he said. Turning back to Freeman, Hardy asked if, at the time he had been hired, he thought there was any chance that May Shinn’s trial would go to Fowler’s courtroom.

‘No, none at all. If I had thought there was at that time, I would not have taken it. But there wasn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, she was in Department Twenty-two. There were seven trial judges available and I was sure that if Andy got the case he’d recuse himself.’

Pullios was up like a shot, but these were relevant facts and Hardy was able to get Freeman to tell most of the story — how judges were picked for trials, the circuitous route May’s proceedings took before it came before Fowler. It could not have been foreseen…

Finally, Hardy came to the end of it. ‘On the day charges were dropped against Ms Shinn, how many days had she already been on trial? I mean, for example, had you picked a jury? Had the prosecution begun its case?’

‘No. None of that.’

‘Were you aware of any other developments in that case on that day?’

‘Yes. Judge Fowler resigned.’

‘Do you mean he recused himself from the case?’

‘I mean he resigned as a judge, he quit the bench.’

‘And this was how long after the trial had come to his courtroom?’

‘One day.’

Hardy turned to the jury. ‘One day,’ he repeated.

*     *     *     *     *

Pullios did not have any redirect on Freeman, and neither did she call Maury Carter, the bail bondsman, since facts relating to the bail had been substantially nailed down in Freeman’s testimony. Instead, after Hardy had finished with Freeman, the prosecution rested.

Hardy had to feel better. Freeman’s testimony, which he had feared would be disastrous, had not been anything of the sort, it seemed. The jury knew the worst of what Andy had done, but at least, Hardy felt, they had gotten it in the least damaging light possible.

During the recess Hardy argued his 1118.1 motion in Chomorro’s chambers. The judge, to his surprise, seemed to be giving him his full attention and proved it by telling counsel he was going to take the weekend to consider the motion. He would render his decision on the motion for a directed verdict of acquittal on Monday. Meanwhile, however, Hardy should be prepared to begin calling his defense witnesses.

His client had not said a word to him the entire afternoon. When the judge came out and adjourned court for the week, he only muttered, ‘See you Monday,’ and went back to join his daughter.

Hardy gathered his papers.

58

At ten past five it was already dark as he went out toward the parking lot. A storm was coming in and a wind had risen, steady and cold, Alaska written all over it.

Hardy put down his heavy briefcase and stood by the entrance to the morgue, looking through a hole in the plywood into the construction site where the new jail was slowly rising. A steady trickle of workers getting off passed behind him, and he envied their snatches of conversation, of laughter, plans for the night, for the weekend. He turned up his suit collar against the wind, feeling alone and desolate.

‘Hey, Hardy! Dismas! Is that you? Knocking off early? Glad I caught up with you.’ It was Ken Farris, walking against the tide flowing from the building. ‘I got your messages but couldn’t get away, thought I’d try to catch you after court. You adjourned already? Is it over?’

What Farris had said was true — he normally could have expected to find Hardy in the courtroom at this time, but his arrival just now struck Hardy as a little convenient. He could just have called back. Hardy said as much.

‘Ah, you know the office. You get to the end of the week, any excuse to get out early. This is on my way home anyway. So how’s it going? What can I do for you? This about May Shinn?’

Hardy looked at him levelly. ‘I guess it’s about a lot if you’ve got some time. You feel like a drink?’

Farris seemed to rein himself in. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Something wrong?’

‘Well, let’s say all’s not right.’

They walked back through the Hall and crossed the street. Lou’s, crowded and noisy, was hung with yards of red and green tinsel, lit by Christmas bulbs. With all the seats taken, they stood at the bar. Hardy called for a Bass Ale, Farris ordered a Beefeater martini extra dry. Lou, behind the bar, caught Hardy’s eye. ‘He new?’

Hardy introduced them, and Lou said, dryly, that all their martinis were extra dry — no vermouth. Farris said he’d take whatever Lou poured, which was the right answer — he got some ice, several ounces of gin, a couple of olives.

‘Hell of a place,’ he said, taking it in. He clinked the glass against Hardy’s. ‘Okay, what’s happening?’

‘The prosecution’s rested. I start calling my defense witnesses on Monday.’

‘You’re not asking me to be a witness for Andy Fowler, are you?’

‘No. Why do you ask? You think he killed Owen?’

Farris sipped his gin. ‘Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed May too. I don’t care what they say.’

‘No. May killed herself. If they had found anything that connected to Fowler he’d have been long since charged with it. And they were looking.’ But Hardy didn’t like it, because if Farris still genuinely entertained the thought, maybe the jury did, too, in spite of Chomorro’s instructions. He’d better not forget that. ‘About May… when we first talked, you told me Owen had been paying her?’

‘Right. He paid all of them. So?’

‘Do you know for a fact that he was paying her? Did he specifically tell you he was?’ Farris appeared to be giving it thought. Hardy continued, ‘You told me Nash had changed the last few months. I was wondering, might that have been one of the changes.’

Farris seemed somewhere inside himself. Finally he said, scarcely loud enough to be heard over the din, ‘Owen went with call girls, prostitutes, call them what you will. It was just his nature. It was who he was. And that’s who, what, May was.’

‘Well, maybe not,’ Hardy said, ‘that’s what I’m getting at.’

Which seemed to anger Farris. ‘Goddamn it, that’s never been in dispute.’

Hardy sipped his ale. ‘It’s in dispute now. May’s lawyer — you’ve met him, Freeman — he says the two of them actually loved each other.’

Farris was shaking his head. ‘That’s got to be bullshit.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he just didn’t, that’s why. This is Owen Nash we’re talking about. He wasn’t going to marry some whore. Why are you digging all this up?’

‘Because I don’t believe Andy Fowler killed anybody. Why is it so upsetting to you if Owen loved May Shinn?’

‘Because I knew Owen and that wasn’t him!’

Hardy stepped back, taking a beat. Both men went to their drinks. Hardy leaned forward again. ‘Listen, Ken, you’ve just spent six months contesting the validity of the will. It’s no wonder you’re committed to your position. I’m just asking if you’ve got any
proof
Owen was paying her — his own admission to you, canceled checks, whatever. You’re the one who’d told me he’d changed with her. Was a for-hire deal with a whore going to change him? Wasn’t he wearing her ring when he was shot?’

‘We don’t know that. Someone could have put it on him.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

Hardy kept at it. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. He put it on himself. He was planning on telling you sometime, possibly soon. I think he had decided to marry the woman, just as he had said.’

Ken Farris was down to an olive. ‘Jesus,’ he said, ‘I just…’ He shook his head.

‘You just assumed, didn’t you?’

‘Why wouldn’t he have told me? He told me everything.’

‘Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe it snuck up on him. But it’s all pretty consistent if you put it together — we’ve got the change in behavior, the settling down, leaving her number with you for emergencies, the will, the ring. If you buy the premise, then May wasn’t lying about anything. Which is why I called you. I needed to verify that.’

Lou, unasked, had slid another round under their elbows. Farris didn’t seem to notice. He picked up the new drink and knocked off a third of it. ‘There were no
checks
,’ he said finally. ‘Of course, cash… You know, I don’t think we ever talked about whether he paid her — it never came up.’ A retreat? A cover?

*     *     *     *     *

The bad news, Hardy thought, was that Farris maybe, probably hadn’t been lying… maybe he’d honestly believed an untruth and passed it along as a fact, which wasn’t nearly the same thing, and it left a hole where there had at least been the chance of another suspect besides Hardy’s client.

Large drops of rain fell in sheets, splattering on his windshield. He found a parking place half a block down the street from his house and turned off the engine, thinking he would wait for a break in the storm. Could this be the beginning of the end of the drought? Now in its seventh year, and Hardy knew a lot of people in San Francisco who believed it would never end, that this was the new California of the greenhouse effect, the precursor of a future world of ozone depletion, skin cancers, AIDS and acid rain.

This cleansing Pacific downpour soothed him somehow. He sat back in his seat, eyes closed, listening to the steady tattoo of the drops on the roof.

There was still an unanswered question with May —the coat — maybe it would lead somewhere. And then on Monday Chomorro
might
decide to grant his 1118.1 motion and that would be the end of the trial, and he felt sure, the end of his relationship with both his ex-wife and her father. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Whatever, if he got Andy off on the murder charge, which is what he’d been hired to do, he’d take whatever fallout developed.

But he also knew the trial coming to an early end was a very long shot. And it still nagged that the truth, if there was a truth, continued to elude him. He could get Andy off, he could flap his arms and fly to the moon if he wanted, but until he found out who did put two bullets into Owen Nash, he knew he wouldn’t feel he’d accomplished what he’d really set out to do.

If nothing else, he would still have to live with the fact that he was only ninety-seven-percent certain that Nash’s killer had not been the man he had labored to set free.