A Death In Beverly Hills (34 page)

Chapter Fifty-Three

At one-thirty Monday afternoon Judge Burris gaveled the court into session.

"Call your next witness, Mr. Markham."

Greg looked around the room, making sure that neither McGee nor any of the other witnesses had slipped in. Only the lead police investigators, Katz and Furley, were immune to the witness exclusion rule, and Markham spotted them in the row immediately behind the prosecutor. Greg had spent the last four days trying to figure out how to do this. He may as well get to it. Markham took a deep breath.

"The Defense calls Detective Simon Katz."

Hamilton glanced at Katz as if to ask, 'Do you know what this is about?'

Katz gave his head a little shake and headed for the stand.

"Detective Katz, you are still under oath," the Judge warned him.

"Detective Katz, you have been a police officer for over thirty years, correct?"

"Yes," Katz answered, a hint of prided leaking into his voice.

"And you have been a detective for over sixteen years?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you have been a homicide detective for more than twelve years?"

"Yes."

"You have investigated hundreds of homicides in your career?"

"Yes, I have."

"In fact, you are one of the LAPD's most experienced homicide detectives aren't you?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you believe that Tom Travis murdered his wife?"

The D.A. stared at Markham as if he had lost his mind. Why would he want the jury to hear Katz's opinion that Travis was guilty?

Katz paused a moment, also confused. "Yes, I do," he answered finally.

"And you think he personally killed her?"

The judge looked at Hamilton but if Burris thought the D.A. was going to object, he had another think coming.

"Yes, I do."

"Did you ever seriously think that Tom Travis had paid or conspired with someone else to have them commit the crime?"

Where the Hell was Markham going?
Hamilton wondered.

"No," Katz admitted.

"Why not?"

Katz was confused but mentally shrugged and began to explain. "If Mr. Travis had arranged for someone else to commit the crime he would have made sure to give himself an alibi for the time of the murder. He would have made sure that the body was found right away and that at the time of death he had witnesses to prove that he was a hundred miles away."

"Out in the desert riding a dune buggy at the time she was killed in Beverly Hills or Marina Del Rey or some other place far away from the desert?"

"Something like that," Katz agreed.

"But in fact, Mr. Travis has no alibi at all because the body was hidden and by the time it was discovered it was impossible to determine the exact time of death."

"Yes."

"Do you believe that she was killed the day she disappeared, December 31
st
?"

"Yes."

"But you can't be certain?"

"No."

"All right. Is there another reason why you don't believe that Tom Travis conspired with someone else to kill his wife?"

Katz paused but when there was no objection, he forged ahead. "Because the body was discovered in the desert near where Mr. Travis was known to have been on the day in question."

"You're saying that if Tom Travis had used someone else to kill is wife, he would have made sure that the body was dumped anyplace other than two miles away from where he was known to be that day?"

"Yes."

"So, to summarize, based on your years of experience as both a police officer and as a homicide detective and your familiarity with this case, either Tom Travis personally killed his wife or he had nothing to do with her death?"

"Objection, misstates the witness's testimony."

Burris gave Markham a long look, then did something that completely surprised the defense attorney.

"Overruled."

Startled by the Judge's ruling in his favor, for an instant Markham just stood there then looked at the witness. "Detective?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Markham asked, pushing it.

"Yes, it's my opinion that either Tom Travis killed his wife himself, or he wasn't involved at all."

Hamilton gave Katz a dirty look and bent over his legal pad where he wrote "Idiot" five times.

"Let's talk about the Travis house. You personally investigated that house, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Good locks?"

"Very good locks."

"In the movies burglars seem to be able to pick locks at will. Could these locks be picked."

"Not easily."

"And if the locks were picked, would there be evidence of that?"

"Almost certainly."

"Scratches, pick marks?"

"Yes."

"And did you examine the locks on the Travis house for scratches or pick marks?"

"Yes. There were none at all."

What the Hell was Markham doing?
Hamilton wondered.

"So, if anyone entered the Travis house on the day in question, they almost certainly used a key?"

"Without any doubt."

Markham scratched his head, looked at the jury, and repeated, "Without any doubt. . . . Is there a gate across the driveway at the Travis house?"

"Yes, a full steel gate, eight feet high."

"How is it operated."

"At the sidewalk is a kiosk where you can turn a key which will slide the gate back with electric motors. Inside the wall is a button that closes the gate. The same key operates a door in the fence and also opens the front and back doors to the house itself."

"One key opens both gates and both the front and back doors?"

"Yes. The gate can also be opened and closed with a remote control device like a garage door opener. Other remote control buttons for the gate are mounted inside and outside the front door as well as the one near the gate itself."

"The remote devices you mentioned, I assume, are for the vehicles, so that when Mr. Travis drove home in his Hummer, he would just press a button and the gate would open and once inside, he would press the button again and the gate would close behind him. Correct?"

"Yes."

"And in fact," Markham turned and headed for the defense table where his assistant handed him a sheaf of papers. Markham dropped one copy on the D.A.'s table and then approached the witness. "I have here the official police inventory of Mr. Travis's Hummer. If I may, Your Honor?"

Burris waved his approval and Markham handed the document to the witness.

"On page two, item seventeen -- what's that?"

"Gate remote control opening device," Katz read.

"And there was a similar device in Ms. Travis's SUV?"

"I'm sure there was."

"Hmmmm," Markham mumbled and picked up a second set of documents, again handing a copy to the D.A. "Detective Katz, I have here the official police inventory list for Ms. Travis's SUV. It seems very complete, even to the point of listing an empty Diet Coke can found in the back. Is such careful attention to detail standard practice?"

Hamilton's antennae began to vibrate and he hurriedly began leafing through his own copy of the list.

"Yes, it is."

"I thought so. Tell me, then, Detective Katz, why is it that no remote control gate opener is listed as having been found in Ms. Travis's vehicle?" Markham handed Katz the list. Simon scanned the pages rapidly, reached the end, then went back to the beginning. Markham made no effort to hurry him.

Finally, clearly frustrated, Katz looked up from the report. "It's not here."

"No, it's not. Do you think the LAPD was so sloppy that the technicians noted every detail of that vehicle down to an empty soda can and just missed the remote control gate opener?"

"No," Katz said emphatically.

"I agree with you. I don't think the police missed it, especially since they noted a similar device in Mr. Travis's car. Like you, Detective, I think it's not on that list because it was taken from the vehicle."

"Your Honor, counsel is testifying."

"Ask a question, Mr. Markham."

"Ms. Travis's car was found at the Beverly Center mall, correct?"

"Yes."

"Are there surveillance cameras in the parking area of that mall?"

"Yes, but the coverage is incomplete."

"In fact, her Escalade was parked in one of few places in that lot where it cannot be seen by the cameras, correct?"

"Yes," Katz admitted.

"As the investigating detective, do you think that was a coincidence?"

"Cops don't believe in coincidences."

"So, you think the killer deliberately parked her car in that location so that he would not be captured on film?"

"I think that's likely."

"All right. Let's see where we are. You tell me when, in your expert opinion, you disagree. The killer used a key to enter the Travis property." Markham paused and looked at Katz and when Katz made no objection, he continued. "The killer used a key to enter the Travis house." Another pause. "The killer murdered Marian Travis and wanting to divert suspicion and lead the police in the wrong direction, he drove Ms. Travis's SUV to the mall. . . . He deliberately parked in an area out of range of the cameras. . . . He removed the gate remote control device from her Escalade so that he could easily gain entrance back into the Travis home without having to stop and use the key on the exterior lock. . . . He somehow, cab, bus, rental car, bicycle, whatever, got himself back to the Travis house where he pressed the button on the remote control device. The gate opened and he entered the property. . . . Then he loaded Marian and her daughter, Sarah, into another vehicle, and drove away. Is that your view of the case, Detective?"

"If the other vehicle is Mr. Travis's Hummer, yes."

"What happened to the remote?"

"I don't understand."

"Mr. Travis's Hummer already had a remote. He no longer needed Marian's if he was the killer. Did you find Marian's remote in the house?"

"No."

"But you searched the house?"

"Yes."

"Thoroughly?"

"Yes, but he could have thrown her remote away."

"Or a killer other than Tom Travis could have used the remote to open the gate for his vehicle when he left with the bodies."

"Objection, Your Honor. Speculation."

"Sustained. Move on."

Markham glanced at his Number Two at the defense table in case he had missed something and got a little head shake back. Greg picked up his pad and scanned his topic list then looked at the clock. It was only three-thirty. Too soon. Markham turned back to Katz and stared, puzzled.

Katz's eyes were unfocused, his stare blank. Had he just had a stroke? The detective's attention seemed a million miles away. Suddenly Katz picked up the SUV report and started flipping the pages.

There it was near the bottom of the last page. "Trace of yellow paint on the rear driver's side seat belt anchor bolt." What was it Markham had said -- somehow or other the killer had gotten back to the mansion from the mall parking lot. He had mentioned a bicycle. There were no yellow bicycles at the Travis house. But there was . . . .
Are you crazy?
he asked himself.
It's not your job to help the defense.
But he couldn't get Janson's smug face out of his head.
You ignored the evidence, old man, and you let the real killer get away with it.
He had never knowingly ignored evidence and never, ever, would he allow a guilty person to go free. Katz looked at Hamilton. Never volunteer, that was the rule.
Shit!

"May I see the inventory for the search of Mr. Travis's garage?" Katz asked. Markham hesitated then nodded to his assistant. Katz ignored the D.A.'s angry stare and paged through the report. There it was.

"You asked me something about how the killer got from the mall back to the house?" Katz asked.

It was now Markham's turn to be confused.
What was going on here? Well, he needed to find some way to stall
. . . . "Yes, Detective, do you have an opinion about how the killer got from the mall parking lot back to the Travis house?"

"Yes, I do."

From day one lawyers were taught never to ask a hostile witness a question to which the lawyer didn't already know the answer.
Too late now
.

"What is that opinion?"

"The lab found traces of yellow paint on a bolt in the back of Ms. Travis's SUV." Katz held out the report and pointed to the entry.

"Yes, I see it. Please continue."