Fatal Conceit (45 page)

Faust ignored the retort. “So then you and the district attorney's wife drove to Orvin where you met the local constable, Tom Spooner, and under the false pretext that you were there for nostalgic reasons, you got him to point you in the direction of the cabin?”

“Yes.”

“You lied to him about your reason for wanting to go to the cabin.”

“Yes. I didn't know if he could be trusted or would help us if he knew why we really wanted to go there.”

“You didn't know if you could trust a law enforcement officer?”

“I didn't know who to trust.”

“Other than the wife of the district attorney.”

“We're old friends, and Marlene is a private investigator and attorney in New York. She was also one of the best prosecutors in the New York DAO.”

“Yes. The DAO her husband runs. Small world, isn't it?”

“It can be.”

“Yes, well, let's return to Loon Lake. When you got there your testimony is that Miss Blair had a gun and threatened to shoot you?”

“Yes. She was frightened.”

“Afraid of Ray Baum, correct?”

“I don't believe she knew his name. But she was running from a man of his description.”

“The man she claimed killed General Allen, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask her if she knew him before Allen was killed?”

“She said she'd never seen him before until the morning after Sam was murdered.”

“And that's when she told you the story about having seen this man, Ray Baum, murder the general because it was recorded on her laptop computer?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ask her why she recorded the murder of this man she supposedly loved?”

Stupenagel furrowed her brow and hesitated a moment. “It's my understanding that it was an accident. She left the recording app on while she went to take a shower, and that's when the murder occurred.”

Faust turned to the jury. “Convenient, wouldn't you say, that she just happened to step out of the room at the time a murder was to occur?”

“Convenient for who? The killer? The men who sent him?” Stupenagel retorted quickly.

Faust spun toward the judge. “Your Honor, I ask that the witness's last comments be stricken from the record as unresponsive and the jury told to disregard them!”

“Miss Faust, you opened that door and the witness has entered the room and shut it,” Judge Hart said. “I find the witness's answer responsive to your question; I'll allow it to stand. Please proceed.”

White-faced with anger, Faust put her hands on her hips as she faced Stupenagel. “Let me get this straight,” she snarled. “Miss Blair is video-camming with Sam Allen, then steps out of the room just in time for the killer to carry out his mission?”

“Yes. That's about it.”

“Did you ever think to question her about the timing of these events?”

“No. She explained them. It made sense in light of what Sam told me.”

“At this meeting in a bar that no one else saw or heard,” Faust repeated, then quickly asked, “Ms. Stupenagel, do you plan to write a book about this?”

“I don't know,” she replied. “I may. Writing is how I make my living.”

“And wouldn't this be a much bigger book deal if the ‘bad guys' are two of the president's closest advisers?”

“I haven't given a deal much thought.”

“Well, you'd have to think it would be worth more than your run-of-the-mill true crime.”

“I think the murder of a man of Sam Allen's stature is more than run-of-the-mill.”

“So you have thought about it?”

“That's not what I said.”

“Do you have a book deal?”

“No.”

“Have you been approached by one or more publishers to write a book about this case?”

“Yes. That's pretty common in a high-profile case like this.”

“And what have you told them?”

“I haven't responded to their inquiries.”

“Isn't it true that publishers won't publish a crime book unless there's been a guilty verdict?”

“In general, that's correct,” Stupenagel agreed.

“Why?”

“If the defendants are found guilty, they can't sue for libel.”

“So you have a financial, and a legal, interest in making sure our clients are convicted?”

“At this time I have neither. But I do have a personal interest in wanting the people who were responsible brought to justice. It
doesn't matter to me who or what they are, just so long as they are the ones who did it.”

“But it will, won't it?” Faust retorted. “It will matter who pays for this crime. It will matter to your bank account.” When Stupenagel didn't answer, she smiled. “No more questions.”

Judge Hart looked at the clock on the wall at the back of the courtroom. “We've reached the one o'clock hour, and I think this would be a good time for a break. Be back in one hour and we'll resume at that time. Court is in recess.”

Karp hurried outside to grab a hot dog with the works from a street vendor. He intended to go back to his office to eat it, but then looked up the block at the small green newsstand and turned back to the hot dog man. “Make it two.”

With hot dogs in hand, Karp walked over to where Dirty Warren Bennett was leaning on the stand looking bored. “Brought you something,” he said, handing a hot frank to the surprised man.

Dirty Warren looked as if he might cry as he wiped at his perpetually dripping nose. “Gee, thanks . . . bullshit tits whoop . . . Butch. What's this for?”

“What? Can't a guy buy a friend a hot dog without there being a reason?” Karp said with a wink.

Dirty Warren grinned. “Yeah, you're . . . oh boy oh boy . . . right. I just wasn't . . . goddamn prick . . . expecting it. Thanks again. Hey, by the way, did . . . whoop whoop my ass . . . Stupenagel make it okay to court?”

Karp furrowed his brow. “Yeah. She did. She's on the stand now, though I think we're about to wrap up.” He thought about it for a moment. “That's a funny question; why do you ask?”

“Ah, nothing. Just . . . whoop oh boy . . . curious. I'd heard she got some . . . balls . . . threats,” the little man replied and quickly changed the subject. “Okay, okay . . . oh boy . . . in the 1957 movie
Gunfight at the O.K. Corral,
Burt Lancaster played . . . itchy scrotum . . . Wyatt Earp but who played Doc Holliday and who . . . whoop whoooop . . . did the director want to play Doc Holliday?”

Karp rolled his eyes. “Funny, I was just thinking about that movie. Sometimes I think you're in the wrong business, you should try fortune-telling. Just don't go into trivia, that question was way too easy. Kirk Douglas played the infamous Doc Holliday.”

“Yeah, that was easy . . . I seen that film ten times . . . oh boy dirtbag,” Dirty Warren said. “So who was supposed to . . . shit fuck piss . . . play the good doctor?”

Screwing up his face as if stumped, Karp looked up at the sky. He enjoyed letting Warren believe that he'd at long last won a round. But besides being an English teacher, his mother had been a movie buff who loved playing film trivia with her son. “Of all the newsstands, in all the world, I had to come to this one to be asked that question . . .”

“Ah shit . . .” Dirty Warren said, stomping his foot.

“Why, Humphrey Bogart, of course,” Karp said triumphantly. “I suggest you bone up on your movie trivia, your questions are getting easier, not harder.”

“Ah crap . . . piss feces damnitall . . . I didn't know I was going to . . . whoop . . . see you,” Dirty Warren complained. “I'll get you next time . . . bastard.” He leaned close to Karp. “By the way . . . whoop whoop . . . David would like to have a word with you . . . fuck goddammit . . . after the trial. He was none too . . . oh boy oh boy . . . happy about Nadya getting away, but he's relieved Lucy . . . breasts ass piss . . . is okay. So that's a wash. He says . . . whoop . . . he has something to give you.”

Wondering what it could be, Karp nodded. “He knows where to find me.” Changing the topic of conversation to the Yankees, they finished their hot dogs and then Karp went back inside 100 Centre Street. He located Stupenagel in the witness waiting room. She was sitting on Murrow's lap, crying into his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around her and made small soothing sounds.

“You okay?” Karp asked.

Stupenagel looked at him and sniffed as she nodded, then used
a tissue to dab at her nose and eyes. “Jesus, I bet I look like a mess,” she said.

“Faust was a little rough on you,” Karp noted.

“It wasn't the questions,” Stupenagel said. “She's just another lousy lawyer—present company excluded. But saying I was just a fling and that I was trying to make money off of Sam's death . . . that got to me. The bitch better hope she never meets me in a dark alley.”

Karp patted her on the shoulder and smiled. “At least make it a dark alley in another city, please,” he said. “So you ready to get even?”

Stupenagel smiled. “You bet.”

Twenty minutes later, Stupenagel was back on the stand with Karp leaning against the jury box rail. “Miss Stupenagel, so you have a book deal regarding this case?” he asked.

“No.”

“Have you asked for a book deal?”

“No.”

“Did you file for an indictment against these defendants?”

“Of course not.”

“Are you privy to the conversations in my office regarding what charges we do or don't bring against people suspected of crimes?”

“I wish, but no.”

“Will it be up to you to reach a verdict on the guilt or innocence of these two men?”

“No. That will be the jury.”

“After they've heard
all
of the evidence, correct?”

“That's the way it's done.”

Karp came off the rail and turned toward the defense table. “Miss Stupenagel, counsel for the defendant Fauhomme asked you about the recording of General Allen's murder on Miss Blair's laptop.”

“Yes.”

“And you've had an opportunity to see that recording?”

“I saw it at Loon Lake before Ray Baum and his partner kicked in the door.”

“Do you recall if the killer in that recording ever acted as if he knew he was being recorded or watched?”

Stupenagel shook her head. “No. On the contrary, he never looked at the camera or said anything except when he made a telephone call.”

Facing the jurors, Karp asked, “I know you've addressed this before but just to be clear, how long have you known, did you know, Sam Allen?”

“More than twenty years.”

“When was the first time you saw or spoke to Ray Baum?”

“At the White Horse Tavern last October. He wasn't there when I walked in, but he was sitting at the bar when I went to pay my tab.”

“Did you know him?”

“No, but he started flirting.”

“Was there anything about him that stood out from a physical standpoint?”

“Well, he was good-looking, but I guess what I noticed was that he had a Marine Corps tattoo on his right forearm. I even said something about it to him.”

“When was the next time you saw or spoke to Ray Baum?”

“About three days later at the cabin on Loon Lake.”

“When was the last time you saw Ray Baum?”

“I was standing in the grave he made me and Jenna Blair dig. I hit him with the shovel and then he shot me. I blacked out and fell back into the hole. The next thing I knew, Tom Spooner was looking down at me.”

Karp walked over to the prosecution table, where he picked up a plastic bag. “Miss Stupenagel, I am holding People's Exhibit 21. It is a plastic bag containing a DVD recording. Would you look at it, please, and tell the jurors what, if anything, is written on the face of it.”

Stupenagel took the bag and glanced at the label before handing it back to Karp. “It says, ‘Allen, Congress.' ”

Returning the bag to the prosecution table, Karp turned back to the witness stand. “Have you seen that particular DVD before? And if so, where?”

“Yes,” Stupenagel said. “It is one of the recordings Sam left in the safe at Loon Lake.”

“Do you know what's on the recording?”

“Yes. I watched it with Marlene and Jenna Blair at the cabin.”

Karp said, “Could you tell the jurors in general what it contains?”

Stupenagel looked over at the jurors. “It's a video recording Sam . . . General Allen . . . made of the testimony he apparently intended to give before the congressional committee regarding the events in Chechnya.”

“Could you tell where the recording was made?”

“Yes. Judging from the background on the recording, it was made in his office at the Loon Lake cabin. You can see the bookcase and some of the wall behind him.”

“Does the recording in substance corroborate your testimony today regarding what he told you at the White Horse Tavern?”

“It's what he told me, but a lot more.”

“What do you mean by a lot more?”

“Well, the recording has everything he said to me,” Stupenagel replied. “But he either didn't tell me everything, or he learned more between meeting with me and when he made the recording.”

“Do you know when the recording was made?”

“Yes. It's time and date stamped. It was made Saturday, the day after we met and the day before he . . . the day before he was murdered.”

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

Judge Hart looked at Faust. “Anything else?”

The defense attorney rose but stayed behind her table. “Yes, Your Honor, a few more questions.”

“Then please proceed.”

“Miss Stupenagel, have you written and sold true crime books in the past?”