Let Darkness Come (21 page)

“How do you know the syringe displayed here as state's exhibit one was the murder weapon? Why couldn't the murder have been committed with one of the twenty-two in the sharps receptacle?”

The detective holds Briley's gaze as he knuckles small sparkles of sweat from his upper lip. “Mrs. Tomassi's prints were on the syringe in the evidence bag.”

“That doesn't mean this particular syringe was used to kill Jeffrey Tomassi, does it? Or that his wife administered the fatal dose?”

“Then it must mean she's a liar, because she told me she
never
gave her husband injections.”

Briley closes her eyes and remains facing forward so that the jurors can't see her grimace. She has broken the cardinal rule, the one drummed into every trial lawyer's head: never ask a question if you're not sure of the response. She wasn't expecting the cop to be so clever.

“Your Honor,” she says, her voice strangled, “the defense moves to strike Detective Malone's last answer as unresponsive.”

Trask tilts his head. “The jury will disregard that last answer.”

“Detective—” she forces a smile as she focuses on the grinning cop “—one set of fingerprints on a single syringe doesn't inconclusively prove that you've found the murder weapon, does it?”

His smile fades a degree. “No. But it sure sets that syringe apart from the others.”

Sensing trouble, Briley moves on. “What else did Mrs.
Tomassi tell you that day? Did she relate the events of the morning and the previous night?”

“Yeah—Yes. She said they got home late. She took sleeping pills and went to bed.”

“The sleeping pills…did she specify what type they were?”

When he gives her a confused look, she knows he's intentionally giving her a hard time. His report was far more specific. “The brand name, sir?”

“Ah, yes. Ambien.”

“Thank you.” Briley glances at her notes. “Previously, you testified that Mrs. Tomassi gave you permission to search the house.”

This time, the detective does not look at Erin. “Yes.”

“Did she seem reluctant to grant permission?”

“She was upset. I don't think she gave the question much thought.”

“Are you always able to read the minds of the people you interrogate?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Bystrowski rises. “Counselor is badgering the witness.”

“I'll withdraw the question.” Briley gives the detective a more sincere smile. “This permission you received from Mrs. Tomassi—was it tape-recorded?”

“No.”

“Written, then. As a conscientious officer of the law, you knew that any evidence you discovered without permission could be excluded from a trial. So you had her sign a document, right?”

The man looks away as his face reddens. “No.”

Briley widens her eyes, feigning surprise. “Then how is it that we have evidence from the Tomassi home?”

The cop glares at her. “Because I gathered it.”

“Isn't it true, Detective, that all the evidence from the alleged crime scene has been allowed into this trial solely because Erin Tomassi personally told the judge that she gave you permission to search?”

“Objection!” Bystrowski is on his feet again. “Counsel is out of line, and she knows it.”

“Objection sustained,” Trask rules, frowning down at Briley. “The jury will disregard that last question.”

The cop crosses his arms and stares at the back wall, refusing to meet Briley's gaze.

“I'll withdraw the question.” Briley inhales a deep breath, content that she has given the jury an important piece of information about her client's integrity. “How many years have you been interviewing homicide suspects, Detective Malone? Was it ten?”

“That's right.”

“Given your extensive personal experience with suspects in murder cases, when you interviewed Mrs. Tomassi, did you suspect her of being the sort of woman who would pick up a syringe and give her husband a fatal overdose?”

When she turns and sees a smirk on Bystrowski's face, she realizes she's made an egregious mistake. She's asked a leading question to which Bystrowski ought to object, but he's keeping silent, giving the detective yards of rope to wrap around her neck. Now that she's opened the door, he can claim that Erin was as cool as Lizzie Borden or as friendly as Ted Bundy….

Time slows to a crawl as she turns to face the witness stand. She holds her breath, watching as the detective looks at the expectant prosecutor and shakes his head in what looks like slow motion.

“No, I didn't.” His answer reverberates in Briley's ears, filling her with relief. She's about to smile her thanks for being an honest cop, but Malone can't resist a parting shot: “But first impressions can be deceiving.”

“Indeed, they can be.” Briley exhales in a rush as time resumes its normal pace. She smiles at the jury. “Sometimes a situation is not at all what it appears to be. Thank you, Detective,” she says. She walks away, determined to cut her losses. “Thank you very much.”

 

The medical examiner, Dr. James Drew, squints at the item in the evidence bag. “Yes, that's a typical insulin syringe.”

Bystrowski turns the bag for the jury to view. “Based on your examination of the evidence, are you able to conclude if this is the murder weapon?”

The man's dark brows shoot toward his forehead. “In order to make such a conclusion, we have to weigh all the elements of the crime scene.”

“What particular facts about this syringe did you consider?”

Dr. Drew leans an elbow on the witness chair. “Twenty-two syringes were found in a sharps disposal unit. Police records indicate that this syringe was found by itself, in a regular trash can. Logic tells me that as a diabetic who gave himself daily injections, Mr. Tomassi had almost certainly developed the habit of disposing of his needles in a sharps receptacle. Obviously, whoever threw this syringe into the trash did not share that habit.”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Briley rises. “The witness is drawing conclusions.”

“I'll allow it.” Trask inclines his head. “Mr. Bystrowski, you may continue.”

Bystrowski crosses one arm over his chest and studies the doctor with an air of thoughtful contemplation. “Can you be certain that whoever administered insulin with this syringe wasn't giving him the usual nighttime dose?”

“I am quite certain the injection was intended to be fatal.” The medical examiner looks at the jury, his eyes grave. “The dose administered to Jeffrey Tomassi was more than enough to kill him. In cases of accidental insulin overdose, the patient usually slips into a coma, but a massive overdose can end a life in a matter of hours. I have no doubt that whoever injected the victim intended to kill him.”

Briley stands again. “Your Honor, move to strike as unresponsive. The witness did not answer the question.”

The judge inclines his head in a slow nod. “Objection sustained. The jury should disregard that last statement.”

But it doesn't matter. The jury has heard the medical examiner's opinion, and Briley can see acceptance in their eyes. They're believing every word the man says.

The prosecutor thanks the medical examiner, then nods in Briley's direction. “Your witness.”

Briley glances at her notes, then stands. “Dr. Drew,” she begins without any preamble, “would the average person know how much insulin is required to kill someone?”

The medical examiner frowns. “I don't believe the average person would know—but a diabetic's spouse isn't really an average person.”

“A simple yes or no will do.” Briley gives him a stiff smile and moves to the lectern. “Detective Malone has testified that Mrs. Tomassi never gave her husband injections. Would a wife who never deals with her husband's insulin know the difference between a coma-inducing overdose and a fatal one?”

The M.E. shrugs. “I have no idea how much the defendant knows about diabetes treatment. But a quick Google search of the Internet could provide a definite answer.”

Briley stifles a grimace. “You are a medical doctor, correct?”

“All medical examiners in the state of Illinois are medical doctors. Most are also certified in anatomical and forensic pathology.”

“That's good to know. We will value your expert opinion all the more.”

“Objection.” Bystrowski stands, frustration evident in the line of his hunched shoulders. “Is counsel planning to ask a question?”

Before the judge can admonish her, Briley looks directly at the medical examiner. “After Mrs. Tomassi took two Ambien and fell asleep, could someone have planted her fingerprints on that syringe? If she were in a deep, drugged
sleep, isn't it possible she might remain unaware that someone was manipulating her hand?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Bystrowski is on his feet again. “Calls for speculation on the part of the witness. We don't know if Mrs. Tomassi took two Ambien, one Ambien, or any pills at all.”

Trask gives Briley a reproving look. “Objection sustained. Either drop the question or rephrase it.”

“I'll rephrase.” Briley returns her attention to the man in the witness box. “Dr. Drew, is Ambien an effective sleep-inducer?”

He nods. “Indubitably.”

“Does it promote
deep
sleep? The sort of sleep in which a person might not be aware of being moved?”

The medical examiner glances at Bystrowski before speaking to the jury. “Yes, depending upon the individual, of course. People react differently to various drugs.”

“Is Ambien so effective that a double dose might have put Mrs. Tomassi in such a deep sleep that she would remain unaware of someone manipulating her hand?”

“I suppose so.”

“Could Jeffrey Tomassi have injected himself with an overdose, wiped the instrument clean, and placed the syringe in his wife's hand?”

“I have no idea—”

“Can you think of any reason to conclude that this scenario absolutely
could not
have happened?”

“Anything's possible, but what you're describing is highly unlikely.”

“Many things are unlikely, sir, but still they occur. Such a scenario is possible, isn't it?”

The M.E. sighs. “Yes.”

“Thank you. Now, can you tell the jury what prompted you to look for signs of an insulin overdose? It's my understanding that this is not a common cause of death.”

Dr. Drew transfers his gaze to the crowd of Tomassis in the gallery. “The toxicology reports revealed the cause of death.”

“Is this the report?” Briley pulls a signed and dated copy of the report from her folder and offers it to the medical examiner.

He scans the stapled pages. “Yes, that's the toxicology report. As you can see, the insulin levels are extraordinarily high.”

Briley retrieves the document and pretends to study the first page. “How long does a toxicology report usually take to prepare?”

The medical examiner shrugs. “Four to six weeks.”

“But this report is dated December 10, only five workdays after Jeffrey Tomassi's death.” She furrows her brow. “How did you happen to receive it so quickly?”

The medical examiner glances at his hands. “I'm not sure.”

“Have you a guess? What set this case apart from all the others that routinely move through your office?”

The man draws a deep breath. “I don't know exactly what happened, but I believe Antonio Tomassi may have called in a few favors.”

“He pulled strings in your department?”

The doctor shakes his head. “I'm not a politician, Ms. Lester. But Jeffrey Tomassi was.”

Briley glances at the jury, hoping that they are beginning to see the big picture. If the jury can begin to view the Tomassis as wealthy, pushy politicians, she'll have a better chance of winning sympathy for Erin. “During your investigation—” she turns back to the doctor “—did you have occasion to speak to Antonio Tomassi?”

“I spoke to him after my investigation. My assistant spoke to him at the point of intake.”

“Would you mind sharing the gist of that first conversation?”

“Objection.” Bystrowski stands. “The witness should be asked only about what he knows, not what someone told him. Furthermore, the content of that conversation is covered by doctor-patient privilege.”

“Dr. Drew is not Antonio Tomassi's physician,” Briley counters.

Judge Trask lifts a warning finger. “The hearsay objection is sustained. The objection regarding privilege is overruled.”

Briley takes a step closer to the witness box. “Dr. Drew, do you know of a conversation between your assistant and Antonio Tomassi?”

“Yes.”