Motion to Suppress (30 page)

"No further questions," Nina said.

Dr. Clauson, after the lunch recess, faced sleepy jurors fighting carbo overload. The court provided the jury lunches, which today must have been heavy on dessert.

A pack of cigarettes nested in Clauson’s shirt pocket. His thick glasses kept his eyes mysterious. Soft, bloodless, hairless hands held his brown briefcase close to his body as he sat down.

Hallowell took him through the autopsy report, which was introduced into evidence. The details of the contents of Anthony’s stomach, the wounds, and the changes associated with drowning took Nina back to the morgue. The jurors looked at their fingernails, lighting fixtures, or stared intently at Michelle, wishing to skip this part of the trial, please, Judge.

"You also have the laboratory results?"

The witness pulled out a sheaf of papers. Nina already had copies, and the lab reports had become part of the evidence in the case by stipulation.

"What were the significant findings?"

"Depends on what you mean by significant."

"Findings possibly related to the death of Mr. Patterson."

"Well, the blood alcohol showed up at .15."

"Indicating the level at the time of his death?"

"We make adjustments, so this figure gives our best estimate of the level at time of death," Dr. Clauson said.

Juror number eight, a lady in a gaudy knit dress, had surrendered to a postprandial doze. Nina hoped her neighbors would jog her awake before she had to say something. You couldn’t let sleeping jurors lie.

"Based on your experience, does this result indicate Mr. Patterson was unconscious at that time?"

"No. Not just the drinking. If that was all that was wrong with him, he would have been somewhat intoxicated, but not staggering drunk."

"What else do you note on the lab reports?"

"Traces of cocaine."

"Why don’t you go ahead and summarize the other findings."

"All right. He had the beginnings of arteriosclerosis. No evidence of other drugs, or poisons. And he had a small carcinoma on the right lobe of the lung. Probably symptom-less, but malignant."

"Curable?"

"That’s not my area," Clauson said. "All I can say is, small and nasty."

"Okay. Let’s return to the autopsy, because I know the jury wants to be very clear on the cause of death of Mr. Patterson. What was the immediate cause of death?"

"The man drowned," Dr. Clauson said.

"And in what manner, if at all, did the two blows to the head contribute to his death?"

"Right. Based on the edematous changes and other evidence, the first blow, the one in the back of the skull, occurred at least an hour prior to the second blow. That one, first blow, she knocked him out, probably just for a few—"

"Objection!" Nina said, rising and leaning over the table to emphasize that the witness was way out of line. Clauson knew better than that. She would have to be very careful examining him.

"Sustained. The jury will disregard the last sentence of the witness."

Oh, that helps, Nina thought. Here the medical examiner had carefully let slip that he thought Michelle was guilty. Talk about small and nasty.

"So the first blow would have knocked him out?"

"Certainly for a few seconds, maybe longer."

"Could it have killed him?"

"Didn’t do enough damage. No fracture, just superficial bleeding."

"And the second blow? In the frontotemporal region?"

"Harder, stronger, caused a linear two-inch fracture from point of impact toward the base of the skull."

"Would it have knocked him unconscious?"

"Almost definitely."

"Can you give us an estimate as to how long before he drowned that Mr. Patterson was struck the second time?"

"He hit the water within seconds after..." Clauson paused, looked meaningfully at the jury, and shut his mouth.

"Was he alive at that time?"

"Yes. He breathed in water. Alive, but probably unconscious."

"And your comparison of the wounds with People’s 14"—the polar bear—"leads to what conclusion, if any?"

"The statue caused his head wounds. He was struck with the same statue twice, an hour or so apart."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Clauson," Nina said.

The physician nodded. Careful now.

"You testified that the first blow didn’t do much damage."

"Well, it probably knocked him out for a second or two. That’s damage. But concussions, the brain knocking around in the skull, come easy in higher primates. Now, billy goats, rams, woodpeckers, can tolerate impact velocity and deceleration a hundred times greater than humans."

"Based on your experience, could the first blow alone have killed Mr. Patterson?"

Clauson thought. He didn’t want to give Nina anything, but he wasn’t going to lie.

"Probably not."

Nina wanted better. But Clauson was leaning forward, a hungry vulture eager for something to scavenge.

"Question, Counsel?" Milne said.

"Nothing further of this witness, Your Honor." Clauson, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette, stepped down with his briefcase and left the court, an unlit butt pressed between his lips, talking softly to himself all the way out.

Another break. The jurors filed out. The lawyers stood to show respect as they walked by. Nina tried to find a smile that did not presume, but suggested, a warm, delightful person anyone would find an irresistible dinner companion.

The final session of the day began. Collier called Lt. Julian Oskel, who strode up in uniform, hat off and holster empty. Under the regulation haircut Nina saw intelligent eyes, a strong nose, full lips. He flashed a killer smile at the jury. The women jurors sat up in their chairs, except for the sleepy lady in back, whose eyes were open but who had turned off for the day. Jack always said out of the twelve, you were lucky to get eleven live bodies.

"Lt. Oskel, you are employed by the South Lake Tahoe Police Department?"

"Yes. I’ve been there ten years," Oskel said in a deep, manly baritone.

"In what capacity?"

"I started as a patrol officer, then was assigned to major crimes investigations, and I’ve been there ever since."

"You handle homicide investigations?"

"Some of them, yes."

"On April thirtieth, did you perform any investigative work regarding discovery of a body in Lake Tahoe?"

"Yes." Oskel pulled out his own report. "White male, apparent drowning, head injuries, reported by the Coast Guard."

"And did you proceed to investigate the incident?"

"Yes."

"Describe the scope of your investigation, please."

"I wasn’t the only one working on the call that night. Do you want to hear what the department was doing, or just me? I wouldn’t want to steer you wrong."

"What was the department doing, to your knowledge?"

"When the call came in, Sgt. Higuera and two officers were dispatched to the Ski Run Dock. They performed an initial investigation—"

"Please describe the investigation."

"The team at the dock took photographs. They made a preliminary examination of the body and called Dr. Clauson up to take charge of it. They took the decedent’s fingerprints and also dusted the statue and boat for prints.

"We have a new, computerized system for comparing prints. I made the comparison with prints on file and was able to determine that they corresponded with those of the decedent. I obtained his address and at 2200 hours went to the residence on Tahoe Vista to inform the wife and continue the investigation. Prior to that time, I obtained a search warrant to search the residence."

After more formalities, the warrant and accompanying affidavit came into evidence.

Nina’s shoulder ached with weariness. At four forty-five, court adjourned, Judge Milne’s robes rustling the whisper of good night.

"Oskel will be back on Monday," Nina told Michelle as they walked to the parking lot. "We’re doing fine. Go home and try not to worry. Get some rest."

"I’m not going home," Michelle said. "I guess you noticed, my parents haven’t been here."

"Yes. But I didn’t have a chance to ask about it."

"I can’t stand to be there anymore, Nina. They’re lying to me. I’m too tense. I’m too pissed off."

"Your parents probably weren’t too happy, either, when your mother was served with my subpoena," Nina said. "Do you still want to go through with it?"

"God, yes. Put her on the stand. Make her squirm if you have to. She’s a lot stronger than she gets credit for. Just make her talk."

"That’s exactly what we’ll do." Her shoulder was killing her. She needed to get home and lie down. "Meantime, Michelle, where are you staying?"

"The shelter. I’m safe and comfortable there."

Nina nodded. "Call me at home if you need to talk."

"Sorry I was such a baby today. You don’t need to hold my hand, and anyway, I can see your hands are already full."

"Forget it," said Nina. Michelle hugged her briefly, then opened the car door and jumped in. She drove slowly out of the lot.

Paul had come out with them. "Tiring work," he said.

"But you’re your own boss," Nina said. They walked toward the Bronco. "Going back to Monterey?"

"I’ve got a new place down there. Need to get myself organized. Catch up on other work." He looked unhappy.

"But you can’t possibly get back before ten. You should stay."

"Not unless I have some pressing business in Tahoe tonight," he said meaningfully.

Nina frowned at the asphalt. "But you’ll be back."

"Next week."

"We’re a good team, aren’t we?" asked Nina, stopping by her car. "It’s good... working with you."

Paul put his hand on her arm and swung her into a kiss deep enough to snake through to her toes. "I don’t have to leave," he whispered into her hair.

"Oh, yes you do," she said when she recovered her breath. "Because I do have pressing business. Just don’t forget. .." She turned to her car and jumped in, slamming the door behind her.

"What?"

Holding tightly to her steering wheel, she spoke through the glass.

He pounded on the window and she rolled it down. "Don’t forget what?"

"I need you, Paul."

"At last," he said, "we agree, Nina."

Driving home, Nina looked at herself in the rearview mirror. No lipstick, hair needing surgery—so what? What she felt inside, beyond the warm flood of feelings for Paul and underneath that, the clicking technology of her intelligence, was a surge of confidence that made her thankful.

And she saw something else. Now that she wasn’t smiling, now that she was alone, thinking about the trial, still hearing Jack’s voice but over him, no longer subject to his interpretations, out of his orbit, she saw the eyes narrow and bright, the clamped jaw and cheekbones in high relief. She saw passionate conviction and courage in the face.

"Billy goats, rams, and woodpeckers," she said, and that lean, mean reflection laughed.

28

MONDAY MORNING, PREDAWN. New day, new suit. Nina’s contacts refused to go in for a long time. The cream curdled as soon as she poured it in her coffee, standing in the kitchen looking out at the stars.

Just before she left, she tiptoed into the kids’ room and over to Bobby’s bed. He clutched his stuffed purple dragon even in sleep. He liked to use his sleeping bag as a cover, and two pillows. Dipping her head toward his sweet-smelling hair, moist from the heat, she examined the curve of his cheek for traces of her baby. She kissed his cheek softly. He stirred, then sleepily put his arms around her. "Love you," she murmured, but he was already asleep again.

She drove to the office at dawn, the dark sky gradually paling to gray, taking her place on the highway with the delivery trucks, late-night revelers and casino workers. A blinking sign and yeasty warm aroma announced a doughnut shop. She stopped and had a cop’s breakfast.

By six A.M. she was at her desk, slogging through correspondence and rummaging through files, trying to catch up on her other cases. Some things could not be put off. She had no interest in any of it at the moment, which made the dictating that much harder. At six-thirty Sandy came in, looking surprised, and introduced a black woman with a crocheted cap over long red hair.

"This is my friend Albertine. She’s tutoring me with the word processing."

"I thought you knew all that already."

"I had to say that. Would you have hired me if you knew I didn’t?" They settled into the reception area. The three of them worked concentratedly until eight-thirty. Nina stood up to leave. "Hold the fort," she said to Sandy.

"Keep those pesky Indians out," Sandy answered smartly.

"You know what I mean." She was shoveling papers into her briefcase, her jacket half on, and walking out the door at the same time.

"Nina."

Nina stopped in surprise. Sandy had never addressed her by her first name before.

"Go get ’em."

The participants took their places in the Superior Courtroom. Nina, Paul, and Michelle had no time to talk. Michelle seemed to have expanded an inch or two over the weekend. She looked endearingly clumsy.

Tahoe had entered Indian summer. The temperature would hit the nineties. Paul had reverted to shirtsleeves, worn with a new-looking Hermès tie. Nina reviewed her notes. She had no intention of discrediting Oskel. He was too popular with the jury, and she thought she could turn their approval into an advantage. Use him, don’t abuse him, she told herself.

She checked the things she needed from Oskel one more time. She needed acknowledgment that the police had focused only on Michelle, not investigating other possibilities. She wanted him to tell the jury about Anthony’s old arrests. She had to deal with the cocaine problem. And she had to make Michelle’s statements at the time of arrest, and her disposal of the broken coffee table, look innocent.

The long day began. Hallowell spoke from his table, and Julian Oskel answered.

"You are still under oath, Lieutenant," Hallowell said.

"I understand."

"Directing your attention now to your search of the Patterson residence on Monday night at ten P.M..."

Oskel nodded. He looked eager to help.

"What, if anything, did you seize at the residence pursuant to the warrant?"

Oskel pulled out a list of items, a copy of which Nina was already studying. The list went into evidence, and Oskel summarized it.

"We noted no sign of a struggle. We saw stains on both couch pillows, which someone had evidently unsuccessfully tried to clean—"

"Objection. Speculation, as to the last sentence of the testimony," Nina said. Oskel made it sound like a cover-up.

"Sustained."

"Based upon your careful inspection of the stains you noted, did you observe anything unusual about them?"

"Objection, vague and ambiguous," Nina said.

"Overruled."

Oskel said, "Yes, they appeared to have been tampered with. Parts of the stains were much fainter than others and could be seen only with difficulty." Okay, Hallowell had made his point.

"And are these the couch pillows you seized?" Hallowell pulled out a big Raley’s shopping bag and presented Oskel with Michelle’s couch pillows after showing them to Nina. The pillows went into evidence. Nina chose not to waste time with technical objections.

"And it was later determined that these were indeed bloodstains?"

"Yes. Type A negative, kind of unusual."

"Did your laboratory compare these bloodstains to the blood of anyone else?"

"Yes, tissue taken from the body of the victim. Anthony Patterson."

"And did you determine—"

"It was a match," Oskel said.

Hallowell moved on to his next point. "What else did you seize?"

Oskel looked down the list. "Pay stubs from Prize’s, showing Michelle Patterson was employed there."

"Anything else?"

"Cocaine," Julian Oskel said, giving the jury a rueful shake of the head. Michelle received some disapproving stares. Hallowell did not dilute the impact of the word by going into any more detail. He moved on.

"Anything else?"

"We went through the garbage pail set out on the street for pickup. We found pieces of a coffee table, a lot of broken glass that looked like part of it. We saw what appeared to be blood on several of the glass shards."

"And what did you find, if anything, regarding this blood?" Hallowell had examined so many witnesses for so many years he didn’t make mistakes in the form of his questions. On his direct examination, he was not allowed to lead the witness. Adding the tag, "if anything" allowed him to lead the witness while complying with the technicalities.

"A match. With the victim."

"The blood on the glass you found hidden in the garbage bag—"

"Objection!" Nina said. "Mischaracterizes the testimony." She couldn’t let the word hidden insinuate itself into the jury’s collective mind without a fight. Hallowell was subtly reinforcing the idea that Michelle had gone around hiding evidence.

Hallowell didn’t wait to be called to the bench and chastised. "Withdrawn, Your Honor." Once again, his point was made. He turned the page of his tablet and started on Michelle’s statements the night of her arrest.

"Did you on Tuesday night, May first, contact the defendant, Michelle Patterson?"

"Yes. I received word from the Douglas County sheriffs office that Mrs. Patterson was located at the Lucky Chip Motel, on the California side, which brought her back into our jurisdiction. Sgt. Higuera and I waited in the parking lot and she arrived there not long after midnight. I guess that made it May second."

"What occurred then?"

"I asked her, ’When’s the last time you saw your husband?’ She said, ’Thursday night’ and that they had a bad fight on that occasion. Then I informed her that the victim was dead. She asked me, ’Where’d you find him?’ I told her and then she took off across the parking lot."

"What happened then?"

"Sgt. Higuera called for backup and we went looking for her. We found her about two tenths of a mile away, sitting on the ground on a wooded slope south of Pioneer Trail, just before it runs into Lake Tahoe Boulevard. At that point we considered her a suspect. Sgt. Higuera read her her rights."

"Did she say anything after that time?"

"Yes. She was pretty hysterical, and I didn’t catch everything. But she did say clearly... uh ... ’I didn’t mean to kill him. I didn’t think I hit him that hard. I can’t believe he’s dead.’ Then, in the car on the way to the station, she said, ’We had a million other fights like that.’ Then she mumbled something else, but I couldn’t catch it."

"Anything else?"

"Not that I recall."

"Did she request a lawyer?"

"Not at that time."

"Did you have any further contact with the defendant?"

"On the way to the station, she said she went to a lawyer on Monday and the lawyer told her to move to the Lucky Chip."

"Did she give the name of the lawyer?"

"Nina Reilly." The jurors’ eyes focused on Nina. That hurt. They would assume she had been up to something underhanded. Even the name Lucky Chip sounded shabby.

"What else did she say, if anything?"

"She said words to the effect that during that violent argument she hit the victim on the head with an Eskimo statue. She also said after she hit him, she got him onto the couch and then she couldn’t remember what happened next."

"She said she couldn’t remember?" Hallowell said, looking surprised, and repeating the statement so the jury couldn’t miss it.

"That’s it. She said she didn’t know what happened next. One minute the victim was lying on the couch and the next minute she was waking up the following morning in her bed."

"Did she offer any explanation for her inability to remember what she did after striking her husband?"

"She just said she couldn’t remember, so she must have just gone to bed."

"She said she left her bleeding husband in the middle of a violent argument to go in and go to bed, and she doesn’t even remember doing that?"

"Objection," Nina said. "Asked and answered."

"I’m just trying to get these statements as clear as possible for the jury," Hallowell said.

"Approach the bench," Milne responded. At the sidebar he said in a low voice, "Collier, you’ve rammed it home. Now move on."

"Okay," Hallowell said. He stood next to Nina, confident, in control, everything going his way. She was close enough to kill him, but Milne wouldn’t like that. The lawyers sat down again.

"Did she say anything else at the time she was booked?"

"Later on she asked to call her lawyer."

"Nothing further," Hallowell said.

They took the morning break. Michelle and Paul made small talk. Nina drank a carton of milk. She checked the things she needed from Oskel one more time.

"Okay, Lt. Oskel ..."

He beamed at her from the witness stand.

"Who else did you interview in connection with this case?"

"We interviewed Brenda Angelis, a cocktail waitress at Prize’s. We interviewed Art Wong, the owner of the Lucky Chip Motel where the defendant was staying. And Mrs. Patterson’s supervisor at Prize’s. We took the reports from the Coast Guard and the Douglas County sheriffs department. We checked with the garbage company to see when it was supposed to be picked up. Rick Eich ..."

"Anybody else?"

"Her doctor, Frederick Greenspan. Also, we traced the statue of the bear to the Prize’s gift shop. She bought it."

Nina shouldn’t have given him that opening. She would keep her questions narrow.

"Did you at any time investigate the possibility that someone besides Mrs. Patterson might have committed this crime?"

"No evidence popped up that implicated anyone else."

"Did you talk to any of Anthony Patterson’s fellow employees at Prize’s?"

"No. We didn’t have the need."

"Did you talk to his supervisor?"

"No."

"Now, among the evidence that did pop up was a small silver pin found outside the bedroom window at the Patterson residence. Did your department attempt to trace that?"

"It could have been there forever."

"Do you recall if you had to dig for it?"

"N-no. It was right there on top."

"On top of what?"

"There was still some snow."

"It was right on top of the snow?"

"Yeah."

"Indicating it had fallen there very recently?"

"Yeah."

"So, in fact, it couldn’t have been there forever. In fact, it could have fallen there on the night of Anthony Patterson’s death?"

"Could have."

"So why didn’t you check it out?"

The jury waited. Oskel sat there like a handsome mannikin.

"Well, Lieutenant?"

"It didn’t seem important," he mumbled.

"It was too much trouble, when you already had your mind made up—"

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

"Also in the physical evidence was a package of Virginia Slims cigarettes found in the pocket of Anthony Patterson’s robe, the robe he was wearing when he was discovered. Did you check to see what brand of cigarettes Anthony Patterson smoked, Lieutenant?"

"No." Oskel was not looking so helpful anymore.

"What if I told you he only smoked Camels? Would you then have made some effort to find out who gave him those cigarettes?"

"Objection," Hallowell interjected quickly. "Presumes a fact not in evidence."

"I can make an offer of proof, Your Honor," Nina said. An offer of proof had to be heard outside the presence of the jury. Nina could then explain, on the record, how she would be able to put that fact into evidence at a later time.

"Approach the bench," Milne ordered, and up they came again. "Do we have to go through this long, involved process? I hate to send the jury out. They’ll get lost in the bathrooms and it takes fifteen minutes just to round them up."

"Mr. Hallowell could stipulate that Mr. Patterson smoked Camels," Nina said.

"I don’t know that," Collier said.

"So who’s going to prove it for you? The defendant?" Milne asked.

"No. Peter La Russa. Mr. Hallowell’s witness back there in the second row."