Murder One (3 page)

Matthews peered up. “Not in so many words, but I—”

“Seen and heard, Sergeant. That’s all we want to hear about. What you’ve seen and heard.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Judge Hart raised her gavel and pointed. “I mean it. One more slip and I will excuse you from the courtroom.”

“All right. I’ll be careful. Uh, sorry, ma’am.”

Ben was less than overwhelmed by Matthews’s display of repentance. But before he could blink twice, the prosecution had marched ahead.

“Did Ms. Dalcanton have any explanation for the presence of the victim’s badge and wallet?”

“Not really. She said that after they first met, he started coming over to her apartment a lot. To hear her tell it, she became like some kind of sex addict. She just couldn’t get enough of him, and of course, he didn’t mind too much. Toward the end, he was coming over two, sometimes three times a day.”

“And would they have sexual intercourse during these visits?”

“Oh yeah. That was pretty much all they’d do. Lots and lots of sex.”

“Did she provide any explanation for the chains and the blood-soaked garments?”

“Sort of. Said they used that stuff in their … um, sexual activities.”

“Excuse me?”

“They liked kinky sex. Kinky and rough.”

The buzz in the gallery was discernible—part dismay, part tittering.

Dexter frowned. “Very rough indeed. Judging from the quantity of blood on the leather suit. Did she provide any details regarding their … activities?”

“Your honor!” Ben said, jumping to his feet. “Relevance?”

Judge Hart nodded. “I think we’ve all got the general idea, Mr. Dexter. Let’s move on.”

“As you wish.” He glanced down at his notes. “I suppose she claimed he left the badge and wallet during one of their trysts?”

“She did. But there’s a problem with that.”

“Oh?” Dexter said, cocking an eyebrow. Ben loved the way he could appear surprised during testimony that had no doubt been rehearsed repeatedly. “What’s the problem?”

“She claimed he wasn’t at her apartment that night—the night of the murder. But several officers—including me—saw Joe at work earlier that day. And he had his badge. He couldn’t have lost it until that night after he left work. And just before he was killed.”

Dexter nodded thoughtfully. “Had there been any … alteration in the relationship? Prior to Sergeant McNaughton’s death?”

“Yeah. Joe McNaughton broke up with her just before he was killed.”

Ben knew this would be the time when the prosecution would try to establish motive. The next few minutes were not likely to be pleasant ones for the defense. Especially since the prosecution’s ultimate source was Keri’s own admissions.

“What happened?”

“According to the defendant, Joe’s wife got wind of what was going on and she read him the riot act. Told him in no uncertain terms she would divorce him and clean him out if he didn’t break it off.”

“Despite the fact that Joe McNaughton worked as a police officer, it was well known that he was quite wealthy, wasn’t he?”

“Very wealthy. Trust fund from his grandparents.”

“So McNaughton tried to break off his relationship with Keri Dalcanton.”

“That’s what she told us. He didn’t want to. He was stuck on her but good. But under the circumstances, he felt he had no choice.”

“How did Ms. Dalcanton take this news?”

Matthews thought before answering. Ben had a pretty good idea why. If he said what he wanted to say, the judge would shut him down—and possibly strike his entire testimony. He had to be more subtle.

Matthews leaned back in his chair, a grim expression set on his face. “I think the subsequent events speak for themselves.”

Dexter nodded. “Indeed. So do I.” He glanced up at the judge. “No more questions.”

Ben jumped to his feet, not waiting for an invitation from the judge. He wanted to appear eager and ready to go, as if he had many important points to make that would leave the prosecution’s case in tatters.

The truth was rather less promising. He’d listened to the audiotape of Keri talking to Matthews. He had twisted and stretched it a bit, but on all the critical points, he had accurately characterized what she said.

“Sergeant Matthews,” Ben began, “you told the jury about the clothes and the chains and the wallet. Where did you find the murder weapon?”

Matthews was nonplussed. “We didn’t find the murder weapon.”

It was Ben’s turn to feign surprise. “Excuse me? You didn’t find the murder weapon?”

“You know perfectly well we didn’t.”

“Why?”

Matthews shrugged. “Knives are small and light and fungible. They can’t be tracked or traced or registered. They’re easy to hide. Or to dispose of.”

“So she got rid of the knife but kept the bloodstained suit?”

“I dunno. Maybe she hid it somewhere.”

“Sergeant Matthews, you’ve been on the force eighteen years. Wouldn’t you say the murder weapon is a critical piece of evidence in any murder prosecution?”

“I’d say it would be nice to have. But it isn’t required. We’ve got an airtight case against your client. The evidence is overwhelming.”

Not really proper testimony, but Ben supposed he had asked for it. “Another thing I didn’t hear you mention was Keri Dalcanton’s confession, although you used the word ‘confession’ repeatedly. When did she admit she killed McNaughton?”

Matthews did his best to appear bored and unfazed by the defense tactics. “She never confessed to the killing. As you know.”

“Never confessed? But according to you, she had broken down completely and was finally telling the truth. You called it a confession. How could she possibly omit that one detail?”

“She’d broken down, but she hadn’t totally lost her mind. She wasn’t suicidal, if you know what I mean. Don’t be fooled by the stripper thing—she’s a very smart lady.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Detective, that the reason she didn’t confess might be that she didn’t do it?”

“To be honest, yes. But how do you explain the clothes, the blood, the chains? No, she’s the one. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else.”

Ben heard an anguished sobbing behind him in the gallery. Even though he knew he shouldn’t look, he couldn’t resist.

It was Andrea McNaughton, the widow. Apparently this testimony had been too much for her. She was bent forward, her head pressed against her hands.

Ben returned his attention to the witness. “But she never admitted committing the murder, did she?”

“No.”

“ In fact, she denied it.”

“That’s what she said, yes.”

“But you arrested her anyway.”

Matthews allowed himself a smile. “If we never arrested people who denied committing the crime, we’d never arrest anyone.”

Good point, Ben thought. Just wish he hadn’t made it during my cross-ex. “How did you establish probable cause for the warrant?”

“Same way I always do. I told Judge Bolen everything we knew. About the relationship between Joe and the defendant. The fact that they’d been seen together and were believed to be intimate. That there was believed to have been a breakup that could give rise to a motive for murder. That we thought her car had been used to transport the body.”

“What was the scope of the warrant?”

Matthews sighed wearily. “The first warrant only gave us the right to search the defendant’s car. I realized that wasn’t good enough, so I went back and got a second warrant that allowed us to enter and search her apartment. I presented both warrants to the defendant at the appropriate time. We did everything strictly by the book. I’m telling you, counsel—you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Wouldn’t be the first time, either. “Was Judge Bolen satisfied that you had established probable cause?”

“Evidently. He issued the warrants.”

“Then why didn’t he give you the right to search her apartment the first time?”

“It was just an oversight. What does it matter? Like I said, he issued the second warrant in due time.”

For some reason, Ben wasn’t ready to let this go. “It still seems odd—two warrants for one search.”

“There’s nothing odd about it.” Matthews was beginning to get testy. He grabbed the evidence notebook from the rail before him. “The first time, Judge Bolen gave us a warrant to search her car. See?” He held the warrant up and waved it before Ben’s face. “I didn’t even realize when I got it that it was limited to the car, but as soon as I noticed, I went back and got another warrant. See?” He held up the second one. “We had both warrants at Ms. Dalcanton’s apartment before we discovered any of the evidence. Got it?”

Yeah, he got it. Ben took both warrants and held them in his hands. He had seen them many times before. He had read and reread every line, looking for any possible omission or transgression, any failing he could use to suppress the warrants and thus invalidate the search and exclude all evidence collected pursuant thereto. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. They complied with proper form in every respect. They had a clear description, the name of the defendant, a basis for investigation, the judge’s signature …

Wait a minute. Ben peered at the signature at the bottom of each form. Although he had stared at these warrants a million times during the past few months, he didn’t know that he had ever held both of them side by side before. And only by holding them side by side could he notice that not only were both warrants signed …

The signatures were identical.

Ben placed one warrant over the other and held them up to the light. Those signatures weren’t just similar. They were
identical.

Judge Hart peered at Ben strangely. “Is there a problem, counsel?”

“No, ma’am. Or—actually, yes. Yes, there is.” He laid the two warrants on the bench before the judge. “These warrants haven’t been signed.”

Matthews leaned out of the witness chair. “What are you talking about? The signatures are right there in the corner.”

“A signature is there, yes. But it wasn’t signed. It’s been stamped. Either stamped or photocopied.” Ben showed the judge that the signatures were identical, then he shifted his gaze to the witness. “What do you do, Matthews? Carry a big stack of these around in the patrol car with you?”

Matthews rose to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ben pushed the warrants closer to the judge. “I’ll bet Matthews got presigned—or prestamped—forms and filled them out himself.”

Assistant D.A. Dexter rushed to the bench. “Your honor! I must object—”

Ben cut him off. “Judge, I request permission to voir dire the witness about these warrants.”

Judge Hart nodded. “Under the circumstances, I’ll have to grant that.”

Ben walked right up into Matthews’s face. “What really happened when you saw Judge Bolen? Or did you even bother to go?”

Matthews’s face flushed with anger. “I’ve told you already, I went to the judge’s chambers.”

“And what did you do?”

“I established probable cause! Like I’m supposed to!”

Ben’s voice bit top volume. “Then why didn’t the judge sign the warrants?”

Matthews took several quick short breaths, puffing his ruddy cheeks. “If you must know, I went to see the judge, according to procedure. But the judge was busy with his misdemeanor docket and couldn’t see me right away. He’s the only judge in the courthouse that time of night. I thought if we waited your client would have time to dispose of the evidence. So I asked the judge’s clerk for an emergency warrant. Two of them, eventually. And he gave them to me.”

“By emergency warrant, you mean a presigned warrant.”

“I didn’t have time to wait for anything else!” Sweat was trickling down the sides of Matthews’s face. “But the point is, I saw the judge. I got a warrant. I did everything I’m supposed to do.”

“Wrong,” Ben shot back. “You’re required by the Constitution of the United States to appear before a judge or magistrate and to establish probable cause for a warrant. It’s the process that’s important, not the product. If every judge handed out warrants without hearing the facts, the constitutional prohibitions against unlawful search and seizure would become meaningless.” Ben whirled around to face the judge. “Your honor, I move that these warrants be suppressed. And I move that all the evidence collected pursuant to these warrants, including my client’s verbal testimony, be excluded!”

Dexter leaned forward, horrified. “But your honor! That would wipe out our entire case!”

“Fine,” Ben said. “Then I additionally move that the charges against my client be dismissed.”

The response from the gallery was audible. It was like a tremendous sucking of air, a suspended moment of collective disbelief. Ben could hear Andrea McNaughton’s sob-wracked voice carrying through the courtroom. “No,” she was saying, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Please, God, no.”

Ben tried to focus everyone’s attention on the issue at hand. “Your honor, you know the Fourth Amendment did not contemplate that warrants would be distributed in this cavalier manner.”

Judge Hart didn’t bother disagreeing. “I won’t for one moment condone what the police department—and one of my colleagues on the bench—have done here. But I’m not willing to eviscerate the prosecution’s case on a capital crime—”

“There’s case law!” Ben turned in time to see Christina running forward, carrying a laptop computer she kept in the courtroom with a Pacific Reporter CD-ROM. “I remembered reading it in class. It’s directly on point.”

“I can’t believe it,” Dexter said. “I’ve never heard of any such case.”

“Well, there it is,” Christina said. “Read it and weep.”

Dexter’s face became tight and tense. “Who is she, anyway?”

“My legal assistant,” Ben answered.

“A legal assistant?” He turned toward the bench. “Your honor! She can’t be heard by the court! She isn’t even a lawyer!”

“And she knows the case law better than you do. Rather embarrassing, isn’t it?” Judge Hart peered at the flickering blue screen.
“State versus Gabardino,
1985. Yes.” Her eyes quickly scanned the report. “I remember it, too. And it is directly on point. Bottom line, if the police don’t properly establish probable cause, then any warrant issued isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on. Damn.” She readjusted her glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Prosecutor. I hate this. But I have no choice. If there was any way I could cure the violation without invalidating the evidence, I would. But it just isn’t possible. The warrants are hereby suppressed. Any evidence obtained pursuant to them is inadmissible.”