PART 35 (54 page)

“I don't understand you, Counselor.”

“Well, you say he started to step back. I assume he stopped stepping back at one point.” Sandro stepped backward several paces, physically accompanying the tempo of his questions.

“He told me he stepped back.”

“Did you ask him, ‘How many steps did you take, Luis?'”

“No, sir, I didn't.”

“Did you ask him, ‘How far away were you from the policeman when you shot, Luis?'”

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask him, ‘At what point was the gun held, Luis?'”

“No.”

“Well, did you ask him if he held it up high?”

“No.”

“Down low?”

“No.”

“You don't know where the gun was held even now?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask him that?”

“No, sir.”

“And you don't know that detail, do you?”

“No, sir.”

“Now, did you ask him, ‘Were you standing still when you shot?'”

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask him if he was moving when he was shooting?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you ask him if he shot all the bullets from the same position?”

“No, sir.”

“Did he tell you, ‘I shot all the bullets from the same position?'”

“No, sir.”

“He didn't tell you how he shot the gun?”

“You mean how—what position?”

“What position it was in.”

“No, sir.”

“And you didn't ask him?”

“No, sir, I didn't.”

“You did ask him, ‘Well, how many shots?' And he said to you, ‘Three or four'; is that correct?”

“He said, ‘More than three.'”

“More than three?”

“He thought it was more than three. He didn't know, but he thought it was more than three.”

“Did he tell you, ‘I shot them in one burst, rapid-fire?'”

“That is all he said.”

“Well, did you ask him, ‘Were they all at once, or did you take your time and then shoot again after you thought a second?'”

“No, sir, I didn't ask him that.”

“Didn't you ask him, ‘Well, didn't you really fire the gun five times, Luis?'”

“No.”

“Did you say, ‘Well, do you think you might have fired five times instead of three, Luis?'”

“No.”

“Did you ask him if he emptied the gun into the cop?”

“No, sir, I didn't.”

“Well, did he tell you that he emptied the gun into the cop?”

“He said—”

“I am asking you a question.”

“No, sir.”

There was not one sound or movement in the courtroom.

“After that, you say, the defendant Alvarado said that he ran down another building?”

“He ran over the roof and down another building.”

“Now, did he tell you if he ran over the front end of the wall at One fifty-three or if he ran over the rear end of the wall of One fifty-three?”

“He didn't.”

Sandro walked next to the diagram of the rooftops, pointing. “Did you ask him, ‘Luis, did you climb over this front wall that is
seven feet high?
' Did you ask him that?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you that he climbed over a
seven-foot wall?
”

“He told me he just ran over the roof. That is all.”

“Did you ask him if he leaped over the rear courtyard that is six feet in space between buildings One fifty-three and One fifty-five”—pointing to people's exhibit 1—“Did you ask him if he jumped over that?”

“If he jumped over the courtyard?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I wouldn't ask him that.”

“You weren't interested?”

“I wouldn't ask him.”

“Didn't you want details from the man you say said he was there, details to prove unequivocally that he was the man who was there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he or did he not leap over the open courtyard—five stories deep—when he ran?”

“I don't know, Counselor.”

“He wasn't volunteering anything, was he?”

“Yes, he was.”

“He didn't know anything to volunteer until he was worked over, did he?”

“Nobody worked anybody over, Counselor.”

“Did Alvarado refuse to answer any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Did he hold back, reluctant to answer?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you telling this jury that it never dawned on you to ask how he jumped on the cop, where he was when he shot, how he shot, how many times he shot, how he ran away—those details?”

Mullaly stared at Sandro. “Would you repeat that, Counselor?”

“Can we have the reporter read the question,” Sandro said disdainfully.

“Read it,” said the judge. The stenographer read the question to Mullaly.

“I thought of it, Counselor.”

“What are the answers?”

“Objection to form, Your Honor,” said Ellis.

“Sustained as to form.”

“Give me any one of those details, Detective Mullaly, one, any one you want first.”

“I didn't ask him those things, Counselor.”

“Your witness, Mr. Ellis,” Sandro said, turning toward the counsel table. Sam was bent over his notebook.

“That was the finest cross-examination I ever had the pleasure of hearing in my life,” Sam whispered. He squeezed Sandro's arm tightly.

Ellis got up and began asking Mullaly questions to buttress his testimony about the confession. Sandro just sat, exhausted.

“You kill that bastard,” Alvarado whispered, leaning to Sandro. “You're my man, for sure. You kill him good.”

When Ellis finished, the defense didn't have any further questions for Mullaly. The judge recessed until morning.

CHAPTER XXII

“We'll take them in the order of their importance,” Sandro said to Mike as they drove across the Williamsburg Bridge toward Brooklyn. Below, the East River glistened white, reflecting the thousands of still-lighted office windows of the financial district. “Moreno is the most important of our witnesses, so we'll see him first.”

“And then the guy from the restaurant, and then Annie Mae Cooper, and then Phil Gruberger, right?”

“Right. But not all of them today.”

Francisco Moreno was not in the barber shop. The barbers who were there told Mike to try the Savoia Pool Hall, around the corner. The address they had been given looked like the rear entrance to a factory. There was no sign outside, no elevator, nothing but a drab steel door.

“This can't be a pool hall,” said Sandro. “There's nothing here.”

“This is the address,” said Mike, lighting a match. “Come on. As long as we're here, let's go inside, walk up a couple of flights. Maybe it's upstairs.”

They began climbing. At first, the stairs were not only dark but also tomb-silent. They could hear their own breathing. As they ascended higher into the building, they could faintly hear talking. It grew louder. As they opened the door at the third-floor landing, the noise exploded into full-scale charivari—chatter, pool balls clicking, laughter. Four pool tables, side by side, lay directly across their path. The air was smoky, and the swirls undulated in the lights suspended over the green-felt-covered tables. Men surrounded the tables and lined the walls. They were all Puerto Rican, a full spectrum from white to black, a full range of sizes. A radio was blaring a Spanish pop song.

As Sandro and Mike entered, the noise suddenly diminished. Men holding pool cues paused, watching them. They walked deeper into the room. The noise was still abating, although some men kept talking as they watched.

“There he is,” Mike said, seeing Moreno bent over a table, drawing a bead on a fourteen ball near the far side pocket. He hit the cue ball, and the fourteen ball clicked perfectly and rolled in. Moreno stood straight, smiling, chalking his cue. He turned to see what had quieted the room. He smiled when he saw Sandro, and then he understood the sudden hush.

“
Esta buen'. No son camarones. Son amigos
,” Moreno announced to the room. He shook hands with Sandro, then Mike.

“He just told them we were friends, not cops,” Mike said.

Noise immediately sprang back into the room, and Sandro and Mike were ignored.

“Tell him we want to talk to him. Let's go someplace a little more quiet,” said Sandro.

Mike spoke to Moreno. He nodded and handed someone his pool cue. They descended the steps and walked two blocks to a tenement. At the top of the second flight of stairs, Moreno unlocked a door. The first room they entered was a kitchen. It was dark, with a little light spilling over from a hall beyond. Linoleum glistened in the reflection. Moreno led them to a room at the end of the hall. He unlocked the door.

Mike and Moreno spoke in Spanish.

“He rents a room here,” Mike explained. “He says there are three other people who live here—the woman whose apartment it is and two guys who pay her rent to stay in the other rooms.”

Moreno pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling. A bare bulb glared over them. He motioned to Sandro to sit in the lone chair. He and Mike sat on the bed.

“Ask him to repeat to you the story of what happened on the third of July,” Sandro suggested.

Mike spoke and Moreno answered.

“It's the same as he told us before. Alvarado came in about two twenty-five or two thirty and got a haircut. He was in the store for maybe twenty-five minutes, and left before three.”

“Okay. Now tell him that we're here because we have to help him to get ready to go to court.”

Mike translated.

“And tell him that I want to start asking him questions the way the district attorney will.”

“He says that that's good because he's a little nervous about being a witness.”

“Tell him that if he can get past me, he'll be able to get past any district attorney. I know the whole story, and all the traps to set for him.” Mike translated. Moreno nodded and smiled.

“First of all, has he ever been convicted of a crime?” Sandro asked.

Mike asked him. “He says he was playing dice in the street once, and he had to pay two bucks fine.”

“That's not a crime,” said Sandro. “Anything else?”

“He said he was arrested once for having a fight. He said he was drunk and had a fight with his sister's boy friend. When everybody sobered up, they dropped the charges.”

“What happened when he went to court?” Sandro asked.

Mike asked. “He said they threw the case out.”

“Is he sure?”

“Sure. He said he had to know that when he went for his barber's license.”

“Fine. Tell him that if Ellis asks him if he has ever been convicted of a crime, he should tell him about the dice playing. It's no crime, so there's no trouble. If he's asked if he's been convicted of any other crime, he should say no. Tell him that.”

Mike translated.

“And also tell him that if anyone asks him whether he ever assaulted anyone, he should say
no.
It wasn't a conviction, and he can't be asked if he was arrested,” Sandro added. Mike informed Moreno.

“Now, what time did Alvarado come into the store?” Sandro asked.

“He must have come in around two thirty,” Mike translated.

“There's no clock in the store. He doesn't wear a watch. How does he know what time it was?”

“His friend came in,” Mike translated.

“How does he know what time it was when his friend came in? He still didn't have a watch or clock.”

“His friend always comes in around four o'clock. And this day, his friend came in early, and they kidded about it. He remembered they were kidding.”

“How does he know what time it was when his friend came in?” Sandro insisted.

“His friend had a watch, and he looked at his friend's watch, and then they kidded about his friend working half a day.”

“What day was it, does he know the date?”

“He says he doesn't know the date. It was the day before the holiday.”

“Tell him it was July third. The holiday is July fourth.”

Mike continued to translate the questions and answers. Moreno was a serious student. He listened to every word.

“Now, what day was it that Alvarado came into his store?”

“It was July third. The day before the holiday.”

Sandro smiled and winked at Moreno. Moreno smiled, pleased.

“How does he remember that it was July third and not some other day in June or May?”

“Because the next day was the holiday. He didn't go to work.”

“And wasn't there something unusual that he saw in the paper the next morning?” Sandro suggested.

Mike asked Moreno. Moreno nodded. “He says he saw Alvarado's picture in the paper the next day.”

“Now, again, how does he remember that the day the man came into his store was July third?”

Mike asked the question. “Because the next day was a holiday. He didn't work. And he saw Alvarado's picture in the paper the next morning.”

Sandro nodded. “And what did he think when he saw the paper the next day?”

“He thought that he had given Alvarado a haircut the day before about two thirty in the afternoon.”

“How does he know what time it was that Alvarado came into his store?”

“He said that his friend came in about two fifteen. His friend usually comes in much later. So he looked at his friend's watch, and they kidded about his friend working only a half a day. Alvarado came in about fifteen minutes later.”

“Are you sure about that time?” Sandro shouted, standing suddenly.

Moreno studied Sandro, his body tensing.

“What time was it when Alvarado came in?” Sandro demanded.

“About two twenty-five, two thirty,” Mike translated.

“How do you know what time it was? Did you look at a clock?”