Presumed Innocent (39 page)

"Figures," says Lionel. He shakes his head in disgust.

"And you won't tell me whether Carolyn was dirty?"

He raises a finger. "I'm gonna leave," he says. He's quiet for a while. "Sometimes she'd smooth things out, like I say Molto and the judge, they didn't get along so well. Maybe you heard them stories."

"A number."

"You know, she was everybody's pal back then. The P.O. Sometimes she'd get the judge to lay off. Sometimes she'd get Molto to take two steps back. She was kinda the referee. Maybe you're right. Maybe Molto was really carryin a big fuckin torch for her. Maybe that's why he had sand in his ointment whenever he had to go before the judge. Who knows? Go figure people," he says.

I can tell that I've had everything now that I'm going to get. This last little bit was strictly for charity.

I pick up my briefcase and leave money for the drinks.

"You're a good sod, Kenneally."

"I'm a fuckin fool, is what I am. Halfa downtown's gonna be talkin about this tomorrow. Whatta I tell em we said?"

"I don't give a shit. Say what you want. Tell them the truth. Molto knows what I'm looking for by now. Maybe that's why I'm in this soup to begin with."

"You don't believe that."

"I don't know," I tell him. "Something's not right."

We spend the weekend at work, both days. My assignment is to prepare for the end of the state's case, when the defense, as a matter of routine, makes a motion for a directed verdict of acquittal — a request that the judge terminate the trial, declaring that there is not enough evidence for a reasonable jury to convict. This is usually futile. In ruling on the motion, the judge is required to evaluate the evidence in the light most favorable to the state, meaning, for example, that for the purposes of this decision Judge Lyttle will have to accept Eugenia's testimony, right down to her angels. However, a directed-verdict ruling is unreviewable; the state may not appeal. As a result some judges — Larren quite notoriously — use this as a device for imposing the result they favor. Thus, while our prospects are dim, Stern wants to make as strong a presentation as possible. My assignment is to find cases which in some fashion condemn the absence of proof of motive in a circumstantial case. I pass hours in the library.

Sunday morning we meet to talk strategy. Sandy still does not want to speak in detail about the defense case. He makes no mention of my testimony or that of other witnesses. Instead, we analyze the remainder of the state's proof. Lipranzer is supposed to testify Monday. The state's case will now begin to gather speed. Their physical evidence will be coming in: the fibers, the phone records, the fingerprints (assuming they can find the glass); the maid who thinks she saw me on the bus; and Kumagai.

Stern again emphasizes the point he made to me the other day at lunch: our need to raise doubt in some way about Kumagai. If we cannot, the prosecutors will reach the end of their case having built up tremendous momentum; that, in turn, may force Sandy to change his strategy for our presentation. This is one reason Stern is unwilling to arrive at any final opinions about what we should do. Together Kemp and Stern and I puzzle out ways to attack Kumagai. Stern has examined Painless a number of times and he shares the common opinion that Kumagai is an unpleasant hack. The jury will not be eager to believe him. There are old stories about Painless which I share; finally, I mention that his police department personnel file, where complaints about Kumagai's past performance might be jacketed, would be a good source for us to examine.

"Excellent," says Stern. "How wonderful to have a prosecutor on our side." He directs Jamie to draft at once a trial subpoena for the file, and another for records of the Pathology Lab, so we can see what else Painless was up to in April. We have not issued most of our subpoenas, inasmuch as many of the deputy sheriffs who serve them tend to alert the prosecutors, giving the P.A.'s an opportunity to combat the evidence gathered or, even worse, to utilize it themselves if it is helpful to the state. But now that the prosecution case is almost complete, we should proceed. Jamie forages through his old notes to be sure we do not miss any of the items we have said we wanted to acquire. He drafts subpoenas for each of Carolyn's doctors, identified from her little phone book, which I found in her apartment.

"And you wanted to subpoena the phone company," Kemp says to me, "so we can look at their backup data on the MUDs from your house."

"Don't bother with that," I say quickly. I do not look up, but I can feel the weight of Kemp's startled glance upon me. Stern, however, goes on, without dropping a beat.

"Perhaps if it is not productive to raise questions," says Sandy, "we should consider stipulations." A stipulation is a statement agreed to by the prosecution and defense which recites what a witness would say, so that he need not be called. As Stern thinks aloud about that possibility, he becomes more convinced it is the right way to proceed. We will agree to the testimony not only of the phone company representatives but also the Hair and Fiber experts and the forensic chemist. By doing that, we will shorten the time in which this damaging evidence is actually before the jury. Della Guardia may not accept the proposal, but he is likely to. For the prosecutor, there is always a blessing in not having to come forward with your proof.

With these decisions made, Kemp and I return to the library, a central conference room in Stern's suite where the statute books and law reporters are shelved floor to ceiling in dark oak cases on each of the four walls. I work at one table, Kemp at another. I become aware after a few minutes that Jamie is watching me, but I still do not look up.

"I don't get it," he finally says out loud, giving me no choice. "You said there was something wrong with those phone records."

"Jamie, cut me a break. I've thought about it since."

"You said we should look into whether or not they'd been doctored."

The intensity in his eyes is not really anger. There is something vulnerable. As he seldom does, Quentin Kemp, in his cowboy boots and tweed sportcoat, looks undefended and young. He thinks of himself as much too hip to be capable of being misled.

"Jamie, it's something I said. Okay? Under the circumstances. You understand."

But I can see that he does not understand at all. It bothers me, the look in his eye, his knowing that now he can't believe me. I fold my pad and put on my coat. Sandy is still in his office when I tell him I am leaving for the night. He is studying the reams of scientific evidence that Nico produced in response to our motions. Spectrographs. Print charts. The full report of Carolyn's autopsy. He is dressed in casual clothes, a handsome sweater and slacks, and he seems relaxed under the green glass shade of an auditor's lamp, smoking his precious cigar.

Lipranzer is on the stand on Monday morning. Nico takes care to keep him away from me. The prosecution team walks down the corridor with Lip, just as Ernestine is calling court to session. Lipranzer is wearing a suit, something he hates to do, but he still looks more like a convict than a policeman. It is an awful double-knit thing with a kind of carpetbag pattern. His duckass hairdo is particularly slick. I end up holding the door as Lip enters the courtroom, and in spite of the presence of Nico in front of him and Glendenning behind, Lipranzer gives me both a wave and a wink. I am fortified just to see him again.

Nico handles Lip well. It is his best examination of the trial so far. He is matter-of-fact and gets what he has to quickly. He knows that Lip is not friendly. He will tell the truth, but — so different from Horgan — is awaiting any opportunity to bite Nico's heels. Delay is careful not to give him the chance. If he is professional, he knows he can count on Lip to act the same way. They are both suppressed and brief.

"Did Mr. Sabich ever tell you that he had a personal relationship with Carolyn Polhemus?"

"Objection."

"On the same basis as with Mr. Horgan, Mr. Stern?" the judge asks.

"Indeed."

"The objection will be overruled. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you remember what I told you last week about questions based on assumptions. Because Mr. Della Guardia is sayin it, doesn't make it so. You may proceed."

I have wondered how Lip will answer the question. But he says simply, No. Nico did not ask whether I suggested that such a relationship might exist, or whether it was clearly understood by both of us, a question Della Guardia in fact cannot properly put. He asked if I told him, and Lipranzer has responded correctly. Hedged in by the formalities of the rules of evidence, our truth-finding system cuts off the corners on half of what is commonly known.

In a clipped, almost British way, Nico elicits the fact that I told Lip not to collect the MUD records from my home. And he also brings out from Lipranzer the occasions on which he had to remind me to request computer analysis of the fingerprints found on the glass and elsewhere in Carolyn's apartment. It all emerges between the two of them with a strange undercurrent. I am sure the jury knows something is not right here. And Nico is smart enough at the end to let them know what it is. When he has got what he needs from Lipranzer, he sets up the cross, by showing bias. He asks about the cases that Lip and I have worked together.

"Would it be fair to say that by now the two of you have formed a kind of prosecutorial or investigative team?"

"Yes, sir."

"And as a result of working as a team, have you formed a personal friendship?"

"Definitely."

"A close friendship?"

Lip's eyes skate toward me for a moment.

"I suppose so."

"You trust him?"

"I do."

"And he knows that?"

Stern objects: Lip can't answer about what I know, and the prosecutor is leading. The witness has already characterized the relationship. Larren sustains the objection on all grounds.

"Well, let me put the question like this: Were you assigned to the case initially?"

"No, sir."

"Who was assigned?"

"Harold Greer, a detective from the 18th District, where the crime occurred."

"Is he a competent investigator?"

"In my book?"

Nico is careful here, in order both to avoid objections and to keep Lip from zinging him.

"Has Mr. Sabich ever expressed to you any reservations about Harold Greer's abilities?"

"No, sir. Everybody I know thinks of Harold Greer as a top-grade cop."

"Thank you." Nico smiles, savoring the bonus. "And who, to your knowledge, decided to make this a Special Command matter and bring you in on this case, Detective Lipranzer?"

"Mr. Sabich requested my assignment, if that's what you're askin. He had Mr. Horgan's say-so."

"To your knowledge, Detective Lipranzer, does the defendant have a closer personal relationship with anyone on the police force?"

Lip shrugs. "Not that he's mentioned."

Nico struts a little.

"So it's fair to say, Detective, is it not, that you are the person on the city police force least likely to suspect Mr. Sabich of murder?"

The question is objectionable. Stern starts to move, then ceases, with his hands poised on the arms of his chair. This time I am keeping pace with him. He has seen Lip hesitate and knows that Nico, by improvising, has made his first error. He has given Lipranzer an opening and is going to take a blow.

"I would never believe that," Lip says simply. He leans on 'never.' Just right. That will sit well with the jury. He's not going out of his way to hose Nico. But he's taken the opportunity to make his feelings known.

Sandy rises to cross. We talked last night about not crossing Lip at all. Stern did not want to emphasize Nico's favorable points. But apparently the direct went even better for the state than Stern anticipated. Nico's direct has opened the door to a kind of catalogue of the successes Lip and I have scored together as a way of explaining why I would choose him for this case. Stern runs through them one by one.

"And as a matter of fact," says Stern, when he is at the end of that, "even in the midst of this murder investigation you and Mr. Sabich were inquiring about yet another matter, weren't you?"

Lip is puzzled.

"Wasn't there a file, which had been stored in Mr. Horgan's drawer—"

Sandy does not get any further before Nico is on his feet yelling. Larren picks up his gavel and points it at Stern.

"Mr. Stern. I have told you on too many occasions that I do not wanna be hearin any more about that file during the prosecutor's case. You went much too far while Mr. Horgan was testifying and I'm not gonna abide any reoccurrence."

"Your Honor, this evidence is critical to our defense. We intend to continue exploring the matter of this file when it is our turn to present evidence."

"Well, if this is critical to your defense, then we can talk about calling Detective Lipranzer back at that time. But I advise you, sir, to move on to another area of inquiry, because I have not heard near enough to let you go chasin that hare all over the courtroom at this time. Am I clear?" Judge Lyttle peers over the bench with an impressive concentration of his features.

Stern does his little cut-rate bow, inclining his head and shoulders. I find myself disconcerted by Sandy's lapse of judgment. He has taken a beating in the presence of the jury, a setback which was entirely predictable, and I still do not understand what he is trying to accomplish. He's already cast his shadow over Molto with that file. Why does he harp on it? The jury is bound to be disappointed, particularly when he keeps promising to produce evidence that we do not have in hand. We cannot offer the letter I found in the B file, because it is hearsay. I do not understand Stern's bluff, and he is cavalier whenever I steer him toward the subject. He treats it as if it is just another courtroom effect.

Stern, in the meantime, has come back to the defense table.

"Now, Detective Lipranzer, Mr. Della Guardia asked you some questions about the telephone records." Sandy holds up the documents. "As I understand your testimony, it was you who raised the matter of his home number with Mr. Sabich, is that right?"