Beach Road

“He never wore those hats, period! Those hats weren’t for wearing. They were for dreaming. He ordered them by mail, took them out of their box, and placed them on the shelf, but he never put them on. He was superstitious. He didn’t want to put one on until they called him up on that stage and he knew which team he was playing for.”

I hate to admit it, but Lindgren was right. That bitch Costello has gotten too close.

“How long after the murders did the Suffolk County Homicide unit come to your home?”

“The next afternoon.”

“What did they do?”

“Searched Dante’s room, photographed it, dusted for prints. Then they taped it off. I still can’t go into my grandson’s room. To this day.”

“Were they the first police to come to your house, Marie?”

“No. That morning an officer from the East Hampton Police Department came over by himself. He said he was looking for Dante and asked if he could take a look in his room.”

About now I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

“Did you let him in, Marie?”

“Yes, ma’am. I knew Dante wasn’t involved in these crimes, so I didn’t see the harm. In fact, I thought it would help the police see that he was i

“Did you go in Dante’s room with the officer?”

“No, I let him in there alone. That’s the way he wanted it.”

Now the crowd is rumbling so much that Rothstein holds up one black-robed arm. Not that it does much good.

“How long was the officer in there?”

“Not long,” says Marie. “Not more than a couple minutes.”

“But long enough to take Dante’s Miami Heat cap off the shelf?” says Costello.

Now three things happen at once-the crowd explodes; the DA shouts, “Objection!”; and Scott drills out, “Yes, ma’am!” with everything she’s got, which is plenty.

“Strike the last question and answer from the record,” Rothstein tells the stenographer, then turns to the smart-ass bitch. “Ms. Costello, consider yourself warned.”

“Marie, do you remember which police officer came to your house that morning?”

“Yes, I do. Of course I remember who it was.”

“What was his name?”

“Hugo Lindgren.”

“Hugo Lindgren,” says Costello as if she’s stu

“Yes,” says Scott. “It most certainly is. Hugo Lindgren.”

By now the crowd, at least on my side, is ready to burn the courtroom down, no matter what Rothstein says about civic responsibility.

But it’s Costello, not Rothstein, who gets them to shut up. Because this is where she blows everybody’s mind, including mine.

“Marie Scott will be our only witness, Your Honor,” says Costello, twisting her gaze between the judge and the jury. “Ms. Scott said it all. The defense rests its case.”

Costello’s a

Maybe she just stole the fight.

Chapter 99. Tom

THE NEXT MORNING, when the crowd trudges back into the courtroom, you can read the tension on every face. It fills the room. After a very hot week and air-conditioning that’s little more than a sound effect, this unventilated box reeks of dried sweat and body odor. As I walk to my seat alongside Kate, perspiration trickles down my back.

Deciding not to put Dante on the stand is a calculated risk, but putting a terrified teenager at the mercy of the prosecution seemed even riskier. Nevertheless, it places that much more pressure on my summation. I’m scribbling last-second notes when the bailiff crows, “All rise!”

Much too quickly, Judge Rothstein strides into the room, climbs onto his bench, and turns to me.

“Mr. Dunleavy,” he says, and I face the jury one last time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, when I stood before you at the start of this trial, my one request was that you accept nothing you hear until you’ve filtered it through your own judgment. I know you’ve done that because I sat and watched you do it, and because I can see the effect of that effort in your eyes. So, thank you.

“This morning we’re going to examine the prosecution’s case one final time and consider their so-called evidence piece by piece.”

Already, my face is dripping with sweat, and when I mop my brow and take a gulp of water, the only sound in the room is the drone of that useless AC.

“When I went to work for Dante, I thought this was a tragic case of an i

“Dante and Michael were deliberately lured to the scene so they could be framed for the murders. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

“How exactly did Dante and his best friend end up at Wilson ’s fifty-million-dollar estate that night? When Dante turned himself in, he told the police he got a call at about five p.m., and we know he’s telling the truth because the records show he got a call eighty-three seconds long, exactly at five oh one. It came from a pay phone outside a seafood shack called the Clam Bar in Napeague.

“The caller identified himself as Eric Feifer. He invited Dante to come to the Wilson estate so they could clear the air and put this overblown incident behind them. Dante, being a good person who felt exactly the same way about that stupid fight-which the prosecution has shamelessly blown up into a mini race riot-immediately agreed to meet Feifer later that night. Also, apparently Michael Walker was looking to buy marijuana that night. Dante admitted as much.

“But the person who made that call, ladies and gentlemen, wasn’t Eric Feifer. It was someone impersonating Eric Feifer.

“If Eric Feifer was the caller, he would have used his cell phone. He didn’t need to go out of his way to make a call that couldn’t be traced back to him, because he had nothing to hide. But the caller, who was setting up Dante and Michael for these murders, did have something to hide. So he used a pay phone.

“That call,” I say, pausing only long enough to swipe at my dripping face again, “was only the first of several steps the actual murderers took to frame Dante, but it was the most important. It got Dante and Michael to the scene, and as soon as the murderers heard them arrive, they killed those three young men.

“Now the murderers had Dante and Walker at the scene, but that wasn’t enough for them. They find out-possibly from a co

“As soon as they hear Dante stopped at the Princess Diner on his way back from the city that night, they drop the gun there. With another phony call, or so-called anonymous tip to Officer Hugo Lindgren, they reveal that the gun is in the Dumpster. How convenient.

“Ladies and gentlemen, do any of you use pay phones anymore? Do any of you not have cell phones? But in this case two crucial calls are made by pay phone. And both are made for the same reason-so the caller can’t be traced.

“Think hard about what the prosecution has been telling you. It doesn’t make sense. If Dante had killed those three young men, then used the same gun to kill his best friend, he had plenty of time to get rid of the murder weapon. If, as the prosecution maintains, he traveled alone from the Lower East Side to Brooklyn, killed Walker, and then returned to Lower Manhattan, he could have tossed the gun anywhere along the way. Instead, according to the prosecution anyway, he hangs on to it until the last minute. Then he recklessly discards it in a public place.