A Plague of Secrets

Hardy was pushing it pretty hard here. Normally a judge could figure that if the evidence was really as weak as the defense claimed, the jury would simply acquit as to that count, and the defense would have nothing to appeal. But Hardy was taking that out away from Braun. By tying the charges together Hardy was arguing that the judge would be tainting any verdict on Vogler, even if the jury acquitted on Preslee.

So Braun was actually going to have to make this decision or expect to hear about it on appeal later. Hardy had her in a corner and she knew it. She took in the situation with a reptilian silence, her eyes closing to mere slits. Turning to her recorder, she said, “A

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Mr. Stier. Comment?”

“Your Honor, the prosecution rejects Mr. Hardy’s efforts to tie these counts together like that. Each count stands on its own, each count is supported by the evidence, and that’s how the court should rule.”

“Nobody has put Maya inside the place, Your Honor,” Hardy said. “You can’t ask the jury to decide she was there if there’s nothing putting her there.”

“I can do what I want in my courtroom, Mr. Hardy. I could get up on my desk and do a tap dance if I want to.”

“Yes, of course, Your Honor, I didn’t mean you couldn’t-”

“That’s what you said, Mr. Hardy.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. I misspoke.”

“Apology noted.” And now Braun surprised him. “All right. Mr. Hardy, you raise a colorable point. Give me a moment, please.” She came forward and put her elbows onto her desk, her fingers templed over her nose, her eyes closed. Finally, her shoulders heaved and she brought her head back up. “This issue is too complex to decide on the spur of the moment. Court is in recess for another half hour. I’ll have a decision for you before the jury is seated again.”

36

Hardy had a message on his cell phone that Craig Chiurco was outside in the hall, having escorted Lori Bradford down on her subpoena as a courtesy-service with a smile from Freeman, Farrell, Hardy & Roake.

Now, with the court in recess, Hardy walked out through the gallery, accepting congratulations from Joel and Harlen and some of his associates who’d shown up as they usually did when one of the bosses was in a big trial, to see how it was done. All and sundry agreed that he had just kicked some serious ass with Schermer, and between that cross-examination, his lunch at Sam’s with Glitsky, and Braun’s unexpected consideration of his motion to dismiss, Hardy had to fight to keep himself from getting cocky.

It still and always was going to come down to the jury, and without another suspect for them to even consider, Maya remained in a precarious place. Hardy had to get Paco or someone like him into the testimony somehow, and now with Ruiz dead, that was going to be problematic. Maya’s purported knowledge of the man was hearsay anyway, and even if it weren’t, she certainly couldn’t put him at BBW or with either of the victims.

Outside, in the hallway, Chiurco sat on one of the wooden benches with a white-haired woman dressed in a light blue pantsuit. The two appeared to be in a somewhat animated discussion, enjoying each other’s company, as Hardy approached. Seeing him, Chiurco got up and gave him his signed statement from their conversation of the night before, then touched the woman’s arm and introduced her.

“Thank you for coming down on such short notice,” Hardy said.

“Thanks to this young man for bringing me.”

Hardy gri

“And did you say Dismas?” she asked. “Dismas? The good thief?”

“That’s him, though too few people seem to know it.”

“I don’t believe I’ve ever actually known a Dismas.”

“Well, you do now. I hope it’s good for you.”

“You’re cute,” she said.

“So are you.” Hardy sat down next to her. “Has Craig here explained what we’d like to talk to you about in the courtroom?”

“What I saw, or heard, that morning.”

“You remember the date, don’t you?”

“Of course. October twenty-seventh, two thousand seven, to be exact.”

“Exact is good. We like exact.”

Her eyes brightened with the adventure. “And two shots. One at six oh eight or nine and one at six ten.”

“Very good.” He leaned in toward her. “I was hoping to call you to be a witness pretty much right away, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course it’s all right with me. That’s why I’m here.”

“Good. Now, I’ve already heard what you said in your talk with Mr. Hunt, and that will be the basis of your testimony, but if you don’t mind, maybe we could just take a minute here before we go inside and run over some details?”

“Sure, of course,” she said. “That would be fine.”

In spite of the glimmer of hope he’d begun to entertain about his motion to dismiss, Hardy wasn’t particularly shocked, nor even greatly disappointed, when Braun came back to the bench and ruled against him, denying his motion in its entirety.

Still, he was buoyed by his belief that Lori Bradford was going to be an important and powerful witness, offering a completely alternative version of the bare facts of the case. He had given some thought to the phraseology and tenor of his opening questions, wanting not only to get to this witness’s information but to alert the jury to the homicide inspectors’ wily and discreditable ways.

Now, already having established a solid rapport with her, one that he hoped the jury would recognize as between equals-as opposed to a young man condescending to a senile witness-he began his questioning. “Mrs. Bradford, where do you live?”

“I live in a second-story apartment on Ashbury Street here in the city, on the west side of the street, right up from Haight. It’s also,” she added, coached by Hardy, “right across the street from the alley that runs behind Bay Beans.”

“Can you see that alley from your apartment?”

“The first twenty or thirty feet of it, out the living room and dining room windows, yes.”

“Now, Mrs. Bradford, do you remember anything unusual and specific about the morning of Saturday, October twenty-seventh?”

“Yes.”

“And what was that?”

“At a few minutes after six o’clock I was in bed in the back of the apartment, but already awake for the day, when I heard a loud report, like a firecracker, although for some reason I remember thinking that it might be a gunshot. So I got up and was in the hallway going to the front windows and then-bang!-there was another one. About a minute later.”

“And what did you do then?”

“I got to the window and looked down into the street and across to the alley.”

“And did you see anything unusual down there?”

“No. Nothing. It was still pretty dark out.”

“Did you call nine one one?”

“Not then. No. There didn’t seem to be any emergency. It was just the two noises. Although, of course, when the police cars started getting there, I realized something must have happened. By then it was too late to call nine one one.”

“But you did eventually call the police, did you not?”

“Yes. A couple of days later.”

“And why was that? The delay, I mean?”

“Well, mostly because the news reports were all saying that there had only been one shot, and I thought they’d want to know that I’d heard two of them.”

“You heard two shots?”

“Yes.” Lori, God bless her, added the word Hardy had recommended. “Definitely.”

Raising his eyebrows for the jury’s benefit, he went on. “And so you called the police to tell them about this information?”

“Yes.”

“And did you speak to some inspectors?”

“Yes. Two of them came by the apartment and we talked about it.”

“You told them about the two shots, did you?”