Hard Evidence

Hardy turned to the jury. ‘In other words, your suspect was exhibiting consciousness-of-guilt, and you felt justified making an arrest because of that.’

‘That’s correct.’

Hardy turned back to Glitsky. ‘Sergeant, this person with fingerprints on the gun, no alibi, no apparent motive, the one acting so guilty – was that suspect Andy Fowler?’

‘No, it was not.’

Hardy nodded and turned to Pullios. He had gotten through it without an objection. ‘Your witness.’

‘Sergeant Glitsky, when you did make the initial arrest in his case, the one Mr Hardy has just referred to, were you coerced in any way by any member of your department or by the district attorney’s staff?’

Hardy couldn’t believe it – Pullios was inadvertently introducing the very argument he had been trying to avoid because of Chomorro’s decision.

‘No. At that time it was a fairly standard investigation. Although we do try to move quickly.’ He looked at the jury. The trail of a homicide gets cold in a hurry.‘

‘Before making your arrest, did you wait for the complete fingerprint analysis on the murder weapon, People’s Exhibit One?’

‘Yes.’

‘And didn’t Mr Fowler’s prints turn up?’

‘Well, at the time, they were unidentified.’

‘You don’t deny that Mr Fowler’s fingerprints were on the gun, do you?’

‘No.’

‘But before you knew whose they were, you arrested another person? You told Mr Hardy your suspect had an “apparent” motive and alibi. Did you get an opportunity – before the arrest – to check that alibi?’

‘No, but -’

‘And isn’t it true that, in fact, your suspect had two eyewitnesses to where she was on the day of the murder -eyewitnesses you failed to locate?’

‘I wouldn’t characterize it as -’

‘Please just answer the question, Sergeant. It’s very straightforward.’

Glitsky looked down for the first time. Hardy thought it wasn’t a good sign. ‘Yes, that’s true. I didn’t locate them.’

Pullios walked back to her table, took a sip of water and read some notes, shifting gears. ‘Now, Sergeant,’ she began again, ‘how many homicides were you handling at this time, back in June?’

Hardy stood up, objecting. ‘The sergeant’s caseload isn’t relevant here.’

‘On the contrary,’ Pullios said, ‘Mr Hardy went to some lengths to establish Sergeant Glitsky’s professional routine under normal conditions. If these were not normal conditions, if the sergeant was under unusual stress, for example, the rigor of his investigations might suffer for it.’

Glitsky’s lips were tight. ‘The suspect was leaving the country,’ he said.

Chomorro tapped his gavel. ‘Please confine yourself to answering the questions, Sergeant. Ms Pullios, I’m going to sustain Mr Hardy here. No one is questioning the sergeant’s handling of his case.’

But, of course, Pullios had done just that: trying to discredit a prosecution witness who consorted with the defense.

As soon as Glitsky stepped down, Chomorro asked to see counsel in his chambers and called a ten-minute recess.

He stood in front of his desk. ‘Now look,’ he began as soon as Pullios and Hardy were inside, ‘I’ve warned you both about opening this can of worms and I’m not going to have it. This isn’t a conspiracy case on either side. Mr Hardy, that was some pretty nice navigating through some difficult shoals, but we’re not going on in this direction. I notice you’ve got Lieutenant Batiste up soon. Do I take it he’s going to say Sergeant Glitsky is a good cop who always follows established procedures?’

‘More or less.’

Chomorro shook his head. ‘Well, he’s not going to. I’ve also got some real concerns about how you intend to handle Art Drysdale. I think it’s all getting pretty irrelevant here.’ He held up a hand. ‘I’m not trying to cramp your style, Mr Hardy, but unless you’ve got something a little more substantive I think you might reconsider your direction. I know you’ll have the defendant up there half the day. I’ll let you summarize your procedure questions in the closing argument – up to a point. But I’m not inclined to let this thing degenerate into character assassinations of everyone in this building. Clear?’

‘Yes, Your Honor. But in that case, I do have a request. I’d like to add a witness.’

‘At this point?’ Pullios asked.

‘You’ve just asked me to cut out half of my witnesses. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to take another tack. It’s a small point anyway.’

‘Judge-’

Chomorro cut Pullios off. ‘Who is it?’

‘Celine Nash, the victim’s daughter.’

‘You’re calling her for the defense?

Hardy shrugged. ‘I’m calling her to get at the truth, Your Honor. The substance of her testimony will be access to the Eloise, Nash’s habits on board.’

‘How is that relevant to Andy Fowler?’ Pullios asked.

‘Come on, Elizabeth, I don’t want to give everything away. I’ll get to it when she’s on the stand.’ That wasn’t strictly true, but it was a small enough point, and Chomorro, having taken away, ought to give him one back.

‘All right,’ the judge said. ‘All right, Elizabeth?’

Pullios thought about it, then nodded. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘why not?’

Testimony before lunch was taken up by Ron Reynolds, the polygraph expert. Hardy kept him on the stand longer than he thought really necessary, since the only important point he had to make was that Andy had volunteered to take the lie detector test. If Andy Fowler had been guilty, or even acting with a consciousness-of-guilt, he would not have done that, was Hardy’s point.

Of course, polygraph evidence of this sort was only admissible by stipulation. But Pullios had agreed to the testimony, provided she could make the point that Fowler hadn’t actually passed the test. Hardy didn’t need Reynolds’s point, but Pullios couldn’t do much with hers, either, and Hardy needed Reynolds to take up most of the rest of the morning on the stand – he had to take the good with the bad.

So he ran Reynolds around with how the polygraph worked in general, why people did well or poorly on it, margin for error and so on. On cross, Pullios, as expected, leaned on the fact that Fowler, with his vast experience, would conceivably know how to beat the test and therefore could have volunteered to take it knowing he could throw off the results.

But for Hardy, it accomplished his ultimate goal. He did not want to call Celine Nash before lunch. Suddenly, after the recess in Chomorro’s office, the course of the trial lay clearly charted before him. He would take Celine, the witness, baiting the trap, after lunch. Afterward, Fowler would testify on his own behalf, then perhaps Hardy would get to his closing argument.

Tomorrow, Chomorro would give the jury their instructions and leave it in their hands.

But today, after she testified, Celine would remain in the courtroom, as she had every day, until that day’s business was done. He was counting on the fact that she would not risk altering her routine, not when she was so close to wi

‘Celine Nash.’

She reacted almost as though she’d been hit, turning in her seat abruptly to look around her. Recovering her composure, she stood in the gallery and walked up through the railing, looking questioningly at Hardy.

She settled herself into the witness box. She wore charcoal pinstripes over a magenta silk blouse, the effect of which was, somehow, both severe and demure. Her hair was pulled back, accenting the chiseled face, the aristocratic lines. Hardy steeled himself and moved to his spot as she was being sworn in.

‘Ms Nash, I’ve just a few questions, if you feel up to them.’

She nodded, wary, looking to the jury, then to Pullios. When she came back to Hardy she seemed to relax, getting into the role. ‘Go ahead, Mr Hardy, I’m fine.’

‘Thank you. You and your father, Owen Nash, were very close, were you not?’