The Last Witness

"Mr. Mason seized on an i

"I told you that this case was cut-and-dried. Tell me if I'm wrong. Jack Cullan was found murdered on Monday, December tenth, by his housekeeper. He'd been shot to death. Mr. Mason won't deny that. The preceding Friday night, Mr. Cullan and Beth Harrell had been customers at a bar owned by the defendant called Blues on Broadway. Mr. Cullan and Ms. Harrell quarreled. The defendant intervened and fought with Mr. Cullan. Afterward, the defendant threatened Mr. Cullan with physical harm if he interfered with the defendant's liquor license or came back to his bar. Four witnesses, including Ms. Harrell, will testify at trial to the fight and the threat. Mr. Mason won't deny that.

"Blood and tissue belonging to the defendant were found under the fingernails of the murder victim. The defendant's fingerprints were found in the room in which Mr. Cullan died. The defendant has a history of violent conduct, including shooting to death an i

"There is more than enough evidence to bind the defendant over for trial on the charge of murder in the first degree. I call that a cut-and-dried case and make no apology for it. I wonder what Mr. Mason calls it."

Chapter Eighteen

At eleven o'clock that night, Mason was still sitting on the sofa in his office, staring at the notes he had written on the dry-erase board. Patrick Ortiz had presented his evidence in a smooth procession of well-prepared witnesses, finishing at five o'clock. Mason had not called anyone to testify.

Judge Pistone had said that he would deliberate in his chambers and a

True to form, Judge Pistone had kept his head down while a

Everyone in the courtroom had stood while the judge made his exit. The media had poured from the courtroom; the print reporters had raced to meet deadlines and the broadcasters had bolted for their live feeds from the courthouse steps. Leonard Campbell had clapped Patrick Ortiz and his assistants on their backs, straightened his jacket, and left, looking for the nearest microphone. Ortiz had packed his briefcase and shaken Mason's hand, telling Mason that he'd done a good job. It was the standard empty praise of an adversary who'd won the day, and Mason had grated as Ortiz had delivered the bromide.

Turning around, Mason had seen the three deputies surround Blues again while one of them put the handcuffs back on Blues's wrists. Mason had pressed into their circle and tapped his fists against Blues's balled hands.

"Today was their day, man," Mason had told him. "Tomorrow will be ours."

Blues nodded. "Get 'em," he had said, and left with his escort.

Mason had looked around the empty courtroom. On paper, no one could have found fault with what had happened there. The state had met its burden of proof. Even Mason had conceded that. No appellate court would overturn Judge Pistone's ruling, even though Mason was convinced the judge had decided the case before breakfast. The system had worked, except for one tiling: Mason was certain that Blues was i

Now, hours later, worn with fatigue and slightly buzzed from a di

Ortiz had taken Zimmerman through each step of the investigation, begi

"Norma Hawkins told the dispatcher that Mr. Cullan had been shot to death. Is that correct, Detective?" Mason had asked.

"Yes, sir," Zimmerman had answered.

"The body was found facedown and hadn't been moved when you arrived at the scene, correct?"

"That's right. The uniformed officers who arrived at the scene first secured the area. The housekeeper said that she hadn't touched anything in the study."

"No gun, bullets, or shell casings were found at the scene, correct?"

"Correct."

"In fact, when you arrived at the scene, you didn't see anything that told you Mr. Cullan had been shot. Isn't that correct, Detective?"

Zimmerman had stiffened as he saw the high hard pitch coming. "I suppose that's correct, Mr. Mason. But, there's no question that Mr. Cullan had been shot."

"Yet, somehow, Norma Hawkins knew that Mr. Cullan had been shot. That's what she told the dispatcher. True?"

"Well," Zimmerman had said, stalling for a better answer than the one he had, "I don't know what she told the dispatcher. I could have heard him wrong."

"There is another explanation, isn't there, Detective?"

"What's that, Mr. Mason?"

"Norma Hawkins shot Mr. Cullan."

"Objection!" Patrick Ortiz had said. "The question calls for speculation. There is no evidence that Norma Hawkins committed this crime. She's an i

"The police and the prosecution rushed to judgment in this case," Mason had shot back. "They picked their suspect at the begi

"Sustained, unless you've got better evidence than that," Judge Pistone had said. Mason didn't.

Norma Hawkins was the next witness. She was a slightly built white woman in her late thirties whose rough hands and sloped shoulders testified to the hard work she did and the hard life she led. Norma spoke slowly and softly, in the upstairs-downstairs tradition of domestic help, describing her daily routine at Jack Cullan's house. Then Ortiz asked her about finding the body.

"What happened when you came to work on Monday morning, December tenth?"