by Al Lamanda
Napier got things rolling.
I sat with Elizabeth behind the defense table. Walt sat at the table with Carly, Kagan and Harry.
Brooks kept his word and closed the courtroom to the public and the media.
Under Napier’s guidance, Underwood painted a picture of the timeline leading up to Walt’s arrest. From Smith’s involvement with the Internal Affairs Division to Phelps taking it to the FBI, and then the constant monitoring of Walt, to Smith’s street information concerning the bank in Grand Cayman. Under cross, Underwood explained how the investigation took six months, culminating with the six hundred thousand dollars found in the Cayman bank and Walt’s arrest at his home.
Napier had Underwood on the stand for two hours.
After Brooks called for a thirty-minute break, Underwood was back on the stand crossed by Carly.
She brilliantly blew holes in Underwood’s timeline. Smith’s information came off like Swiss cheese, and how convenient for everyone involved that Jimmy DeMarko just happened to die in the middle of it all.
Underwood nearly lost his composure, but he gained points when his final statement was that Smith’s information led them to the six hundred thousand dollars in a safe deposit box registered to Captain Walter Grimes.
Brooks ended the day and Walt was smuggled out the back door to the waiting transport van.
Napier and company took questions on the courthouse steps.
We skirted past the freak show to the limo and took off for home.
* * *
We had dinner in the backyard at the patio table.
“If I had to give us a grade today, it’s a C plus,” Carly said.
“I have to go with a B minus,” Kagan said. “You tore enough holes in Underwood’s testimony to cast a slight doubt in the grand jury’s minds.”
“Any fool can see Walt is innocent,” Elizabeth said. “All that nonsense about informants and dead mobsters, it’s like a second rate mystery novel.”
“What’s up for tomorrow?” Walt said.
“Phelps,” Carly said. “And then Smith.”
“That ought to be fun,” Walt said.
After dinner, I called Jane.
* * *
Jane got out of her cruiser wearing jeans, sneakers, and a yellow sweatshirt. A file was tucked under her left arm. Her service weapon was on her right hip. I had a fire going in the trashcan, and she glowed in the light as she walked toward me.
I stood up from my chair and greeted Jane with a kiss and a mug of fresh coffee.
“How did it go?” Jane said as she took the chair next to mine.
“C minus or B plus, according to Carly and Kagan,” I said.
“And according to you?” Jane said.
“We lost,” I said. “Carly poked enough holes in Underwood’s testimony to sink the Titanic, but the unanswered question left hanging in the air is where did the six hundred thousand come from?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Phelps takes the stand and possibly Smith, if there is time,” I said. “What’s in the file?”
Jane handed me the file. “Rosamund Rose isn’t such a good girl after all,” she said.
I opened the file. It was a sealed juvenile record.
“Nothing as an adult?” I said.
“No, but once a bad girl, always a bad girl,” Jane said.
“What would it take to unseal her record?”
“A court order from a judge,” Jane said. “For which we have no credible reason to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Like you said, once a bad girl, always a bad girl, and now we know she isn’t Snow White, and my theory about Reed just got stronger.”
“You’re going to need more than a theory to keep Walt from prison,” Jane said. “You’re going to need a damn miracle.”
* * *
Napier needed only one hour with Phelps on the stand. Napier’s questions centered around Smith contacting Phelps with information he obtained on the street concerning a police captain involved in illegal activity with Jimmy DeMarko.
Phelps outlined his investigation into Walt’s activities and told how he felt it warranted the attention of the FBI, since Jimmy DeMarko was a known mobster and racketeer.
When Phelps was done, Carly took over and shredded Phelps’s timeline and Smith’s credibility as a confidential informant based on written reports by Phelps and also by Underwood.
Brooks ordered a ninety-minute break for lunch, and court resumed at two o’clock.
Napier took about an hour to question Smith on his involvement as a confidential informant.
Smith had obviously been well-coached and handled himself well, politely answering Napier’s questions without straying or volunteering information. Napier and Smith painted a timeline of events for the grand jury that covered Smith’s release from prison to his hearing bits of information on the street to Smith contacting the Internal Affairs Division.
After Napier retired, Carly went after Smith like a pit-bull on a bone. She peppered him with non-stop questions that tied him up and confused him. After an hour, Carly tore Smith’s timeline to ribbons, and as I watched Napier, I could see in his eyes that he lost that round.
* * *
“Today was a draw,” Kagan said. “We exchanged queens.”
“Down zero to one won’t get us a dismissal,” Carly said. “Bekker, anymore coffee?”
I got up from my chair, went inside the trailer, and returned with a fresh pot. After filling four mugs, I took my chair.
“Walt is as ready as he’ll ever be for the stand,” Kagan said. “As long as he holds his mud, he’ll do fine.”
“Napier wants this to go to trial,” Carly said. “The gloves will come off tomorrow.”
“This isn’t my first rodeo,” Kagan said. “And Napier is overconfident.”
“Let’s hope there is time for Cena to take the stand tomorrow,” Carly said.
I sipped some coffee and looked at Kagan. “Why not let Harry cross Cena?” I said.
“What?” Kagan said.
“Did you say…?” Carly said.
“Me?” Harry said.
“This is no time for jokes, Bekker,” Carly said.
“I’m not joking,” I said. “No offense, Harry, but look at the guy. He’s the last person in the world you’d expect to handle cross on Cena. Plus, they’ll never see him coming.”
Kagan and Carly exchanged looks.
“What do you think, Harry?” Kagan said.
“Like Mr. Bekker said, they’ll never see me coming,” Harry said.
“We have work to do,” Carly said. “Bekker, better order some food.”
Chapter Thirty
Napier tore into Walt without mercy.
For ninety minutes, Napier fired questions at Walt, and to Walt’s credit, he wasn’t rattled or thrown off his game.
In the end, Walt had no answer to the question of where the money came from. I could see in the eyes of the grand jury, they wondered the same thing.
After a thirty-minute recess, Walt was back on the stand being crossed by Kagan.
Kagan was masterful and his line of questioning was brilliant. I watched the seeds of doubt in the eyes of the grand jury take root, as Kagan drove home the point that no matter hard the FBI tried, they couldn’t prove that Walt traveled to Grand Cayman.
Brooks called for a ninety-minute recess for lunch and requested we wrap it up by going late with Cena.
* * *
We ate at a diner across the street from the courthouse.
“You’re up, Harry,” Kagan said. “I’d call today a draw, and that’s all we need from you is another draw to give the grand jury a reason to return a dismissal.”
“I’ll do my best,” Harry said.
“Don’t be nervous, Harry,” Ca
rly said. “The grand jury will see that and react to it, and not in a good way.”
“I know,” Harry said.
“Napier will open with Cena,” Kagan said. “Pay attention to Cena’s body language and tone. Pick up on any little chip in his armor and use that in your questioning. Save the photo lineup for last. Let him get nice and comfortable, and then go for the throat.”
Carly nodded. “The throat,” she said.
* * *
When court resumed, Napier called Cena to the stand. His questions centered around Cena being able to identify Walt as the man who opened the safe deposit account at his bank on Grand Cayman.
Cena, when asked to identify Walt, pointed to him at the defense table.
Napier then asked Cena to identify the card with Walt’s handwriting on it, and Cena said it was the card from his bank that Walt filled out the day he opened the account.
Napier rested and Harry stood up and approached the witness stand.
“Mr. Cena, how are you?” Harry said.
“Fine,” Cena said.
Harry picked up a file from the evidence table. “Now, a few moments ago, you identified the signature card from your bank as the one filled out by Mr. Grimes. Is that correct?”
“Yes,” Cena said.
“That’s funny, because this report from the William Tavers Detective Agency, where Mr. Tavers is a well known handwriting specialist, declares the handwriting on the card to be a fraud,” Harry said. He handed the report to the jury foreman. “How do you explain that, Mr. Cena?”
“I can’t,” Cena said. “I can only tell you what I witnessed.”
“And what did you witness, Mr. Cena?” Harry said.
“Mr. Grimes signing a signature card in my bank,” Cena said.
Harry pointed to Walt. “Is that Mr. Grimes seated at the defense table?”
“Yes,” Cena said.
“The same man you identified in a photo lineup not once but twice?” Harry said.
Napier jumped to his feet. “Your honor, the People object to this line of questioning,” he said.
“On what grounds?” Brooks said.
“We’ve covered the photo lineup a dozen times already,” Napier said.
“So, one more time won’t hurt,” Brooks said.
“Your honor…” Napier said.
“Sit down, Mr. Napier,” Brooks cautioned.
Napier sat.
“Now Mr. Cena, could you please identify Mr. Grimes from the photo lineup you identified him from just a few weeks ago?” Harry asked, and picked up a file from the evidence table.
“Take your time, Mr. Cena,” Harry said, as he handed the file to him.
Cena looked at the photo lineup. “Number four,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Harry said.
“I’m positive,” Cena said. “Number four.”
Harry took the file. “Your honor, the man Mr. Cena identified as Captain Walter Grimes is a photo of someone who looks like Captain Grimes, but is, in fact, not,” he said.
Napier lost his mind objecting, as Harry showed the lineup card to Brooks.
Napier objected a half dozen times, but the damage was already done.
The day ended on a high note.
“We’ll hear closing arguments tomorrow at ten o’clock,” Brooks said.
* * *
“Carly has the most experience at closing arguments,” Kagan said.
We were at the trailer where Carly was making notes on a legal pad.
“Should I order some dinner?” I said.
Carly looked up at me. “Meat. Red meat,” she said. “And a lot of it.”
“I’ll go to town and hit the grocery store,” I said.
An hour later, I was grilling steak tips, burgers, dogs, and baked potatoes.
Carly rehearsed her closing argument while we ate.
It was good, bordering on great, but was it enough to avoid an indictment?
By nine o’clock, the limo took the gang of three home, and I drove to my house.
Walt was taking in the cooler night air in the backyard while Regan, Elizabeth and Oz watched a movie.
I grabbed two cans of ginger ale from the fridge and joined Walt.
“What do you think my chances are tomorrow?” Walt said.
“Fair,” I said.
“That photo thing, Napier didn’t know about it?” Walt said.
“No.”
Walt sipped some ginger ale.
So did I.
“I know Carly and Kagan are working pro bono, and Harry is paid by the city, but you’re picking up the tab for everything else,” Walt said. “It must be costing you a pretty penny.”
“For better or worse, right?” I said.
Chapter Thirty-one
Napier’s closing argument lasted less than ten minutes. He instructed the grand jury to disregard the parlor tricks provided by the defense and concentrate on one vital piece of evidence.
“The one fact they can’t explain away is the six hundred thousand dollars found in the safe deposit box issued to the defendant,” Napier said. “There is no magic trick or sleight of hand to refute that one simple fact. You must indict if only to get to the bottom of where this money came from and how it wound up in the hands of Police Captain Walter Grimes?”
Carly spoke for about twenty minutes. She was brilliant and covered all the holes in Napier’s prosecution with pinpoint accuracy.
“There is too much at stake here to ignore the discrepancies in the People’s case against Captain Grimes,” she said. “The sketchy confidential informants, the handwriting expert who wrote a sworn statement to the court that the signature on the bank card is fraudulent, the misidentification in the photo lineup, these are all facts that you can’t ignore. You must weigh the People’s case against these facts and reach the conclusion that Captain Grimes is the victim of a plot against him, and the only way to uncover that plot is through a dismissal of the charges against Captain Grimes, and by launching an investigation into the people who plotted against him.”
The jury deliberated for nearly four hours.
We waited in the hallway and the courthouse cafeteria. Walt waited in the holding cell in the basement.
Finally, a court officer called us back into the courtroom.
The jury foreman spoke. “Your honor, we have weighed all the evidence on both sides, and we feel we must indict in order for the People to get to the bottom of the six hundred thousand dollars found in the bank on Grand Cayman,” he said.
Brooks dismissed the jury.
“Trial in the case of the People v. Captain Walter Grimes is set for three months from today,” Brooks said.
“Your honor, the defense requests that Captain Grimes be allowed to continue house arrest while we prepare for trial,” Carly said.
“Granted,” Brooks said.
* * *
“Son of a bitch, this makes me mad,” Kagan said. “That grand jury knows damn fucking well Grimes is innocent. Even Napier knows it at this point.”
“Calm down, Frank,” Carly said. “You having a stroke won’t help anything.”
We were in the limo, riding back to the beach.
Harry sighed openly. “I’ll probably be reassigned,” he said.
Kagan looked across the back seats at me. “I’ll make a few calls and…”
“No, Frank, Walt wouldn’t want that,” I said.
“Ask Walt if he wants to rot in a cell until he’s eighty-five years old,” Hagan said.
“I’m staying on,” Carly said. “That fucking Napier.”
Kagan looked at Carly. “If you want me, I’ll stay on, too,” he said.
Carly looked at Harry. “Let’s keep the band together, Harry,” she said.
“I’ll request it
,” Harry said.
“A trial changes everything,” Carly said. “We’ll need a real office with law books and a conference table.”
Kagan inhaled and sighed softly. “Fine, we can use mine,” he said.
When we reached the trailer, I made a pot of coffee, and we sat in chairs and watched the ocean for a while.
“I guess we’ll pack up and meet at Frank’s office in the morning,” Carly said. “Bekker, we won’t need this computer, so…”
“I’ll give it to Regan,” I said.
“Will you…?” Carly said.
“Stay on?” I said. “If you need me to.”
* * *
“Carly and Kagan have agreed to continue to represent you, and Harry is going to request to stay on as well,” I said.
“And you?” Walt said.
“I’m one hundred percent behind you,” I said.
We were at the patio table in the backyard. We had mugs of coffee and sipped and were silent for a few moments.
“I can’t let you spend any more of your own money,” Walt said.
“Your salary and pension is suspended, and what you have in the bank is for Liz,” I said. “And besides, I tucked away some good paychecks on the Sample case and a few insurance fraud cases. Carly and Kagan are working pro bono, so stop talking garbage.”
Walt sipped, sighed and said, “Three months to trial, I’m going to go stir crazy.”
“I’ll ask Carly to submit a request to the judge, see if we can get you some playground time,” I said. “In the meantime, stay cool.”
* * *
I parked on the corner where I had a good view of Reed’s house and waited. The Ford was parked in the driveway. The garage door was closed.
I came armed with a roast beef sandwich, a can of ginger ale, and a thermos of coffee.
The sandwich and ginger ale went during the first hour. The sun went down and lights in the Reed home came on during the second.
I was working on the thermos when Reed appeared, moved the Ford, opened the garage and drove off in the 750i.
There wasn’t any hurry. I knew where Reed was headed. I gave him a few minutes, started the car and drove to Rosamund Riker’s home.
The drive took about twenty minutes.
As I drove past Riker’s home, I saw that the 750i was parked next to her Cherokee again.
