‘He shook his hand, like it hurt. And then he touched the sleeve of his suit coat and turned it over.’ Keller stared at the floor. ‘As if he were looking for stains.’
Caroline, Paget realized, intended to let all this go. With an air of solicitude, Salinas asked, ‘And during that time, Mrs Keller, did you see the man’s face?’
Keller stared straight ahead now, head cocked, as if peering through the crack again. ‘Yes.’
‘Can you describe him?’
A nod, and then a moment’s silence. Paget felt the jury wait. ‘It was a strong face,’ Keller said. ‘With a ridged nose and cleft in his chin.’
As if by reflex, Luisa Marin turned to Paget. The other jurors followed; helpless, Paget could feel them studying the features Georgina Keller had described.
‘Had you ever seen this man before, Mrs Keller?’
‘No. Never.’
‘After looking at his sleeve, what did the man do next?’
‘He turned away.’ Keller’s eyes closed briefly. ‘But I was afraid to shut the door, because he’d hear me. So I leaned against it, listening to his footsteps, until he disappeared.’
Her voice had fallen. Quickly, Salinas asked, ‘Did you call the police?’
‘No.’ Keller hung her head. ‘It was none of my business, I thought, and I was leaving the next morning. To visit my daughter in Florida. Until I returned, three weeks later, I didn’t know that Mr Arias was dead.’
‘And did there come a time, after you returned, when the police came to your apartment?’
‘Inspector Monk did.’ Keller thought for a moment. ‘And his partner. Inspector Lynch. I was shocked, of course.’
‘And did you tell them about the man you saw?’
‘Yes. They had me describe him, over and over.’
‘What happened next?’
‘They showed me a picture. From a newspaper, I thought.’ Fretful, Keller passed a hand through her hair, still looking everywhere but at Paget. ‘Right away, Mr Salinas, I knew I’d seen the face before.’
Salinas walked to the easel with the photograph of Paget – a head shot, taken at the time of the Carelli trial. ‘And is this the photograph Inspector Monk showed you?’
‘Yes.’ Keller gazed at the picture. ‘It was the man in the hallway.’
‘You’re certain of that?’
A jerky nod, face averted from Paget. ‘Yes.’
A grimness had begun settling over the courtroom. Paget had seen it before: a turning point, when a jury begins to accept a defendant’s guilt. Since Keller began, Caroline had not even looked at him. She had made no notes at all.
‘And did there come a time,’ Salinas asked, ‘when Inspector Monk took you to a lineup?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you describe what happened there?’
Keller sounded vaguely mystified, as if describing the arcane rites of an obscure South American tribe. ‘They took me into an auditorium, at the police station. It was almost like a play – the stage was lit, but all the seats were dark.
‘There were six men on the stage, dressed in orange coveralls and holding numbers to their chests. Each of them stepped forward, turning to the left and the right, while Inspector Monk asked if I recognized any of them.’
‘And did you?’
‘Yes.’ Keller spoke more firmly now; still she did not look at Paget. ‘I asked the man to step forward twice, just to make sure. But I knew him the moment I saw him.’
Salinas stood straighter, jamming both hands in his pockets. ‘and do you also see that man in the courtroom, Mrs Keller?’
For the first time, Georgina Keller turned to Paget. She paused for a moment, as if checking each feature, and then raised her arm to point. ‘Yes, I do. The defendant. Mr Paget.’
Beginning, Caroline seemed muted. ‘This crack in the door,’ she asked in a tone of pleasant inquiry. ‘About how wide was it?’
Frowning, Keller held her hands in front of her face, peering between them. ‘Like so.’
‘About two to three inches.’
‘I would say that. But the door opens on the right side, and Mr Arias’s apartment was to my left. So I was looking straight at his door.’
It was a very good answer, Paget knew. Caroline seemed to search for another avenue. ‘About how long,’ she asked, ‘would you say that this man paused, looking at his hand and sleeve?’
‘For a time.’ Keller reflected for a moment. ‘A good ten seconds.’
‘You were frightened, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘That can make time stand still, Mrs Keller. In fairness, could it have been less than ten seconds?’
Silence, then a grudging nod. ‘I suppose it could have.’
‘Perhaps even five?’
Keller shook her head. ‘It couldn’t have been that short a time. He looked at his hand and his sleeve.’
Caroline tilted her head. ‘Did you look at his hand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you see anything?’
‘I thought maybe it was injured. As I said, the man shook it.’
Caroline nodded. ‘And when the man looked at his sleeve, did you look at it too?’
‘Yes.’
‘Could you see anything?’
Keller gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘He was right beneath the overhead light in the hallway. I thought I saw a stain – dark speckles on the sleeve.’
Each answer, Paget knew, was that much worse; for the first time, Caroline seemed to be floundering. ‘About how long, Mrs Keller, did you look at this man’s hand?’
Keller squinted. ‘A few seconds, at least.’
Caroline nodded. ‘About how long did you look at his sleeve before noticing the stains?’
‘Another few seconds.’
‘And during the time you were looking at his hand, and then his sleeve, you weren’t looking at his face, correct?’
A slight pause. ‘I suppose not, no.’
‘So out of the ten seconds – or maybe less – that this man was in front of Mr Arias’s door, how long did you actually see his face?’
Narrow-eyed, Keller sucked in her cheeks; it gave her a hollow, gaunt look. ‘I can’t say.’
‘Less than five seconds?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Less than three?’
‘I don’t know.’ Keller’s raspy voice rose slightly. ‘All I can tell you is that I saw his face, clearly.’
‘Clearly? It was in shadows, right?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It would have to be, Mrs Keller. If the light was right above his head.’
Caroline had captured the jury’s attention now. But it seemed more polite than vigilant; to the jury, Paget was certain, the photograph and lineup had damaged him, and the in-court identification had finished him off. In a recalcitrant tone, Keller said to Caroline, ‘I can’t remember shadows. I saw him, that’s all.’
To Paget’s surprise, Caroline nodded agreeably. ‘And you’d never seen him before, correct?’
‘Correct,’ Keller affirmed.
Somewhere in the last two answers, Paget suddenly sensed. Caroline had set a trap. But he could not yet see where it was.
‘And how much time passed,’ Caroline was asking, ‘until Inspector Monk dropped by with the picture you identified?’
‘Perhaps three weeks.’
‘And how long after that did you identify Mr Paget in a lineup?’
‘Maybe another two weeks.’
‘In other words, at least five weeks or so from the time that you saw the man leaving Mr Arias’s apartment.’
Keller touched her cheek. ‘I guess so. But I knew that I’d seen him before.’
Caroline looked curious. ‘How do you know that you weren’t identifying Mr Paget in the lineup because you recognized Mr Paget from his picture?’
Keller shook her head, impatient at Caroline’s obtuseness. ‘Because I’d seen the man in the picture before that. Just as I told Inspector M
onk.’
For the first time, Caroline smiled. ‘Then perhaps you can humor me, Mrs Keller, by looking at some other pictures.’
In moments, with the aid of Lerner’s courtroom deputy, Keller was gazing at a pasteboard with seven color pictures – Paget’s conscripts from the country jail, wearing jumpsuits and holding numbers one through six, and a group photo of them all. Paget’s great white hope, the Southern inmate named Ray, stood out from the paste-board as suspect number three. But compared to Paget, his face was pale and weak.
‘As Mr Salinas has stipulated,’ Caroline told Keller, ‘these are police photographs of the men included in the lineup. Can you pick out Mr Paget?’
‘Yes.’ Keller pointed. ‘The second from the end.’
‘In fact, isn’t it fair to say that – in terms of height, build, hair and skin color – Mr Paget stood out from the others?’
Keller squinted at the board. ‘Except for the third man.’
‘And didn’t you, in fact, also ask Inspector Monk to have that man step forward for a second time?’
Keller hesitated. ‘I believe I did.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Because at first glance, certain things about him generally resembled the man in the hallway.’
‘What things?’
‘Well, this man’s hair color was different – too reddish – and his face was softer than the man in the hallway. It was more that the height and build were the same.’
Caroline, Paget saw, was being matter-of-fact and unthreatening, more an academic in search of clarity than a bristling cross-examiner. More and more, Paget guessed that Keller was already in trouble, although he still did not know how or why.
‘And so,’ Caroline summarized, ‘the man you saw in the hallway was slender, about six feet tall, with hair on the blond side and fair skin. Correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘And about thirty-five years old?’ Caroline asked innocently.
‘About that.’
Caroline smiled. ‘As opposed to Mr Paget’s forty-six?’
Reluctantly, Keller gazed at Paget again. ‘He looks younger.’
Caroline gave Paget a mock-critical once-over. ‘Not ten years younger, I would say. Although I’m sure that Mr Paget appreciates your charity.’
There was mild laughter; it seemed a small point, and even Salinas smiled briefly. Keller settled into the chair again.
‘Are you,’ Caroline asked, ‘familiar with a case entitled People versus Carelli?’
A short nod. ‘That was Mr Paget’s case.’
‘And mine,’ Caroline said dryly. ‘As you may recall, I was the judge.’
‘I know. I thought I recognized you.’
‘Really? How?’
Again, Keller looked at Caroline as if she were slightly dense. ‘From television,’ she said impatiently. ‘You were on every day.’
It was he, Paget suddenly realized, who had been dense. ‘So,’ Caroline said amiably, ‘if you were to put me in a lineup with five other women, do you think you’d still know I was the judge?’
Paget could not help turning to Salinas. The prosecutor was on his feet, a portrait of alarm. ‘Objection,’ he said. ‘Calls for speculation. And until Ms Masters is charged with some crime, whether this witness remembers her isn’t relevant to anything.’
But Lerner’s eyes were bright now, a trace of the smile he had to suppress. ‘Overruled. You may answer the question, Mrs Keller.’
‘Maybe.’ Keller said to Caroline. ‘I recognized you here.’
‘Because you’d seen me before. On television.’
‘Yes.’
Caroline skipped a beat. ‘Just like Mr Paget.’
Keller looked around her, blinking again. ‘When I identified Mr Paget I didn’t realize it was him. Even at the lineup.’
‘But before the lineup you had seen Christopher Paget before, correct? On television.’
A stiff nod. ‘Yes, I had.’
Caroline looked curious. ‘Tell me, Mrs Keller, do you think Mary Carelli did it? You know, murdered Mark Ransom?’
Keller shook her head. ‘I couldn’t tell. I changed my mind from day to day.’
Caroline raised an eyebrow. ‘You watched every day?’
‘Almost.’
‘The Carelli trial was about two weeks long, right?’
‘Objection,’ Salinas called out. ‘Irrelevant.’
Lerner held up a hand. ‘Be serious, Mr Salinas.’ Turning to Caroline, he added, ‘Please continue.’
‘Mrs Keller?’ Caroline asked.
‘Two weeks long? About that.’
‘So before Inspector Monk showed you the picture, you had seen Mr Paget before – every day, for two weeks. On television.’
‘That’s true.’ Keller’s voice turned stubborn. ‘But I’d never seen him in person.’
‘I quite agree,’ Caroline said dryly. ‘But at the time Inspector Monk showed you this picture, you knew you’d seen Mr Paget’s face before.’
‘That’s right. I just didn’t place him.’
‘And when they put on the lineup, you’d already seen Mr Paget’s picture. As well as seen him on television.’
Keller had begun looking confused. ‘That’s true.’
‘And once more, you knew that you’d seen him before.’
‘Yes.’
Caroline’s voice became very quiet. ‘But when you saw the man in the hallway, you didn’t recognize him as anyone you’d seen before, did you?’
In the witness box, Keller seemed to go blank. Paget recognized it: the moment of helpless confusion when a witness begins to lose her will. Caroline moved forward. ‘Do you want the court reporter to read back your prior answer, Mrs Keller? Where you told us that you’d never seen the man in the hallway?’
Absently, Keller twisted a lock of hair, then caught herself. ‘I said that, yes.’
‘So when you saw the man in the hallway,’ Caroline repeated, ‘you didn’t recognize him as anyone you’d seen before.’
Looking down, Keller shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Let alone Christopher Paget.’
‘No.’
‘And until you saw his picture, you didn’t recognize Christopher Paget as anyone you’d seen before, either. True?’
‘I guess not.’ Keller shook her head. ‘I’m confused now.’
The jury, Paget saw, was transfixed; Joseph Duarte flipped his notebook back a page and drew a line through what he had written. But Caroline still had points to make.
‘No,’ she said to Keller, ‘you’re not confused now. Tell me, isn’t it true that you recognized Mr Paget’s picture because you’d seen him during the Carelli hearing?’
Keller twisted her hair again. ‘That might be one reason.’
‘So isn’t it also true that when you identified him at the lineup, you recognized Mr Paget from his picture and from television?’
‘Anything’s possible, I guess.’ Keller’s voice turned obstinate. ‘But I still think I recognize Mr Paget from in the hallway.’
Caroline stared at her and then plucked a plastic bottle from the pocket of her suit, holding it up for the jury to see. ‘Is this anything you recognize, Mrs Keller?’
‘I believe so.’ Keller glanced at Salinas. ‘It looks like the bottle for my sleeping pill prescription.’
If he were not a lawyer, Paget thought, or on trial for murder, this might have been too terrible to watch. Caroline moved close to Keller. ‘In fact, it is. Just how long have you taken them?’
‘Almost a year.’
‘Every night?’
‘Yes.’
‘At about what time?’
‘A half hour before I got to bed. Sometime between nine and ten.’
‘How do they affect you?’
Keller’s voice turned flat. ‘They help me sleep.’
‘By making you drowsy?’
‘They do that.’
‘And perhaps a little less observant?’
; ‘Maybe. I’ve got no way of telling.’
‘Tell me this, then. The night you saw the man leaving Mr Arias’s apartment – for maybe five seconds, perhaps with his face in shadow – had you already taken your pill?’
Keller touched her forehead. She seemed to have drawn inward; she no longer looked out the courtroom. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘But it’s possible? Please, this is important.’
Keller furrowed her brow, as if trying to retrieve some image of that night. ‘I can’t remember,’ she finally murmured, ‘one way or the other. So I’d have to say it’s possible.’
‘So would I,’ Caroline said softly. ‘About how long after you saw this man did you fall asleep?’
‘I don’t know. I remember being tired. Maybe a half hour.’
Caroline tilted he head. ‘You also wear glasses, do you not?’
‘Yes. But only for reading. Not for any distance.’
Caroline, Paget saw, was edging toward the easel. ‘Were you wearing them the night you saw this man?’
‘No. As I said, I use them just for reading.’
Caroline put her hand on her hip. ‘Do you think you could look at the lineup picture again and tell me Mr Paget’s number?’
Before Keller even turned, Paget knew that she would squint. For the long moment of Keller’s silence, Paget could feel the jury watch her. ‘Five,’ she said finally.
‘It is indeed.’ Caroline said dryly. ‘Let me return, for a moment, to your testimony that you heard voices and then a thud, like someone falling. How good is your hearing, Mrs Keller?’
Keller sat straighter. ‘It’s very good.’
Caroline nodded. ‘And after this thud you heard, and before seeing the man in the hallway, did you hear anything else?’
Keller looked puzzled. ‘I don’t believe so.’
Caroline paused a moment. Quietly she asked, ‘Not even a gunshot?’
Duarte’s head jerked from his notes. There was a long silence as Keller considered the question. ‘No,’ she answered slowly. ‘I did not.’
Caroline smiled briefly. ‘Thank you, Mrs Keller. I have no further questions.’
She turned, walking back toward Paget. Though her eyes were bright, she kept her face expressionless now; it would not do to look pleased.
As she sat, Paget whispered, ‘That was classic.’
‘A minor classic, at best.’ Watching Salinas rise, Caroline kept her voice low. ‘Once Keller’s neighbor told Johnny Moore that all she could talk about for two weeks was the Carelli case, this poor lady was as dead as Humpty Dumpty. Not even Victor can put her together again.’ She turned to Paget. ‘No deal?’
Eyes of a Child Page 53
