The Suspect

by John Lescroart

  “Obviously,” Abrams responded, “the question calls for an identification of the neighbor who owned the car, and I’d ask that Ms. Roake be admonished not to interrupt the testimony of an already-uncomfortable witness with frivolous objections.”

  If nothing else, the objection had succeeded in slowing things down.

  Toynbee, whose earlier sunnier disposition seemed in the light of his own current intensity as though it must have been an apparition, was not thrilled with the exchange. “All right, both of you,” he said. “That’s strike two. Ms. Roake, your objection is overruled. The question was obviously proper. Mr. Abrams, when I need your advice on how to run my courtroom, I’ll ask for it. I swear to you, if the two of you don’t settle down, somebody’s going to walk out of here with a lighter pocketbook.”

  Abrams went apoplectic. “Your Honor, I haven’t done—”

  The judge glared, grabbed his gavel and slammed it down, shutting him up. “I’ve ruled on the objection, Counselor,” he said in a firm tone. “You may continue questioning your witness.”

  Gina was going back to her table. Behind her, she heard Abrams ask the judge if the court recorder could read back Bethany’s testimony so he could take up where she had left off. As she’d hoped, Gina’s objection and the argument around it had made Abrams lose his place. After a minute, the recorder had found the spot. “Mr. Abrams: ‘Did you recognize the car, Bethany?’” she intoned. Then, “The witness: ‘Yes. I’d ridden in it many times. It belonged to my neighbor across the street.’”

  Abrams, back in his place, said, “And do you see that neighbor in court today? The neighbor who owned the car?”

  She pointed to Stuart without looking at him. Abrams, back in his place, said, “So you recognized the car, did you not, Bethany?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Could you describe it, please?”

  “Yes, it’s a black Lexus SUV.”

  “Is there anything else distinguishing about this car?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The license plate.”

  Next to her, Stuart shifted in his chair and started to say something. Gina quickly put a hand over his forearm, leaned into him, “Not now,” she whispered harshly. But in fact Gina, too, had a very bad feeling. In all the transcripts that Gina had seen of Bethany’s testimony in her discovery, she’d never once mentioned the license plate, or the fact that she’d seen it.

  Abrams was going on. “What about the license plate, Bethany?”

  “It’s a personalized plate. It says G-H-O-T-I.”

  Next to her, Stuart said, “That’s bullshit! She couldn’t have seen that.”

  Gina squeezed her fingernails into his forearm. “Shut up. Suck it up.”

  Toynbee was glaring at the small disturbance they made, his gavel poised to fall. But Stuart managed to calm himself. Gina eased the pressure on his arm. Toynbee lowered the gavel and again turned his attention to Abrams, who smiled at Bethany and said, “Are you absolutely sure, Bethany, that these were the letters you saw on the license plate as it turned into the driveway across the street and into the garage?”

  With a last defiant glare at Stuart, Bethany nodded to Abrams and said, “Yes, sir, I am.”

  In spite of Gina’s many objections, some of them merely for the sake of disturbance, Abrams and Bethany went on to establish that the same car had pulled out of Stuart’s garage at a quarter to one, but the real damage had already been done. The prosecution had presented firsthand eyewitness testimony from a credible person who was giving false witness although, Gina believed, she might truly believe that she was telling the whole truth and nothing but.

  Before Abrams was finished with her, Bethany also delivered an emotional recasting of the so-called threat from Stuart that Kymberly had conveyed. Gina’s strenuous objection that there was no evidence tying whatever Kym might or might not have done to Stuart was for naught. At trial, she knew, the prosecution would just drag in Kym and impeach her if she had claimed it was her own idea. But for now, the evidence was coming in even without that necessary foundation, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing she could do about it. In the telling, Bethany came all the way to tears, and Toynbee had to call a short recess to let her regain her composure. After that, she testified that the message from Kymberly contained an explicit warning from Stuart that if Bethany went on the stand to testify against him, something very bad was going to happen to her. She’d had to miss two days of school, pretending to be sick because she was so afraid of going out of her house.

  And then, luckily, the police had arrested Stuart.

  Gina had her work cut out for her. She came to her position before Bethany in the middle of the courtroom and gave her a warm smile, which the witness did not return. “Bethany,” she began, “when did you first give your account of the night of September eleventh to Inspector Juhle?”

  Now Gina’s mission was precisely the opposite of her strategy during Abrams’ direct. This time she wanted to get Bethany talking freely so that something unguarded and unrehearsed might slip out. “I don’t know exactly. I think it was the next day. The day after Caryn died.”

  “And you told the inspector the whole truth, didn’t you? You didn’t hold anything back?”

  “Yes, I told him the whole truth.”

  “And you knew that Caryn Dryden was dead, and how important this was, so you tried to be as helpful and complete as you could, isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now, during that conversation, were you aware that Inspector Juhle had a tape recorder going?”

  “Yes. He asked my permission before he began.”

  “So the entire conversation, as far as you know, is on tape, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Did he ask you any questions before he turned the tape recorder on or after he turned it off?”

  “Just whether I agreed to have the tape on, but nothing else.”

  Gina continued. “Now, that conversation was just a short while after Caryn’s death, and a lot has happened since then, hasn’t it? Scary things, like your talk with Kym and having to testify here today. Do you think your memory might have been a little better back then than it is today?”

  “Well, my memory is pretty good today.”

  “But if you said something on the tape, and you say something different now, don’t you think it would be more likely that what you said on the tape was right, just because of the amount of time that has passed and the things that have happened?”

  “Probably so.”

  “And in that first discussion, did you tell Inspector Juhle that you recognized Mr. Gorman’s car?”

  “Yes. That’s what he was asking about.”

  “And you identified it as you have today, as a black Lexus SUV. Kind of a smaller sport utility vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you tell him what the license plate was during that conversation?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bethany. Has anyone given you a copy of the tape to listen to, to prepare for your testimony?”

  “Yes.”

  Nodding, Gina walked swiftly over to her table and pulled some pages from the open folder she’d left there. “Bethany, I’ve got here a transcript of that original talk, and I’d like you to take a look at it for a minute—it’s not long—and point out for the court where you told Inspector Juhle about the personalized license plate.”

  “Sure.” Happy to cooperate, Bethany took the papers in her hands and began looking through them.

  Gina turned and stole a glance at Gerry Abrams, who was busily arranging his own materials and didn’t meet her eyes.

  For all of her inexperience with murder proceedings, Gina was very familiar with most of the games attendant in criminal proceedings in general. She was certain that she was dealing with one of the most common of these now. Since all transcriptions of testimony had to be included in discovery, which the prosecution t
hen had to give to defense counsel, sometimes discussions with crucial witnesses happened, as though by inadvertence, “off tape.” This meant that critical testimony, such as the kind Bethany had presented here, could be shaped and even created out of whole cloth and remain outside of the record until it could be dropped as a surprise to maximum effect at a trial or hearing.

  Now Gina turned again to face the witness. Bethany’s brow had clouded and she was turning pages, trying to find what wasn’t there. Finally, she looked up. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m afraid I don’t see it here.”

  “That’s correct,” Gina said encouragingly. “You don’t.” Gina read from her own copy of the transcript. “And Inspector Juhle asked you specifically how sure you were, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, from the transcript now, Inspector Juhle says: ‘I guess I’m just asking how sure you are.’ Then you say, and here again I’m quoting from the transcript: ‘What? That it was Stuart? I don’t know. I told you I didn’t see him. But if he was driving his car, it was him. Because that was his car.’”

  Bethany gave a small nod.

  “And Inspector Juhle asks, ‘How did you know that?’ To which you answered, ‘I don’t know. I just knew.’” Gina lowered her pages. “Bethany, wouldn’t this have been a good time to mention the license plate?”

  “Objection, speculation.”

  “Sustained.”

  Gina thought she’d try again. “Bethany, when you gave this first interview, did you remember that you’d seen the license plate at that time?”

  Now Bethany threw a quick worried glance at Abrams. “Well, yes. Of course. You mean, did I remember at the time Inspector Juhle asked me that first day if I’d recognized the license plate the night before?”

  “That’s right, Bethany, that’s what I’m asking.”

  “Yes.”

  “And yet when Inspector Juhle asked how you knew this was Mr. Gorman’s car, you answered that you didn’t know how, you just knew, is that right?” Bethany’s eyes were glued on Abrams behind her and so, without pause, without turning around, Gina looked up at the judge. “Your Honor,” she said sharply, “would the court please instruct Mr. Abrams not to give nonverbal cues to the witness during my cross-examination?”

  Abrams nearly screamed. “Your Honor, it is unprofessional and highly unethical for Ms. Roake to make an accusation like that when she knows there is no basis for it.”

  “Your Honor,” Gina shot back, “I object to Mr. Abrams telling me what I know or don’t know.”

  Toynbee pointed, his glare now a constant feature. “And I object to the two of you treating my courtroom like a nursery school. That’s a hundred bucks each, and it gets much worse very fast.”

  Gina gladly accepted the fine. It was worth it because it gave her just what she wanted. The acrimony and confusion of these battling adults had dissolved any sense of security that Bethany might have built up over the lunch hour. Now Gina went back to her desk, took a drink of water to calm herself down, then came back at the witness. “You didn’t know how you knew about the car, Bethany, you just knew. Wouldn’t you have known it was Mr. Gorman’s car because you recognized the license plate?”

  “I guess so. Yes.”

  “And yet you didn’t mention that to Inspector Juhle?”

  “Objection. Asked and answered.”

  “Sustained.”

  She pressed on. “Bethany. Do you remember the first time you mentioned the license plate to Inspector Juhle, specifically?”

  “Not exactly. I’m not sure.”

  “Because I’ve looked through all the transcriptions of your interviews with both him and Mr. Abrams, and you’ve had five of them. Did you realize that?”

  “I didn’t know it was that many.”

  “And I bet you’ve talked to your mom about this a lot, too, haven’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you never mentioned the license plate in any of those conversations, did you?”

  Silence.

  “When was the first time you mentioned the license plate to anyone, Bethany. Do you remember?”

  “I said I didn’t exactly.”

  “Your Honor!” Abrams again. “Counsel is badgering the witness.”

  “I don’t think so,” Toynbee said. “Overruled.”

  “So do you remember, Bethany, the exact time? Was it, for example, after you came to believe that Stuart had threatened you?”

  “No! I knew it before then. I knew it right away.”

  “Then why didn’t you say anything about it?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know how important it would be.”

  Gina paused to compose herself. Despite her best efforts, she found herself enraged. “Bethany,” she asked, forcing a pleasant expression, “I read in the newspaper this morning that you’ve got a grade point average of four point two, one of the highest in your class, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Perking up a bit.

  “And Inspector Juhle asked you specifically how you recognized the car, didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you knew it was an important question, didn’t you?”

  “Well, not exactly.”

  “Well, you knew that you recognized the car because of the license plate, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were telling the whole truth, right? Not holding anything back?”

  “Yes.” Her voice smaller.

  “But Bethany, isn’t it true that right up until today in court, you never said during any of your other taped interviews that you remembered the license plate? Isn’t that true? How could a smart girl like you not recognize the importance of that information?”

  “Your Honor!” Abrams called out in outrage. “This is badgering heaped upon insult!”

  Damn right it is, she thought. And every word on purpose.

  But as Toynbee sustained the objection, Gina nodded meekly. “I’ll withdraw the question, Your Honor.”

  Without Kymberly Gorman available as a witness to refute Bethany’s testimony on the alleged threat, Gina didn’t think she could make any points revisiting the subject. Clearly, whatever words Bethany had heard, she’d interpreted as threatening. That was her reality, reinforced by her mother’s acceptance of it, steeled in the forge of yesterday’s attack on Stuart, and Gina couldn’t really see any point in trying to change it. Without having accomplished much with Bethany, Gina reluctantly dismissed the witness.

  She very much expected Abrams to call as witnesses the two neighbors who’d testified about the fights at Stuart’s house, as well as some or all four of the officers who’d responded to the domestic disturbance calls. All of these people were already waiting outside the courtroom. As was Debra Dryden, whom Abrams presumably was going to question regarding her five-day idyll with Stuart up in the mountains.

  But evidently Bethany’s unambiguous testimony that it was Stuart’s car at the murder scene, and Gina’s inability to shake that, had convinced Abrams to quit while he was ahead. Certainly, Bethany’s eyewitness identification of Stuart’s car seemed to put him at the house at the time of death. Since he denied being there, the only reasonable explanation was that he had killed his wife. That having been established, Abrams clearly decided that he wanted to save the remaining witnesses for trial, so he’d have something to show Stuart’s defense team next time around that it hadn’t already seen and analyzed.

  So, much to Gina’s surprise, when Bethany had left the courtroom, Abrams rested the People’s case. Judge Toynbee asked Gina if she would be ready to begin calling her witnesses after lunch. She told him she would, and he brought down his gavel and called the recess.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  WHEN GINA FINALLY GOT HOME THAT evening, it was at a little after seven o’clock. She walked into her bedroom and changed out of her court clothes. Normally, she coped with enervation and mental fatigue by putting some miles on her running shoes, and she reached almost automatica
lly for her sweats, but then stopped herself. There was very little that was normal about the bone-weariness she was experiencing now.

  At last, feeling guilty about the lazy slug she had become, nevertheless she changed instead into some baggy chinos and a black tank top.

  Catching sight of herself in the mirror on the closet door, she brushed a wisp of hair off her forehead and tried to smooth away the darkness under her eyes. Sighing, she went barefoot out to the kitchen and ran hot water over a washcloth, which she applied to her face, then made it a few more steps onto the living room rug before she all but collapsed, folding upon herself down to the floor.

  Now, pole-axed from the rigors of the day, she lay flat on her back, awake but nearly unconscious, her chest slowly rising and falling, the tepid washcloth folded over her eyes.

  The afternoon session had been grueling and frustrating, which she would have gladly endured had it been effective as well. But it had not been; it had been a disaster.

  She’d known that she had to try to get PII somehow into the record, and she’d called Fred Furth, thinking to have him elucidate Caryn’s connection with the company, her concerns over the clinical trials data, her professional relationship not only with Furth himself, but with Bill Blair and Kelley Rusnak. Abrams, his objections perhaps numbering close to fifty, had been a bulldog. In the end, having never established a rhythm or even the tiniest objective relevancy to whatever had happened to Caryn, she’d had to excuse Furth without her theory gaining much traction.

  So her assault on Robert McAfee, trying to establish him as another legitimate suspect, had begun with her on the defensive. The court had just formally warned her not to waste its time. And as she began her direct, she couldn’t completely escape the conclusion that this was exactly what she was doing. True, McAfee appeared to have had a strong motive to have killed Caryn. True, they’d been lovers once and might have been again. Yes, he stood to gain financially and professionally from her death. Finally, his alibi for the night of the event had just gone south.

  But the plain fact remained that there was no hint of McAfee’s involvement on any level with PII, or with Kelley Rusnak. And without that, Gina knew in her heart that in her exhaustive attempt to implicate the doctor, she was really just whistling Dixie. The theory was probably arguable, but at best it was no less a sham than Abrams’ attempt to portray Stuart’s drive down the Peninsula as a flight from justice that screamed consciousness of guilt. The underlying cynicism of it had worn her down as she went on, until at last she couldn’t even take pleasure in shattering McAfee’s alibi, which didn’t stop her from doing it.