Ben saw expressions of enlightenment on the faces of several jurors and more murmuring could be heard from the gallery. Bridget Fahey jumped to her feet. “Objection.”
Judge Wilson looked down at her and didn’t answer. He appeared to be waiting for a basis for her objection. Mark turned to face her, also anticipating some sort of response. Fahey stood there, her mind spinning while she tried to come up with an answer for the Court. The best she could come up with was, “There’s an inadequate basis, your Honor, for this conclusion. It is not supported by the evidence.”
Judge Wilson shook his head. He didn’t even bother to turn to Mark. “Objection overruled.” Then he looked at Mark and asked, “Do you have any more questions, Counsel?”
Mark shook his head, “Nope, Judge, not at this moment,” he said. Then he ambled back to the defense table, not even concealing a grin.
Judge Wilson turned back to Bridget Fahey and said, “Your witness, Counsel.”
She stood at the prosecution table and looked down at her notes trying to gather herself again. Then she looked back up at the Judge and decided she better get on with it. “Dr. Liu,” she began, “what is the basis for your conclusion that the blood on the scarf came from a nosebleed?”
“Several factors,” the Doctor said calmly, “the first of which is the presence of a higher concentration of cocaine. As was indicted in the autopsy, Professor Greenfield exhibited some damage to his septum area, where there was also evidence of recent bleeding and blood coagulation. This is a symptom of cocaine use, with the drug having been ingested through the nose. Because of that, it could be expected that there would be excess cocaine residue present in the nasal canal. When the nose bleeds, that excess cocaine residue would show up in the blood coming from the nose as an increased concentration of cocaine in that blood. These increased concentrations would not occur in blood taken from other parts of the body, including from the head wounds. Also, as you have undoubtedly seen from the photos of the Professor’s injuries, the damage to his skull was in an area confined to that area above and behind the left ear ranging through the rear portion of the skull. There were no wounds to the face or specifically to the nose.”
Not exactly what Bridget Fahey was hoping for. She tried to rebound by questioning the Doctor on his background. “It’s true, isn’t it Doctor,” she said, “that you are not a trained pathologist?”
Dr. Liu cocked his head. Then he nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”
“Nor are you an expert in head wounds, are you?”
“No, but I can tell when a victim doesn’t have any wounds to part of his head.”
Fahey looked down at her notes for a long time and Ben sensed that she had no real way to attack his conclusion. Any attack on that would likely have to occur in her rebuttal case. Now that she was in a hole, she decided to stop digging. Looking up at the Judge, she said, “That’s all I have for this witness, your Honor.”
After lunch, Mark put on the defense expert on hair, who testified that hair could not be matched to a specific individual in the same manner as blood or fingerprints. Rather, it could only be properly concluded that a given hair was generally consistent with those samples taken from a particular subject. DNA could not be taken from the hair itself, but rather required the presence of blood or flesh such as a skin tag. This typically occurred when a hair was plucked or pulled out, not when it simply fell out. Thus, attempts to match a few strands of hair to a specific individual were a problematic undertaking at best.
They didn’t complete this testimony until after lunch on Friday. It was almost three when Ben rose to call his next witness. Judge Wilson looked at the clock on the wall and turned to Ben and asked, “Mr. Lohmeier, do you have a good idea about how long it will take to conduct the direct-examination of your next witness? I don’t want to interrupt your examination to adjourn for the week.”
Ben considered the question for a moment and then decided to call Sally Renfroe, who would provide character evidence on Megan’s behalf. He knew her testimony wouldn’t take that long and the cross-examination would not be that extensive either. He looked at Judge Wilson and said, “Unless you have a preference for adjournment, your Honor, I could call a witness that we should probably be able to complete this afternoon.”
Judge Wilson nodded and looked in the direction of Bridget Fahey. “Ms. Fahey,” he said, “is that okay with you?”
She rose and nodded. “That’s fine, your Honor.”
Then Ben said, “The defense calls Sally Renfroe to the stand.” The clerk called her name and Sally rose from near the back of the courtroom and made her way to the aisle, turned and walked confidently past the counsel tables to the witness stand.
As she took the witness stand and raised her hand to be sworn in by the clerk, Ben stood at the defense table reviewing his notes. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and looked toward the back of the courtroom, only to see several people entering and leaving. He recognized one or two of them, whether from repeated appearances in the courtroom or somewhere else he didn’t know, then turned back to Sally Renfroe.
Then it hit him and he stopped in his tracks. In his head, Ben could hear the little clicking noises of the pieces beginning to fall. He looked back in the direction of the gallery, then back at the witness, then up to the Judge. He glanced back at his notes as the clicking grew louder and louder, the pieces of the puzzle finally at long last falling into place.
He stood there transfixed, right in the middle of the courtroom, as the realization that he knew the identity of the killer of Daniel Greenfield hit home. All the pieces were in place now. He knew what happened. He knew who the killer was. Or at least he thought he did.
He looked down at the counsel table, trying to figure out what to do. He tried to focus. He heard voices. His mind was racing now. How should he handle this? What should he do? The voices grew louder. Finally, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark knock on the table slightly. He turned and caught Mark’s eye, his eyebrows raised, a worried look on his friend’s face. Then he heard the voices again.
“Mr. Lohmeier, Mr. Lohmeier.” It was Judge Wilson. Ben turned back toward the bench. “Mr. Lohmeier, are you ready to proceed?”
He looked up at the Judge and tried to gather himself. “Just one moment, your Honor. I didn’t think we’d get to Ms. Renfroe today, so I just need a moment to get things together.”
“Okay,” the Judge said, “let’s get on with it.”
“In just one moment.” Ben turned and faced Mark. He appeared to fiddle with some files sitting on the corner of the counsel table even though he and Mark both knew that they had nothing to do with Sally Renfroe’s testimony. He looked back at Sally Renfroe and nodded. He made up his mind. “Your Honor,” he said, everyone in the courtroom looking at him and now a little curious, “in looking at the time, given that it’s Friday afternoon, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to begin Ms. Renfroe’s testimony after all. Although I’m confident I could get through her direct-examination in a reasonable amount of time …” he fumbled for his words. “I think Ms. Fahey might be rushing through her cross-examination if we were to try to finish with this witness today. Also, I’m sure that the members of the jury would appreciate getting out a little early on a Friday afternoon. So, with the Court’s indulgence and Ms. Fahey’s indulgence, I would suggest that we adjourn now and pick up with Ms. Renfroe on Monday.”
Judge Wilson gave him a look that seemed to suggest that Ben should have known this earlier, but eventually he nodded in agreement and said, “Ms. Fahey, any problems with that?”
“No, I think that’s fine, Judge,” she said rising, giving Ben a puzzled look.
As the jury left the courtroom with two Sheriff’s deputies, Mark leaned over to Ben and asked, “What the hell was that all about?” in a voice barely above a whisper. Megan also gave him a strange look.
Ben shook his head. “Nothing. I can’t tell you now. I’ll tell you later.”
Now Mark
looked even more confused. “What?”
Ben cut him off with a wave of the hand. “I said I can’t talk about it here,” Ben said firmly. Ben grabbed his friend by the forearm and looked straight into his eyes. “Do you understand me?” he said slowly.
Mark had seen that fire in Ben’s eyes before. Something was up. “Sure,” he said nodding, “we’ll talk later.”
Ben could feel his heart pounding. Nervous energy surged through to his fingertips. Even his knees were shaking. He didn’t know what to do.
After Court was adjourned, Ben watched Sally Renfroe climb down from the witness stand and walk over to the defense table. He didn’t want to look back at the gallery. He stared at her trying to size her up. When she reached them, she shrugged. Ben tried to look casual. He thought everyone could see through it. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position,” he said to Sally. “I didn’t initially intend to call you today, but I knew you were here and your testimony wouldn’t take so long, so I figured, what the hell? Then I got to thinking that I wouldn’t get it done today and, well, you saw what happened.”
She nodded. “That’s okay. Monday is just as good as today. I better go catch up with Peter,” she said gesturing toward the gallery.
Ben followed Sally with his eyes as she headed for the railing to meet her approaching husband. Ben and Peter Renfroe made eye contact and the other man nodded. Ben nodded back, forced a smile, then quickly looked away.
Ben turned his back on the Renfroes and exchanged some small talk with Meg, Mark and Dan, all of whom seemed to think he had behaved strangely. He strained to seem normal and relaxed, while his insides were bursting with the fact that he may have solved the case. I have to be right, he thought. It all fits. It all fucking fits.
Ben walked down the steps to the media throng trembling with excitement, his hands visibly shaking. He balled them into fists and led Mark, Meg and Joe Cavallaro to the microphone. He didn’t have time for this, he thought, but he couldn’t just blow them off.
“We think the case is proceeding very well,” he said with nervous smile. “I think everyone, probably yourselves included, is glad to get out a little early on a Friday afternoon. With that, I hope all of you have a nice weekend, and we’ll see you back here on Monday.”
Turning back to his colleagues , Ben gestured in the direction of the street. They all seemed a bit surprised that his remarks had been so short. Nevertheless, they all moved on, grateful to get out of there. The reporters also seemed eager for the weekend to arrive.
Ben and Mark were soon separated by the dispersing crowd. Ben could see his friend’s lumbering gait disappear among the crowd of reporters crossing the street in the general direction of their parking lot. Joe Cavallaro caught Ben’s arm. “I need a quick word,” he said in Ben’s ear.
I don’t need this! Ben screamed inside his own head. Don’t they realize I know who did it? He nevertheless gave Cavallaro a couple of minutes of his time while people milled all around them. Ben kept looking at his watch, his impatience clear to everyone. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, Ben cut Cavallaro off in mid-sentence. “Look,” Ben said, “I don’t mean to interrupt you, but I have to go. I’ve got something I need to do at the office and it’s really important.”
Cavallaro looked startled. “Oh, sure,” he said. “You go ahead. Do what you have to do. Call me later.”
Ben didn’t wait for Cavallaro to say anything else. He simply nodded to Meg and took off for the car.
Within five minutes, Ben was maneuvering the SUV down the alley toward 26th Street and pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Mark. He needed to talk this out. He had to make sure he was right, that his logic made sense. No holes. The call went quickly to voicemail. Ben slapped his phone closed and slammed it down on the seat next to him. Mark didn’t have his phone on again. “God dammit! Now what?” he said. He reached the intersection and had to make a snap decision – the Stevenson Expressway or the Eisenhower? Ben looked at his watch. It was already almost four, on a Friday afternoon no less. Neither choice was a good one. He picked the Eisenhower since he was heading back to the office and drove off in that direction.
The arterial streets were clogged with Courthouse traffic and Ben inched northward toward the Expressway. His mind continued to race with possibilities and he tapped his fingers non-stop on the steering wheel. He thought of Nelson and tried to remember his cell phone number. The detective hadn’t been in Court. Although Ben didn’t really have any proof in support of his growing conviction that he finally had the pieces of the puzzle in place, he knew how they could get it. How would Nelson react to Ben’s theory? Ben thought he could be convinced. Sure, Ben had been hard on him during cross-examination, but Nelson knew the lay of the land. He had been around long enough. He knew how things worked. It wasn’t anything personal.
Ben couldn’t remember the number and knew he hadn’t programmed it into his phone. It had been a long time since he had called Nelson, probably since Meg’s arrest. He knew he had it at the office, he couldn’t remember quite where at the moment, maybe buried somewhere on his desk.
Fifteen minutes later, he still hadn’t reached the Expressway. He tried Mark again. Still nothing. Between the traffic and Mark, he thought he was losing his mind. Then he called the office. Nancy picked up.
“Nance, it’s me,” Ben said. “I need to talk to Funk.”
“He’s not here,” Nancy replied. “He left a few minutes ago.”
Ben thought for a second. “Okay, then give me his cell phone number.”
She did. “Are you on your way back here? Do you need me to stay?”
“No,” he said too quickly and too loudly. He didn’t want that. He wanted everyone out of there. “I mean, I’m fine. It’s Friday. Go home. Send everyone home. Everything’s fine. Good day today.” He didn’t want to let her in on it yet. He still hadn’t figured out exactly what to do.
She laughed. “Good. I didn’t want to stay anyway.”
Ben signed off and tried Brad Funk’s cell phone. More voicemail. Why couldn’t he get in touch with anyone?
He set the phone down just as he reached the ramp for the Eisenhower. It was just as he expected, a parking lot.
Ben crawled west on the Eisenhower, the setting sun burning into his eyes and giving him a headache. All the while, his mind worked overtime. The more it spun around in his head, the more he knew he was right. He tried weaving in and out of traffic in order to get to the office faster, but eventually gave up when the same cars kept pulling up alongside him. He tried Mark and Funk a couple of more times each, growing alternatively angry and frustrated in the process. He needed to get back to the office now. He needed to come up with a plan, a good one, before it was too late. Before it was too late.
53
By the time he finally reached the office, it was 5:30 and he was a wreck. But he knew what he wanted to do. He ran into Nancy in the parking lot. Hers was the only car left. Good.
“It took you all that time to get here?” she asked looking him over. “You look like shit. Traffic must’ve sucked.”
He shrugged. “It did. I thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Casey called in with a rush letter at 5 o’clock.”
“Figures.”
“No shit. Are you sure you don’t need anything?” she said while shaking her head no.
He managed a weak laugh. “No, I’m good.”
“Are you guys going to need anything over the weekend?” Her head was still shaking.
“No,” Ben said trying to put her off, “not a thing. We should be fine. You go ahead. Have a nice weekend.”
“Everyone else is gone,” she said over her shoulder as she headed for her car.
Ben stood on the back steps of the building and watched Nancy get into her car and drive away before unlocking the door and going inside. He moved quickly to the front lobby to disengage the alarm and then walked immediately out to the garage to look through the files.
He pushed through the door to the garage, flicked on the lights and stuffed his keys into the pocket of his overcoat. He dropped his briefcase on a chair and looked around the room trying to find the file he needed. The bulk of the files used for trial had been locked in a storage room at the Courthouse for safekeeping. Judge Wilson kept the only key. It was much more convenient to do that than to schlep the files back and forth every day. There were just too many of them.
As he looked around the room, boxes and files and documents stacked everywhere, Ben wondered if he had outsmarted himself and left the files he needed at the Courthouse. He doubted it. They probably had ten copies of everything. He just had to find it. He found his backup witness files in a box under the conference table, pulled them out, and thought back to Dorlund’s testimony. That prick, Ben thought, may not have been completely full of shit after all. He may have been closer to the truth than even he realized.
His heart pounded and his fingers trembled as he searched for the right file. He didn’t find it in the first group, but found it back in a box under the table. He laughed out loud as he opened it and walked over and sat in one of the barber chairs to study the contents. He felt like a kid on Christmas, the excitement and anticipation building. He knew he was right. He just had to be. He looked across the room at the notes and posters that had been mocking him for so long. The timeline. He studied the timeline. Then he snapped his fingers.
His phone buzzed. He looked at the display and recognized Brad Funk’s cell phone number. He opened the phone and started in on Funk, eager to talk to someone. “Where the hell have you guys been? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you and Mark ever since I left Court and nobody answers their fucking phones.”
Funk started to answer. “Sorry, but …”
Ben cut him off. “Never mind that. I figured it out. I think I know who did it. I think I know how and I think I know why. It came to me out of the sky right in the middle of Court. Well, not exactly out of the sky, but I did figure it out. I’m sure of it.”
Final Exam: A Legal Thriller Page 36
