by Sydney Bauer
He took off his coat, cleared his desk and made himself a nice warm coffee (white with two) before sitting down to catch up on the latest from the trial. He heard his wife, who often brought her own car (so she could leave early), come in the back door, and cursed her for disturbing his peace and being late all at the same time.
‘Coffee, dear?’ she asked.
To which Ed gave no reply except to hold up his cup and give her a stern look which said ‘well, if you hadn’t spent twenty minutes on the phone with your mother this morning you wouldn’t have been late and you could have made me this cup and saved me another valuable five minutes’.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ she said, before turning to make one for herself.
‘Holy God the Father!’ said Ed, spraying his desk with a shower of milky coffee. ‘How dare she! Harriet, have you read this? She called our daughter a liar. For God’s sake. That, that . . .’
Harriet Washington came running out of the coffee room, a chocolate Twinkie protruding from her mouth.
‘Wha is i’ ’oney?’
‘That police woman . . . Officer Leigh. Francine told us how nice she was. Well, more likely a wolf in sheep’s clothing, or so it seems. She called our Francie a liar – in court.’
Harriet Washington was obviously beside herself.
‘Yes,’ said Ed. ‘The hide! Well, I’ll show her who’s the liar. That no good Judas, pretending to befriend a frightened young girl, taking advantage of her being in a state of distress. It just isn’t Christian. I’m going to call the DA. Let’s just see who . . .’
But Harriet Washington wasn’t listening. She had obviously had enough.
‘Eddie, please. I’m so tired of this. Francie is too. I’m not so sure we are doing the right thing – by Francie, I mean. It just isn’t fair.’
Ed Washington looked at his wife and in that moment knew she was right, even if he wasn’t yet ready to admit it.
‘We’ve set our course, Harriet. Washingtons are not quitters, Francie included. No matter what the cost, we stand up for what is right.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, looking him square in the eye. ‘So what the hell are we doing?’
‘Unfortunately, David was right,’ said Con Stipoulos down the line from Tokyo. ‘The Satos’ line of vision was blocked by the headland. They could see the girls on the outboard but not out to the cruiser.’
‘So when Christina stroked beyond the Peninsula, they lost sight of her?’ Sara asked, leaning into the speaker phone in Arthur’s office.
‘I’m afraid so.’
The four of them exchanged glances of disappointment. They knew that if the Satos were in Teesha’s line of vision it was unlikely they could have seen beyond the outcrop, but it was hard news to hear nevertheless.
‘But . . .’ said Con.
‘We’re listening,’ said David.
‘Well, it isn’t all bad news. You see, when the Satos were dropped on the beach, the helicopter pilot gave them a cell number to call if they had any problems, and wanted to be picked up early.
‘When the Satos saw the girls capsize and Christina swim out to the cruiser they called the number. Kyoji said they couldn’t get through, but left a message on his voicemail. A few moments later Rayna came to pick up the girls so they didn’t bother calling again.’
‘Did Mr Sato say he saw the chopper do a sweep?’
‘No, but he did say he heard a chopper in the area minutes after he made the call. There is a chance this pilot got the message and went to check it out. If he was flying low, beyond the headland, the Satos might not have seen him.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Tyrone. ‘Rayna said she heard a “white noise” above the cruiser. Maybe it was the Satos’ chopper after all.’
‘Maybe,’ said David. ‘Con, did Mr Sato know the name of the pilot?’
‘Not exactly. But he said the tour operator – a Mr Cruise – called him Kooriya.’
‘Kooriya? Was the pilot Japanese too?’
‘No, Mr Sato was giving me the Japanese translation of his English name. Our interpreter told us what it means but it doesn’t really make sense.’
‘What is it?’ said Sara.
‘Kooriya means Iceman.’
‘What?’ said David. ‘You’re right, it doesn’t make sense.’
David looked at Arthur and Tyrone who both shrugged, coming up blank. Then he looked at Sara.
‘For God’s sake,’ she smiled. ‘Did all of you guys sleep through the eighties? Mr Cruise called his pilot Iceman, just like Val Kilmer’s hotshot pilot in Top Gun. My guess is, gentlemen, that Mr Cruise and this pilot are tight – two unlicensed Mavericks flying low under the legal radar. I’ll bet Mr Cruise will know how to track down our Iceman and maybe our Iceman got a real nice view of our conversation.’
‘Sara, you are amazing,’ said David.
‘Nah, just an average American girl who saw Top Gun at least five times.’
‘Con,’ said David, ‘did the Satos agree to fly here next week?’
‘Well, Mrs Sato is only weeks away from delivery but Kyoji said he would come if we needed him. I told him about Christina and Rayna and Teesha. He wants to help.’
‘Okay, tell him to pack his bags. I think we are going to need him.’
‘What about our Iceman?’ asked Tyrone.
‘I’ll call Mr Cruise straightaway,’ said David.
‘No,’ said Sara, catching their attention again. ‘Something tells me Tom might respond better to a face-to-face visit.’
‘She’s right,’ said David, looking at Arthur who jumped to his feet and rubbed his hands together.
‘Ms Davis, what do you say about a day trip to sunny Gloucester?’ said Arthur.
‘Why Mr Wright, I cannot think of a nicer way to spend Independence Day.’
‘That’s settled then,’ he said. ‘Let’s just hope for my sake that Kelly McGillis is still in the picture.’
‘You have seen Top Gun,’ said Sara, grabbing her bag and swinging it over her shoulder.
‘Seen it?’ grinned Arthur, before pointing at David. ‘Why, I taught that young Maverick everything he knows.’
Each night for the past week David had called Joe Mannix for an update on the Teesha Martin investigation. Unfortunately, Joe had had little to report. He had no doubt the shooter was a gun for hire, and knew that criminals such as these had a talent for disappearing after the act, leaving a cold trail and little clue as to who hired them in the first place.
The pair may have had their suspicions, but there was no evidence linking Haynes to the shooting. David urged his friend to confront the Senator but Mannix had to remind him that it was he, not Haynes who was outwardly breaking the law on Friday night.
‘You were trespassing,’ said Joe. ‘Even better, you crashed the party and then tried to attack the guest of honour. You were lucky I convinced him not to press charges.’
One thing they did agree on however was a need to find out the identity of the dark man under the green tennis court lights. Initially Joe surmised he was part of the security team hired by the Republican Party for the night of the banquet, but a discreet call to Parkside Security turned up nothing. In fact the firm’s general manager confirmed all of his men were in uniform and none of them were on detail anywhere near the tennis courts.
David then countered the ‘dark man’ had to be linked to Haynes directly – a personal security guard or a friend. But once again there was no point in asking Haynes. For starters, if this man had anything to do with the shooting, they did not want to tip off the Senator to their suspicions. And secondly, they doubted they would get an honest answer from him anyway.
David could not get rid of the nagging feeling that he had seen this man somewhere before, and he was telling Tyrone as much when Nora interrupted their conversation. It was Joe returning his call.
‘I heard they gave you the day off. What did you do, win some brownie points with old Stein?’
‘Very funny. Ho
w is Petri by the way?’
‘As you would expect. Busy with funeral arrangements.’
‘Joe,’ David had to ask. ‘Do you think this might make a difference . . . ?’
‘Leave it with me, okay.’
‘Okay, but he’s due on the stand tomorrow.’
‘Maybe, maybe not.’
David knew when it was best to lay off, so he tried another tack. ‘What about Tommy?’
‘Tommy will testify. He has to. It’s part of his job.’
‘I know. But I am not so much concerned about what he will say, more what he won’t.’
‘Like I said. Leave it with me.’
‘Okay. But time is tight, Joe.’
‘I know.’
They paused before David went on. ‘Anything new on the shooting?’
‘Nada. And it doesn’t help that I have a double homicide on my hands this morning.’
‘What happened?’
‘Some gun nut had a domestic with his lady at a two-bit motel in Mattapan. He missed his girlfriend but shot four bullets through the paper thin wall into the next room. Killed a lady and her ten-year-old kid in the process.’
‘Shit.’
‘Yeah. We’ll find the sonofabitch though. The cleaning lady gave us a nice description and his prints are all over the room.’
‘You up for a fourth of July drink after work?’ said David, realising they were on a police department line and wary of pushing his friend any further.
‘Not tonight. Marie is pissed I got called in to work today.’
‘Fair enough, tomorrow then. Why don’t you come up here?’
‘Arthur still got a thing for those cold beers?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Okay, you’re on. Tomorrow, about seven. I’ll see you then.’
‘So nothing new on our mystery guy?’ asked Tyrone.
‘No,’ answered David. ‘I wish to hell I could remember where I’d seen him before.’
‘Okay,’ said Tyrone, standing to stretch his legs. ‘Let’s think about this for a minute. If this guy is linked to Haynes you had to have seen him in context with Haynes.’
‘But the Senator and I have never really been formally introduced. Let’s just say we don’t move in the same social circles.’
‘David, from what I’ve seen you don’t have any social circles, but that’s another story.’ His friend smiled before going on. ‘When have you and Haynes been at the same place at the same time?’
‘Um, well . . . in court?’
‘No way, something tells me this dark dude is one for the shadows. Haynes isn’t going to parade him in public.’
Then it hit him.
‘That’s it,’ said David. ‘It was in public but Haynes signalled him to move back, into the shadows so to speak.’
‘What? Where?’
‘At the funeral. He was at the funeral.’
‘Okay, good,’ Tyrone was pacing now. ‘That’s a start. So . . . how does this help us?’
‘I’m not so sure it does . . . unless, maybe . . . Nora,’ David called out, bringing Nora to the office door. ‘Can you find Marc Rigotti? Tell him I need to see him at his office – urgently.’
‘Done,’ she said.
Tyrone got it in one. ‘Of course, the media. They were all over the funeral. You think maybe some photographer caught our dark man on film?’
‘I don’t know, but it’s worth a shot. In the very least it would give Joe something to work with. Maybe someone saw the guy near Delia’s house last Friday night?’
‘Should we call Joe? He might want to meet us.’
‘Nah. Joe’s busy on a new case, a double shooting.’ David told Tyrone about the hotel homicides.
‘Jeez, on the fourth of July. What the hell is wrong with this country?’
‘Good question, lad,’ said Nora from the office doorway. ‘But you’ve no time to ponder such grand dilemmas right now. Mr Rigotti is in and expecting you.’
‘Thanks, Nora,’ said David, before turning to Tyrone. ‘So what are we waiting for? Let’s go.’
43
‘Basically, the drowning process includes a series of seven destructive progressive stages: struggle, aspiration of water, laryngospasm, hypoxia, unconsciousness, respiratory arrest and finally cardiac arrest. One stage will progress to the other, and ultimately end in death, if rapid and effective intervention is not provided by appropriately trained personnel.’
Boston Medical Examiner Gus Svenson was on the stand and the room was hanging on his every word. Scaturro had spent over an hour questioning him on the adverse effects of alcohol, and the specific biological consequences of the level in Christina’s blood. And now she was moving on to the physical description of the drowning itself.
The prosecution did not know what caused Christina to drown but figured if they juxtaposed the testimony on the alcohol with that on the process of drowning, the jury would connect the two as cause and effect. One thing was for sure, the State may not be able to use Gus Svenson to prove their motive of hate, but they could certainly milk his medically sound, visually graphic and emotionally disturbing testimony to raise the level of sympathy for the victim and in turn, the level of disdain for the defendant.
‘Dr Svenson,’ continued Scaturro, ‘do you think you could elaborate on these stages so that we might understand exactly what happened to Christina Haynes on said afternoon?’
‘Well, first of all it must be remembered, that the drowning process is a very silent one. The conscious victim may only struggle at the surface for twenty to sixty seconds and during that struggle, he or she rarely makes a sound; they are straining just to breathe. The victim’s arms are typically placed laterally to his or her side as he or she attempts to keep his or her head out of the water.’
Typical Gus, thought David, straight from the textbook. This was going to hurt.
‘To the untrained person, the victim appears to be playing in the water, when in reality he or she is engaged in a life and death struggle. This is referred to as the Instinctive Drowning Response or IDR.’
‘Right, so that is stage one – the struggle.’
Scaturro turned to the jury as she said this, making eye contact with jurors numbers six and seven, Lily Butterfield and Bonnie Sullivan. Lily was an interior designer and Bonnie an arts supplies shop keeper. Neither were used to such descriptions and she wanted to work their distress for all it was worth.
‘What about stage two – aspiration?’
‘During the victim’s struggle to remain at the surface and to keep his or her head and mouth above the surface of the water, the victim will gasp for air and ingest water. This aspiration of water into the lungs results in a decrease in buoyancy.’
‘And stage three – laryngospasm?’
‘Yes, this term is self explanatory. It refers to a spasm of the larynx. Basically, in a reflexive response to prevent additional water from entering the lungs, the larynx will spasm. This reflex spasm, however, also prevents air from entering the lungs. ‘This in turn results in a lack of oxygen to the brain and other vital organs and tissues, so the victim becomes hypoxic, which leads to unconsciousness.’
‘Stages four and five.’
‘That’s right.’
Scaturro looked at the jury again, her pained expression highlighting the tragedy of it all. Then she turned slowly, encouraging them to follow her eyes across the room to Elizabeth Haynes.
It was a clever move. If this was hard for them to hear, imagine how difficult it was for the girl’s mother.
‘Go on, Doctor,’ she said, knowing she had them.
‘By now the victim is usually situated either at the surface or submerged below the surface of the water with his or her face immersed in the water. The victim is not breathing and is considered to be in respiratory arrest – stage six. If rescue occurs at this point, assisted breathing will be required to adequately ventilate the patient’s lungs.’
‘And the final stage – stage s
even – cardiac arrest?’
‘The heart may continue to beat for up to several minutes after the onset of respiratory arrest. However, as a result of a lack of oxygen to the brain and heart, the victim’s condition deteriorates, resulting in cardiac arrest. If rescue occurs at this point, CPR must be immediately initiated and maintained until the patient can be defibrillated.’
David looked at Sara who returned his look of concern and grasped Rayna’s hand underneath the defence table. It was a perfect description of drowning, a perfect visual portrait for the jury – a perfect play for the prosecution.
‘So basically, what you are saying, Dr Svenson, is that if Miss Haynes had received help minutes earlier, if Mrs Martin had rescued her before attending the other three girls, if Christina Haynes had been pulled from the water as soon as Mrs Martin saw her from the cruiser, she would still be alive today.’
‘Most likely, yes.’
Scaturro paused, bowed her head and shook it ever so slightly before looking back at the witness again. ‘Thank you, Dr Svenson. No further questions, Your Honour.’
Scaturro had timed her finish perfectly – just before lunch. She knew the jury would spend the next hour visualising the drowning death of Christina Haynes in all its graphic, heart-wrenching detail and there was nothing the defence could do about it. In the very least they had an hour to go over their plans for Svenson’s cross examination which was for them, in many ways, the most important part of the trial to date.
For starters it was their first opportunity to introduce their own new evidence in the form of the markings on Christina’s ankle and the yet-to-be-mentioned silver anklet. They had considered hiring divers to search for the missing piece of jewellery, but time was short and they knew in the end it would have been like trying to find a needle in a haystack.
They were hoping Svenson’s evaluation of the charm-shaped abrasions on Christina’s skin would be enough to prove the anklet was tangled for several minutes – thus enabling them to build the groundwork for Ewan Jordan’s ‘lack of time’ theory, setting the stage for Sato Kyoji. They could then use Mr Sato’s eye-witness account to prove Christina must have fought her battle with the nets after Rayna left to rescue the three girls, considering there was no time before. This wasn’t going to be easy. David would have to tread carefully, leaving the door open for Kyoji to close later next week.
