A Death In Beverly Hills (33 page)

Chapter Fifty-One

On Monday morning, perfectly dressed in a gray pinstripe suit, white shirt and red and black striped tie, Robert Garsen somberly held up his right hand and promised to tell the truth. Markham took five minutes establishing Garsen as a multimillionaire executive and then got down to business.

"Did you know Marian Travis?"

"Yes."

"When and how did you two meet?"

Garsen paused then described talking with Marian at a charity auction to raise money for a battered women's shelter.

"Did you become friends?"

"Yes," Garsen said, his voice tightening.

"At some point did you become more than friends?"

"Yes."

"You and Marian Travis became lovers?"

Garsen's skin turned clammy and he fixed his gaze stolidly straight ahead. "Yes," he admitted in a choked voice. A hushed rippled through the courtroom. For a moment, Travis gave Garsen a burning stare, then pointedly looked away.

"At the time of her death, Marian Travis was pregnant. Were you the father of that child?"

There was a long pause and Garsen's answer seemed to stick in his throat, then, in a cracking voice, he said, "I believe so." This time the spectators made a noise like a gust of wind through a grove of trees. Garsen pulled out a clean handkerchief and wiped his brow.

Step by step Markham led Garsen through his relationship with Marian, the places they had gone, the things they had done, their plans for the future.

"Did you and Marian have plans to be together on the New Year's day that she disappeared?"

"Yes, I have a boat at the Marina. Marian, her daughter Sarah and I were going sailing."

"When did those plans change?"

"A couple of days before, I mean the 29
th
."

"Why?"

"Marian and I had an argument about what we were going to do that night, New Year's Eve, and . . . well the result was the whole day got cancelled."

"Then as of the 27
th
, Marian . . . you said her daughter Sarah was also coming with you?"

"Yes."

"So, as of the 27
th
Marian and Sarah were supposed to be out on the water all New Year's Eve day with you?"

"Yes."

"Had she told Mr. Travis of this plan?"

"Yes. He knew we were planning on spending the day together."

"So, Tom Travis know of your relationship?"

"Yes."

"Did he know that you and Marian had planned to marry as soon as her divorce from him was final?"

"Yes."

"Was she going to ask Mr. Travis for any money as part of the dissolution of their marriage?"

"Not a penny. She was well off in her own right as am I. She was waiving all claims for community property and support."

"Including child support?"

"It was my baby, not his. My responsibility."

"Was Marian angry with Tom?"

"No," Garsen said emphatically.

"As far as you know, was Tom angry with Marian?"

"She said he wasn't."

"Had everything been worked out amicably between the two of them?"

"Marian told me it had."

"Why didn't she divorce him as soon as she got pregnant with your child?"

"She said it would make Tom look bad if she filed right after she got pregnant. She said 'Look what happened to Charlie Sheen.' She decided to wait until after the baby was born to make it easier on Mr. Travis. She didn't want to hurt him. She was going to tell the press that the stress of the new baby together with Tom's career had put strains on the marriage and that the split had been a mutual decision on amicable terms."

"So, Marian was leaving Tom on amicable terms and not asking for even one penny from him?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And she was not angry with Tom?"

"No, not at all."

"And he wasn't angry with her?"

"No."

"No more questions."

"Mr. Hamilton?"

The Prosecutor rose slowly and ambled toward the witness stand.

"Have you ever met Tom Travis?"

"No."

"Have you ever talked with him?"

"No."

"Have you ever had any communication with him of any sort at all?"

"No."

"So, of your own personal knowledge, you don't know how he felt about you and his wife, do you?"

"No," Garsen admitted.

"In fact, for all you know, Tom Travis could have been furious with Marian for cuckolding him with you?"

Garsen's cheeks flushed. "Yes, but--"

"The jury is only interested in what you know, not what someone else may have told you. You said that Marian Travis loved you."

"Yes."

"It stands to reason then that she wouldn't want to tell you anything that would upset or hurt you, doesn't it?"

"I suppose."

"Would it have bothered you if you had known that Tom Travis hated her for cheating on him and hated you for sleeping with his wife?"

"Yes, it would."

"How do you feel about what you and Marian did?"

"I'm not sure I understand your question."

"I think you don't want to understand my question, but I'll rephrase it. Mr. Garsen, are you proud of what you did?"

Garsen's cheeks tinged pink and he briefly bowed his head. "No," he said a moment later and looked up at the D.A.

"In your opinion, was your sleeping with a married woman, Marian Travis, right or wrong?"

"Objection. Relevance."

"Overruled."

Hamilton stared at the witness.

"It was wrong," Garsen said in a thin voice.

"I'll ask you again. How do you feel about what you did?"

"I'm ashamed," Garsen admitted, staring at the floor.

"If Marian had cheated on you with another man and had gotten pregnant with his baby while she was married to you, would that have upset you?"

"Objection. Relevance."

"Overruled."

"Well, would it?"

"Yes."

"If she told you that she was going to have the baby and then she was going to divorce you and marry this other man, would that have upset you?"

"Yes."

"Then, tell us, Mr. Garsen, can you truthfully testify under oath that you know that Tom Travis wasn't angry with Marian?"

"No," Garsen admitted reluctantly.

"Can you truthfully testify under oath that everything was all sweetness and light between Tom Travis and his wife?"

"No."

"Isn't it true that all you know is that you loved Marian, she loved you, and that she told you what she knew you wanted to hear?"

"Objection!"

"Sustained."

"Thank you, Mr. Garsen. I'm done with this witness, Your Honor."

Chapter Fifty-Two

Markham put his electric cord expert on the stand and managed to keep him there for the rest of Monday morning. Hamilton questioned him for only five minutes. The net result of the technician's testimony was that the electric cord found wrapped around Marian Travis's neck might have come from a lamp similar to the one now missing from Tom Travis's living room and it also might have come from any one of a hundred thousand other lamps. The judge recessed for lunch at ten to twelve.

"Any word on the hairs from the DNA lab?" Markham asked as he stacked his files at the now deserted defense table.

"They promised the results by mid-day tomorrow," Steve told him. "That makes it Wednesday for McGee."

Markham shook his head. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

Greg glanced at the now empty courtroom. "Witnesses are excluded but not the press. I've got to put the maid on before McGee and her story about the missing keys will make the papers. I don't want him to know that we know about that. I want him getting on that stand thinking that the only thing I'm going to do is try to discredit his story about Tom's motive for murder. McGee has to go on the same day as Delfina, before her testimony makes the news."

"Can you stall calling her until tomorrow morning?"

"I hope so." Markham put a folder into his case and pressed the lock. "Why don't you call the lab and make sure their tech will be in court Wednesday morning to testify, assuming they have any good news for us."

"Let's keep a good thought."

"From your lips to God's ears."

Steve nodded, checked his watch, and headed for the exit. On the front steps he paused and studied the talking heads. They were lined up like soldiers on parade, making their mid-day reports, each trying to get some recognizable piece of the Courthouse into the background of their shots. Third from the end, between an Hispanic woman from Channel 42 and a stocky blonde stringer for a German TV network, was Cynthia Allard. Steve watched her for a moment. She was perfectly coifed and accessorized, so painfully earnest that Steve imagined her as a little girl dressed-up in mommy's clothes, pretending to be an adult and hoping that no one would find her out. Disgusted, he turned away and headed across the street to Elaine's Coffee Shop where he was sure he wouldn't run into any reporters, correspondents or would-be celebrities.

Steve worked his way to the front of the line and wrote his name on the list.

"You want the counter, Hon?" Margie, a mid-forties woman asked him. Elaine's waitresses all wore uniforms that looked like an old fashioned nurse's outfit dyed beige in the body and chocolate at the collar.

"Counter's fine."

"Okay, take the next seat that opens up," Margie said and disappeared with a carafe of decalf in her left hand.

Steve grunted and turned away and almost knocked over Simon Katz.

"Sorry," he muttered, still angry from Katz's failure to properly follow up on the pool service van. Scowling, Steve retreated to the corner.

Katz looked at Steve sourly. Janson stared back with equal dislike.

"Your boss seems a little desperate," Katz said, his temperature rising.
Who does that murdering son-of-a-bitch Janson think he is giving me the evil eye?
"Tough fighting a war without any bullets in your gun," Simon said with a smarmy smile. Steve's lips tightened and he looked like he was one step away from punching Katz in the face. "What? No smart answers, Steve? You look like you want to hit me. Do you want to hit me, Steve?"

"Back off, old man," Steve warned in a low, cold voice.

Old man?
Barely controlling his anger, Katz moved close and waved a finger under Janson's nose. "What's the matter, Steve? Haven't been able to find the
real
killer?" Katz taunted. He expected to see frustration and anger cloud Janson's face, emotions he was intimately familiar with after more than thirty years as a cop. But he got something else entirely. Pride. Satisfaction. The anticipation of payback.
What the Hell?
"I asked you a question, Sherlock."

"You're the lead investigator. You're in that courtroom every day. Watch and learn," Steve said with sneer.

"So, did you find the
real
killer, Columbo?" Katz demanded sarcastically, hoping to goad Janson into revealing what was going on in his head.

"You fucked up, old man. Big time. But not me. Not me."

"What do you think you know, Janson?" Katz snarled.

"I know who--" Steve began, then, with obvious effort, forced his mouth closed. "You're lucky. You messed up but I found what you missed, you arrogant bastard."

"You can't--"

On the verge of losing control, Steve tapped his finger against Katz's chest. "You were so sure that Travis did it you didn't even bother to follow up on your own leads."

"And you did?"

"I did."

"And you found something?"

"I found everything!
Everything
!" Steve shouted, barely controlling his rage.

"And Tom Travis is innocent?"

"Yes!"

"You can prove this?"

"Yes!" Steve said, smiling in spite of himself.

"And you know who the real killer is?"

Steve opened his mouth to scream
Yes! Yes, you old fool, it's
. . . and then he noticed the anticipation, the naked desire on Katz's face.
Son of a bitch!
"Come to court," Steve told him in a hissing whisper. "Come to court and find out the mess you've made of this case. Come to court, old man, and watch me do your job for you because you were so fucking determined to pin this on Travis that you failed to do your job."

"Your seat's ready, Hon," the waitress called.

"You take it," Steve said, glaring at Katz. "I've lost my appetite."

* * *

"Something's up," Simon told the D.A. just before court resumed.

"What do you mean?"

"I ran in Steve Janson and--"

"I wouldn't put any faith into anything that psychopath tells you."

"He believes that Travis is innocent."

"He can believe whatever he likes."

"He believes that he's got the evidence to prove it and he thinks he knows who really killed Marian Travis."

"Who
really
killed Marian Travis? We both know who really killed her." Katz stood there, quietly, his face deliberately blank. "You're not saying you believe this crap?"

The words "What if he's right?" escaped Simon's mouth as if some other person had momentarily gained control of his body.

"He can't be right. We
have
Marian Travis's killer."

"Whatever you think of Janson, he's not stupid. He says he has evidence. What if he does?"

"He can't."

Katz wanted to nod and walk away but couldn't. "I won't knowingly send an innocent man away. I won't!"

Hamilton looked at the Detective as if seeing him for the first time. "You can't be talking about Tom Travis."

"I'm just telling you that I don't want just anybody convicted. I want the guy who did it convicted and if it turns out that's not Tom Travis . . . ." Katz didn't need to finish the sentence.