A Death In Beverly Hills (37 page)

Chapter Fifty-Seven

"It's show time," Markham whispered in Travis's ear. "Hold on to your ass with both hands at all times."

"Mr. Markham?"

"The Defense calls Barry McGee," Markham announced in clear voice. When the doors opened and the deputy ushered McGee inside a strange sound swept through the courtroom like the ripple of an errant breeze just before a storm arrives. All eyes followed McGee as he walked down the central aisle. Noting the attention, Barry smiled, pleased that he rather than Tom Travis was the star.

"You are still under oath, Mr. McGee," the Judge warned him.

Markham smiled and ambled toward the stand.

"Mr. McGee, thank you for coming back here today. As I recall your testimony from last week, you've known Tom Travis quite a long time."

"Yes sir, about ten years." If anything McGee's twang was even folksier than before.

"I suppose that over all those years and all those movies you've taken quite a few falls for Mr. Travis."

"Yes, I guess I have."

"When he played the hero who was shot out of the saddle, you fell off the horse for him?"

"I done that a time or two," McGee said with a smile.

"When his car was racing away from the bad guys, you were the one who was in it when it crashed?"

"That too."

"That adds up to a lot of bumps and bruises, I'd expect."

"I took my share."

"Were you ever hurt taking the falls for Tom? Broken leg . . . ?"

McGee laughed. "A broken leg. A broken arm. Two sprained ankles. Sprained wrist. Three or four concussions. That's the business."

"I bet Tom was pretty grateful that it was you taking those lumps instead of him."

"I suppose," McGee said, his voice growing cold.

"Did he ever give you little presents, thank you gifts after a tough role or maybe one of those broken legs?"

"Not so you'd notice."

"Well, maybe he made up for that at Christmas. What kind of Christmas gifts did Tom give you?"

McGee shot a sour look at the defense table and turned away. "I don't recall any Christmas gifts from Tom. Must of slipped his mind."

"So after all these years of bumps and bruises and broken bones, Tom Travis never even bothered to so much as give you a bottle of whiskey at Christmas?"

"I guess he figured the studio paid me for my work and that was enough," McGee said in a flat tone.

"That's got to hurt. Did he ever help you out any other way? Maybe with a loan when your cash ran short?"

"Not likely."

"Well, did you ever ask Tom for a loan?"

"Once."

"What did he say?"

"That he didn't loan money and that the bank didn't make movies."

"Ouch! In other words, he turned you down flat?"

"He said I didn't have enough collateral so that he could be sure he'd ever get paid back."

"What were you going to use the money for?"

"Objection, Your Honor. I don't see--"

"I do, Mr. Hamilton. Overruled."

"I had the chance to buy into a movie prop rental business. Figured I'd get out of stunt work before I broke something permanent-like."

"That seems reasonable. How much did you ask to borrow?"

"Fifty thousand dollars. I offered to put up the business as security."

"That doesn't sound like much to a man as wealthy as Tom Travis. Are you telling me that in spite of everything you had done for him, Tom turned you down?"

McGee gave Markham a lopsided smile. "It's his money. He can spend it any way he likes."

"Is that why you started selling drugs to the crew on his movie?" Markham asked in a solicitous voice.

"What?"

"We've heard about your arrest for drug dealing. Were you doing that to get the money to buy into that business?"

"I wasn't thinking very straight when I did that," McGee said apologetically. "It was a big mistake."

"We've heard that you believed that Tom Travis is the one who turned you in to the police. Is that true?"

"I thought he did. I can't prove it."

"No, you're right. Tom
is
the one who turned you in." McGee gave Travis a glare of pure hate which didn't escape the jury's notice. "You spent a year in jail for that, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You got out not long before you and Tom had that drink you testified about last week, correct?"

"Sometime around then." McGee glanced around the room and forced a smile. "But, hey, what's done is done. Nobody's got a time machine, right?"

"So, when you called Tom and told him you needed help getting a job, you needed the help because you had just gotten out of jail, right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Considering the fact that Tom's the one who put you in jail in the first place, it seems like he should have been willing to help you get back on your feet, wouldn't you say?"

"You'd think so."

"So, like an old friend, water under the bridge, you went over to Tom's house, at his invitation, on December 27
th
, correct?"

"That's what I said last week."

"That's quite a house he's got, isn't it?"

"A little rich for my blood."

"Mine too," Markham said with a smile. "Did Tom show you around, give you the tour?"

"Yeah, he showed her off."

"He showed you his flat screen TV and his indoor fountain and all the fancy furniture and paintings?"

"Old Tom's done all right for himself."

"Did he show you his diamond cuff links and that fancy Patek Philippe watch of his?"

"I'd seen them before."

"How about his Hummer and his dune buggy and his dirt bike?"

"Yeah, he gave me the grand tour."

"Did you meet his wife?"

"Like I said last week, she was going out when I was coming in. She seemed real nice."

"Where was she going?"

"Shopping someplace."

"You probably don't remember where."

"It was the Beverly Center," McGee said with a 'so there' smile.

"Did the maid go with her?"

"Some Mexican woman went with her. It could have been the maid."

"So, just you and Tom were left in the house?"

"That's what I said."

"Yes, you did. So, then they left and you sat down and Tom fixed you a drink."

"Tom Travis never fixed me a drink in his life."

"You're kidding."

"You want a drink in Tom's house either the maid or somebody fixes it or you get it yourself. Tom's don't never do nothin' for nobody."

"You had to fix your own drink?"

McGee smiled. "I know how to pour whiskey."

"Okay, Tom's in the family room and he sends you to the kitchen to grab a couple of glasses and pour both of you a drink?"

"No, it wasn't like that."

"You tell me."

"Tom, he already had his own drink. He told me there was a bottle on the kitchen table and to help myself to whatever I wanted." McGee shrugged. "I went to the kitchen, got a glass, ice, and that was that."

"After you got your drink you chatted about Marian and his marital problems?"

"Like I said last week."

"Did you talk about anything else? Did he brag about his new dune buggy?"

"Tom liked his toys."

"Did he invite you to go with him when he broke it in?"

"No."

"He sat there, bragging about his new dune buggy, told you he was going to take her out for her maiden run, and then he didn't even ask you if you'd like to come along?"

"It seemed like once I asked him to loan me money, that was the end of us," McGee said sourly.

"Considering everything you did for Tom and everything he did to you, did you ever think about, you know, finding some way to get compensated for what he owed you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, with all that jewelry and his fancy watches and paintings and stuff in his house, did you ever think about maybe coming back some day and taking something to cover the year of your life he took away when he got you sent to jail?"

"I'm no thief."

"I'm not talking about stealing. I'm talking about getting what you deserved."

"How the heck was I supposed to do that?"

"All you'd need was to get in there when no one was at home. Right?"

"Tom always locked his doors."

"What about the maid's keys? They were right there in the lock in the kitchen back door. You pour yourself a drink, slip the keys in your pocket, who would know?"

"I didn't steal no keys."

"You're not a thief?"

"That's right."

"Except for that drug thing that you've already explained, you've been a law abiding person?"

"My daddy raised me right."

Markham nodded and backed away. "Okay. Let's talk about that. Last week you said you left home in Colorado so that you could get into the movies, correct?"

"That's what I said."

"Didn't you leave your parents home because of a terrible tragedy?"

"I don't like to talk about that."

"Your parents home burned down, didn't it? Is that how your father died?"

"What do you have to bring that up for?"

"I agree. Objection, relevance."

"If Your Honor would give me just a little latitude."

"Overruled, but subject to a motion to strike. Connect this up and get on with it."

"Mr. McGee, the Judge is right. Let's move on. It is true, isn't it, that after your house burned down you stayed in Colorado for almost five years, correct?"

"I was just a kid when the fire happened."

"While you were still in Colorado, did you get into a dispute with the manager of the auto parts store where you worked?"

"He was cheatin' us on our overtime and I called him on it."

"He filed a criminal complaint with the police, didn't he?"

"Your Honor, I have to object. This is not proper impeachment."

"I'm not asking for the purpose of impeachment."

"You're right on the edge, Mr. Markham. . . . Overruled, for now."

"Mr. McGee?"

"He made that stuff up to get even with me. They dropped the case. It was nothin'."

"Didn't they drop the case when a mysterious fire burned up all the store's records concerning the missing merchandise?"

"The whole thing was bogus."

"Moving on," Markham said, glancing at the Judge, "you had another problem with the police in Colorado, didn't you?"

"They had it in for me."

"Did you plead guilty to burning up the car of a man who claimed you beat him up?"

"That was put up job."

"But you did plead guilty to arson, correct?"

"The lawyer told me that was the fastest way to get the whole thing over with. I did nine months in county and got the hell out of Colorado."

"So when you said last week that you left Colorado to fulfill your dream get into the movies, that wasn't completely true was it? You left Colorado after at least two criminal charges and a conviction for arson."

"I always wanted to be in the movies."

"Let's see, your parents' house burns down. Then the evidence of theft against you burns up. Then the car of the man who accused you of beating him with a baseball bat burns up. I'm sensing a pattern here."

"Objection, Your Honor."

"You've made your point, Mr. Markham. Sustained. Move on."

Markham walked to the defense table and Brian handed him a report. After giving the D.A. a copy and having it marked, he approached the witness.

"Mr. McGee, let me turn your attention to page four of the forensic report on the investigation of Tom Travis's living room. The place where I've marked in yellow. Please read that aloud."

McGee stared at the page, frowned, then haltingly read: "Hydrocarbon residue found on living-room carpet at the location marked J on illustration 14 in a narrow line 10.4 inches long." McGee looked up in confusion and handed the paper back. "What's that mean?"

Markham retrieved a duffle bag from beneath the defense table and removed a red and yellow one gallon gas can and a ruler.

"Mr. McGee, it turns out that the edge of this gas can is exactly ten and a half inches long and if any gas had dripped down the side of a can like this and that can was placed on a rug, it would leave a thin line of gasoline about ten and a half inches long on the rug, just like the line of gasoline the police found on Tom Travis's living room rug."