Fatal Conceit (49 page)

“It was a few days later, after the weekend, a Monday, I think. I was back in New York. Rod was there, too. I'd just come back from yoga class and when I came in, Rod was sitting in his favorite chair smoking one of his smelly cigars and watching the television.”

“Was he doing anything in particular?”

Lee pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not really. Just sitting there watching. It took me a second to realize that the news was about Sam Allen. He'd been found dead in a hotel. I couldn't believe it.”

“Did the defendant, Fauhomme, say anything at all?”

“I gasped and he just pointed at the television with his cigar and said, ‘Sam Allen's dead . . . that's too bad.' ”

“And what, if anything, did you think about his reaction?”

“I thought it was weird. I started to cry and he just looked at me like I was crazy and told me to knock it off or go to my room. I even asked him, ‘Why are you acting like this? Sam's dead!' And he just kind of shrugged and said, ‘People die all the time.' I was stunned. He just seemed so cold.”

“What happened next?”

“I thought about Jenna and that she must be heartbroken. I tried to call her but didn't get an answer. I got scared, like maybe something happened to her, too. Then she called me. She was hysterical. She screamed that Sam had been murdered. I was like, ‘What? What?' The television didn't say anything about murder.”

“Where was the defendant, Fauhomme, during this phone call?”

“He was sitting in his chair but got up quick when I asked her why she thought it was murder. He put his head next to mine so he could hear what she was saying. She started talking about how she'd left her webcam on and recorded the murder. Rod turned sort of white and started writing me these notes. He said he was sending someone over to help her, and that if Sam was murdered, it might have something to do with the Chechnya stuff. He sent Ray Baum.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was standing there when he called him. Then he went into his office. I heard him tell Baum that he was an idiot. A little while later, maybe an hour, he got another call—I think from Baum because he called him an idiot again. He was in his office but he was practically screaming when he said, ‘Find her, goddammit, and get that fucking computer. You hear me, or you're fucking finished.' ”

Lee hesitated. “Uh, sorry about the language, but that's what he said.”

“That's okay,” Karp said. “The jurors understand that you're just trying to be accurate. What, if anything, did Fauhomme say to you after that?”

“He came out of his office and saw me standing there,” Lee
said. “His face was purple, he'd been yelling so loud. But he kind of pulled himself together and was actually nice. He said that Jenna was missing and that he was worried about her safety. He said that if I heard from her I was to tell him right away. He said it was a matter of life and death.”

“What was he like over the next twenty-four hours or so?”

“He was a wreck. Tucker Lindsey flew in from D.C. and stayed at a hotel near my place; they holed up a lot in Rod's office. Then Jenna called.”

“What, if anything, did you do then?”

“I walked into Rod's office and pointed at my phone so that he would know it was her.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I thought Jenna was in danger.”

“But why not tell her you were talking to Rod?”

“He told me not to; he said he was worried that whoever killed Allen was trying to use Jenna to smear the president. And he said they might be able to hear my phone calls and he didn't want them to know that he was after them. I still . . . I still believed in the president and that Rod, whatever he was as a boyfriend, which wasn't much, he cared about this country. Anyway, in those days I did pretty much whatever I was told.”

“So go on, please, tell the jury what you said to Jenna and then what happened next.”

As Lee began to recall Blair's telephone call that set up the meeting at the theater, Lindsey slumped in his seat. “I hate you,” he whispered to his codefendant.

“The feeling's mutual, you faggot,” Fauhomme whispered back. “You queers just don't have what it takes.”

“I hope that keeps you warm in prison,” Lindsey shot back. “I think you're going to meet a lot of queers who will give you more than you can handle.”

For once in his life, Fauhomme was speechless.

T
HE FIRST QUESTION
K
ARP NEEDED
to settle when Lee appeared in his office the day after the election was whether she was Fauhomme's accomplice and therefore should be charged with the crime or was an unwitting pawn in his game. Hard questioning had convinced him that it was the latter, but that didn't ensure that she was going to hold up in court.

In fact, when Lee finished her account and he told her she was going to have to testify against her former boyfriend, she'd quailed in fear. “You don't know what you're up against,” she'd cried. “He's friends with the president and is capable of anything, anything. And Lindsey, he comes off as this mild-mannered gay guy, but he's cold as a fish and he'd step on his mother's throat if it accomplished what he wants.”

“Not to worry,” Karp said. “You let me deal with those characters. All you have to do is tell the whole truth. You understand?” She'd just nodded, looking into Karp's eyes.

Now, eight months later, Karp ended his direct examination of Lee by playing the recording of the telephone call Blair had placed to her at his request following the events at Loon Lake. Another chapter was about to be closed, and then there would be just one more, but he didn't want to look too far ahead.

As the trial had proceeded, he realized that he could lead Faust into mistakes like a chess grandmaster trapping an overeager neophyte. The strategy behind the way he moved his “pieces” of evidence wasn't always evident in the moment, but was part of a gambit leading to eventual checkmate. He sensed that Faust would trap herself if he continued to present what she would see as openings in his case.

“Jenna! We've been so worried! Where have you been? Rod sent one of his security guys to your apartment last week, and you were gone. It looked like somebody had torn the place apart!”

“A man . . . the man I told you about who killed Sam . . . he showed up first. He must have been listening to my telephone calls. I recognized his tattoo on the security camera, but I went down the fire escape and got away. I was so scared; I didn't know who to turn to . . .”

“Oh, honey, you should have called me again. Rod . . . and the president's national security adviser, Tucker Lindsey, I overheard them talking. They didn't want to worry me, but they think that man works for the terrorists!”

Karp had stopped the recording at that point to ask, “Was the man with the tattoo Ray Baum?”

“Yes.”

“And did you actually hear the defendants say that they believed Baum worked for terrorists?”

“Yes. They said it right in front of me. I think now that they wanted me to hear that so I would tell Jenna.”

“So to be clear, they knew that she was talking about Ray Baum, a man who worked for your boyfriend at the time, Rod Fauhomme, and had NSA identification cards issued to him by Tucker Lindsey?”

“Yes.”

“And that it was not some unknown ‘terrorist' who was after her and her computer?”

“That's correct.”

Karp started the recording again and watched the jury as Blair breathlessly described how the man with the tattoo found her at the cabin on Loon Lake and how she then lost him after a car chase. “Jenna, listen to me. Do you still have your computer? Rod thinks that's what they're after!”

Again Karp stopped the recording. “Why did you say that?”

“Rod was right there, and he wrote a note telling me what to say. And then he told me to tell her that Tucker Lindsey would meet her and make sure she was safe.”

“And that's when you set up the meeting at the theater on 13th Street?”

“Yes.”

Karp wrapped up the direct examination of Lee and turned her over to Faust for cross-examination. As he returned to his seat, he looked back at where Stupenagel and Marlene were sitting, but his eyes locked on a young man two rows behind them on the other side of the aisle. He was obviously staring at Stupenagel; then he turned his head and met Karp's eyes before looking quickly away. Conscious of the reports of a young man stalking the reporter outside her apartment, Karp made a mental note to ask Fulton to check on the guy. But for now he needed to focus on Faust as she cross-examined Lee.

As anticipated, the defense attorney's main thrust was to paint Lee as part of a prostitution blackmail ring. “I believe your testimony was that my client, Mr. Fauhomme, gave you the money that you then deposited in your account?” Faust asked at one point.

“That's correct.”

“And that you then paid these women who worked for you.”

“They didn't work for me—”

“No? You arranged for them to appear at parties and sleep with wealthy men and then gave them money for it. In fact, that's pretty much the job description of a madam, wouldn't you say?”

“I was doing what Rod asked and he gave me the money to pay them.”

“You were a pimp, right?”

“I guess that's one term for it.”

“And these girls—your friends and acquaintances—they fit the description of prostitutes, or call girls if you will, right?”

Lee had hung her head. “Yes, that's correct.”

Faust had sneered as she stalked up to the witness stand and stared up at Lee. “Do you have any proof that Mr. Fauhomme gave you the money you used to pay these women? Any receipts? Any canceled checks?”

“No. He always gave me cash.”

“Are there any records to indicate that he transferred money from his account to you?”

“Like I said, he gave me cash.”

“But there's no proof of it,” Faust said, and raised a sheaf of papers she'd been carrying. “But right here are documents, Defense Exhibit M, that show that you deposited large amounts of cash over several years.” She handed the papers to Lee. “Would you tell the jury please whose signature is on these copies of the deposit slips.”

Lee hardly looked at the papers. Karp had told her this would happen and had shown her the documents before the trial. “Just tell the truth, and keep your answers short,” he'd cautioned her. “It may get tough; it may be embarrassing; you might get angry or want to explain. But that will just play into the hands of the defense attorney. Stick with the simple truth, and you'll be okay.”

“They're my signatures.”

“And who was the only person with access to that account?”

“Me.”

“Is Mr. Fauhomme a signatory on that account?”

“No. He told me to set it up and—”

“We've heard your explanation, Miss Lee.”

Lee frowned and replied angrily, “Where else would I get that kind of money?”

Karp's face remained impassive, but inside he cringed. Sometimes a witness's natural reactions couldn't be helped, but Lee had walked right into Faust's line of fire.

The defense attorney smiled sardonically. “Where? Didn't you just say you were a pimp and that these women were essentially prostitutes? Don't men pay for prostitutes?”

“That's not true,” Lee insisted. “Rod gave me the money and told me how much to pay the girls.”

“But there is no proof of that. However, there is proof that you put cash in your account and you paid the prostitutes, isn't that right?”

Lee glared at Faust. “Yes.”

Faust turned to walk toward the jury with her back to Lee. “And I can think of one more source for that cash. What about blackmail, Miss Lee, were these men blackmailed?”

“No!” Lee exclaimed.

“Did you threaten to expose their sordid little affairs?”

“You're making that up!” Lee yelled.

“Am I?” Faust shot back, raising her voice and pointing her finger at Lee. “What would you say if Ariel Shimon, the man you said was the first of Jenna Blair's conquests, gave us a statement—and in fact will soon be on that stand to testify—that you blackmailed him for large sums of money?”

“He's lying!”

Faust moved on. “Tell the jury about your relationship with Ray Baum.”

Lee frowned. “How do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Faust said with a smirk, “is was it romantic? Sexual?”

“What? No! He worked for Rod. I only saw him when Rod was around. I didn't like him.”

“But according to your testimony, you said you knew that Rod was going to send him over to Jenna Blair's apartment after she called you about Allen's death?”

“Yes, because Rod told me to say that he was sending someone. I was in shock and didn't think that it might be Ray Baum.”

“Your friend's supposedly in a panic about having witnessed the murder of her lover, and you're just passing on notes from my client?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Lee, did this conversation happen at all?” Faust said. “Or at least in the way you described it? Or was Miss Blair checking in now that the deed was done?”

“Objection, Your Honor, in form and substance,” Karp said. “First, these are multiple questions, she can only answer one at a time. But more important, there's that same suggestion of some sort of misconduct.”

“Objection sustained,” Judge Hart said. “Please rephrase your questions and refrain from making unfounded allegations.”

“Very well, let's move on,” Faust said with a knowing smile. “Did you know about Sam Allen's cabin in Orvin?”

“I think I may have heard Jenna mention it before.”

“Did Ray Baum know about it?”