The Motive (38 page)

“Locked away,” Hardy said. “No one ever has to see it. No one ever will.”

Hardy kept his poker face straight. No one would ever see the documentation of Will’s affair with his secretary because it didn’t exist. The Hunt Club had come to the conclusion that Will and Karyn had spent their four days aboard the
Kingfisher
. The captain of that boat, Morgan Bayley, wasn’t talking—Hardy’s private investigator was of the opinion that the newly wealthy Will Hanover had sent
him a quiet bundle of cash to keep his mouth shut. And had given Karyn a nice raise.

Hardy was running a pure bluff, and wasn’t one hundred percent sure he was right until Will stood up and growled down at him, “You’ll get your fucking check by the weekend.”

“S
ergeant Cuneo, did you have a specific reason to question the defendant on the night of the fire?”

“Yes I did.”

“And what was that?”

“Well, I was called to the scene to investigate a double homicide. The defendant said that she was related to the owner of the house. That alone justified talking to her. But she also admitted that she’d been to the house that afternoon and had talked to Mr. Hanover.”

“Did she say what they’d talked about?”

“At first, yes. She said they’d talked about family matters. But when I asked her if she could be more specific, she became evasive.”

“Evasive?”

Hardy stood up with an objection. “Objection. Witness is offering a conclusion.”

Braun overruled him, and Rosen barely noticed the interruption. “When you asked the defendant to be more specific about these family matters, what did she say?”

“She asked why I wanted to know.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“I said I was going to need to know everything that happened in Paul Hanover’s last hours, which included what she’d talked to him about.”

“And did she then go into the substance of her discussion with Mr. Hanover?”

“No. She did not.”

“Did you specifically ask her about this?”

“Yes. Probably half a dozen different ways.”

“And she did not answer?”

“Not the substance of the questions, no. She kept saying,
‘It’s private,’ or ‘That was between me and Paul,’ or ‘I can’t think about that right now.’”

“Did you press her on this issue?”

“No, not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because she was obviously distraught over the fire. She’d acted like she’d just learned that her father-in-law, her children’s grandfather, was probably dead. She became very upset after a while. At the time, I thought she had a pretty good reason. I decided to let it go.”

Hardy thought this was pretty good. Rosen letting Cuneo present himself as sensitive and empathetic. And now he was going on. “All right. Now, Inspector, did you have occasion to notice anything specific about the physical person of the defendant?”

“Of course. I’m supposed to notice things. It’s my job. I checked out her clothes.”

“And what was she wearing?”

Hardy squirmed in his chair. He wanted to break this up, object on relevance, but he knew that Braun would overrule him. Catherine had been wearing what she’d been wearing and there wasn’t anything he could do about that now.

“A blue blouse under a leather jacket. And jeans.”

“Would you please tell the jury why you particularly recall defendant’s clothing that night?”

“Sure.” Accommodating, Cuneo faced the panel. Hardy wondered if he might have taken a Valium or two during the lunch recess. There was little sign of the trademark jit-teriness he’d exhibited before the break. “When we interviewed witnesses later, someone described a woman who had left Paul Hanover’s house just before the fire wearing a blue blouse under a leather jacket and jeans.”

“But you didn’t know that on the night of the fire?”

“No.”

Rosen wore his satisfaction on his sleeve. He paused for a drink of water, then came back to his witness. “Sergeant, we may as well address this question now. Did you make a comment to Inspector Becker about the defendant’s attractiveness?”

Cuneo handled it well. They’d obviously rehearsed carefully.
He shrugged with an almost theatrical eloquence. “I may have. I don’t remember specifically, but if Inspector Becker said I said something of that nature, I probably did.”

“Does a remark like that seem out of place to you in that context? At the scene of a fire and double murder?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even remember saying it or thinking about it. It was a nonevent.”

“All right, Sergeant, moving along. On the day after the fire, did you see the defendant?”

“Yes. I went to her house.”

“And what was your specific purpose on that visit?”

“I had two reasons. First, she’d mentioned the night before that the victims had been fighting, and I wanted to find out a little more about that. Second, I wanted to get some answers about the family issues she’d talked to him about.”

“At that time, did you consider her a suspect?”

Here Cuneo showed a little humanity to the jury, another nice move. “That early on,” he said with a smile, “everybody’s a suspect.” Then he got serious. “But no, the defendant wasn’t particularly a suspect at that time.”

“Okay, and did you get to ask your questions?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because right after she asked me inside and offered me some coffee, she told me that she’d been talking to Deputy Chief Glitsky.”

“For the record, you mean Abe Glitsky, San Francisco’s Deputy Chief of Inspectors?”

“That’s right.”

“How did he know the defendant?”

“I don’t know.”

Rosen threw a perplexed glance at the jury. He came back to his witness.

“Inspector, is it unusual to have a deputy chief personally interview witnesses in a homicide investigation assigned to another inspector?”

“I’ve never seen it happen before.”

“Never before? Not once?”

Hardy raised a hand. “Your Honor. Asked and answered.”

“Sustained.”

“All right,” Rosen said. “We may come back to the involvement of Deputy Chief Glitsky in a little while, but meanwhile you were with the defendant in her kitchen?”

“That’s right.”

“Can you describe for the jury what happened next?”

“Sure. She was in the middle of making homemade pasta noodles and she asked me if I liked them. Her husband, she said, was out of town…”

Catherine grabbed at Hardy’s arm and started to whisper something to him. He couldn’t let the jury see her react badly, and he all but jumped up, raising his voice. “Objection, Your Honor!”

Braun’s voice was mild, merely inquisitive. “Grounds, Counselor?”

Hardy’s thoughts churned. He had gotten to his feet to shut Catherine up and to challenge Cuneo out of pure rage because he knew the man was lying, but these weren’t grounds for objection. “Relevance?”

Braun didn’t have to think about it. “Are you guessing, Counselor? I believe you’ve made a point about this topic yourself in your opening statement. Objection overruled.”

The gallery behind Hardy stirred at the promise of more fireworks. Rosen smiled up at Braun. “Thank you, Your Honor.” He went back to Cuneo, all business. “Now, Inspector…”

But Hardy whispered quickly to his client and was again out of his seat, cutting off the question. “Your Honor!”

Making no effort to hide her exasperation, Braun pulled her glasses down and peered over them. “Yes, Mr. Hardy?”

“Defendant would like to request a short recess at this time.”

“Request denied. Mr. Rosen, go ahead.”

But Hardy wouldn’t be denied. “Your Honor, may I approach?”

Her endurance all but used up, Braun rolled her eyes, then folded her palm upward, beckoning Hardy forward with a warning look. He left the desk, came to the base of the podium, spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorry, but my client urgently needs to use the restroom, Your Honor.”

“Urgently. That’s a nice touch,” she whispered. Furious, the judge paused for several more seconds. “This is beneath
you, Counselor.” Finally she lifted her gavel and brought it down with a snap. “Court will recess for fifteen minutes.”

“I can’t believe he’s just lying like that.”

“Actually, it’s worse than that. He’s not saying anything you can deny.”

“But I didn’t…”

“You did. You told him Will was gone. You asked him if he liked homemade pasta. You’ve told me this.”

“Then I’ll lie and say I didn’t.”

Hardy moved his hands up beside his ears. “Don’t even privately say that to me, please. We have got to stick with the truth here. It’s all we have.”

They were in the holding cell, five minutes to go in the recess.

“But they’re going to think I wanted to get him close to me so he wouldn’t keep investigating around me.”

“That’s right. That’s what they’re going to think.”

“So how are we going to fight that?”

“I don’t know that yet, Catherine. I don’t know. But the most important thing right now, the
only
thing right now, is that you can’t react in front of the jury. Don’t let them see you do more than look disgusted.”

In the end, Hardy couldn’t keep it from the jury. Cuneo’s testimony was that Catherine had offered him at least dinner and maybe more. He’d certainly gotten that impression, anyway. He’d had to rebuff her, reminding her that she was a suspect in a murder investigation. She did not take the rejection well and, scorned, had refused to answer any more of his questions. After a while, he’d decided to leave. For the first time, he began to regard her as a possible suspect.

And then, the damage done on that front, Rosen brought it back to Glitsky. “I’m curious, Inspector, did Deputy Chief Glitsky give you any explanation of why he, too, would be investigating the death of Paul Hanover?”

Hardy stood up. “Objection. Hearsay and irrelevant.”

“Mr. Rosen?”

“Your Honor, this goes to Deputy Chief Glitsky’s bias
and motive to skew testimony in this case. If he perceives he’s under political pressure to obtain a certain result in this case, his recollection, conduct and testimony are all highly suspect.”

“Your Honor,” Hardy countered, “the deputy chief hasn’t testified—he’s not a witness so far, so there is nothing to impeach. This testimony, if relevant at all, only comes in after the witness says something that makes it relevant. If that happens later, then it happens, but it’s pre-mature right now.” Hardy knew he was going to have to face this sooner or later, but he wanted Abe to bring it up first. Have him explain his status in the case in his own terms first, and not take the stand already burdened with the jury’s preconception that he was somehow suspect. Hardy knew he was right—that Braun should have waited until there was a foundation to admit the testimony. But she wasn’t having any.

The judge took a breath. “Counsel, given what I’ve heard so far, I’m going to let this in now, subject to a motion to strike. But you’re on a short leash here, Mr. Rosen. Keep this very focused.”

Hardy didn’t like it, but the order of testimony was something within the court’s discretion. Rosen had the recorder read the question back to Cuneo—the gist of which was whether or not Glitsky had tried to explain why he would be investigating Hanover’s death.

“Yes, he did. He said that Mayor West asked him to become involved.”

Mention of San Francisco’s mayor brought a pronounced buzz to the gallery, but it died quickly. No one wanted to miss the next question. “Did he tell you why?”

“No, sir. He was my superior. It was a fait accompli. I just assumed it was something political and didn’t worry too much about it.”

Hardy objected—speculation—and Braun sustained him. But it was a small and insignificant victory amid a string of setbacks. And more to come. “Sergeant, how did Deputy Chief Glitsky’s involvement affect your investigation?”

“Well, the most immediate effect was that he warned me off talking to the defendant.”

“Warned you off?” Rosen displayed his shock and amazement to the jury. “What do you mean, warned you off?”

“He said that she was threatening to file a sexual harassment lawsuit against me and if I knew what was good for me, I should leave her alone.”

“And how did Deputy Chief Glitsky tell you he found out about this?”