Solomon Vs. Lord Part 54

"Objection!" Pincher sang out.

"Now what?" Judge Thornberry looked up this time.

"I resent the implication of Mr. Solomon's question," Pincher said.

"This is cross-examination," Steve said. "If the State Attorney didn't resent the implication, I'd be guilty of malpractice."

"Overruled," the judge said.

"I can't recall," Dr. Yang said.

"You can't recall if the State Attorney asked you to change anything in your report?"

"I perform many autopsies," Dr. Yang said. "I talked to Mr. Pincher many times. It's hard to remember everything."

"Of course, there's one way to find out," Steve said with a slight smile. He waited a moment, letting the silence fill the courtroom. "You mentioned a transcriber. You dictated your autopsy report into a tape recorder, didn't you, Dr. Yang?"

The ME's eyes shot to Pincher, then back to Steve. The doc hadn't looked at the jury since Steve stood up. After a long moment, his head bobbed up and down.

"You have to speak audibly so Ms. Hernandez here can take it all down," Steve said, and Sofia gave him a seductive little smile. At the defense table, Victoria rolled her eyes.

"Yes. We make tape recordings."

"And you keep those tapes in a safe in the Records Division of the morgue, don't you?"

"Yes."

Steve turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I request a recess."

The judge seemed startled. "Didn't we already have lunch?"

"Yes, sir, but the state should be made to produce the original tape recording of the autopsy so we can check it against the so-called final report."

"We object," Pincher said. "That tape's confidential."

Victoria, legal eagle, was on her feet. "To the contrary, Your Honor. The tape's covered by Public Records Law."

"This is an untimely request," Pincher said. "Discovery deadlines have pa.s.sed."

"It's the state's duty to provide all exculpatory evidence, under Brady v. Maryland, up to and through the trial," Victoria shot back.

"You're suggesting the tape has exculpatory evidence?" the judge asked. Paying attention now.

"I'm suggesting the State Attorney is guilty of obstruction of justice," Victoria said, and a ripple of murmurs went through the gallery.

"That's outrageous!" Pincher thundered. "I ask that Counsel be admonished."

Holy s.h.i.t, Steve thought. Wasn't she the one who said to attack with a rapier, not a sledgehammer?

With a stern look, the judge rapped his gavel and said: "Counsel, in my chambers, now!"

Forty-seven.

POETIC JUSTICE.

In the corridor, on the way to Judge Thornberry's chambers, Steve whispered: "You keep quiet. I'll take it from here."

"Why?" Her feelings were bruised.

"You were great just now. But this is for the big mojito, so just cheer me on."

"Go, team," she said, peeved.

"C'mon. You know the first rule of arguing to judges?"

"Try to stay out of jail?"

"Know your audience. Play to their interests, fulfill their expectations."

"That's called 'pandering.'"

"Actually, it's called 'lawyering.'"

They settled into leather-upholstered chairs, Pincher scowling at them.

Judge Thornberry said: "The defense has made a serious allegation of prosecutorial misconduct."

"To which I express my outrage," Pincher said.

"And which we'll prove," Steve said.

"Okay, let's get to the bottom of this quick," the judge said. "I want the jury back before they're at one another's throats like in Twelve Angry Men."

"If Your Honor orders the original autopsy tape to be produced," Steve continued, "you'll see how the state altered evidence."

"Keep up the character a.s.sa.s.sination, I'll sue your a.s.s," Pincher roared.

Troubled, the judge stood and paced in front of a bookshelf, scanning his volumes. Victoria looked, too. Where were the legal books? Just shelves of novels written by lawyers: Turow, Grisham, Scottoline, Martini, Meltzer, Grippando, Latt, Mortimer, Margolin. Dozens more. Victoria wondered if the judge read any law that wasn't fictional.

He reached to a high shelf, fingered a book by Louis Auchincloss, another by Barry Reed, one by Barbara Parker, then pulled down Kennedy for the Defense by George V. Higgins. "Are you saying the State Attorney framed Katrina Barksdale?"

"Not intentionally," Steve said. "Mr. Pincher believes my client is guilty."

"You're d.a.m.n right I do," Pincher said.

"It's Charles Barksdale who framed Katrina Barksdale," Steve said. "The State Attorney only added basil to the bruschetta."

The judge sat down in his high-backed chair. "How'd a dead man frame his wife?"

The judge sounded confused, Victoria thought. Could Steve pull this off?

"Charles Barksdale tells us how," Steve said. "He speaks to us from the grave."

The judge's eyes lit up. "Like Poe."

"Sir?" Steve asked.

"Edgar Allan Poe. The Tell-Tale Heart."

"More like Agatha Christie."

The judge eagerly grabbed a legal pad. "Does it have a double twist? Like Witness for the Prosecution?"

"A double twist with a full somersault," Steve a.s.sured him.

"Where does the story start?" the judge asked. Eager as a puppy.

"A beautiful young woman marries a rich, older man," Steve said.

"And kills him," Pincher said.

"This is my story, Sugar Ray, not yours. The couple-call them Charlie and Kat-have a very active, very kinky s.e.x life."

"A little s.e.x always spices up the story," the judge said.

"And Charlie really loved her, which is why the next plot point is so painful. He discovers Kat is having an affair with their boat captain."

"Highly cinematic," the judge said, "if they did it on the boat."

Pincher said: "I've got the pictures if you'd like to see them."

"Now comes the conundrum," Steve said, ignoring Pincher.

"Like the missing beer gla.s.s in Presumed Innocent?" the judge said. "That Turow's a clever fiend."

"Charlie had his lawyer prepare a divorce pet.i.tion but he never signed it and he never said why. All we have to go on is a three-line poem Charlie wrote on the pet.i.tion: 'Hide a few contretemps.

Defer a competent wish.

Cement a spit-fed sh.o.r.e.'"

"Odd poem," the judge said.

"It's really an anagram with a message."

"Word games. Arthur Conan Doyle would have loved this."

Now the judge was deep into it, Victoria thought. Okay, so maybe Steve knew his audience. But could he deliver the payoff?

"Unscrambled, the anagram says, 'The woman is perfected,'" Steve continued. "It's from a poem by Sylvia Plath. She committed suicide just a few days after writing it. Then, the day before he dies, Charlie sends a card to Kat. Of all the things he could write-I love you; I hate you; Have a nice day-he steals a line from Virginia Woolf's suicide note."

"I get you," the judge said eagerly, "but just why would Barksdale commit suicide?"

"He was dying of cancer, and there was no time to divorce Katrina and cut her off from his money."

"But suicide doesn't help," the judge said. "The widow would still get her share of the estate."

"Unless-"

"Unless she's convicted of killing him! Outstanding. Perry Mason never came up with anything like this. Not even in The Case of the Daring Divorcee."

"Barksdale wanted Katrina to be charged with his murder. That's why he didn't just take an overdose or drive off a bridge."

"Mr. Solomon has a vivid imagination," Pincher said. "But where's the proof?"

"The anagram," Steve said. "It tells us everything."

Here it comes, Victoria thought. Wrapping it all up in a pretty package. But would the judge buy it?

"When Charles scrambled the line of the Plath poem, he had thousands of choices," Steve said, "but he picked phrases that revealed how he felt about his wife, and what he planned to do. 'Hide a few contretemps.' That's Katrina, keeping her affair secret. 'Defer a competent wish.' That's Charles, wanting revenge, but not being able to live to see it. And 'Cement a spit-fed wh.o.r.e.' That's the biggie. That's Charles sending her to a prison cell, or a tomb, take your pick. That's him framing her for his murder, a murder that never happened."

"Excellent story. The film rights will be worth a bundle. But what's all this got to do with Mr. Pincher and the autopsy report?"

"When Sugar Ray sees the first draft of the autopsy report, he gets a real jolt," Steve answered. "Charles was dying of stomach cancer. No way that's gonna make it into the final draft."

Pincher fixed Steve with a toxic glare.

"Why delete it?" the judge said. "She's still guilty of murder if she strangled him, no matter how sick he was."

"Because-"

"Wait. I figured out Murder on the Orient Express. I can get this." The judge took off his gla.s.ses, wiped them on his robe, and put them back on. "Give me a clue. Did Charles ever tell Katrina he had cancer?"

"Nope," Steve said. "He died without her knowing."

"Then I've got it! The autopsy would give Katrina a defense. She'd come into court and say she knew Charles was dying all along. Why b.u.mp him off if all she had to do was wait a bit and collect her inheritance?"

"Exactly," Steve said. "Sugar Ray a.s.sumed she'd lie, and he'd have no way to disprove it."

"I've heard enough," the judge said. "The state will furnish the defense with the original tape recording of the autopsy dictation. I warn you, Mr. Pincher, if Mr. Solomon is correct, I'll make a full report to the Ethics Commission. And the Attorney General's Office."

"This is outrageous!" Pincher said. "We'll appeal."