The Fifth Witness Part 18

"You know, you're a piece of work, Haller," she whispered.

"What did I do this time?"

"You just trespa.s.sed all over the place."

She moved in close and then over on top of me. She bent down, tenting my face with her hair. She kissed me and started slowly moving her hips, then put her lips against my ear.

"So," she said. "Normal function and activity, that's what the doctor told you, right?"

"That's what he said."

"We'll see."

PART THREE.

Bolero

Eighteen

Louis Opparizio was a man who did not want to be served. As an attorney he knew that the only way he could be dragged into the Lisa Trammel trial was to be served with a subpoena to testify. Avoiding service meant avoiding testimony. Whether he had been tipped to the defense strategy or simply was smart enough to understand it on his own, he seemingly disappeared just at the time we began looking for him. His whereabouts became unknown and all the routine tricks of the trade to track him and draw him out had failed. We did not know if Opparizio was in the country, let alone in Los Angeles.

Opparizio had one very big thing going for him in his effort to hide. Money. With enough money you can hide from anybody in this world and Opparizio knew it. He owned numerous homes in numerous states, multiple vehicles and even a private jet to help him connect quickly to all his dots. When he moved, whether it was from state to state or from Beverly Hills home to Beverly Hills office, he traveled behind a phalanx of security men.

He also had one thing going against him. Money. The vast wealth he had acc.u.mulated by carrying out the bidding of banks and other lenders had also given him an Achilles' heel. He had acquired the tastes and desires of the super rich.

And that was how we eventually got him.

In the course of his efforts to locate Opparizio, Cisco Wojciechowski ama.s.sed a tremendous amount of information about his quarry's profile. From this data a trap was carefully planned and executed to perfection. A glossy presentation package announcing the closed-bid auction of an Aldo Tinto painting was sent to Opparizio's office in Beverly Hills. The package said the painting would be on view for interested bidders for only two hours beginning at 7 P.M. P.M. two nights hence in Studio Z at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. Bids would then be accepted until midnight. two nights hence in Studio Z at Bergamot Station in Santa Monica. Bids would then be accepted until midnight.

The presentation looked professional and legitimate. The depiction of the painting had been lifted from an online art catalog that displayed private collections. We knew from a two-year-old profile of Opparizio in a bar journal that he had become a collector of second-tier painters and that the late Italian master Tinto was his obsession. When a man called the phone number on the portfolio, identified himself as a representative of Louis Opparizio and booked a private viewing of the painting, we had him.

At precisely the appointed time, the Opparizio entourage entered the old Red Car trolley station, which had been turned into an upscale gallery complex. While three sungla.s.sed security men fanned out across the grounds, two more swept Gallery Z before giving the all-clear signal. Only then did Opparizio emerge from the stretch Mercedes.

Inside the gallery Opparizio was met by two women who disarmed him with their smiles and excitement about the arts and the painting he was about to see. One woman handed him a gla.s.s flute of Cristal to celebrate the moment. The other gave him a thick folded packet of doc.u.ments on the painting's pedigree and exhibition history. Because he held the champagne in one hand he could not open the doc.u.ments. He was told he could read it all later because he must see the painting now before the next appointment. He was led into the viewing room where the piece sat on an ornate easel covered with a satin drape. A lone spotlight lit the center of the room. The women told him he could remove the drape himself and one of them took his gla.s.s of champagne. She wore long gloves.

Opparizio stepped forward, his hand raised in antic.i.p.ation. He carefully pulled the satin off the frame. And there pinned to the board was the subpoena. Confused, he leaned forward to look, perhaps thinking this was still the Italian master's work.

"You've been served, Mr. Opparizio," Jennifer Aronson said. "You have the original in your hand."

"I don't understand," he said, but he did.

"And the whole thing from the moment you drove in is on videotape," said Lorna.

She stepped to the wall and hit the switch, bathing the entire room in light. She pointed to the two overhead cameras. Jennifer lifted the champagne flute as if giving a toast.

"We have your prints, too, if needed."

She turned and raised a toast to one of the cameras.

"No," Opparizio said.

"Yes," Lorna said.

"We'll see you in court," Jennifer said.

The women headed to the side door of the gallery where a Lincoln driven by Cisco was waiting. Their job was done.

That was then, this was now. I sat in the Honorable Coleman Perry's courtroom preparing to defend the service and validity of the Opparizio subpoena and the very heart of the defense's case. My co-counsel, Jennifer Aronson, sat next to me at the defense table and next to her was our client, Lisa Trammel. At the opposing table sat Louis Opparizio and his two attorneys, Martin Zimmer and Landon Cross. Andrea Freeman was in a seat located back against the rail. As the prosecutor of the criminal case out of which this hearing arose, she was an interested party but this wasn't her cause of action. Additionally, Detective Kurlen was in the courtroom, sitting three rows back in the gallery. His presence was a mystery to me.

The cause of action was Opparizio's. He and his legal crew were out to quash the subpoena and prevent his partic.i.p.ation in the trial. In strategizing how to do so they had thought it prudent to tip Freeman to the hearing in case the prosecution also saw merit in keeping Opparizio from the jury. Though largely there as a bystander, Freeman could step into the fray whenever she wanted and she knew that whether she joined in or not, the hearing would likely offer her a good look at the defense's trial strategy.

It was the first time I saw Opparizio in person. He was a block of a man who somehow appeared as wide as he was tall. The skin on his face had been stretched tight by the scalpel or by years of anger. By the cut of his hair and of his suit, he looked like money. And he seemed to me to be the perfect straw man because he also looked like a man who could kill, or at least give the order to kill.

Opparizio's lawyers had asked the judge to hold the hearing in camera in camera-behind closed doors in his chambers-so that the details revealed would not reach the media and therefore possibly taint the jury pool that would a.s.semble the following day. But everybody in the room knew that his lawyers were not being altruistic. A closed hearing guarded against details about Opparizio leaking to the press and informing something much larger than the jury pool. Public opinion.

I argued vigorously against closing the proceedings. I warned that such a move would cause public suspicion about the subsequent trial and this outweighed any possible taint of the jury pool. Elected to the bench, Perry was ever mindful of public perception. He agreed with me and declared the hearing open to the public. Score a big one for me. My prevailing on that one argument probably saved the entire case for the defense.

Not a lot of the media was there but there was enough for what I needed. Reporters from the Los Angeles Business Journal Los Angeles Business Journal and the and the L.A. Times L.A. Times were in the front row. A freelance video man who sold footage to all the networks was in the empty jury box with his camera. I had tipped him to the hearing and told him to be there. I figured that between the print media and the lone TV camera, there would be enough pressure on Opparizio to force the outcome I was looking for. were in the front row. A freelance video man who sold footage to all the networks was in the empty jury box with his camera. I had tipped him to the hearing and told him to be there. I figured that between the print media and the lone TV camera, there would be enough pressure on Opparizio to force the outcome I was looking for.

After dispensing with the request to hide behind closed doors, the judge got down to business.

"Mr. Zimmer, you have filed a motion to quash the subpoena of Louis Opparizio in the matter of California versus Trammel. California versus Trammel. Why don't you state your case, sir?" Why don't you state your case, sir?"

Zimmer looked like a lawyer who had been around the block a few times and usually got to carry his enemies home in his briefcase. He stood to respond to the judge.

"We would love to address the court on this matter, Your Honor. I am going to speak first to the facts of the service of the subpoena itself and then my colleague, Mr. Cross, will discuss the other issue for which we seek relief."

Zimmer then proceeded to claim that my office had engaged in mail fraud in laying the trap that resulted in Opparizio being served a subpoena. He said that the glossy brochure that had baited his client was an instrument of fraud and its placement in the U.S. mail const.i.tuted a felony that invalidated any action that followed, such as service of the subpoena. He further asked that the defense be penalized by being disallowed from any subsequent effort to subpoena Opparizio to testify.

I didn't even have to stand up for this one-which was a good thing because the simple acts of standing and sitting still set off flares of pain across my chest. The judge raised his hand in my direction to hold me in check and then tersely dismissed Zimmer's argument, calling it novel but ridiculous and without merit.

"Come on, Mr. Zimmer, this is the big league," Perry said. "You have anything with some meat on the bone?"

Properly cowed, Zimmer deferred to his colleague and sat down. Landon Cross stood up next to face the judge.

"Your Honor," he said, "Louis Opparizio is a man of means and standing in this community. He has had nothing to do with this crime or this trial and objects to his name and reputation being sullied by his inclusion in it. Let me emphatically repeat, he had nothing to do with this crime, is not a suspect and has no knowledge of it. He has no probative or exculpatory information to provide. He objects to defense counsel's putting him on the witness stand to conduct a fishing expedition and he objects to counsel's using him as a deflection from the case at hand. Let Mr. Haller fish for red herrings in a different pond."

Cross turned and gestured to Andrea Freeman.

"I might add, Your Honor, that the prosecution joins me in this motion to quash for the same reasons mentioned."

The judge swiveled on his seat and looked at me.

"Mr. Haller, you want to respond to all of that?"

I stood up. Slowly. I was holding the foam gavel from my desk, working it with my fingers, which were newly freed from plaster but still stiff.

"Yes, Your Honor. I would first like to say that Mr. Cross makes a good point about the fishing expedition. Mr. Opparizio's testimony at trial, if allowed to proceed, would include a fair amount of fishing. Not all of it, mind you, but I would like to drop a line in the water. But this is only, Your Honor, because Mr. Opparizio and his defensive front have made it darn near impossible for the defense to conduct a thorough investigation of the murder of Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant. Mr. Opparizio and his henchmen have thwarted all-"

Zimmer was up on his feet objecting loudly.

"Your Honor! I mean, really! Henchmen? Counsel is clearly engaged in playing to the media in the courtroom at Mr. Opparizio's expense. I once again urge you to move these proceedings to chambers before we continue."

"We're staying put," Perry said. "But Mr. Haller, I'm not going to allow you to call this witness just to let you grandstand for the jury. What's his connection? What's he got?"

I nodded like I was ready with an obvious answer.

"Mr. Opparizio founded and operates a company that acts as a middleman in the foreclosure process. When the victim in this case decided to foreclose on the home of the defendant, he went to Mr. Opparizio to get it done. That, to me, Your Honor, puts Mr. Opparizio on the front line of this case and I would like to ask him about this because the prosecution has stated to the media that the foreclosure is the motive for the murder."

Zimmer jumped in before the judge could respond.

"That is a ridiculous a.s.sertion! Mr. Opparizio's company has a hundred eighty-five employees. It is housed in a three-level office building. To-"

"Foreclosing on people's homes is big business," I interjected.

"Counsel," the judge warned.

"Mr. Opparizio had nothing whatsoever to do with the defendant's foreclosure other than the fact that it was handled by his company along with about a hundred thousand other such cases this year," Zimmer said.

"A hundred thousand cases, Mr. Zimmer?" the judge asked.

"That's right, Judge. On average the company has been handling two thousand foreclosures a week for more than two years. This would include the defendant's foreclosure case. Mr. Opparizio has no specific knowledge of her case. It was one of many and was never on his radar."

The judge dropped deep into thought and looked like he had heard enough. I had hoped not to have to reveal my ace in the hole, especially in front of the prosecutor. But I had to a.s.sume Freeman was already aware of the Bondurant letter and its value.

I reached down to the file in front of me on the table and flipped it open. There were the letter and four copies, ready to go.

"Mr. Haller, I'm inclined to-"

"Your Honor, if the court would indulge me, I would like to be allowed to ask Mr. Opparizio the name of his personal secretary."

That gave Perry another pause and he screwed his mouth up in confusion.

"You want to know who his secretary is?"

"His personal secretary, yes."

"Why would you want to know that, sir?"

"I am asking the court to indulge me."

"Very well. Mr. Opparizio? Mr. Haller would like the name of your personal secretary."

Opparizio leaned forward and looked at Zimmer as if needing his approval. Zimmer signaled him to go on and answer the question.

"Uh, Judge, I actually have two. One is Carmen Esposito and the other is Natalie Lazarra."

He then leaned back. The judge looked at me. It was time to play the ace.

"Judge, I have here copies of a certified letter that was written by Mitch.e.l.l Bondurant, the murder victim, and sent to Mr. Opparizio. It was received and signed for by his personal secretary Natalie Lazarra. The letter was turned over to me in discovery by the prosecution. I would like Mr. Opparizio to testify in court so that I can question him about it."

"Let's take a look," Perry said.

I stepped away from the table and delivered copies of the letter to the judge and then to Zimmer. On my way back I swung by Freeman and offered her a copy.

"No, thanks. I already have it."

I nodded and went back to the table but stayed standing.

"Your Honor?" Zimmer said. "Can we have a short recess to look this over? We haven't seen it before."

"Fifteen minutes," Perry said.

The judge stepped down from the bench and went through the door to his chambers. I waited to see if the Opparizio team would take it out into the hall. When they didn't move, I didn't. I wanted them to worry that I might overhear something.

I huddled with Aronson and Trammel.

"What are they doing?" Aronson whispered. "They had to have known about the letter already."

"I am sure the prosecution gave them a copy," I said. "Opparizio acts like he's the smartest guy in the room. Now we're going to see if he is is the smartest guy in the room." the smartest guy in the room."

"What do you mean?"

"We've got him between a rock and a hard place. He knows he should tell the judge that if I ask about that letter he will take the Fifth and therefore the subpoena should be kicked. But he knows if he takes the Fifth in front of the media here, he's in trouble. That puts blood in the water."

"So what do you think he'll do?" Trammel asked.

"Act like the smartest guy."

I pushed back from the table and stood up. I nonchalantly started to pace behind the tables. Zimmer looked over his shoulder at me and then leaned in closer to his client. Eventually, I came back to Freeman, still in her chair.

"When do you wade in?"

"Oh, I'm thinking I might not have to."

"They already had the letter, didn't they? You gave it to them."

She shrugged her shoulders but didn't answer. I looked past her to Kurlen sitting three rows back.