Marcia Clark - Killer Ambition

“Thank you, Your Honor,” I said.

I walked back to counsel table and gave Declan and Bailey the news.

“I’m outta here,” Bailey said. “I’ll tell ’em all to be here by eight thirty.”

“I’ll be in my cave,” I said.

I spent the rest of the day in my office getting ready for my last witnesses. There wasn’t that much to do. They were all crime lab people. I intended to put Leo back on to give the defense fingerprint whore, Poplar, another thrashing, and Barry Feinstein, the head of the DNA section, who’d supervised Gelfer’s work on this case. He’d say that from what he’d seen, Gelfer had followed proper procedures during the testing in this case. He wouldn’t be able to say he’d watched him every second of the day, but it was better than nothing. I’d already had Russell’s threatening letters sent to the crime lab to see if I could do anything with them, but I wouldn’t have an answer on them until tomorrow.

The only thing left to do was work on my closing argument. If everything went according to schedule, I’d be doing it by tomorrow afternoon. I made bullet points of the evidence we’d presented and made a separate list of the zingers I’d save for rebuttal. Since the prosecution has the burden of proof, I’d get to argue twice, once before and once after the defense. That final rebuttal is the golden opportunity where we always stash our “gotcha’s” because the defense can’t respond.

Engrossed, I lost track of the time until Declan checked in. “It’s seven o’clock. Want me to bring you some dinner?”

“Damn. I didn’t realize. Thanks, but no. I’m just about ready to go.”

“Then I’ll wait and give you a lift. You’ve got to be tired.”

Bailey had given me a ride to work, so I didn’t have my car. I knew I should turn down the offer. I needed the exercise and the evening was beautiful. The sky was still bright, but the sun’s rays were low, giving the air a soft, balmy warmth. But I was wiped out. “That’d be great. Just gimme a sec.”

“No rush. Call me when you’re done.”

I called Bailey, just to check in. I got her voice mail and left a message saying I was heading back to the hotel.

When Declan dropped me off, I decided to hit the bar. I needed the break and I hadn’t seen Drew in a while. Being in trial means living in a tunnel, with the courtroom at one end and home at the other-nothing in between. There’s just no time. Anticipating a very dry martini, I opened the heavy glass door and swung into the cool darkness.

And stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting at a table with two other men, just twenty feet away, was the same jerkweed who’d hit me up in the hallway outside my room. Sunglasses and all. I quickly backed out and headed up to my room before they could see me.

I called Drew and told him about my encounter with the asswipe reporter now sitting at his bar, whom I’d nicknamed Sunglasses. “You see him?”

Drew was silent for a moment. “Yeah. What do you want me to do?”

“Would you consider watering down his drinks?”

“Sure, but…” Drew paused a moment. “You know the two dudes sitting with him?”

“No.”

“Call you right back.”

Five minutes later, my cell played Drew’s ringtone, “One for My Baby.”

“Tell me you gave him a water martini.”

“I did you one better.”

“What?”

“Can’t tell you right now. But just to warn you: those other two guys with him? They’re reporters. I hate to say this, but you might want to steer clear of this place for a little while. At least till the trial’s over.”

Damn. Now I wasn’t even safe where I lived. I sighed. “Okay. Thanks, Drew.”

“Oh, and just so you know. I heard them talking. This guy, Sunglasses, is only a freelance. My guess is he’s going guerrilla on you so he can get some footage that’ll score him a real gig. So watch out for him.”

“Will do. But please, whatever you decide to do to this douche bag, make sure it hurts.”

“Trust me.”

I knew I could. Just the thought that payback was being delivered-even if I wasn’t there to see it-was enough to lift my spirits. I was fed up with feeling hunted and powerless to do anything about it.

I’d showered and gotten into my comfy sweats and poured myself a glass of Ancien pinot noir by the time Bailey called me back.

“Hey, where’ve you been?” I asked. “I’m sitting here drinking all alone. Which isn’t all bad since it means more for me-”

“I’ve got good news and bad news.” Bailey’s voice was tight and low.

“Good news.” I’d had enough of the other to last me a lifetime.

“Parkova’s got something.”

I put down the glass of wine and sat up. “What?”

“She called it an MITM attack. ‘Man in the middle.’ It’s a way of intercepting someone’s e-mail without them knowing it.”

“Ian was intercepting Russell’s e-mail?”

“Yep.”

“How?”

“The only words I understood were ‘man in the middle,’ so I think I’ll let her explain.”

“So that’s how Ian knew about the kidnapping.”

“And why he didn’t have to be in Russell’s house at the time the kidnapping e-mail came in.”

“If I call her to the stand, can she prove this?”

“That’s the bad news. Right now, it’s an educated guess. She needs to firm things up-”

“So she needs more time. How much?”

“A few days. I know we’ve only got enough witnesses to fill up tomorrow morning, but if we can stretch them out, we’ll make it. Monday’s Labor Day-”

“Right.” I’d forgotten. But getting there was another story. There was no way the judge would give me tomorrow off. I’d have to stall. “I’ll do my best, but…”

“I know.” Bailey sighed. “Okay, I’m going back in there. Parkova’ll be working all night and I need to follow whatever the hell it is she’s doing so I can write a report for your girlfriend Terry.”

My girlfriend. “Yeah, Fisk and I just booked a spa weekend together.”

Bailey snorted. “For the mud baths.”

“No, she’s got those at home.”

“Anything you want me to tell Parkova?”

“Yeah. Hurry.”

I spent therest of the evening dreaming up ways to stall. Call in sick? Dicey. Shoot Terry? Tempting, but the judge would just make Wagmeister take over. And he’d probably be delighted to do it now that they looked like sure winners. Give some of the jurors food poisoning? Hard work. They weren’t sequestered, so they could go wherever they wanted. Bailey would need to tail them. Bailey might not approve of this plan. I fell asleep with no workable ideas.

But I woke up with a couple. Idea number one: pray for rain. It was far from foolproof, but there were clouds in the sky. Rain was good. Rain meant slow traffic. Slow traffic meant a late start. I did a mental rain dance as I got dressed. I even threw a trench coat over my shoulder to give the weather a little encouragement. As I walked up Broadway toward the courthouse, I looked at the clouds, tried some visualization exercises. Come on, you suckers, pour. But by the time I arrived at work, not a drop had fallen. Proof that the clouds were on the defense dole.

Since the weather had crapped out on me, I was forced to put idea number two into action. I went to Declan’s office and found him hunched over a legal pad.

“Hey, Rachel. Need anything?”

“Yes, but first I have some news.” I told him about the latest development with Parkova.

“Awesome! Finally, the good guys get a break!”

“Doesn’t sound like a game changer yet. First of all, we have to hope the trial lasts long enough for her to firm it up-”