William Bernhardt - Dark Justice

And thank God for that, Ben thought. Could it possibly get any worse than this?

As it turned out, it could.

“The State calls Marco Geppi to the stand.”

Ben watched as Geppi was escorted to the front of the courtroom. Ben knew he had been Rick’s cellmate in the county jail for the last several days, but Zak had sworn that he hadn’t known the man before and that he hadn’t told him anything incriminating, so Ben hadn’t worried about it. At this point, however, it was becoming increasingly clear to Ben that Zak’s word wasn’t worth a hell of a lot. And he also had learned that Granny didn’t do anything for no reason. If she wanted to put this man on the stand-as the last witness in her case, no less-that was reason enough to worry.

Geppi wasn’t wearing prison greens, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him in them, either. His hair was unkempt and his chin was stubbled. Had Granny decided cleaning him up wasn’t worth the trouble? Or had she perhaps decided he would be more convincing if he looked like exactly what he was?

“Would you state your name, please?” Ben noticed that Granny wasn’t smiling; for once, she was not suggesting to the jury that this witness was her friend.

Geppi cleared his throat, slumped forward slightly. “Marco Geppi.”

“And where do you live?”

“At the moment, here in Magic Valley.”

“And where do you currently reside?”

Geppi cleared his throat. “Cell Five of the county jail.”

That got the jurors’ attention. “Why are you there?”

“I’ve been arrested. Possession of an illegal substance.”

“Narcotics?” Granny was smart enough to get all the dirt out early, rather than to leave it for Ben to make hay about on cross.

“Yeah. That’s the charge, anyway.”

“And is anyone else currently residing in the county jail?”

“Yeah. Since I arrived, there’s been a guy in the cell next to me. Him.” He pointed across the courtroom. “George Zakin. He told me to call him Zak.”

“Did you know Mr. Zakin beforehand?”

“No. Never met the guy.”

“Had you heard of his organization-Green Rage?”

“Can’t say as I had.” He bowed apologetically toward the jury. “I don’t read the papers much.”

“Well then,” Granny continued, “in the time that you’ve spent with Mr. Zakin, have you come to like him?”

“Oh, he’s all right. Kind of a chatterbox. If I’ve got to be that close to someone for that long, I usually prefer it to be someone who ain’t so fond of talking.”

Some of the jurors smiled.

Granny crossed to the jury side of the podium. “What exactly does Mr. Zakin like to talk about?”

“He’s probably gotten to ’bout everything at one time or another.”

Granny allowed herself a grin. “Can you identify some of his favorite themes?”

“Oh, you know. Trees are dyin’ all over the world and soon there won’t be any left. Magic Valley may have the world’s largest cedar. Loggers are all dimwits and scumbags. That sort of thing.”

“I see. Did he by any chance mention the murder incident that caused him to be incarcerated?”

Ben felt a cold clutching at the base of his spine. He’d prepared enough witnesses for direct to know that nothing is left to chance. You don’t ask a question unless you know the answer-and like it.

“Oh, yeah. In great detail.”

Ben could see the jurors ever so slightly inching forward. They understood now why this witness had been called. And they were anxious to hear what he had to say.

“And why would he talk to you?”

“Well, in part, ’cause he was bored, and in part, I think, ’cause he likes to brag. He’s pretty fond of talkin’ about himself, or so it seemed to me. I don’t know why. Maybe he thought if he made himself out to be the big man, I’d be less likely to hassle him.”

“For instance, what did he say?”

“Well, he bragged about how good he was with bombs, how many bombs he’s planted to blow up loggers’ equipment and stuff. Man, that boy hates loggers-just hates ’em. His face gets all twisted up and weird every time he talks about them. He’s kinda crazy on the subject.”

Ben heard a whispering in his ear. “This isn’t true,” Zak said. “This conversation never happened.”

Granny continued her examination. “Did he mention any specific crimes?”

“Well, he mentioned some logger named Gardiner.”

“Gardiner?” Granny repeated. “Dwayne Gardiner?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Man, he really had it in for that poor chump.”

“Do you know why?”

“Yeah. He told me all about it. Told me he’d been drill-er, um, you know … sleeping with the man’s wife.”

“He told you this?” Granny reiterated. “The defendant himself told you this?”

“Oh, yeah. In great detail. More than I wanted to hear. He told me about all the positions they tried and all the kinky stuff they did. I’m no prude, but even I was kinda grossed out by some of it.”

“Did he tell you anything more about this … relationship?”

“Yeah. Told me that just before the murder, the chump husband-this Gardiner sap-found out about it. Said he was pretty damn angry, too. Threatened Zak within an inch of his life.”

“And what did Zak say he did in response?”

Geppi squirmed a bit in his chair. He glanced up at Granny, then proceeded. “He said he figured he’d better go after Gardiner before Gardiner came after him.”

“The defendant said that?” Granny said in a voice the jury couldn’t possibly miss. “And you heard it?”

“Sure thing. With my own ears. Told me all about how he planted a bomb on this thing, this … um, tree cutter, that’s what it was. Set the bomb, then lured the poor chump out there, shot him, got away to a safe distance-then blew the thing sky-high.”

The reaction could not have been greater had another bomb gone off in the jury box. The jurors’ eyes widened like balloons; they looked at one another with astonishment and horror.

Oh my God, Ben thought quietly, trying not to display any visible reaction. Oh my God. What now?

Granny adopted a quieter tone. “Did Mr. Zakin tell you anything else about this … fatal incident?”

“Yeah. Told me he watched from a safe distance. Told me he watched Gardiner catch on fire and burn. And he laughed. That’s what he said. He said he laughed the whole time. And then he thought, You logging bastard. Your wife’s ass is mine.”

Zak pressed himself against Ben’s shoulder. “This is complete fiction, Ben. You’ve gotta believe me. I never said these things.” He pressed even closer. “You gotta believe me!”

Ben didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“Mr. Geppi,” Granny asked quietly, trying not to break the aura of horror and disgust that had enveloped the jury box, “why did you come forward with this testimony?”

“Well, I thought someone ought to know. I mean, I’ve done some bad things in my time. Things I’m ashamed of. But this dude was … cold, you know? To burn someone alive just so he could keep on screwin’ his wife? To sit there laughin’ while the poor schmuck burned to death? That just gave me the creeps all over. This dude needs to be put away permanently. That’s why I came forward.”

“Thank you, Mr. Geppi. No more questions.”

No more questions indeed, Ben thought. No more questions needed. The stake had been driven through Zak’s heart but good. He didn’t know how Granny had gotten this man to testify, but he knew what the effect would be if Ben didn’t destroy him on cross.

The effect would be to eliminate any doubt in the jurors’ minds whatsoever that Zak was guilty of murder-murder so premeditated and horrible that it begged for the death penalty.