Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

But was it possible he had killed his own daughter?

That didn't seem likely.

Then there was Hutch's new friend Gus. He was also sitting in back today, looking like the harmless old coot he seemed to be. But then millions of television viewers thought Jack Van Parkes was a harmless old coot, and Hutch knew that wasn't true. Jack Van Parkes was a horn dog of the highest magnitude who had a thing for high school girls, and had spent a considerable amount of his residuals paying off angry parents.

So was Gus also hiding something? Hutch barely knew him, so anything was possible.

And what about his old friend Andy McKenna? Sitting just two seats over, watching Meyer testify with rapt attention. On the night of Jenny's funeral, Matt had mentioned that Andy had a thing for her, and everyone had gotten a good laugh out of it.

But what if it wasn't all that funny to Andy? What if he had propositioned Jenny and been turned down?

Was he capable of slicing her up in retaliation?

Hutch sighed, wishing he had a cigarette, letting his focus return to Meyer, who was now telling the jury about his visit to Jenny's law firm, and the questioning of Jenny's secretary that had led him to pull the phone records detailing Ronnie's calls.

"And the records showed that these calls came from Ms. Baldacci?" Abernathy asked.

"Not all of them. Several originated through a hotel switchboard, indicating that a house phone was used."

"Which hotel?"

"The Dumont, which is directly across the street from the victim's office building."

Abernathy nodded. "How did you establish that they came from the defendant?"

"During the witness interview. Ms. Keating's secretary told us that Baldacci identified herself and insisted on being connected to Ms. Keating's line. The secretary made a notation on her calendar each time the defendant called."

"Did she give you any indication as to why Ms. Baldacci was trying to contact the victim?"

"She told us that the defendant's husband had filed for sole custody of their son and that the firm was representing him. She said that Baldacci was under the mistaken impression that the victim was one of the attorneys involved."

"And was she?"

"Objection," Waverly said from her chair behind the defense table. "I'm curious to know who exactly is testifying here-Ms. Keating's secretary or Detective Meyer?"

"Your Honor," Abernathy said patiently, "Detective Meyer is simply trying to recount the investigation for us, and part of any good investigation involves questioning those who may have pertinent information. We fully intend to put Ms. Keating's secretary on the stand, and defense counsel will be free to cross-examine either of these witnesses as she sees fit."

The judge mulled this over for all of two milliseconds, then nodded. "Overruled."

Abernathy continued on as if there had never been an interruption. "So was Ms. Keating one of the attorney's involved in this custody case?"

"No," Meyer told him. "The husband was represented by an attorney in another department."

"I see," Abernathy said. “So these phone calls were largely a waste of time.”

"It appears that way."

"And how many of them were there?"

“Nineteen.”

Abernathy's eyebrows went up. “Nineteen? Over what time period?”

“Throughout the month of April," Meyer said. "The number of calls escalated toward the last week.”

“Meaning what?”

“That most of the calls were made a day or two prior to the attack on Ms. Keating. And the majority of those came from the Dumont.”

“And did you find this significant?”

Meyer nodded. “It indicated to us that the defendant may have been stalking Ms. Keating and the sudden increase in volume seemed to suggest that Baldacci was growing more and more-"

"Objection," Waverly said, getting to her feet this time. "I think we can all see where this is going, Your Honor, and I doubt very seriously that there's any significant correlation between the frequency of phone calls and the caller's emotional state. Any testimony of that nature would be purely speculative and highly prejudicial, especially in light of the fact that Detective Meyer is neither a mind reader nor an expert in psychology."

"Sustained," the judge said immediately.

Waverly gave Abernathy a tight smile, then sat back down.

It was a good move, Hutch thought, if a little late. It was obvious that the prosecutor was hoping to establish that Ronnie had grown more and more frantic in the days just prior to the murder, and while the logic didn't necessarily connect, that thought had already been planted in the minds of the jury. Had Waverly jumped in a handful of seconds earlier, she may have prevented this from happening.

It suddenly occurred to Hutch just how crucial the timing was in a trial of this kind. A tiny mistake like this could change the whole dynamic of the beast, and he hoped Waverly would be a little quicker on her feet in the future.

He and Matt exchanged a look and he knew that Matt was thinking the same thing.

They waited for Abernathy to continue, but the ADA glanced at his watch and said, "Your Honor, it'll be a while before I'm finished with this witness and I'm thinking now may be a good time to break for lunch."

Of course it would, Hutch thought. Leave the jurors mulling over those phone calls as they eat their Big Macs.

"You read my mind," Judge O'Donnell said, then turned to the jury. "Ladies and gentlemen, I want to remind you that you're not to discuss this case with anyone, including each other. You're also reminded not to read any newspapers or watch any news programs during the lunch hour. And I expect you all to be back in your seats and ready to proceed by one-thirty this afternoon. Understood?"

The jurors nodded, several saying, "Yes, Your Honor."

"Good," O'Donnell said. "We're adjourned for lunch."

"Mind if we join you? Or is this table pro-defense only?"

Hutch looked up, surprised to see Monica Clawson and Tom Brandt approaching their booth. He, Matt and Andy had taken one that faced the entrance of a crowded bar and grill called The Jury Box, which was located about a block from the courthouse. Matt had suggested the place, and Hutch figured it would be a nice change from his usual vending machine sandwich.

Over the last several days he had been reluctant to venture outside the courthouse at lunchtime, for fear he'd be hounded by aggressive reporters and their video cameras. But to his surprise-and relief-their interest in him seemed to have waned. He wasn't sure why, but figured there must be some other poor fool, much higher on the celebrity food chain than him, who had gotten himself in trouble and would be dominating the news tonight.

Probably some human train wreck vying for a reality show.

The Jury Box was nothing more than a glorified hamburger joint, but its close proximity to the courthouse-and its name, no doubt-made it the lunchtime hotspot for attorneys, trial watchers, jurors and even judges. With their booth facing the door, Hutch saw several people from the courtroom wander in, searching for a place to sit, but had somehow missed Tom and Monica.

"We promise not to bite," Monica continued, then smiled. "Unless you want us to."

"Speak for yourself," Tom said.

Andy, who was staring openly at Monica's chest, patted the spot next to him. "I've got no problem with it. Have a seat."

Matt didn't seemed too thrilled by this intrusion, but they had plenty of room and he said nothing as Monica slid in next to Andy, and Tom took the spot next to Hutch.

"When did you guys get here?" Hutch asked. "I didn't see you in the courtroom."

"We couldn't find a seat," Monica said. "Place was packed."