Robert Browne - Trial Junkies

Now the ADA moved to the easel and flipped the piece of art board over to reveal an enlargement of a computer calendar. The heading read THE LAW OFFICES OF TREACHER amp; PINE, and below this, the week of April fifteenth was displayed with squares representing Monday through Friday. Each square had notations typed in, and in the lower bottom corner of the board were the words, STATE'S EXHIBIT A.

Hutch assumed that this was the printout of Carlene Harding's calendar that had been entered into evidence yesterday.

Abernathy quickly confirmed that assumption. "Mr. Hardwick, I have here a blow-up of the calendar of phone calls that was provided to us by the victim's secretary, Carlene Harding. I'm going to call out some dates and times, and ask you to check the payroll report of Ms. Baldacci's attendance to see if it shows a corresponding date and time. A perfect match isn't necessary. Whatever comes close."

"All right," Hardwick said, looking down at the papers in his hands.

Pulling a laser pointer from his pocket, Abernathy shone a red beam toward the first square on the calendar, which held the notation: V. BALDACCI 11:55 A.M.

Abernathy called out the date and time and Hardwick checked the sheet. "The closest I have is a clock-out at 11:30 that morning."

Abernathy pointed the beam at the next square, this one showing three V. BALDACCI notations. "What about twelve fifteen, one twenty-two or four forty-three p.m. on Tuesday, the seventeenth of April?"

"I show a clock-out at noon that day, a return at one forty-five and a final clock-out at four-thirty p.m."

This went on for several minutes, and even though he had been warned that this was coming, Hutch's stomach dropped each time Abernathy pointed to a notation and got confirmation of a corresponding clock-out from Hardwick. By the end of that week in April-the week Jenny had been killed-there had been several calls, all of them clustered around Ronnie's extended lunch breaks or the end of the work day.

Knowing this was all part of Langer's sick game didn't make Hutch feel any better, and he could see by the looks on the jurors' faces, their glances toward Ronnie, that the testimony was making an impact.

Worse still, Ronnie's body language signaled her defeat. She was no longer able to look at the jurors or even sit up straight. Hutch wanted to shout at her, don't let them see your pain , but the twin blows of Danny Tillman's death and this morning's interrogation had left her incapable of fighting.

It was at that moment that Hutch realized just how much Ronnie meant to him now. Not as a substitute for Jenny and not merely as a friend, but as someone he had grown to care about in a way he thought he'd never again experience.

Was it love? He couldn't be sure. But it was close. Very close. And to see her looking so forlorn and defeated broke his heart.

When Abernathy was done with his laser pointer, he put it away and said, "Mr. Hardwick, are you familiar with the Dumont Hotel?"

Hardwick nodded. "Yes, of course. It's one of the oldest in Chicago."

"Do you know where it's located?"

"Yes," Hardwick said.

"And how far is it from your salon?"

"Just a few blocks. I don't know the exact distance."

"Have you ever walked there on your lunch hour?"

"Not to the hotel itself," Hardwick said. "But there's a little sushi place on the same block that I sometimes go to."

"And how long does it take you to get there?"

Hardwick shrugged. "Depends on how fast I'm traveling, but I'd say about ten or fifteen minutes at the most."

"Ten or fifteen minutes," Abernathy said, then thanked Hardwick and turned to Waverly. "Your witness, counsel."

As if to demonstrate that Abernathy's show and tell was much ado about nothing, Waverly didn't get up from her chair. Instead, she flipped open a legal pad and glanced at it.

"Mr. Hardwick, on the subject of dog hair on your clothes, can you think of anyone other than pet stylists who might be subject to this problem?"

"Well, most dog owners, for one," he said. "Dogs shed quite a bit during the course of the average day."

"And how many dog owners would you say there are in the Chicago area alone? Thousands? Millions?"

"Objection," Abernathy said. "Calls for speculation."

"Question withdrawn." Waverly made a quick notation on the pad, flipped the page, and switched gears. "Mr. Hardwick, when Ms. Baldacci clocked out for those extended lunch hours, did she ever tell you why she needed the extra time?"

"She said she had personal business to take care of."

"Did she ever elaborate on the nature of that personal business?"

"No," Hardwick said.

"So you have no way of knowing where she went during her time off?"

"No," Hardwick said.

"Do you have any way of knowing whether or not she walked to the Dumont Hotel?"

"No," Hardwick said.

"In fact, you yourself testified that the walk to the Dumont takes about ten or fifteen minutes. When you went to the sushi restaurant nearby, did you ever need to take an extended lunch hour to get there and back?"

"No," Hardwick said.

"So isn't it possible that the show and tell you and Mr. Abernathy just put on was much ado about nothing?"

"Objection," Abernathy shouted.

"Sustained."

Waverly scribbled something on the legal pad again, then flipped the page and continued. "What about my client's demeanor at work? Was she ever uncooperative or did she show any anger toward you or her follow employees?"

"Not anger, no. And she was never uncooperative. But I did sometimes get the impression that I wasn't her favorite person in the world."

"And why did you get that impression?"

Hardwick shrugged. "Just a feeling I had. I have strict rules and I'm sure there's quite a bit of talk behind my back, but I'm there to run a business, not win a popularity contest."

"Did she ever threaten you or anyone else in the salon with bodily harm?"

"No," Hardwick said. "Not that I'm aware of."

"Did you consider her dangerous in any way?"

"No, not at all," Hardwick said.

"And during the two months she worked for you, did she ever once mention her ongoing custody battle with her ex-husband? Or the name Jennifer Keating?"

"No," Hardwick said. "Beyond work concerns, she didn't really talk to me much at all. She simply did her job."

"So did you ever confront her about these extended lunch hours and express your unhappiness about them?"

"Yes."

"And when was this?"

"I believe it was the day Ms. Keating was laid to rest. Ronnie asked to leave an hour early to attend a funeral and I told her I'd give her thirty minutes and nothing more. That if she wanted a career at the Cuttery, I expected her to do her full eight hours every day from there on out."

"And how did she react to this? Did she protest or complain? Get into an argument with you?"

"No," Hardwick said. "Although I can't imagine she was too happy about it. She did express concern about being late for the funeral, but I stood my ground and she went back to work."

Waverly paused, seeming to mull something over, then said, "Mr. Hardwick, they say an attorney should never ask a question she doesn't already know the answer to, but you strike me as a man of integrity who takes great pride in telling the truth. So I think this next question is worth the risk."

Hardwick straightened in his chair, obviously surprised and pleased by the flattery.

"You worked with Ms. Baldacci nearly every day for two months," Waverly continued. "So when you learned about her arrest for murder, what was your very first reaction? The very first thing that came to mind?"

"Objection."

"I'll allow it," O'Donnell said.

Hardwick hesitated, glancing at Ronnie, then returned his gaze to Waverly. "Well… to be perfectly honest, I couldn't quite believe it."