Phillip Margolin - Heartstone

“Well, uh, I tried to take them off when we parked, but she wouldn’t let…she, uh, said ‘no dice.’”

“To taking off the glasses?”

“She, uh, didn’t, uh, want to make out.”

“Why was that?”

“Well, I was, uh, dating another girl I’d started seeing.” He shrugged. “I guess she was jealous.”

“When she said that she wouldn’t make out, did you get angry?”

Hessey hung his head.

“I guess so.”

“What did you do?”

“Well, she started in on me about this girl. I can’t even remember her name now. And I yelled back and she ran out of the car.”

“Did you chase her?”

Hessey nodded.

“You’ll have to speak up, Mr. Hessey.”

“Yes.”

“Where were you parked when she ran out of the car?”

“The meadow.”

“The meadow? Is that the same meadow where Richie Walters’s body was found?”

“Yeah. All the kids used that meadow to make out. In the summer it was usually packed.”

“What did you do when you caught Esther?”

Hessey mumbled something.

“You will have to speak up, Mr. Hessey. What did you do?”

“I slapped her.”

“And what happened to her glasses?”

“They went flying off.”

There was a gasp in the courtroom. Several of the jurors were writing furiously. Heider and Caproni were engaged in a rapid-fire consultation.

“No further questions,” Shaeffer said. He could feel a pulse pounding in his ears and his hands were shaking.

“Mr. Heider,” Judge Samuels said, secretly amused at Heider’s discomfort.

“One moment, if you please, Your Honor.”

Shaeffer turned to see how Bobby had reacted to his bombshell. For the first time in the trial, Coolidge was leaning forward, attentive. Mark turned toward Sarah, but she would not meet his eyes. Heider and Caproni ended their conversation.

“Mr. Hessey, were you in the habit of slapping women in your younger days?”

“Like I said, I did a lot of things then that I am not proud of now.”

“Had you ever slapped Esther before?”

“Yes.”

“Ever knock her glasses off before?”

Hessey paused.

“Once I think.”

“What did she do when you did that?”

Hessey looked as if he wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Cried, I guess.”

“No, Mr. Hessey, I mean with the glasses. What did she do with the glasses?”

Hessey paused.

“Picked them up, I guess.”

“And what did she do when you slapped off her glasses in Lookout Park?”

Hessey stared at Heider open mouthed, then he shook his head from side to side.

“I can’t remember.”

“Did you drive her home from the park?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure I did.”

“Is it likely that she would have forgotten her glasses?”

“No,” Hessey said thoughtfully.

“Do you remember now whether she picked up her glasses?”

“I don’t.”

“But you will not swear that she did not?”

“No. I’m not sure.”

“Did she drop her purse when you slapped her, Mr. Hessey?”

“No…No, I’m pretty sure she didn’t.”

“Did she drop a cigarette lighter on the evening you slapped her?”

“No, just the glasses.”

“Or a blue rat-tail comb?”

“No.”

Heider smiled at the witness.

“No further questions.”

Judge Samuels looked at Mark to see if he wished to ask any further questions. Mark just shook his head.

“I think that this would be a good time to adjourn,” Judge Samuels said. “We will reconvene at nine-thirty tomorrow morning.”

“He killed us, didn’t he?” Bobby said bitterly as the jury filed out.

“No, I think we scored some real points with Hessey,” Mark said, but he did not believe it. He was crestfallen. He knew that he was not doing a good job, but he had hoped to redeem himself with Hessey. Now he had nothing. Heider had completely neutralized the effect of Hessey’s testimony about the glasses. He had also established that Esther had been in possession of her glasses as late as one week before the murders.

“See you tomorrow, counselor,” Bobby said sarcastically as the guard led him out. Mark watched Heider leave with a trace of bitterness. He began to gather up his papers.

“Mark, I have to talk to you.”

Mark looked up. Albert Caproni was standing behind him. He had spoken so softly that Shaeffer had barely heard him.

“Can I meet you at your office, tonight?”

“Sure,” Mark said. Caproni was looking around, as if he was afraid to be seen talking to Mark.

“What’s the problem?” Mark asked, puzzled.

“I can’t explain here. Promise me you won’t mention our meeting to anyone. Not even your wife.”

Mark started to ask Caproni what was wrong, then changed his mind. Caproni was scared and Mark respected Caproni enough to accept his request.

“I won’t say a word.”

“Eight o’clock,” Caproni said and walked rapidly from the courtroom.

Albert Caproni was waiting in the shadows of the lobby when Mark arrived at his office building. He refused to speak until they were safely locked in Mark’s office. Once the door was closed, he placed his attaché case on the desk in front of him.

“There are some ground rules I want you to agree to before I tell you anything,” Caproni said. Mark noticed the edge in Caproni’s voice and the nervous way his fingers drummed on the desk. “First, you must swear to me that under no circumstances will you ever tell anyone about this meeting. If you did, it might cost me my job.”

“Al, is this something to do with Bobby’s case? Because, if it is, I don’t know if I can ethically promise you anything.”

“Well, you’re going to have to bend your ethics, because what I have to tell you might win this case for you, but I am not going to risk my career and I won’t tell you anything until I get your promise.”

Mark hesitated, then agreed to Caproni’s demand.

“Okay. Now, some of what I am going to tell you could provide grounds for dismissal of the case, but only if I were called as a witness. Do I have your promise that you will never attempt to call me as a witness, no matter what I tell you?”

“You know something that could lead to a dismissal of the charges and you want me to promise you that I won’t call you?” Mark asked, aghast.

“Yes. Other information I give you may clear your client, so what I know may not be necessary. But you will get nothing from me.”

“What choice have I got?” Mark said. “You have my promise.”

Caproni sighed and leaned back in his chair. For the next half hour he recounted the events surrounding Eddie Toller’s story and his subsequent disappearance and his meeting with Heartstone in the skid row hotel. He also told Shaeffer about the research that Dr. Rohmer had done for him.

“The problem with all this is that nothing I’ve uncovered can be substantiated. Toller’s gone, so he can’t testify and Heartstone has split. There’s a good chance, given Toller’s background, that his story is a lie he invented to get a deal. And Heartstone might have run away for reasons unconnected with Elaine Murray’s murder.”

“There must be something we can do,” Mark said.

“I’ve been thinking and I have an idea. The real importance of Toller’s story is that it places Elaine Murray in that basement alive almost six weeks after the Coolidges are supposed to have killed her. Does your client have an alibi for the first few weeks in January?”

Mark thought for a second, then his face brightened.

“They were in the hospital. It was a car accident or something. Wait, I have it here in my notes.”

He shuffled through some papers until he had the right one.