John Lescroart - Hard Evidence

‘The key is my only hope, Abe. She’s got to have the key.’ Glitsky had listened patiently, for him. He interrupted only about every ten seconds, tired of Hardy’s meddling, not liking to hear that Celine’s alibi – the one he had provided – was suspect.

‘Now it’s Celine?’ he asked at last. ‘Too bad Nash didn’t have a dog. After Celine’s trial we could indict the dog.’

‘Come on, Abe, I’ve run it all down for you. We need a warrant. If she’s got the key, if it’s at her house…’

Glitsky stopped him. ‘Big deal.’

‘It proves she could have gone to the Eloise on Thursday morning.’

‘Proves she could have . Please, this one time, give me a break, Diz. It doesn’t prove anything. It’s just another theory. You know that’s how they’re going to see it.’

‘That’s why we need the physical evidence. The key. With my testimony -’

‘ If anybody believes you.’

‘Why wouldn’t they?’

‘Because, my friend, it is in your own best interests to make up something like this. Like the gun not having been there when you looked on Wednesday night.’

‘It wasn’t there, Abe.’

‘I’m not saying it was. The issue here, as always, is proof. And I’m telling you how it’s going to look. Can you think of any judge in the city who would issue a search warrant on this?’

Hardy was silent.

‘Okay, how about in all of America?’

‘All right, all right, I understand, Abe. But I’m telling you, Celine did it. I’m telling you why. What am I supposed to do about that? There’s no way Andy Fowler’s going down for this.’

‘I hate to tell you this, ol’ buddy, but you want my opinion – he is unless you get him off.‘

Coming in a little after nine, the size of the crowd in the gallery was daunting. Hardy wondered if someone had leaked the news that his witnesses might not be appearing, that they’d be moving right along to Andy’s testimony, then closing arguments and jury instructions. The verdict might even come in today, and the media wanted to be there.

His witnesses had been subpoenaed, though, and they were on hand: Glitsky in a coat and tie; Glitsky’s lieutenant, Frank Batiste; Ron Reynolds, his polygraph expert; Art Drysdale sitting next to Chris Locke himself. Hardy wasn’t too surprised to see David Freeman, down for the show. Celine was sitting in her usual spot by the aisle.

Abe, he realized, had been right. His job had never varied. He had to convince the jury that the evidence did not warrant a conviction. He had come up with an idea to get to Celine if he had to – he might have to prove that she was guilty in order to get Andy off- but he didn’t want to confuse the two issues.

Andy, in a dark blue suit, entered with Jane. Still hurt and angry at Hardy for the grilling he’d given her on Saturday about her relationship with Owen Nash, she didn’t come through the rail as she usually did.

Fowler, however, seemed to have forgotten Hardy’s outburst at him on Friday about his stance, the transparency of his attachment to May – and sat down calmly at the defense table.

From his vantage now, certain that his client had not killed anyone, Hardy was more equable about the judge’s attitude and appearance, much of which was, he decided, a brave front. This was an innocent man. He could seem to remain above it all if he wanted, if it made him feel better.

Hardy was also beginning to understand a little of what was behind Andy’s apparent sangfroid. The man had, after all, spent thirty years on the bench, and it was in his blood to believe in the jury system – there would not be a miscarriage of justice here, he didn’t kill Owen Nash, the jury would come up with the right decision. If he didn’t believe that, what had he been doing presiding over the system for three decades?

If Hardy wanted the jury to believe that Andy was more of a regular Joe, it was because he thought it would make him appear more sympathetic. Now he was realizing that the jury’s empathy with Andy wasn’t the issue either. In reality, there was only one issue: did the evidence prove he had killed Owen Nash?

The judge entered and everyone stood. Hardy went to the center of the courtroom and nodded at the members of the jury, then at the judge. Chomorro had given fair enough notice. ‘The defense calls Inspector Sergeant Abraham Glitsky.’

He turned to watch Abe come forward, catching a raised eye from Pullios at the prosecution table. Well, object all day, Betsy, he thought to himself. This is relevant and I’m going to bring it up.

Glitsky was sworn in, and Hardy, after establishing Abe’s credentials as an experienced homicide investigator, began.

‘For the jury’s benefit, Sergeant, would you tell us how an inspector such as yourself gets assigned to a homicide investigation?’

Glitsky sat comfortably in the witness chair, having been there many times. Forthcoming, competent, with nothing to hide, he looked directly from Hardy to the jury. ‘It’s more or less random,’ he said. There are twelve inspectors and typically we each handle between three and six cases, rotating them as they come in. If it gets a little unbalanced, Lieutenant Batiste might shuffle one or two around.‘

‘All right. Now in this random manner, did you happen to get the Owen Nash homicide?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘In that capacity, what was your role in collecting evidence?’

Glitsky gave it a minute’s thought. ‘I am in charge of coordinating all the physical evidence that we eventually turn over to the district attorney’s office if the matter is going to be charged. I also check on the alibis of suspects, potential motives. We look into paper records, bank accounts, telephone logs, anything we feel relates to the homicide. In this case I also supervised the forensics team that went aboard the Eloise , Mr Nash’s boat.’

Glitsky and Hardy had been over all this many times.

‘Did you go aboard the Eloise yourself?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And what did you find there?’

Glitsky went over the inventory – the bloodstains, the slug in the baseboard, the exercise equipment, the murder weapon.

‘When you got to the Eloise , was it locked up?’

‘Yes, the attendant there had to open the cabin for us.’

‘This was Thursday afternoon, June twenty-fifth, is that right?’

‘Right.’

‘Now, Sergeant, as your investigation proceeded, did it eventually center on one suspect?’

‘Yes, it did.’

‘Because of the physical evidence?’

‘To some extent. There were fingerprints on the murder weapon, a lack of an alibi, an apparent motive.’

Hardy had decided he might be able to introduce all of this testimony if he avoided having Glitsky draw any conclusions and if he kept May Shinn’s name out of it. So far, he was talking about the formal police investigation into the murder of Owen Nash – relevant testimony.

‘And based on that evidence, those suspicions, did you make an arrest?’

‘No, not right then. There wasn’t enough to justify it.’

‘But eventually you did make an arrest. Did you find more evidence?’

‘No more physical evidence, but I came to the conclusion that the suspect was about to flee.’

Hardy turned to the jury. ‘In other words, your suspect was exhibiting consciousness-of-guilt, and you felt justified making an arrest because of that.’

‘That’s correct.’

Hardy turned back to Glitsky. ‘Sergeant, this person with fingerprints on the gun, no alibi, no apparent motive, the one acting so guilty – was that suspect Andy Fowler?’

‘No, it was not.’

Hardy nodded and turned to Pullios. He had gotten through it without an objection. ‘Your witness.’