William Bernhardt - Capitol Murder

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“Then let me spell it out. If she didn’t cry or act distraught, people would say she’s a coldhearted bitch, Little Miss Iceberg, which is the stereotype every woman in politics has to fight against. If she acted as if she didn’t care what I did, it would suggest she didn’t care about me, which would lose her the support of the middle-American housewife-the stand-by-your-man crowd. And her being supposedly shocked about my affair isn’t going to do me any harm with the jury-this case isn’t about whether I slept with the girl, it’s about whether I killed her. No, I’d say Marie played it very smart.” He grabbed a roll and slathered it with butter. “Don’t worry about my Marie. She’s a smart woman. She’ll always be on top.” He blinked, then quickly turned to Christina. “I didn’t mean that in a sexual way.”

Ben grimaced. As if anyone thought he had-until he raised the suggestion. To Christina.

“And once Padolino has done his worst and rested,” Glancy continued. “Then what?”

Ben cleared his throat. “Then we put on our defense. Start turning the jurors’ minds around.”

“And how exactly do we do that?”

“My investigator, Loving, has been tracking the friends of Veronica Cooper. Last time I was able to talk to him, he thought he was onto something.”

“But he hasn’t been able to find them.”

“He found one-but she’s in the hospital, unconscious.”

“And that’s it?”

“Well, the main point we’ll be making is that the prosecution evidence really only shows that you and Ms. Cooper were, um, you know-” He coughed in his hand. “Involved.”

Glancy smiled at Ben’s discomfort. “That would be one way of putting it.”

“But they have precious little that suggests you committed the murder. Sure, Padolino’s created a motive for you. But he hasn’t proven Opportunity. In fact, just the opposite. One of his own witnesses said you were in a committee meeting at the time of the murder.”

“I’m sure the prosecutor has some way around that.”

“Even if he does, it won’t prove you murdered Veronica Cooper. What he has is entirely circumstantial.”

“As I recall, aren’t most murder convictions based upon circumstantial evidence?”

Ben fidgeted with his fork. It was harder to comfort a client who was so blisteringly smart. “True. Eyewitness testimony is rare-murderers don’t normally commit their crimes while third parties are watching. But these days, science has made forensic evidence the star of the show. And juries are actually listening. Thanks to TV shows like CSI, the parts of the trial that used to be the most boring and least persuasive have become what jurors give the greatest credence. And Padolino has precious little forensic evidence against you.”

“He can trace me and the corpse to my hideaway.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that cuts against him,” Christina opined. “I mean, after all, if you really were the murderer, would you leave the corpse in a place so obviously linked to you?”

“If I was desperate,” Glancy answered. “If I had no other choice-no time to find another hiding place. Which is undoubtedly what Padolino will say.”

“We can also put on character witnesses who will tell the jury that given your upright character you couldn’t commit possibly a murder.”

“After that video? You’ll never convince the jury I have any character. They think I’m capable of doing anything.”

“I think maybe you’re being a little-”

“No, I’m being a lot. But I have to be. My entire future is on the line.” He buttered his last piece of bread. “Sorry to be Mr. Funsucky, Ben, but I’m doing it for a reason. I suspect you’re not planning to put me on the witness stand.”

Ben and Christina exchanged glances. “There are obvious dangers in calling you. Especially after the video. With any public figure, there’s always plenty of grist for cross-ex character assassination.”

“I get that, but you have no choice. Moreover, I want you to put me on.”

Ben shook his head. “Todd, I’m not sure you appreciate how dangerous that is.”

“I can handle myself.”

“We’re not talking about a press conference. We’re not talking about reporters tossing out softball questions from which you can pick and choose. We’re talking about cross-examination by a very experienced, very determined attorney who will not give you any quarter.”

“I repeat: I can handle myself.”

“And there are other dangers,” Christina added. “Some forms of evidence the prosecution can only bring in if you take the stand. Prior bad acts or convictions. Propensity for truth telling. You don’t want to deal with that.”

“If it saves my career-not to mention my life-I do.”

“Senator, I know you’ve had a lot of experience here in Washington, but when it comes to the courtroom, you’d be wise to listen to Ben. He-”

Glancy held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me about Ben. I know everything there is to know; I wouldn’t have chosen him to represent me if I didn’t.” Ben felt his face reddening-it was awkward being talked about as if he weren’t there. “I remember when he won the National Moot Court Championship back in law school, whipping all those private school butts for good ol’ OU. Brilliant argument, great command of the material. Hell, I remember seeing you at all those hideously boring debutante parties our parents forced us to attend back in Nichols Hills. I remember admiring you.”

“M-me?”

“Yeah. Because while I was off trying to be everyone’s friend and bed every girl on the list and making a fool of myself drinking Everclear tornadoes-you didn’t.”

Ben squinted. “And the point of this is-”

“I must be losing my touch. I thought I’d already made it.” He smiled pleasantly at the waiter, who had just arrived with the food. “The point is, when it comes to smart, you win hands down. I got no bones about that. But when it comes to understanding people, I’ve got the edge. Because while I was making a fool of myself getting to know people, how they think, what makes them tick, you were off by yourself being smart.”

Glancy inhaled deeply, absorbing the ravishing beef-and-pecan aroma arising from his plate. “Isn’t that magnificent? A perfect sensual experience-it almost spoils it to take a bite.” He picked up a fork and began to slice. “I will be testifying, Ben. Count on it.”

Loving masterfully maintained a straight face. “So you’re tellin’ me you use those big sharp fangs of yours to suck blood?”

“Yes,” Morticia answered, her voice gurgling with excitement. She rubbed her tummy with one hand. “’S yummy.”

“Like liquid energy,” Charles added, lisping slightly, no doubt due to the inch-long teeth protruding from the front of his mouth.

Loving shook his head. “I’m assumin’, even if you’re an Inheritor, that you weren’t born with those. Otherwise your mommy would’ve signed you up for some serious orthodontic work.”

“’Course not,” Morticia explained. “He had ’em filed.”

“And where do you find a dentist who would do somethin’ like that?”

“We’ve got connections. The Sire takes care of us.”

Loving’s chin rose. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned him. Who’s this Sire?”

“He’s the leader of the Inner Circle.”

“Did he get you a nice set of fangs, too?”

Morticia opened her mouth wide, smiled, and sure enough she had a more petite but still discernible pair of fangs. “The difference,” she said, mouth still open, “is that mine can be removed.” She reached up and snapped off her front row of teeth like a pair of fake fingernails. “Acrylic. Snap-ons. Cost me seventy-five bucks. But that’s a lot less than Charles paid. And I have the option of not wearing them to work-unlike him.”