William Lashner - Fatal Flaw

“That’s right.”

“After what?”

“After it all plays out.”

“You mean after the trial? What good is that for me?”

“No, before the end of the trial, but after what happens today plays out. When I tell you what I want, you’ll understand.”

“And if it doesn’t play out like you expect?”

“We still have a deal.”

Breger closed his eyes. “I can live with that. What’s the word?”

“All you have to do is whisper it.”

“So you said.”

“In his ear, after the explosion.”

“The explosion is coming?”

“Oh, yes it is.”

“What’s the word?”

“‘Uncle,’” I said. “The word of the day is ‘uncle.’”

“ARE WEready to proceed?” said Judge Tifaro from the bench. She was an efficient jurist, keeping the trial moving, witness after witness, brooking no delays as she pushed toward a verdict. No long, drawn-out, chatty proceedings for her, no months and months of keeping the jury in virtual lockup. She had set up a timetable and kept us to it. I liked that about her.

“Yes, Your Honor,” said Troy Jefferson. “But before we bring in the jury, we have some housekeeping matters that have already been agreed upon by both sides.”

“Excellent,” said the judge. “It’s gratifying to see you gentlemen working so smoothly together. What do we have, Mr. Jefferson?”

“A stipulation as to the admissibility of the ballistics report, People’s Exhibit Twenty-three.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection.”

“The report will be entered. What else?”

“A stipulation as the admissibility of People’s Exhibits Six through Nine and Twelve through Twenty-two.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection. We retain the right to object to Exhibits Ten and Eleven on the grounds of relevance.”

“People’s Exhibits Six through Nine and Twelve through Twenty-two are entered into evidence. Anything else?”

“And we also, Your Honor, have certain technical, factual stipulations that have already been agreed upon and that will speed up the trial considerably.”

“Let’s have them, Mr. Jefferson. Put them in the record now, and I will read them to the jury with the appropriate instruction.”

“Stipulation one: That the location of the killing subject to the indictment was 1027 Raven Hill Road in the Township of Lower Merion, Montgomery County, in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection.”

“Stipulation two: that on the date of the alleged crime the owner of the said property of 1027 Raven Hill Road, according to the deed on file in the County Clerk ’s Office of Montgomery County, was Hailey Prouix.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection.”

“Stipulation three: that the cause of death, as reported by the coroner, was a single gunshot wound in the chest portion of the body that pierced the victim’s heart.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection.”

“Stipulation four: that the gun in question, People’s Exhibit One, is a King Cobra.357 Magnum, registered by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to Guy Forrest, with a Social Security number the same as the defendant’s and an address given on the application as 1027 Raven Hill Road, Township of Lower Merion, Montgomery County.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“No objection.”

“Finally, Your Honor, stipulation five: that the murder victim found at 1027 Raven Hill Road, as stated in the indictment, was indeed Hailey Prouix.”

“Mr. Carl?”

“Well, Judge,” I said, “as to stipulation five, that the victim was Hailey Prouix, there we seem to have a problem.”

The explosion wasn’t loud, Jefferson had more control than that, but it was angry and sustained. Troy Jefferson did a classic double take, and then he let me have it.

“It was agreed to, Your Honor. We went over these stipulations carefully, word by word, Your Honor. Mr. Carl agreed, explicitly, and we relied on that agreement. He’s backstabbing us now, backstabbing us. There is no doubt who was the victim. We have the birth certificate. We have the death certificate. Mr. Carl himself saw her lying there. I don’t know what kind of crazy theory he is postulating here, but, Your Honor, he agreed, and he is bound by that agreement.”

And the whole time I was standing calmly, smiling, and letting him roar, until Judge Tifaro put a stop to it. “Mr. Carl, is it the wording you are concerned about?”

“No, Judge, it is the fact.”

“Did you agree?”

“Yes, Judge, but now I have questions that need answering, and so I am simply asking that the prosecution prove that the victim, as stated in the indictment, was Hailey Prouix and not just some woman who was going around using that name. It is a basic element of the case. He needs to prove it was her.”

“Can you do that, Mr. Jefferson? Can you prove it was Hailey Prouix who was killed?”

“Of course, Your Honor. This is just a cheap delaying tactic, just another low blow from the defense team.”

“Maybe it is, but don’t get mad, Mr. Jefferson,” she said with a note of sweetness in her voice, “get a witness. And preferably somebody who knew her well and long and who can link up the name on the birth certificate with the pictures of the corpse you’ve already admitted into evidence. Would that satisfy you, Mr. Carl?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Is there a parent?”

“Both dead,” I volunteered.

“A sibling?”

“One sister,” I said, “in a West Virginia insane asylum.”

The judge stared at me when I told her that and then, without taking her eyes off my face, said, “Identifying the victim is a pretty crucial step, Mr. Jefferson. You couldn’t have just expected the dead woman to identify herself. Can you get a witness?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You were going to rest next week, isn’t that right?”

“We planned to have the lab technician at the start of the week and a few other minor witnesses, and that was to be it.”

“I guess that won’t be it, will it? You’ll be allowed to amend your witness list as you require, and I’ll allow you additional time in your case due to the surprise, but I’ll want the witness here next week, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Get the name of the new witness to Mr. Carl as soon as possible. Any questions?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Anything else? No? Excellent. Bailiff, let’s bring in the jury.”

I sat down as Jefferson gave me his “you’ll pay for that one, you bastard” stare before he spun around to talk with his team. I’m no lip-reader, but it didn’t take one to know what he was saying.

“Why the hell did he do that?” said Jefferson.

Only shrugs in response.

“Who can we get? Who’s our witness?”

More shrugs, heads turning one to the other to see who had an answer, and then Breger leaned forward. Then Breger leaned forward and put his lips close to Troy Jefferson’s ear and whispered. There were a lot of possibilities, a lot of names could have been pulled out of the hat to do what the prosecution needed to do, but it was Breger who leaned forward and whispered in Jefferson ’s ear.

Jefferson pulled back. “You sure he can do it?”

Breger nodded.

“Then get him, damn it. Get him now.”

The jury was just starting to enter when Breger stood, straightened his jacket, gave me a quick wink before he headed out the door of the courtroom.

Good, that was done. Now for the hard part.

THAT NIGHT,back at my apartment, I gathered together my brain trust. I like the sound of that – brain trust – it connotes images of men and women in stark suits and tense poses, talking on cell phones and working on laptops as they draw on the entire breadth of their mighty resources to solve the seemingly unsolvable. Of course, I didn’t have the resources or clout to have a brain trust that resembled a fashion ad in GQ , so I had to settle for Beth and Skink.