Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

“Were there other toys in the bin, Mrs. Lambertsen?”

“There are toys everywhere in my house. Fisher-Price is our decorator,” she answered, and the jurors laughed again.

“So you had to root through the toy bin to find the rubber duck, is that right?”

“Right.”

“How long would you say it took for you to do all those things that good mothers do-that is, put Molly in her chair, fasten the strap, find her a toy duck, give it to her with a pacifier, and pat her and smooth her hair?”

“How much time? Uh, maybe five minutes, maybe more.”

Bennie guessed the witness was underestimating, albeit unintentionally. “How much more? As much as ten minutes?”

“Maybe, but more like seven.”

Bennie had made progress. Seven to ten minutes was almost enough time for a killer to escape and Connolly to arrive, but close. “And that was before you went to the door?”

“Uh, yes.” Mrs. Lambertsen glanced regretfully at Hilliard, taking notes at counsel table.

“Mrs. Lambertsen, after you got Molly the duck, did you walk or run the twenty feet to the door?”

“Walked.”

Bennie reconsidered the scenario. It was hard to think, with her jaw aching. She should have taken more Advil. “Wait a minute. You said Molly’s chair was on the counter in the kitchen. Can you see the baby from the front door?”

“No.”

“So you had to leave Molly out of sight, on the counter, while you went to the door?”

“Yes.”

“And she was kicking and crying, in one of those baby chairs?”

“Yes.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Bennie saw the young mother in the front row frown just the slightest bit. It gave Bennie her cue and she walked stiffly from the podium to the witness stand, instinctively closing in on a point even she didn’t understand yet. “Mrs. Lambertsen, when you left Molly on the counter to go to the door, kicking and fussing, weren’t you worried she would fall off the counter?”

“Objection!” Hilliard shouted, his voice booming from the prosecution table. The sound had the intended effect of interrupting the good vibes Bennie was nurturing. “What could be the possible relevance of these details?”

Bennie faced the judge. “This is an entirely proper exploration of the events of the night in question, Your Honor.”

Judge Guthrie leaned back in his chair, touching his teeth with the stem of his reading glasses. “Overruled.”

Bennie turned to the witness. “Mrs. Lambertsen, weren’t you worried about Molly when you left her on the counter to go to the door?”

“Yes, I was. I should have put the chair on the floor, but I didn’t. I was so distracted by the gunshot and all. It was like two things happening at once.” The witness paused, thinking. “Now that I think of it, I ran back to check when I was halfway there.”

Bennie nodded. It was a break. “Considering that, how long do you think it took you to get to the door? Maybe three to five minutes?”

“Yes, probably.”

“So would it be fair to add three to five minutes to the time you saw Alice Connolly run by?”

“Yes.”

“Would that bring us to a total of ten to twelve minutes between the time you heard the gunshot and the time you reached the door and saw Alice Connolly?”

“Well, yes.”

Bennie paused, pleased, then thought back through Lambertsen’s testimony. It always surprised her that information witnesses volunteered during their testimony assumed significance in context. “Mrs. Lambertsen, you mentioned earlier that Molly needed a nap. When was the last time that day that she had slept?”

“Objection, Your Honor.” Hilliard half rose from his chair. “This line of questioning is totally irrelevant and calls for the witness to speculate.”

“Your Honor,” Bennie said firmly, “the relevancy of the questions will become clear, and I don’t think Mrs. Lambertsen is speculating. She’s obviously very attentive to her child, as you yourself noted.”

Judge Guthrie frowned. “Mrs. Lambertsen, please don’t speculate or guess at your answers. Feel free to say so if you don’t remember.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mrs. Lambertsen said. “I know Molly’s schedule. Even then, she kept to a schedule.”

Hilliard sat down heavily as Bennie sent up a prayer of thanks. “Mrs. Lambertsen, the question was, when was the last time that day that Molly had slept?”

“She had been awake since her morning nap. She woke up at about six in the morning, then went right back to sleep. She woke up at about ten-thirty, in those days. She didn’t even take an afternoon nap, or if she did it lasted like an hour.”

“So on May nineteenth, she was up from about ten-thirty in the morning until when she eventually went to sleep, is that right?”

“Right.”

“Take us back a bit, to the day before May nineteenth. You said Molly was two months old at the time. If you can recall, what was her schedule then?”

Hilliard sighed audibly, but refrained from making an objection. His cranky growl got him the interruption he wanted anyway.

“Oh, God. It was hell, sheer hell,” Mrs. Lambertsen said, rolling her eyes. “She would start fussing late in the day, when she was really too tired to stay awake. She would fall asleep at about nine o’clock, then wake up at about midnight. We’d watch Jay Leno together.”

“If you remember, did Molly go right back to sleep after the Jay Leno show on the night of May eighteenth?”

“She never went right back to sleep,” Mrs. Lambertsen shot back, so flatly that the jurors laughed. “She always wanted to play after she’d nursed. She was happy, well fed, and had my attention.”

“When was the next time Molly did go back to sleep, the night of May eighteenth?”

“She didn’t go back down at all. We were both up all night.”

Bennie couldn’t imagine it. She thought of her mother’s devotion, with a pang of fresh grief. She paused a minute and hoped the jurors attributed it to her next question. “Mrs. Lambertsen, had you napped that day, on May nineteenth?”

“Not since the morning. I always napped when Molly napped or I wouldn’t have survived her first year. Somebody in my playgroup told me to do that and it was good advice.”

“So in the night before May nineteenth, you had a total of three hours sleep?”

“Yes.”

Bennie thought about how she felt without a good night’s sleep for a week. “Doesn’t sleep deprivation affect your concentration?”

“For sure. I’m one of those people who need a lot of sleep, nine hours a night. Once I took Molly to the doctor, she had an ear infection, and I couldn’t remember whether the doctor told me to put drops in her ears or mouth. Another time I bought diapers and left them on the counter.”

The jurors smiled, and Bennie waited before her next question. “Did you ever think you read something, and read it wrong?” she asked.

“Objection!” Hilliard said as he rose and reached for his crutches. He knew where Bennie was going and it wasn’t baby talk anymore. He slipped strong forearms into the aluminum handles of his crutches. “The question calls for speculation and is vague. I think this entire line of questioning is totally irrelevant and a waste of the Court’s time.”

Judge Guthrie was caught cleaning his reading glasses. “I think not, Mr. Hilliard,” he ruled, and Hilliard took his seat heavily.

Bennie glanced at the judge, thankful. If Judge Guthrie had been ruling against her yesterday, he was playing fair today. Too bad she almost had to get killed to get his attention. “Mrs. Lambertsen,” she said, “you may answer the question.”

“I guess I remember reading the directions on the bottle over and over. Even out loud.”