Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

“He left when court started. Said he’d be back tonight.”

Bennie fumed. So Lou had gone to see Citrone. “Then take Carrier. I want everything you can get on this witness. Go!”

DiNunzio took off, and Bennie watched Harting place her long fingers on the Bible, take the oath, and ease into the witness stand. She could have been a model but for her eyes. A dull, sulking green, they didn’t bother to please and engaged no one directly, least of all the prosecutor. “Ms. Harting,” Hilliard began, his tone almost stern, “please tell this jury where you have been living for the past year.”

“County prison, sir.”

“That same prison that housed Alice Connolly until this trial?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please tell the jury why you were incarcerated, Ms. Harting.”

“I’m doin’ time for possession and distributin’ crack cocaine. Also some weapons violations, I think.”

The jurors in the front row sat engrossed, while the videographer stifled a smile. The court reporter typed away, the steno machine spitting a white paper tape into a tray, in folded strips.

“Ms. Harting, did I contact you and ask for your testimony, or did you contact me?”

“I called up your office from the house, I mean, prison.”

“Ms. Harting, have I or anyone else representing the Commonwealth made any threats or promises to you in return for your testimony today?”

“No.”

“So, Ms. Harting, it’s your testimony that you came here today on your own initiative?”

“Yeah. Yes, I called you and axed could I come.”

“Fine.” Hilliard nodded and thumbed through a folder on the podium. “Now, would you please tell us how you know the defendant?”

“We on the same unit. We friends, her an’ me, and she teaches the computer class I take.”

At defense table, Bennie was gauging the jury’s response. Each juror was listening carefully, many of them seeing a felon for the first time. Connolly passed Bennie a legal pad. On it was written, LIES!!! SHE HATES MY GUTS. SHE’S TRYING TO BURY ME.

“Ms. Harting,” Hilliard continued, “did there come a time when the defendant had a conversation with you alone, after computer class?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember when that conversation took place?”

“It was sometime last year is all I remember.”

Connolly scribbled, NEVER, NEVER HAPPENED, but Bennie waved her to stop writing. The jury was watching Connolly’s reaction to the testimony.

Hilliard checked his notes. “Ms. Harting, please tell the jury about the conversation you had with the defendant on the day in question, if you would.”

“Well, Alice tol’ me-”

“Objection,” Bennie said, on her feet. “Your Honor, this is hearsay.”

Hilliard shook his head. “Your Honor, it’s not hearsay. It’s not offered for the truth and again, it’s an admission.”

“Overruled, Ms. Rosato.” Judge Guthrie waved Bennie into her seat and nodded in the direction of the prosecutor. “Please continue, Mr. Hilliard.”

“Ms. Harting, please face the jury and tell them what the defendant said to you.”

The witness turned her chair toward the jury. “Well, Alice tol’ me that she capped her boyfriend, Anthony. That she killed him. She said that nobody would never catch her. Said she was too smart for the cops, too smart for everybody.”

A juror in the front row gasped, and two others exchanged looks. Bennie forced herself to sit stoic, though Connolly glared straight ahead at the witness. Harting crossed her legs, seeming to relax into her new role as star witness for the Commonwealth, and faced Hilliard.

“Ms. Harting,” he said, “what did you say to the defendant when she said this?”

“I tol’ her you kill a cop in this town, you pay with your life.”

“And what did she say in response?”

Bennie half rose. “I have a running objection to this line of questioning.”

“Duly noted,” Judge Guthrie said dismissively.

Harting nodded, shaking off the interruption. “She said she’d get away with it, ’cause she was about to hire her the best lawyer in Philly. Was gonna try and convince the lawyer she was her twin, so she’d take her case on.”

On the dais Judge Guthrie cocked an eyebrow and looked over, and at defense table Bennie felt her face flush with embarrassment. Connolly, next to her, was writing hastily, DON’T BELIEVE A WORD OF IT.

“Ms. Harting, did you believe what the defendant told you about her plans?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Why was that?”

“Because I seen her. Alice was the computer teacher, like I said, and she got in the computer room all the time. She studied about that lawyer on the computer, looked up pictures of her, got all kind of information. She had it all planned out.”

Bennie struggled to control her emotions. It explained Connolly’s accuracy in matching her wardrobe, down to her shoes. She’d been had; it had all been a carefully devised scheme from the outset. Her thoughts raced ahead. Still, even if Connolly had planned to dupe her, Connolly didn’t kill Della Porta. Lenihan had tried to kill Bennie for a reason, but the jury would never know about Lenihan’s attempt on her life. They would credit Harting and convict Connolly.

Hilliard skimmed his notes. “I have no further questions, Your Honor.”

Judge Guthrie nodded at defense table. “Ms. Rosato, do you wish to cross-examine?”

Bennie stood up, slightly weak at the knees. “Your Honor, my associates are busy gathering valuable information for the defense’s cross-examination of this witness. They will not be finished until the end of the day, if that. I request that we begin my cross first thing tomorrow morning, Your Honor.”

“Your Honor,” Hilliard said, raising his chin, “the Commonwealth objects to recessing right now. My office promised the warden of the county prison we would return Ms. Harting tonight.”

“Your Honor,” Bennie argued, “this testimony comes as a surprise, as Ms. Harting did not testify at the preliminary hearing. The defense questions the reliability of her testimony. Surely the court wants to ensure the reliability of all of the testimony before the jury.”

Judge Guthrie paused, undoubtedly aware that the jury awaited his ruling. “You may have your night, Ms. Rosato,” he said finally, reluctance weighing his tone. “Be in court in the morning at nine, sharp. Mr. Hilliard, please have Ms. Harting returned tonight and brought back tomorrow morning. Make my apologies to the warden.” The judge turned to the witness. “Ms. Harting, you may step down,”

“Thank you, sir,” the witness said, and climbed out of the stand while the jury was led from the mahogany box. Harting avoided Connolly’s eyes while she walked to the paneled door, but Bennie shot Connolly a warning glance. It didn’t help the cause that Connolly looked ready to kill.

Bennie packed her briefcase. She had her work cut out for her and no time to lose. “I’ll be there in five,” she said as the deputy came for Connolly.

“I told you all I know about Shetrell,” Connolly said from the other side of the bulletproof plastic. “I got nothing to do with that bitch.”

“Jesus.” Bennie paced the interview room, but it was barely wide enough for five steps up and back. “She sent someone to kill you and you don’t know why?”

“It was the cops, I’m telling you. Any idiot can see it. They put a contract out on me. Shit, they tried to kill me and when they fucked up, they tried to kill you.”

“Why use Harting?”

“Why not? She’s connected on the outside, she’d be easy to reach. Plus, she’s a gangbanger and she had people to do it for her. Shetrell’s a good choice, a great choice. If I was gonna put out a contract, I’d use her, too.”