William Bernhardt - Murder One

“And this was found under Ms. Dalcanton’s bed?”

“You got it.”

“Did you find anything else noteworthy in the apartment?”

“Yeah. We found chains that matched those used to strap the victim to the fountain in Bartlett Square.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. We found Joe McNaughton’s badge and wallet, also under her bed.”

“I see.” Dexter turned toward the jury. Ben knew this was going to be one of those improper—and unstoppable—summations in the form of a question. “So you found bloodstained clothes, the victim’s wallet, his badge, and matching chains—all in Ms. Dalcanton’s possession.”

“We did, yes.”

“Did Ms. Dalcanton have any explanation for these discoveries?”

“Eventually. At first, she claimed she didn’t know anything, didn’t know who Joe McNaughton was, he’d never been to her place. So forth. But after we showed her everything we’d found, she began to crack. Started to confess. We read her rights, and she waived counsel. In writing. She started crying, wailing. Kind of fell apart at the seams. Then we began to hear some truth.”

“Objection,” Ben said again.

Judge Hart nodded. “Again I will remind the witness that he is to give an account of what he saw and heard, without attempting to characterize it.”

“Sure,” Matthews grunted.

“The jury is instructed to disregard the witness’s last remark.” Hart peered sternly toward the witness box. “I do not want to have to give you this reminder again, Detective.”

“Got it.”

Dexter resumed his questioning. “How long did you interrogate Ms. Dalcanton?”

“At that time? About an hour.”

“Did you make a record of the conversation?”

“Yeah, we taped it. And I took notes.”

“Do you have those notes here with you today?”

“I do.”

“Feel free to consult them as necessary to refresh your recollection.”

“Sure.” Matthews reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notepad. “Thanks.”

“Please tell the jury what Ms. Dalcanton told you on this occasion.”

He nodded. “Like I said, after we showed her everything we had, she changed her story. Admitted that she’d been having an affair with Joe McNaughton. Apparently she met him at this strip joint on Thirty-first where she works. He’d gone in with some of the boys after work one night and … one thing led to another. He was married, of course, but as you can see, Ms. Dalcanton is a seriously attractive kid, and being a stripper, she knew how to do things that … well, I don’t think she left Joe much of a chance.”

This time, Judge Hart didn’t wait for an objection. “Is that what she said, Sergeant?”

Matthews peered up. “Not in so many words, but I—”

“Seen and heard, Sergeant. That’s all we want to hear about. What you’ve seen and heard.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Judge Hart raised her gavel and pointed. “I mean it. One more slip and I will excuse you from the courtroom.”

“All right. I’ll be careful. Uh, sorry, ma’am.”

Ben was less than overwhelmed by Matthews’s display of repentance. But before he could blink twice, the prosecution had marched ahead.

“Did Ms. Dalcanton have any explanation for the presence of the victim’s badge and wallet?”

“Not really. She said that after they first met, he started coming over to her apartment a lot. To hear her tell it, she became like some kind of sex addict. She just couldn’t get enough of him, and of course, he didn’t mind too much. Toward the end, he was coming over two, sometimes three times a day.”

“And would they have sexual intercourse during these visits?”

“Oh yeah. That was pretty much all they’d do. Lots and lots of sex.”

“Did she provide any explanation for the chains and the blood-soaked garments?”

“Sort of. Said they used that stuff in their … um, sexual activities.”

“Excuse me?”

“They liked kinky sex. Kinky and rough.”

The buzz in the gallery was discernible—part dismay, part tittering.

Dexter frowned. “Very rough indeed. Judging from the quantity of blood on the leather suit. Did she provide any details regarding their … activities?”

“Your honor!” Ben said, jumping to his feet. “Relevance?”

Judge Hart nodded. “I think we’ve all got the general idea, Mr. Dexter. Let’s move on.”

“As you wish.” He glanced down at his notes. “I suppose she claimed he left the badge and wallet during one of their trysts?”

“She did. But there’s a problem with that.”

“Oh?” Dexter said, cocking an eyebrow. Ben loved the way he could appear surprised during testimony that had no doubt been rehearsed repeatedly. “What’s the problem?”

“She claimed he wasn’t at her apartment that night—the night of the murder. But several officers—including me—saw Joe at work earlier that day. And he had his badge. He couldn’t have lost it until that night after he left work. And just before he was killed.”

Dexter nodded thoughtfully. “Had there been any … alteration in the relationship? Prior to Sergeant McNaughton’s death?”

“Yeah. Joe McNaughton broke up with her just before he was killed.”

Ben knew this would be the time when the prosecution would try to establish motive. The next few minutes were not likely to be pleasant ones for the defense. Especially since the prosecution’s ultimate source was Keri’s own admissions.

“What happened?”

“According to the defendant, Joe’s wife got wind of what was going on and she read him the riot act. Told him in no uncertain terms she would divorce him and clean him out if he didn’t break it off.”

“Despite the fact that Joe McNaughton worked as a police officer, it was well known that he was quite wealthy, wasn’t he?”

“Very wealthy. Trust fund from his grandparents.”

“So McNaughton tried to break off his relationship with Keri Dalcanton.”

“That’s what she told us. He didn’t want to. He was stuck on her but good. But under the circumstances, he felt he had no choice.”

“How did Ms. Dalcanton take this news?”

Matthews thought before answering. Ben had a pretty good idea why. If he said what he wanted to say, the judge would shut him down—and possibly strike his entire testimony. He had to be more subtle.

Matthews leaned back in his chair, a grim expression set on his face. “I think the subsequent events speak for themselves.”

Dexter nodded. “Indeed. So do I.” He glanced up at the judge. “No more questions.”

Ben jumped to his feet, not waiting for an invitation from the judge. He wanted to appear eager and ready to go, as if he had many important points to make that would leave the prosecution’s case in tatters.

The truth was rather less promising. He’d listened to the audiotape of Keri talking to Matthews. He had twisted and stretched it a bit, but on all the critical points, he had accurately characterized what she said.

“Sergeant Matthews,” Ben began, “you told the jury about the clothes and the chains and the wallet. Where did you find the murder weapon?”

Matthews was nonplussed. “We didn’t find the murder weapon.”

It was Ben’s turn to feign surprise. “Excuse me? You didn’t find the murder weapon?”

“You know perfectly well we didn’t.”

“Why?”

Matthews shrugged. “Knives are small and light and fungible. They can’t be tracked or traced or registered. They’re easy to hide. Or to dispose of.”

“So she got rid of the knife but kept the bloodstained suit?”

“I dunno. Maybe she hid it somewhere.”

“Sergeant Matthews, you’ve been on the force eighteen years. Wouldn’t you say the murder weapon is a critical piece of evidence in any murder prosecution?”