William Bernhardt - Murder One

LaBelle tried to bail him out. “Objection, your honor. Lack of relevance.”

“Lack of relevance?” Ben shot back. “Like it’s not relevant whether the police have been harassing and stalking the defense team? Believe me, your honor, I’ll tie it up.”

Judge Cable rubbed the bridge of his nose unhappily. “Well …”

“Furthermore,” LaBelle added, “I object on grounds that this exceeds the scope of the direct examination.”

“I think it will soon be evident,” Ben said, “that this is keenly relevant to the credibility of every word this man has ever said.”

Judge Cable sighed heavily. “I will give you some leeway to quickly and firmly establish the relevance of this line of questioning, Mr. Kincaid. Don’t disappoint me.”

Ben turned back toward the witness. “Let’s try it again, Sergeant Bailey. Have you been following me?”

He coughed. His words came slowly. “I, um, I still don’t see …”

“Maybe I can help you.” Ben whipped a photo out of his notebook. “This was taken by my investigator a few nights ago just outside my office building. It clearly shows you and another officer, Arlen Matthews, who coincidentally has also testified against my client, watching my office. So let me ask again, Sergeant. Have you been following me?”

Bailey inhaled, lifting his massive chest, then letting it fall. “Yes.”

Hallelujah. “For how long?”

Another long pause. “Since the first dismissal of this case.”

“You and Arlen Matthews?”

“Like it shows in the picture.”

“Anyone else?”

He nodded. “At times.”

“And was this an official police assignment?”

“No.”

Too bad, Ben thought. A yes might’ve gotten this case dismissed again. “So why were you there? Why were you stalking me? Why were you surveilling my office?”

Bailey craned his neck. “We were concerned because … we felt that you had gotten Joe’s killer off by underhanded means and … we wanted to make sure it didn’t happen again.”

“So you invaded my privacy. Carried on illegal surveillance.”

“Now wait a minute. We never did anything illegal.”

“I wonder. Were you watching the night the police found the alleged murder weapon in my office?” This question would, of course, remove the carefully drawn curtain of anonymity around the identity of the lawyer who had the knife, but Ben thought it was worth it to follow up this line of questioning.

Bailey frowned. “I was.”

“And Matthews?”

“For a while. Then he got an anonymous call, which caused him to get the warrant to search your office.”

“Did you actually hear this anonymous call?”

“Well …”

“No. Matthews just told you there had been such a call, right?”

Another long pause. “That’s right. But—”

“And were you and your buddies also on hand a few nights ago when a young woman was brutally stabbed in my office?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure? Because my investigator—”

“We were there that night. But we left before … the incident. We thought everyone had left.”

“But you were there that night.”

“Yes. But we—”

“Just answer the questions, Sergeant.” He assumed the man would not admit he was behind the stabbing, so he moved on. “Would you please explain to the jury the meaning of the phrase ‘the Blue Squeeze’?”

Bailey hesitated, giving LaBelle time to try to bail him out. “Your honor, Mr. Kincaid promised us he would establish the relevance of this questioning and he has failed to do so. He’s just trying to tarnish the reputations of our valiant police officers in a cheap attempt—”

“I’m trying to tarnish the reputations of the stalkers who have been illegally hounding me and my staff,” Ben replied. “And if he doesn’t see the relevance, he needs to be shipped back to first-year law school!”

Judge Cable pointed a gavel. “Mr. Kincaid, watch your tongue.”

“Your honor, this is gross misconduct of the worst sort by police officers who have passed themselves off as disinterested witnesses. I should be asking for a mistrial.”

Ben saw Judge Cable’s face lose its color. The last thing on earth he wanted was to see this case boomerang back again. “I’ll allow this to continue. But get to the point.”

“Your honor,” LaBelle said, “for the record, I must protest—”

“Sit down!” Cable snapped.

Ben and Christina exchanged a look. Cable going after the prosecutor? Was it possible he was beginning to smell a rat, too?

“I’ll repeat the question,” Ben said to Bailey, “and don’t pretend you don’t know the answer. What’s the Blue Squeeze?”

Another heavy sigh. “The Blue Squeeze is a term some people use when police officers decide to—well, put the squeeze on someone.”

“We’re not talking about official police business, right?”

Bailey nodded. “This would be a … private matter.”

“And after the first trial ended, you put the Blue Squeeze on me and my staff, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t my idea—”

“Matthews then. Whoever. But the Blue Squeeze was on, right?”

Bailey glanced at LaBelle, but there was no way the prosecutor could help him now. “Right. The Blue Squeeze was on. I didn’t think it was necessary, or even a particularly good idea. But some of the other boys—”

“I’m sure they dragged you kicking and screaming.”

“Mr. Kincaid!” Judge Cable bellowed.

“Sorry, your honor. I’ll withdraw that.” As if it mattered. “You admit the Blue Squeeze was on. You admit you were following me and my staff around, watching our movements, watching our office—”

“But we didn’t do anythin’,” Bailey insisted. “We just wanted to make sure you didn’t try anythin’ underhanded. We just watched.”

“You just watched. And we’re supposed to believe that it’s just a coincidence that while you were watching, the knife turned up in my office.”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Bailey said. “I think you—”

“And it was just a coincidence that Paula Connelly, who was working with me on Keri Dalcanton’s defense, was brutally attacked—while you were watching.”

“I don’t know anything about—”

“For all we know, you might’ve planted every piece of evidence in this case. It’s clear that you and your friends were so determined to see my client convicted, you were willing to do anything!”

LaBelle rose. “Is that a question?”

Well, Ben had done about all he could here anyway. It was time to move on. “I’ll withdraw it.” He flipped to the next page of his outline. “Can you explain to me why Joe McNaughton was demoted, several months before he was killed?”

Bailey seemed startled by the abrupt change of subject. “Why—what?”

“You’ve told us you and Joe were buddies, that you talked to him all the time. Surely you know why he was demoted.”

“It was my understanding that … Internal Affairs was concerned that he might’ve gotten … too close to the subject of his investigation.”

“That would be Antonio Catrona?”

“Yes.”

“And can you then explain why sometime later his rank was restored?”

Bailey shrugged. “I assume the IA investigation cleared him.”

“Really?” Ben arched an eyebrow. “If IA cleared him, why was Corporal Wesley running around taking pictures of McNaughton through the windowpane?”

Bailey paused. “I don’t know.”

“Could it be that he wasn’t really cleared—because he really was tangled up with Catrona? Could that unfortunate connection possibly be the real reason he was killed?”