William Bernhardt - Murder One

“And what did you do then?”

“I went home. It was obvious that I was going to get nothing out of her. It would have to be Joe that broke it off. So I waited for him.”

LaBelle nodded sympathetically. Ben had to marvel at his sensitive performance; he was more like a daytime talk-show host than a district attorney. “What happened when Joe got home?”

Andrea waited a long while before answering, as if gathering her strength, mustering her control, choosing her words. “I’m sure you can imagine,” she said slowly, “that it was not a pleasant experience. Do you really want all the details?”

“I’m afraid I do,” LaBelle said.

“Very well.” She brushed her dark hair back behind her ears. “I had managed to collect myself enough to be at least somewhat rational. I didn’t scream and shout. I simply told him what I knew and what I expected to happen next, in no uncertain terms.”

“Did he agree?”

“Not at first. He was a man, after all. He puffed up his chest and told me no one could boss him around, yadda yadda yadda. But I gave him no choice. I told him it was her or me. If he didn’t break it off, I’d leave him. We’d be divorced—and everyone would know why. Everyone would know how young his little whore was, too—which I didn’t think would exactly contribute to his advancement on the force.”

Ben felt the heat rising from Keri when she heard the word “whore.” She too appeared to be struggling to maintain control—struggling to keep her face from revealing the bitterness she felt inside.

“So in the end,” Andrea continued, “he agreed to break it off. He wanted to wait till the next day to tell his little tramp the bad news, but I wouldn’t hear of it. ‘It ends today,’ I said. ‘You’ll tell her now.’ So he went over to her place to do just that.” She paused. “And I never saw him alive again.”

She turned away, and tears tumbled out of her eyes like the spray of a fountain. “The next morning, the police woke me up and told me—told me—” The anguish in her voice was so intense it hurt to hear it. “Told me he was dead. Not just dead—but dead in such a horrible, inhuman way. I was devastated. Just the day before, I learned I had lost his heart. Now—I’d lost everything.” Her hand covered her face. “And through it all, I just kept thinking of what that horrible woman had said to me. ‘If I can’t have him,’ she’d said, ‘no one can.’ And after that—no one did.”

The judge, bless his heart, called for a recess after LaBelle finished his direct examination. After that emotionally draining testimony, everyone needed a break, not just Andrea but every warm body in the courtroom. During the five-minute respite, Ben chatted briefly with his client.

“It didn’t happen like that,” Keri said “I swear. It wasn’t like that at all.”

Ben nodded. “I know. I’ll try to bring that out on cross.”

“But she made me seem so—evil. It wasn’t like that.”

“I understand. But I have to tell you, Keri—I was watching the jurors while she testified. And they believed her. She was very convincing.”

“You have to tell them the truth,” Keri said. “Make them understand.”

“I’ll do my best. But I think we have to face reality at this point. Only one person can tell them what really happened. Only one person can make them believe it. And that’s you, Keri.”

She turned her head away. “I’ve told you this already, Ben. I can’t testify. Absolutely not.”

“Keri, I don’t like putting my defendant on the stand, either, but there are times when I realize it’s necessary, and this is one of them.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I just—can’t.”

Ben broke off the conversation. All it was doing was escalating his frustration level. For now, he needed to be concentrating on his cross.

After Judge Cable called the court back to order, Ben dutifully walked to the podium. As he approached, he wondered if he should have let Christina handle this one. It was an important cross, true—probably the most important one in the trial. But she was a woman, and a woman crossing another woman might play better with the jury. Having a big gruff man go after this obviously tormented, bereaved widow might be too much; they might be so sympathetic to her and so antagonistic to him that it wouldn’t matter what he said or got her to say.

Well, the decision was made, and it was too late to turn back now. He would have to make the best of it. He knew he would never get Andrea to recant any of her testimony, and the jury would hate him if he started browbeating her in the attempt. The best he could hope for was to plant a few seeds in the jurors’ minds—a few seeds of doubt he could nurture during closing argument.

“You mentioned that your husband was involved in an investigation in Oklahoma City. Could you tell us what exactly he was investigating?”

“To tell you the truth, we didn’t talk much about his work.”

Probably true, but he wasn’t about to let her off that easily. “Nonetheless, you did know the general nature of his investigation, did you not?”

“I never got into the details. He’s not allowed to talk about—”

Ben cut her off. “He was investigating organized crime, wasn’t he?”

Her lips pursed slightly. “I believe that was the gist of it, yes.”

“Do you think investigating organized crime could conceivably be … dangerous?”

“Objection,” LaBelle said. “Calls for speculation. She has no personal knowledge.”

“Sustained,” Judge Cable said.

“Your honor,” Ben protested, “we’re discussing a man who was subjected to an extremely violent murder. If he was engaged in dangerous activities, anything that might lead to extreme retaliation, I think I’m entitled to pursue that.”

“With the proper witness, perhaps. But you have not established that this is the proper witness.”

Ben took a deep breath and regrouped. “Do you know who was the target of your husband’s investigation into organized crime?”

“I’ve heard some names. I would only be speculating.” It seemed Andrea was smart enough to pick up on cues from the judge.

“Would Antonio Catrona be one of those names?”

“I have heard the name.”

“You’ve heard the name because he was the subject of the investigation, right?”

She still hesitated.

“If there’s some doubt in your mind, we could call up some of the other police officers to confirm this.”

“I think that is correct,” she said.

“And you also had reason to believe that the investigation of Catrona could be dangerous, didn’t you?”

“All investigations are dangerous,” Andrea said. “Criminals are criminals. They don’t like to be caught.”

A valiant attempt to derail this line of questioning. But Ben wasn’t going to allow it. “We’re not talking about petty theft here, ma’am. We’re talking about organized crime.”

LaBelle rose. “Your honor, I must protest. Asked and answered. This badgering of a bereaved woman is unconscionable.”

“The question has been answered,” Judge Cable said.

“But not truthfully,” Ben replied.

Judge Cable pointed his gavel. “Counsel, I’m warning you—”

Ben switched back to the witness. “Mrs. McNaughton, isn’t it true that shortly before your husband was killed, you received a threatening phone call that you believed came from Antonio Catrona or someone working for him?”

The jurors’ chins rose, a sure sign that their interest level was increasing. Good.

“Joe did receive a phone call that … disturbed him. But I don’t know who called.”

That’s it, Ben thought. Keep being evasive. The more you play games, the easier it will be for me to poke holes in your story. “You may not have known with absolute certainty, but you believed—at the time—that it came from Catrona or his associates. You believed they were threatening retaliation against your husband.”