LaBelle drummed his fingers on the podium. “Forgive me for saying so, ma’am, but as you yourself pointed out, you’ve been a suspect almost since the crime was committed. You’ve been tried, not once but twice for this offense. If convicted you could be executed. If you knew who the killer was, why on earth didn’t you say so before now?”
Keri looked at him, her eyes wide, tears streaming. “He was my brother.”
After that, nothing LaBelle said mattered. He tried to make a few more points, but no one was interested, not even LaBelle. He soon gave up and sat down.
“Very well,” Judge Cable said. “I assume this completes the defense case.”
Ben shook his head. “Not quite, your honor.”
Christina leaned toward him. “What are you saying? Keri’s testimony was great. I think the jury believes her.”
“We can do better,” Ben whispered back.
“Ben, nothing personal, but don’t screw up what we’ve got here. This is the time to submit the case to the jury. If you call another witness, you just risk—”
“We have one more witness, your honor.” Ben turned to face the gallery. “The defense recalls Andrea McNaughton.”
46
CHRISTINA TUGGED AT BEN’S shirt sleeve. “Have you lost your mind?”
Ben held her at bay. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Ben, she’s the worst witness against us!”
“Which is why we have to bring her back.”
“Ben—”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Judge Cable wrinkled his brow. “Counsel, have you notified Ms. McNaughton that she would be called as a witness today?”
“No, sir. But she is on the witness list—thanks to the prosecution—and she is in the courtroom.”
LaBelle joined in. “Judge, he’s already had an opportunity to crossexamine.”
“True, your honor. But now I want to introduce new topics, not rebut matters raised on direct. And I want to reexamine her in light of the new information that has arisen.”
Cable ran his fingers through his graying hair. “I suppose he has that right. Mrs. McNaughton, would you please return to the witness box?”
In the third row of the gallery, Andrea McNaughton pushed herself up on uncertain legs. “Sir, I … don’t … want to.”
“I’m sorry,” Judge Cable said. “I can imagine the pain this must cause you. But I’m afraid you have no choice.”
“I’ve already said everything I have to say.”
“And if Mr. Kincaid starts repeating matters that have already been addressed, I can assure you I’ll shut him down. But for now I must insist that you come to the witness box. Bailiff.”
On cue, Brent, the bailiff, walked up the aisle beside Andrea. Taking her elbow, he gently escorted her to the front of the courtroom.
The judge nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. McNaughton. I’ll remind you that you’re still under oath.”
“Of course.” Her voice seemed hollow and hoarse.
Ben approached the podium. He had no notes for this cross. He was winging it, pure and simple, which was unfortunate, because he knew that everything depended on what happened next.
“Mrs. McNaughton, you were in the courtroom while Keri Dalcanton testified, weren’t you?”
“Oh yes. I heard it all.” Her voice left little doubt but that she was not persuaded by what she had heard. At the same time, it had a fragile quality, a vulnerability that had not been there before.
“Then you’re aware that her testimony differs from yours on several key points.”
She twisted her neck awkwardly. “Is that really a surprise?”
“No, it isn’t. You and Keri have been antagonists from the outset. In some respects, this whole case has been a conflict between you and her. But it leaves the jury in a bit of a fix. Because both of you can’t be telling the truth. So they have to determine who is—and who isn’t.”
“She’s lying,” Andrea said. “She’s lying to save her scrawny neck.”
“So you’ve been saying. But something about your story has always bothered me, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Until just a few minutes ago, when I heard Keri testify. When I heard her talk about what a hard life she had after she moved to Tulsa.”
“Is there a question in here somewhere?” LaBelle asked.
“I’m getting there,” Ben replied. He turned his attention to Andrea. “I remembered your account of your visit to Keri’s apartment, just before your husband was found dead. You said she attacked you—”
“She did.”
“—which she denies. In the struggle, you said she threw you down on some kind of exercise equipment and you hurt yourself. The problem is—I’ve been to Keri’s apartment. And there’s no exercise equipment.”
“I don’t know exactly what it was. One of those fancy high-tech things—”
“You heard how poor she’s been. There’s no way she could afford some Nautilus equipment or rowing machine.”
“She probably thought it was worth the cost to keep up her shapely figure. That’s important when you make your living as a whore.”
Ben took a deep breath. “It’s not there, Mrs. McNaughton.”
“She probably got rid of it after she murdered my—”
“This is a copy of the police inventory,” Ben said, waving a sheet of paper in the air, “taken when the police arrived at her apartment, less than one hour after your husband’s body was discovered. It lists everything they found there. Which is not much. And there is certainly no exercise equipment.”
“Maybe they didn’t think—”
“Here is a sheaf of photos I pulled out of the file,” Ben said, passing them to the bailiff. “The police photographed Keri’s apartment in every room from every possible angle. Standard operating procedure—at the time, they thought the murder might’ve occurred there.” He watched as the bailiff passed the photos to Andrea. “Take your time and look through them, ma’am. There’s a lot to see. But I can tell you one thing you won’t see—exercise equipment. Because she didn’t have any.”
Andrea rifled furiously through the pictures. “Well, maybe it was a table or cabinet …”
“Ah, but now you’re changing your story. Before, it was a fancy high-tech exercise machine.”
“It all happened very quickly. I could’ve been confused.”
“Confused? Is that a way of saying you lied?”
“I did not lie!” Her face flushed. “All right, maybe I did make that part up. I made a mistake.”
Ben shook his head. “You didn’t make a mistake. You invented the exercise equipment because it fit the image you were trying to create, the image of this young husband-stealing bimbo living in the lap of sin and luxury. The problem is—none of it is true.”
“Your honor,” LaBelle said angrily. “He’s speechifying again. He’s already made his point.”
“Have I?” Ben asked. “The point is—she’s admitted she lied once. How can we believe anything else she had to say?”
“Your honor—”
“Given the knowledge that you lied once,” Ben continued, “it’s now easier to resolve all the other conflicts between your testimony and Keri’s. For instance, you say that when you came to her apartment and identified yourself, she greeted you with contempt and hostility. But why would she? Remember—she didn’t even know Joe had a wife. Her principal reaction was shock.”
“That’s her story. If you want to believe it.”
“No one has ever given us any reason not to believe it. Not even you. You say that she attacked you.”
“She did.”
“And Keri says you attacked her. Now which is more likely? That the attack would be initiated by a nineteen-year-old girl who’s just found out her boyfriend is married? Or the betrayed married woman with an acknowledged proclivity for violence? The woman who subsequently attacked Keri twice in front of witnesses. The woman we know has already lied once.”
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