William Bernhardt - Naked Justice

“Thank you, your honor.” Ben tried not to stare. What on earth had happened? Somehow Bullock had definitely found his way onto Judge Hart’s mad list. “What about it, Buck? Ever take a stroll down Terwilliger?”

“I might’ve. Is that against the law?”

“Nope. Why did you carry the camera?”

Buck was slow to answer. Ben could almost see the wheels turning as Buck tried to decide how big a lie he could get away with. “I’m an amateur shutterbug. It’s my hobby.”

“Uh-huh.” Ben decided to back off for the moment. In all likelihood, the man was not going to confess to murder. It would be best to get as much as he could out of him as possible before pressing him to the breaking point. “Mr. Conners, do you know the members of the city council?”

“Oh, I see some of them come through the office sometimes, on meeting days.”

“Ever do any business with any of them?”

Another thoughtful pause. “Like who?”

“Mr. Conners, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m talking about Councilman Whitman, who I guess is now Interim Mayor Whitman. You and he have been … well, working together, haven’t you?”

“I’m … not sure I know what you mean.”

“Don’t know, Mr. Conners, or don’t want to know?” Ben inched forward, laying on the pressure. “It’s an easy question. Have you ever done business with Councilman Whitman?”

“We’ve talked a few times.”

“About what?”

“Objection.” Bullock had mustered enough courage to attempt another objection. “Calls for hearsay.”

Judge Hart frowned. “I suppose I’ll have to sustain that objection as to what Mr. Whitman may have said. For now, anyway. Until an acceptable foundation for an exception is laid.”

She couldn’t have told Ben what to do more clearly if she’d given him a road map. “What was the nature of the relationship between you and Councilman Whitman?”

Buck propped himself up with one arm. “He’s asked me to take care of a few things for him.”

“So you were in business together.”

Buck shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“And what was the nature of the business?”

Buck’s answers came slower and slower. “It varied. Different stuff.”

“Mr. Conners, you are being uncommonly evasive. Why don’t you just come clean and tell the jury what it was you were doing for Councilman Whitman?”

Several seconds ticked by. Finally Buck answered. “Yard work.”

“Yard work?” Ben’s eyes ballooned. “You were helping him do yard work?”

“Well, he’s a busy man, and he has a big yard.”

“Is that right. Tell me, Mr. Conners, when you met with Councilman Whitman in the middle of the night out at O’Brien Park, was that to discuss yard work?”

Buck clenched his jaw.

“Don’t bother denying it. I can have Mr. Loving back on the stand in a heartbeat, not to mention Mr. Sanders. They both can and will identify you.”

Buck clenched his jaw all the tighter, but did not answer.

“Mr. Conners, do you understand that perjury is a criminal offense? I want an answer, and I want the truth! Were you meeting our city councilman in the middle of the night in secret to discuss yard work?”

“Well … no.”

“Then what was it? Why were you meeting a city councilman in secret in the middle of the night?”

Buck looked up at the judge. “May I have a lawyer?”

“If you wanted a lawyer present, you should have arranged it before you took the stand,” she said firmly. “You will answer the question or I’ll find you in contempt of court.”

Buck turned slowly back toward Ben. “I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Didn’t you hear the judge?”

“I’m taking—whaddaya call it?—I’m taking the Fifth.”

Ben took a step back. Damn. This was an obstacle that would be difficult to overcome. “Are you refusing to answer my question?”

“I ain’t refusing. I’m just taking the Fifth.” He looked up at the judge again. “Don’t I have the right to do that?”

Judge Hart nodded. “That you do. If you believe answering the question might tend to incriminate you. But you should be aware that any refusal to answer will result in your testimony being brought to the immediate attention of the district attorney’s office.”

Some threat that was, Ben thought, since the district attorney’s office probably preferred that he not answer. “So,” Ben asked, “you admit that you met Whitman for some illegal purpose.” With luck, maybe he could bully the witness into answering.

“I ain’t admittin’ or denyin’,” Buck said flatly. “I just ain’t answerin’.”

“But you admit that you met Whitman in the park. That you were the man my investigator saw.”

Buck shrugged. “I suppose.”

“And you were the man Mr. Sanders saw in his neighborhood. The man with the camera who was seen near the Barrett home.”

“It’s possible.”

“Why were you casing the Barrett home, Mr. Bradley?”

Buck looked away. “I’m takin’ the Fifth on that one, too.”

“But you were there.”

“I’m not answerin’ any more.”

“I’m not asking you why you were there. But you were there, right? You were there!”

Buck’s teeth locked; he frowned. “Right. I was there.”

“Thank you.” Ben knew that was the most he could get out of this witness, now, anyway. Best to quit while he was arguably ahead. “That’s all.”

Judge Hart cocked an eyebrow. “Cross?”

Bullock waved a flat hand. “None, your honor. I’m going to wait until counsel has a witness say something that relates to this case.”

“Fine. Then the witness is dismissed.”

“Your honor,” Ben said, “I may need to recall this witness.” And then again, I may not. How was he supposed to know? He was making this up as he went along. “I request that he be required to remain in the courtroom till the close of trial today.”

“Granted. The sergeant at arms is so instructed. Call your next witness.”

Ben took a deep breath. Had he created a reasonable doubt? Buck had certainly suggested that something improper was going on, but had he suggested enough to dissuade the jury from finding Barrett guilty? He couldn’t be sure. Like it or not, Ben had to try to get more. “The defense calls Bailey Whitman to the stand.”

Chapter 64

BACK IN THE GALLERY, Interim Mayor Whitman slowly rose to his feet. He was wearing a bright yellowish red shirt—alizarin crimson, Ben supposed. The only color Whitman could see.

“Step forward, please,” Judge Hart said.

Whitman hesitated. “Your honor, I just came in today to watch. No one told me I was going to have to testify.”

She smiled. “Life is full of little surprises, isn’t it? Step forward.”

Whitman moved to the front of the courtroom, muttering. “Don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know anything about it.”

A good sign, Ben thought. Most witnesses wait till they’re accused before they start denying.

The judge swore him in and Whitman grudgingly settled himself into the witness chair. He touched the mike, then gave his name and address.

“Permission to treat Mr. Whitman as a hostile witness,” Ben requested.

“Well,” Judge Hart said, “he certainly doesn’t look too happy to be here. Granted.”

Ben grasped the podium and began. “Mr. Whitman, you’ve known Wallace Barrett for many years, haven’t you?”

“Seems like forever.”

“You both went to college at the University of Oklahoma, didn’t you?”

“We did.”

“And of course, football is very important at OU, isn’t it?”

Whitman shrugged. “I’d say it’s their main claim to fame.”