Michael Connelly - The Gods of Guilt

When the video jumped again to her exit walk through the lobby, I hit the slow button on the remote and put the laser dot on the man in the hat once again to orient the jurors. I said nothing while all eyes were on the screen. I held the red dot on the man in the hat as he got up and left behind Gloria. I then froze the image a moment before he left the screen.

“Does that man work for the hotel?” I asked.

“I could never see the face but, no, I don’t think so,” Hensley said.

“If you could not see his face, how do you know he isn’t an employee?”

“Because he would have to be a floater and we don’t have floaters.”

“Can you explain to the jury what you mean by that?”

“Our security is post-oriented. We have people at posts—like the man at the elevator alcove. We are posted and we are visible. Name tags, green blazers. We don’t have undercovers. We don’t have floaters—guys who float around and do whatever they want.”

I started to pace in front of the jury box, first walking toward the witness stand and then turning back to cross the well. With my back turned to Hensley and my eyes on Lankford sitting against the rail, I asked my next question.

“What about private security, Mr. Hensley? Could that man have been working security for someone staying in the hotel?”

“He could have. But usually private security people check in with us to let us know they’re there.”

“I see. Then, what do you think that man was doing there?”

Forsythe objected, saying I was calling for speculation from the witness.

“Your Honor,” I responded. “Mr. Hensley spent twenty years as a police officer and detective before spending the past ten in security for this hotel. He’s been in that lobby countless times and dealt with countless situations there. I think he is more than qualified to render an observation on what he sees on the video.”

“Overruled,” Leggoe said.

I nodded to Hensley to answer the question.

“I would bet that he was following her,” he said.

I paused, wanting to underline the answer with silence.

“What makes you say that, Mr. Hensley?”

“Well, it looks like he was waiting for her before she even got there. And then when she comes back down, he follows her out. You can tell when she makes the sudden turn to go to the front desk. That catches him off guard and he has to correct. Then he follows when she leaves.”

“Let’s watch it again.”

I ran the whole video again in real time, keeping the laser dot on the hat.

“What other observations do you have about the video, Mr. Hensley?” I asked afterward.

“Well, for one, he knew about our cameras,” Hensley said. “We never see his face because of the hat, and he knew just where to sit and how to wear it so he would never be seen. He’s a real mystery man.”

I tried hard not to smile. Hensley was the perfect witness, honest and obvious. But calling the man in the hat a “mystery man” was beyond my expectations. It was perfect.

“Let’s summarize, Mr. Hensley. What you’ve told us here today is that Gloria Dayton came into the hotel on the evening of November eleventh and went up to the eighth floor, where she presumably knocked on the door of a room where no one was staying. Is that correct?”

“Yes, correct.”

“And that when she went back down the elevator and left the hotel, she was followed by a ‘mystery man’ who was not an employee of the hotel. Correct?”

“Again, correct.”

“And just over two hours later she was dead.”

Forsythe weakly objected on the grounds I was asking a question that was outside the scope of Hensley’s knowledge and expertise.

Leggoe sustained the objection but it didn’t matter.

“Then I have no further questions,” I said.

Forsythe stood for his cross-examination but then surprised me.

“Your Honor, the state has no questions at this time.”

He must have decided that the best path out of the “mystery man” debacle was to pay it no mind, give it no credibility, act like it didn’t matter—and then retreat with Lankford and engineer some kind of response in rebuttal.

The problem for me was that I didn’t want to put another witness on the stand but it was only four ten and probably too soon in the judge’s estimation to end court for the day.

I walked to the railing behind the defense table and leaned over to whisper to Cisco.

“Tell me something,” I said.

“Tell you what?” he answered.

“Act like you’re telling me about our next witness and shake your head.”

“Well, yeah, I mean we don’t have another witness unless you want me to go to the hotel where we stashed Budwin Dell and bring him over.”

He shook his head, playing along perfectly, and then continued.

“But it’s four ten now and by the time I got back it would be five.”

“That’s good.”

I nodded and returned to the defense table.

“Mr. Haller, you can call your next witness,” the judge said.

“Judge…I, uh, don’t exactly have my next witness ready. I thought Mr. Forsythe would have at least a few questions for Mr. Hensley and that would take us through until four thirty or five.”

The judge frowned.

“I don’t like quitting early. I told you that at the start of the trial. I said have your witnesses ready.”

“I understand, Your Honor. I do have a witness but he is in a hotel twenty minutes away. If you want, I can have my investigator—”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We wouldn’t get started until almost five. What about Mr. Lankford? He’s on your witness list.”

I turned and looked back at Lankford as if I was considering it. Then I looked back at the judge.

“I’m not prepared today for Mr. Lankford, Your Honor. Could we just break for the day now and make up the lost time by shortening our recesses over the next couple days?”

“And penalize the jury for your lack of preparedness? No, we’re not going to do that.”

“Sorry, Judge.”

“Very well, I am adjourning court for the day. We will be in recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I suggest you be prepared to begin then, Mr. Haller.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

We stood as the jury filed out, and Andre needed to grab me by the arm to pull himself up.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Fine. You did good today, Mickey. Real good.”

“I hope so.”

The deputies came for him then. He would be taken back to the courtside cell, where he would change from his baggy suit into an orange jumpsuit. He would then be put on a bus and shipped back to Men’s Central. If there were any delays in the process, he would miss chow time in the jail and go to sleep hungry.

“Just a few more days, Andre.”

“I know. I’m hanging in.”

I nodded and they led him away. I watched them take him through the steel door.

“Isn’t that touching?”

I turned. It was Lankford. He had come up to the defense table. I looked over his shoulder at Forsythe. The prosecutor was standing over his table, trying to fit a thick stack of files into his thin attaché case. He was not paying attention to Lankford and me. Behind him, the courtroom had emptied. Lorna had gone down to get the car. One of Moya’s men had followed her while the other had moved out into the hallway to wait for me. Cisco and Jennifer had already left the courtroom.

“It is touching, Lankford,” I said. “You know why? Because that’s an innocent man, and you don’t see too many of those around here.”

I raised my hand in a who-am-I-kidding gesture.

“But of course you know that better than almost anybody, don’t you? I mean the part about him being innocent.”

Lankford shook his head like he didn’t get it.