Special Circumstances (45 page)

I search for a retort. He’s probably right. There isn’t any physicalevidence to convict Russo. I look at Roosevelt.
“I need him to testify,” I say.
“You can’t let him leave the country again. I’ll put him on the standon Monday.”
There’s a knock on the door. A uniformed deputy reports that Pattonand Russo want to talk.
“Mike,” Roosevelt says, “I have to ask you to wait here. I’ll tellthem you want to speak to them.”
“I understand.”
I sit in the cramped gray consultation room by myself in the middle ofthe night. The lights are dimmed. The Hall has an eerie, deafeningquiet at this hour. My body is overwhelmed by a combination of fatigueand jet lag. I sit in never-never land—not quite asleep, butcertainly not awake.
My mind starts playing tricks on me. I see Grace’s face. I’m at theHall of Justice in the middle of the night. I should be home takingcare of her.
I hear footsteps in the hallway and I see a uniformed policeman walkby. I think of my dad. So proud of his uniform. So proud he put thebad guys away. A good cop. He did what he thought was right. Hard tothink he’s been gone for five years. So little time to know his firstgrandchild, Grace. He was so proud of her. And she’ll never rememberhim. Sometimes, I think I never really knew him. Sometimes I think Iknew him too well. He was a good dad, but somewhat distant. I thinkof my brother Tommy, who went to war to please him. And Pete, whobecame a cop to show him. And for a brief moment, I think of myself. Ibecame a defense attorney to spite him. I think of my sister, Mary,who pleaded with him to take early retirement, just so she could stopworrying about him.
I think of my mom, who raised four kids on a cop’s salary. How she’dstay up every night, waiting for him to come home. How she wouldn’tsleep until she heard his car door slam. How she counted the daysuntil his retirement. And how she had to nurse him when theydiscovered the cancer only a few weeks later.
Five years of caring for him through all that pain. She worried aboutall of us. Now she lives half her life in a world of confusion thatshe doesn’t understand and I can’t imagine.
I think about Rosie, the only woman I’ve ever truly loved. And ourmutual realization that we’re utterly incapable of living together. Ifeel the pain of our separation all over again. I wonder whether I’llever find the same kind of love again. I hope I’ll never feel the painagain.
I worry about Grace. I wonder where she’ll be in another ten years. Oranother twenty years, for that matter.
I think about my friend and client Joel. I think about his less-than-perfect marriage. I think about his relationship with his father, andhow it isn’t all that different from my relationship with mine. Iwonder whether he’ll have a chance to repair the damage to his lifethat’s been inflicted on him—and that he’s inflicted upon himself.
I think about our special circumstances. It may be the fatigue or itmay be the stress. Or it may be both. I realize I’m crying. And Iwonder if it’s all worth it.
“Mike?” Roosevelt stands in the doorway of the consultation room, hishands in his pockets.
“Huh? Sorry, Roosevelt. I must have dozed off for a few minutes.”
“Patton and Russo want to talk to you.”
“Are you going to arrest him?”
“No.”
“Will he testify?”
“I think so.”
“Keep it under your hat, Roosevelt.”
“I will.” He pauses.
“I can’t make the same promise for the DA.”
“I understand.” I look at him.
“Roosevelt?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
CHAPTER 52
DID YOU HAVE A NICE TRIP?
“In an unexpected twist, local financier Vincent Russo Jr. was locatedin the Bahamas. He will be called to testify at the murder trial ofJoel Mark Friedman later today.”
—KCBS NEWS RADIO. monday, april 13. 6:30 A.M.
The traffic on Bryant is terrible on Monday morning. The minicams arelined up two-deep. Word got out about Vince Russo’s resurrection. Thegallery is packed.
“The defense calls Vincent Russo Jr.”
Judge Chen watches as Russo slithers into the courtroom in his darkblue suit.
Russo is sworn in. He takes the stand. He’s sweating. He gulps waterfrom a Styrofoam cup. I can smell his aftershave. His diamond ringgleams. His cuff links look like gold golf balls.
Judge Chen says, “We weren’t sure we were going to see you, Mr.Russo.”
He glances at the clock.
“I’ve been out of town.”
“You may proceed, Mr. Daley,” she says to me.
“May we approach the witness, Your Honor?” I want to get right in hisface.
“Yes, Mr. Daley.”
I button my jacket as I walk from the lectern toward Russo. I positionmyself directly in front of him and I turn slightly so the jury can seehis facial expressions and mine.
“Mr. Russo,” I begin, “you were in the Simpson and Gates offices onDecember thirtieth, were you not?”
His slitty eyes wander.
“Yes.”
“And you were working on an important deal involving the sale of yourcompany, right?”
“Yes.”
“And the sale was supposed to close on the morning of Decemberthirty-first, right?”
“Objection, Your Honor. He’s leading the witness.”
Indeed I am.
“Request permission to treat this witness as hostile.”
Judge Chen says, “All right, Mr. Daley.”
“Thank you.” It’s okay to lead hostile witnesses. I turn back toRusso.
“The deal didn’t close, did it, Mr. Russo?”
“No, it didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want Continental CapitalCorporation to take over my father’s company. It would have beendisrespectful to his memory.”
He glares at me.
“It didn’t close because I said so.” So there.
“So, Mr. Russo, instead of showing up for the closing, what did youdo?”
“I decided to take a little vacation. Most recently, I was in theBahamas.”
I look at the jury and I grin sarcastically.
“Did you have a nice trip?”
Skipper stands up, but doesn’t say anything.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” Russo replies.
“Right up until this weekend when you insisted that I return to SanFrancisco.” His expression is longsuffering.
All right, asshole.
“Mr. Russo,” I say, “let’s talk about the night of Decemberthirtieth.”
Victim face again.
“Whatever you’d like, Mr. Daley.”
“The negotiations went into the night on December thirtieth?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, you finished negotiations by about nine o’clock thatnight?”
“That’s true.” He tries to sound nonchalant.
“And then you went out for dinner with Mr. Holmes, didn’t you?”
“Yes. We went to Tadich Grill. I’d recommend it.”
“And you returned to the office around eleven-fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“And everything was ready to go by about twelve-thirty?”
“Yep. Everything.” He takes another swallow of water.
“You had a meeting with Mr. Holmes around twelve-thirty, didn’t you’“Yes.”
“What did you talk about with Mr. Holmes?”
“A lot of things. Our plans for New Year’s. Our kids. His latestdivorce.”
“Did you talk about the deal?”
He turns his head at a slight angle.
“Yes. I told him I wasn’t going to proceed with the closing. Idecided I would keep my company or take my chances in bankruptcy.”
“Or go to the Bahamas. How did Mr. Holmes react when you told him?”
“He was pissed off. He said I should sell the company. And he told meif the deal didn’t close, Simpson and Gates was going to go bankrupt.”He smirks.
“Of course, you can’t run a successful business worrying about whetheryour lawyers are going to be able to pay their bills.”
Or an unsuccessful business like yours, Vince.
“Mr. Russo, were you aware Mr. Holmes was going to receive a bigbonus?”
“Yep. Three million bucks.” The corners of his mouth turn upslightly.
“And you realize, of course, that by pulling the plug, Mr. Holmes wasgoing to lose his bonus.”
“Like I said, you can’t spend your life worrying about how much moneyyour lawyer makes.”
Legitimate point.
“Mr. Russo, did Mr. Holmes look upset when you told him you weren’tgoing to close?”
“Objection. State of mind.”
“Your Honor, I’m just asking for an observation of Mr. Holmes’sappearance.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes, he was very upset. Really honked off, if you know what Imean.”
I know what you mean.
“Was he upset about his divorce?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
Shit. I should have left well enough alone.
“Actually,” he continues, “he was far more upset about the fact thathis girlfriend dumped him.”
Hello?
“Really? And would that girlfriend have been Diana Kennedy?”
He chuckles.
“No, Mr. Daley. It wouldn’t. His relationship with Ms. Kennedy waslong over. Old and cold. Dead as a doorknob.”
We get the idea.
He looks at the jury.
“He was upset because his new girlfriend dumped him.”
I look frantically at Rosie. I’m going to have to break the cardinalrule of crossexamination and ask a question for which I don’t know theanswer.
“Mr.
Russo, do you know the name of this new girlfriend?”
“No. He wouldn’t tell me. It was his little secret. He said it wassomebody we knew. He said he’d tell me when the time was right. Henever did.”
“Mr. Russo, did Mr. Holmes give any other indications that he mayhave been upset that night?”
“Objection. State of mind.”
“Overruled.”
“Mr. Daley,” he says, “are you asking me if he was suicidal?”
“In a word, yes.”
“The answer, in a word, is maybe. He was very upset about the deal. Hewas very upset about losing the money. And he was particularly upsetabout his girlfriend. But he wasn’t that upset.”
I had it coming.
“Mr. Russo, what time did you leave Mr. Holmes’s office?”
“Around one o’clock.”
“Did you see Diana Kennedy before you left?”
“No.”
“And Mr. Holmes was still alive when you left?”
“Very much so.”
“So, Mr. Russo, just so we’re straight on this, you didn’t happen tokill Bob Holmes and Diana Kennedy that night, did you?”
“Of course not. Bob was still alive when I left him. I didn’t seeDiana.”
“And you didn’t see anybody else kill them, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Did you hear any gunshots?”
“Nope.”
“What time did you leave the building?”
“Around one-forty-five.”
“After you left the Simpson and Gates office, you abandoned your car atthe Vista Point at the Golden Gate Bridge, right?”
“I intended to retrieve it the next day.” He looks up.
“I was too tired to drive.”
Right.
“And you left your wallet in the car, didn’t you?”
“I forgot it.”
“And your keys.”
“I forgot them, too.”
“And you decided to leave the country.”
“It isn’t a crime to go on vacation, Mr. Daley.”
“No, it isn’t, Mr. Russo,” I agree.
“And where did you go?”
“First, I went to New Zealand. Then Thailand and Greece. Then theBahamas.”
“Where you were checked into a very fancy hotel under an assumedname.”
“Yes. I always travel under an assumed name. I don’t like to drawattention to myself. Wealthy Americans are often targets in otherparts of the world.”
“Mr. Russo, you realize that reasonable people might interpret youractions as an attempt by a desperate man to flee the scene of acrime?”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Come on, Mr. Russo. Let’s put our cards on the table. Let’s tellthe truth today, for once. You killed Bob Holmes and Diana Kennedy,didn’t you?”
He shakes his head.
“No, I didn’t.”
“And you fled the country.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“And you went to the Bahamas to collect a bunch of money that you kepthidden there.”
“That’s not true.”
“Your Honor,” Skipper interrupts.
“Is this harassment of Mr. Russo really necessary?”
“Your Honor,” I say, “this man is lying. It’s evident to everyone inthis room that Mr. Russo killed Mr. Holmes and Ms. Kennedy and fledthe country.”
“Move to strike, Your Honor. Mr. Daley is out of order.”
“Sustained. The jury will disregard Mr. Daley’s last remarks.” Shestares at me.
“Sidebar.”
We approach the bench. She puts her hand over her microphone.
“Mr. Daley,” she says sharply, “if you’re trying to get a mistrial,you’ll be disappointed. Now finish your examination.”
We return to our places. Judge Chen looks at me.
“Anything else for this witness, Mr. Daley?”
I see Rosie close her eyes.
“No further questions.”
She looks at Skipper.
“Crossexam, Mr. Gates?”
“No, Your Honor.”
She pounds her gavel.
“Tenminute recess.”
Joel isn’t overjoyed with my direct examination of Russo.
“I thought you were going to nail him,” he says.
“Did you think he was going to break down on the stand and confess?”
“Maybe.”
“This isn’t an episode of fucking Perry Mason,” I snap. I catchmyself.
“I’m sorry. I gave it a shot. It was worth a try, but it’sunrealistic to think that Russo is going to do anything but lie. Hewas better-coached than I thought.
And he held up better than I thought he would.”
“I want to take the stand,” Joel says firmly.
“We’ll talk about it after Patton testifies.”
CHAPTER 53
WHAT DOES THE MANAGING PARTNER DO, MR. PATTON?
“The managing partner of a major law firm is like the chairman of theboard of a Fortune 500 company. Every big business needs leadership.And you have to have a vision.”
—arthur patton. san francisco legal journal. monday, april 13.
“You are the managing partner of the Simpson and Gates firm, aren’tyou, Mr. Patton?”
“Yes I am.” After lunch, Arthur Patton has squeezed himself into theuncomfortable wooden chair in the witness box. He’s dressed carefullytoday. The red suspenders are at home. His chins jiggle. Hiseyebrows form a straight line right above the tiny wire-rim glassesthat sit against the bulbous nose and mask the tiny eyes.
“What does the managing partner do, Mr. Patton?” He purses his dry,thin lips.
“The managing partner of a major law firm is like the chairman of theboard of a Fortune 500 company. Every big business needs leadership.And you have to have a vision.”
“Your vision seems to have led the firm into bankruptcy, Mr. Patton.”
“It was merely a protective filing,” he assures me.
“The firm continues to operate and will remain fully functional whilewe are sorting out our obligations to our creditors.”
I note that the accountant doesn’t seem convinced. It’s time to talkabout something Art understands: money.
“Mr. Patton, you are aware that the firm maintained a key-man lifeinsurance policy on Mr. Holmes, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew the firm had a twenty-million-dollar policy on the lifeof Mr.
Holmes?”
“Of course.”
I face the jury.
“And you knew, of course, that the policy had a socalled suicideclause, right?”
This is ticklish. If he admits he knew about the suicide clause, headmits the firm stood to gain twenty million dollars if he can showJoel killed Bob and Diana. It gives him incentive to set Joel up. Ifhe says he didn’t know, I’ll have the pleasure of chastising him inopen court for not having read the policy carefully—very un lawyerlikefor an attorney of his stature.