The Attorney (34 page)

Then he shakes his head. "Why can't you just put me on the stand and I can tell them I wasn't there?"

"Because they won't believe you. What are you going to say when Ryan asks you how that marlin's blood got all over Suade's clothes?"

"I don't know."

"And when he confronts you with the threats you made in front of Brower?

What will you say? That you were just kidding?"

"Maybe," he says.

"So you weren't angry?"

"No, I was angry."

"So you weren't kidding?"

"No, I was angry, but I wasn't going to kill her."

"Then why did you say it?"

"People say things they don't mean all the time," he says.

"Do you?" Jonah doesn't answer. Instead he looks on, seeing the problem.

Were you lying then, or are you lying now?

With all this, there is something gnawing at me that doesn't make sense.

With all his evidence, the physical links tying Jonah to the scene, there are questions that Ryan hasn't answered: Why would a woman who has met Jonah only once, and then in hostile circumstances, climb into the passenger seat of his car? What on earth could they find to talk about while she consumed not one, but two cigarettes? And perhaps more important, given the makeup of my jury, why would a woman, a natty dresser like Suade whose attire was meticulous even if bizarre, the tight little toreador costume, why would someone who took such care willingly jump on Jonahs blood-spattered, scale-covered seat covers?

This last defies female logic, a messy question, and one that Ryan will have to deal with, or leave dangling for me in front of nine women on the jury.

"the state calls susan MCKAY." Ryan tries not to look at me as he says it, but in the end he can't resist a sniggering sideways glance.

Satisfaction written on his face.

Until this moment, Harry and I had assumed that Ryan was keeping Susan out in the hallway, under constant subpoena as a kind of penance. He has made her cool her heels for nearly a week, this for her help on Suade's gun, a detail we probably would have turned up in any event.

Jonah leans over. Harry and I have him sandwiched between us, trying to avoid a repeat of yesterday, the body English of defeat.

"I thought the two of you were friends." He whispers a little too loud so that I am left to look at the jury, hoping that the ones in the front row don't have great hearing.

I cup a hand. "Against her will. She's under subpoena," I tell him.

"Oh." He nods as if he understands. "She's probably gonna tell 'em what I did in her office. How I got mad and walked out'n all." She might not have to if Jonah keeps talking. I put a hand on his forearm, finger to my lips to shut him up.

Even with the click of her high heels on the hard surface of the floor, I don't have to turn to look. I know Susan is in the room. I can feel the heat of her gaze on the back of my neck, like a laser shaving the fine hairs.

She had started to relax, accepting my nightly assurances that Ryan wouldn't call her. After all, Brower heard the death threats in my office. There's little Susan can add.

She may be a reluctant witness, but she walks with purpose through the gate in the bar, past the rostrum where she pivots.

Standing near the witness box, she raises her hand. As she does this, her gaze is not on the clerk with his upraised hand and mantra ... Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth ... but on me. At the moment, I suspect it's not anger so much as the normal emotion that comes with surprise: fight or flight.

"Would you take a seat?" says Ryan. "Give us your name. Spell the last name for the record, and your address."

"Susan McKay." I can tell she's scared. She spells her last name like she's spitting out the five letters, then gives her office address, not her home. Ryan doesn't seem to notice. The reporters in the front row will have a hard time hunting her down when she's done.

Her home number is unlisted.

"Ms. McKay, can you tell us what you do for a living?"

"I'm director of Children's Protective Services."

"Is that a public agency?"

"Yes."

"In the county or the city?" says Ryan.

"County," she says.

"And what do you do there? What are your responsibilities as director?"

"I'm the chief administrative officer for the department."

"So you run the agency?"

"Yes."

"Are you responsible to anyone else?"

"The board of supervisors," she says.

"You serve at their pleasure, is that right?" Ryan asks the question as if at the moment there is very little pleasure left with Susan in that place.

"That's correct." Ryan already knows all this. He's simply reminding Susan.

"Could you please tell the jury what your agency does?"

"We're charged with looking after the welfare of children.

Abused. Neglected. We deal with allegations of child abuse and endangerment.

We investigate charges. Take children into protective custody when it's necessary. We also file applications with the court for the appointment of guardians from time to time. The department makes recommendations as to if and when children should be made wards of the court."

"You say you investigate cases of child abuse?" Ryan picks from this smorgasbord, the one he wants.

"That's correct."

"And in that regard did your agency have occasion to inquire into allegations of child abuse, specifically charges of molestation regarding a child by the name of Amanda Hale?"

"I'm going to object, Your Honor. Grounds of relevance," I say.

"Goes to motive," says Ryan.

"I'll allow it," says Peltro. "Overruled."

"I don't do casework myself," says Susan.

"Yes, but you do know about this case, don't you?"

"I know about the charges," she says.

"Was an investigation conducted by your agency in regard to those charges?"

"An inquiry was made. I don't think it ever got to the level of a full investigation."

"Can you tell the jury who lodged those charges with the county?"

"Objection, Your Honor. Can we approach?" I motion toward the bench.

Peltro waves us on. Ryan and I cozy up to the bench on the side away from Susan in the witness box. The court reporter with her computerized stenograph machine huddling in close to take it all down.

"Your Honor, this is highly prejudicial." I'm whispering now, cupping a hand, trying to keep it away from the jury and the front row with their scratching pencils and pens.

"No charges were ever brought against my client. All the evidence indicates that the events never occurred. There was never any evidence of molestation or incest."

"The charges were made," says Ryan. "I'm not offering them to prove they were true. The fact is the allegations go directly to motive.

The defendant knew these charges had been made. He was also aware that they were about to be renewed in the victim's press release.

It may very well have been defamatory," says Ryan. "But that doesn't justify murder. Mr. Madriani knows that's our theory. It's been clear from the beginning. Our theory is his client killed the victim to silence her."

"Your Honor, if you let this in, the jury runs the risk of convicting my client for all the wrong reasons." The judge is shaking his head, unwilling to cut the heart out of Ryan's case. It was a long-shot objection, and Peltro clearly sees it that way.

"Mr. Madriani, you can cross-examine the "witness later," he says. "You can make it clear at that time that the agency found no merit in the charges. But it does go to motive," he says.

"I'm going to overrule the objection." Peltro says it loud enough for the entire courtroom to hear. He sends Ryan back to the rostrum, me to my chair.

"Ms. McKay. Can you tell us who lodged the charges in question, the allegations of child molestation involving the child Amanda Hale?"

"It was her mother."

"That would be Jessica Hale?"

"Yes."

"And who were the charges made against?"

"Jonah Hale."

"The defendant?"

"Yes."

"He was the child's grandfather."

"Is," says Susan. "He is the child's grandfather."

"Of course." Ryan is well aware the child is gone, though his agency has done nothing to bring charges against Jessica.

"And you say you investigated these charges?"

"No. I said we made inquiries. It never got to the point of a formal investigation."

"You made inquiries?"

"I didn't. My office did."

"Fine," says Ryan, finally getting her to the point. "Who did they inquire with?"

"Neighbors. Other relatives. The child. The child's grandmother."

"That would be Mary Hale?" Ryan points to Mary sitting in the front row right behind Harry.

"Yes." Ryan looks at Mary and smiles. He'd put her up next, on the stand, except for the spousal privilege that prevents it.

"And based on these inquiries, your agency decided there was no need for a formal investigation?"

"That's correct."

"Did you make that decision, or did someone else in your office make it?"

"Someone else," says Susan.

"Who was that?"

"I don't remember. I probably had to sign off on it. I'd have to look at the file," she says.

Ryan doesn't pursue it. "Now, I want to draw your attention," he says,

"to the morning of April seventeenth. This year. Did you receive a phone call from Mr. Madriani at that time?"

"I get a lot of phone calls," she says. "I can't remember all the dates."

"No doubt you get a lot of phone calls from Mr. Madriani." Susan doesn't respond, except to look at me.

"Do you get a lot of phone calls from Mr. Madriani?"

"Some," she says.

"Isn't it a fact that the two of you are friends?" Susan hesitates. Then says: "Yes."

"In fact, isn't it true that you are more than friends?"

"What do you mean?" says Susan.

"Isn't it a fact that the two of you are lovers?"

"Objection." I'm on my feet.

"What's the relevance?" says Peltro.

"I'll withdraw the question," says Ryan. He does it smiling at the jury.

"At the moment is it true that you are living with Mr. Madriani? Or rather he is living with you?"

"Your Honor?" I'm out of my chair again.

Susan squirming in the witness box, looking at the judge.

"Mr. Ryan," says Peltro.

"Your Honor. Goes to bias."

"He's trying to impeach his own witness."

"I'm aware. She's stated they are friends," says Peltro. "One more question along those lines and you can get your wallet out," he says.

"And go get your toothbrush. Now move on." Ryan nods, then picks up his place from his notes. It could be worse. Ryan is a little ham-handed on this. It's not so much the message, as the way it's conveyed. He delivers it like some sleazoid listening to heavy breathing on an audiotape.

"Let's go back to the seventeenth of April," he says. "That's the day the victim was killed. You do remember the day?"

"Yes"

"Do you remember receiving a phone call from Mr. Madriani that morning?"

"I'm not sure. I think so."

"Would it help if we showed you a copy of his cellular phone records?"

Ryan makes it sound as if I'm on trial, which at the moment I am.

"No. I remember," she says.

"Do you remember the contents of that telephone conversation?"

"I don't know if I can remember all of it," says Susan.

"Then tell us about the parts you can remember."

"He wanted me to meet him at his office."

"Mr. Madriani?"

"Yes."

"Did he say why?"

"He said it had to do with a client."

"Did he say who the client was?" "I don't know if he said at that time or not."

"Did you later come to learn who this client was?"

"Yes."

"Who was it?"

"Jonah Hale," says Susan.

"The defendant?"

"Yes."

"What else did Mr. Madraini tell you on the phone?"

"I can't remember."

"Did he tell you that he'd just come from a meeting with the victim, Zolanda Suade?"

"Objection. Counsel's leading his witness." "I just asked her if she can remember."

"Yes," says Susan.

"Don't answer the question when there's an objection pending," says Peltro.

"Sorry," she says.

"She knows the answer, Your Honor." Ryan making the point.

"Go ahead," says Peltro.

"I think he might have told me that." Susan speaking before Ryan can restate the question.

"Did he tell you what they talked about, Mr. Madriani and Ms.

Suade, at this meeting?"

"No. Not on the phone."

"He didn't tell you that it didn't go well?" Now Ryan is guessing.

"He might have said that." Before I can object.

Ryan smiles.

"Did he tell you about a press release that Ms. Suade had prepared regarding Mr. Madriani's client?"

"Objection."

"Sustained. Rephrase the question."

"Did he tell you about anything else that transpired at this meeting with Ms. Suade?"

"I can't remember if he told me about the press release then or after."

"After?"

"I mean when I went to his office."

"When did you go to Mr. Madriani's office?"

"Later that same morning."

"That's the morning of the twenty-fourth, the day Ms. Suade was killed?"

"Yes."

"And who was at this meeting?"

"Mr. Brower ..."

"That would be John Brower, your investigator?"

"That's right."

"Why was he there?"

"I just thought it would be a good idea."

"So you brought him along?"

"Yes."

"Why did you bring him?"

"They were trying to find a child. Mr. Hale's granddaughter ..."

"So you knew who the client was before you got to the meeting?

A moment ago you said you couldn't remember whether Mr. Madriani told you the client's name on the phone or not." Susan looks perplexed, caught in her own confusion. "I guess he did. I must have known."

"I guess so," says Ryan.