'Because Mr. White never mentioned it, I had-'
Casey sighs. 'Once again, Mr. Smith, that is not the question I asked you. The question I asked you was whether such information might have been relevant to your thorough, fair investigation.'
'I asked Mrs. White's sister whether it was possible that the deceased was having an affair.'
'Her sister,' Casey says. 'And what did she tell you?'
'She said that Mrs. White had no boyfriend.'
'Mrs. White's sister,' Casey asks. 'Wasn't she the next beneficiary on the life insurance policy?'
'Yes.'
'If Mr. White were found responsible for his wife's death, her sister stood to gain $250,000, isn't that right?'
'That would be correct.'
'Did you ever ask her where she was the night of the fire?'
'Yes, I did.'
'And what did she tell you?'
'That she was at home. About forty miles away.'
'And did she offer anyone who could corroborate her alibi?'
'No. She was alone.'
'But you believed her, right?'
Jack says, 'I had no reason to disbelieve her.'
'Right,' Casey says. 'By the way, did you ask her these questions when she spent the night at your condo?'
Audible gasp from the jury.
Audible moan in the observation room.
ProCon numbers plunge into the negatives.
VP Claims looks at Goddamn Billy like he wants to kill him.
Peters jumps to her feet.
'Objection! Lacks-'
'I withdraw that question,' Casey says. Then he asks, 'Isn't it true that the sister spent the night with you?'
'On my couch, yes.'
'On your couch,' Casey repeats. 'Did you ask anyone else — friends, neighbors — whether Mrs. White was having an affair?'
'No.'
'You never asked Mr. White and he didn't volunteer, isn't that correct?'
'Yes.'
'So you didn't even consider that possibility, did you, Mr. Smith?'
'Yes, I did. I considered it very improbable.'
'Right,' Casey says, 'because Mr. White had all that motive'
Casey pauses for a second to let it sink in with the jury. Then he says, 'Now, you've told us that the security guard at the gate of the complex where Mr. White was living saw him come in at a quarter to five, correct?'
'Yes.'
'He told you that.'
'Yes.'
'But you also saw a sworn affidavit from the guard — Mr. Derochik — affirming that he did not see Mr. White come in at 4:45 or any other time, isn't that right?'
The jurors get busy with the joysticks.
Jack says, 'Mr. White presented that statement only after we had denied the claim.'
'Oh,' Casey says. 'But we only have your word as to what the guard told you, isn't that right?'
'That's right.'
'And you disregarded Mr. Derochik's sworn statement, didn't you?'
'I didn't consider it truthful.'
'I see.'
He crosses out the items under OPPORTUNITY.
Then he goes for the exit question. And just like with a bullet, it's the exit wound that sprays the blood and flesh and bits of vital organs all over the wall.
'So,' Casey says, 'you didn't find out about the clean samples, you didn't find out about the mortgage being paid off, you didn't find out about the credit cards being up-to-date, you didn't find out about the bank balance being in excess of $1 million, you didn't find out about a reconciliation, you didn't find out about the lover, and you never considered the sister as a potential suspect. Having failed to consider any of these highly relevant facts, do you still think that you did a good job on this investigation?'
And just like the entry question, he doesn't care if Jack answers yes or no. It doesn't matter, because either way Jack looks bad.
'Yes, I do,' Jack says.
Except he doesn't look so bad.
Casey knows it. He can tell without seeing the monitor with its spikes. He can see it just by looking at the jury.
They don't know what to think. They haven't made up their minds.
Casey knows he's fought to a stalemate.
Which just won't do.
So he has to play a card he really doesn't want to play.
90
Letty's at home when the phone rings.
She picks it up; it's a teenager's voice.
'I want to talk with you,' he says.
Slight Asian accent.
It's Tony Ky, the wiseass from the chop shop.
'What about?' Letty asks.
She's knows what it's about, but she has to play the game.
There's a hesitation, then the kid whispers, 'Tranh and Do.'
So, Letty thinks, I guess Uncle Nguyen is feeling the heat.
'Come into the station,' she says, just to set a bargaining position.
The kid almost laughs. 'No, someplace…'
'Isolated?' Letty asks, with this edge in her voice that's like Go to class.
'Yeah, isolated.'
'You have a ride?'
'Yeah, I have a ride.'
She tells him about a turnoff on the Ortega. A picnic spot and hiking trail into the Cleveland National Forest. Park your ride under the trees, walk up the trail a ways.
'Be there at seven,' she says.
'In the morning?'
'Yeah, learn how to get up,' she says.
She hangs up, brushes her teeth, brushes her hair, does all the cream-and-lotion jazz, and gets into bed with a book and an intent to turn the light out soon.
Hard to get to sleep.
A lot on her mind.
