“Probably,” Richard says. “Am I certain beyond a reasonable doubt? I don’t think so. But I’m comfortable whichever way it goes.”
“Will you do me a favor?” I ask.
“If I can.”
“When this is over, no matter how it goes, will you try to get a judge to issue a search warrant on Thomas Sykes?”
“For what?” he asks.
“Trace evidence in his car, and his computer.”
“Why his computer?”
“There’s an e-mail that was sent to Walter Timmerman by the head of a DNA lab. It would be important to know if Sykes ever saw it. I’ll tell you all about it when we have more time.”
The bailiff signals to us that Hatchet is about to come in. “Right now we have no time,” Richard says.
“Will you do it?”
“I’ll certainly give you a chance to talk me into it.”
That’ll have to be good enough for now. I go back to the defense table, my heart beginning its pre-verdict pounding. Hatchet comes in and announces that the jury has, in fact, reached a verdict.
He calls them in, and they file in slowly, not looking at us. That’s usually either bad news, or good news. Jury-predicting doesn’t become any easier as you get closer to hearing their verdict.
Hatchet goes through some court business, which I can barely focus on. He then gives the obligatory warning that he will not tolerate any disorderliness in the courtroom once the verdict is read.
He asks the jury foreman if they have reached a verdict, and the woman confirms that they have. She hands the verdict form to the bailiff, who brings it to Hatchet. Hatchet looks at it for a few moments, probably delighting in the fact that he is now the only person other than the jury to know what it says.
Finally, he hands it back to the bailiff, and asks Steven to stand. Steven, Kevin, and I rise as one, and we each have a hand on one of Steven’s shoulders. In my case it’s more to hold myself upright than to make him feel better.
The bailiff starts to read, at a pace of what seems like one word every twenty minutes. “In the matter of the State of New Jersey versus Steven Timmerman, count one, the first-degree murder of Walter Timmerman, the jury hereby finds the defendant, Steven Timmerman, not guilty.”
Steven’s head goes down and he grips both of our arms, in a gesture I would more expect if he had lost. But I can see that he is smiling and crying at the same time, and I could easily do the same. Because I am all man, though, I just stick to smiling.
I listen carefully as the other counts are read, and they are all “not guilty.” Steven turns and hugs me and then Kevin. This is one time I think the good guys came out on top.
It had been out of my mind, but at this very moment it hits me that Laurie is going to live with me. Steven goes free and Laurie comes back.
I’ve had worse days.
IT’S A SACRED TRADITION that we celebrate winning verdicts at Charlie’s. It’s my favorite place in the world to be, so I pick the place as a victory present to myself. It’s always just the client, the defense team, and people who helped in the defense. So in this case it’s Laurie, Kevin, Edna, Steven, Martha Wyndham, and myself.
Marcus is not here because he’s at the house, still guarding Waggy. We have no proof that Waggy is no longer a target, so we can’t take a chance on leaving him unprotected. Marcus didn’t seem to mind; I ordered in four pizzas to make it more palatable to him.
Tomorrow I am going to have Waggy miraculously turn up at the Passaic County Animal Shelter, where Willie is going to discover him and then take him out. By tomorrow night he’ll be going crazy everywhere in my house, and not just the basement.
Tonight Vince and Pete are here as well, less for the sacred-tradition aspect than for the free-beer-and-food aspect. Their attendance is also less significant because they happen to be here every night.
I can’t even imagine the joy and relief that Steven must be feeling. My guess is that it would be like jumping out of an airplane after being told there was a decent chance your parachute wasn’t going to open. The chute would decide whether you would live or die, and all you could do is wait for the decision.
Steven raises a glass of champagne and says, “To Andy and Kevin, fantastic lawyers and even better people.”
Other people make toasts as well, and the more we drink the less eloquent they get. I finally stand with my beer bottle raised and say, “I have an announcement to make. Laurie Collins and I may or may not be getting married.” A cheer goes up, but the state of inebriation in the room is such that they would cheer if I announced it was going to be cloudy tomorrow.
Steven comes over to me later in the festivities and says, “You haven’t sent me a bill yet.”
“I will,” I say.
“Do you have a recommendation for a lawyer I should use to deal with my father’s will?”
I know someone who is very good at probate, and I give Steven his name.
“So you thinks Sykes is guilty?” he asks.
“I think he killed your father,” I say.
“But not Diana?”
That something that’s still bothering me. The only reasons I can think of for Sykes blowing up the house would be to kill Diana and destroy Walter’s laboratory, so that no one could get access to his work.
Neither rationale completely holds up to close scrutiny. If he married Diana, they would have walked away with over four hundred million, compared with the eighty million Sykes would get as part of the company. On the other hand, Diana could have been in the process of dumping him, and he might therefore have faced the prospect of getting nothing.
As far as the laboratory goes, Sykes had full access to the house through Diana. He could easily have destroyed the lab without taking the house down with it. Of course, this theory also has an
“I’m not sure if he killed Diana,” is how I answer Steven. “But maybe we’ll learn more about that.”
“How?”
I mention that I’ve asked Richard to seek search warrants against Sykes, and how I will be pushing that when I meet with him tomorrow. Steven seems happy to hear it; he naturally wants his father’s killer caught.
Martha Wyndham, Laurie, and Kevin come over and join the conversation. “Why do you guys look so serious?” Laurie asks. “The trial is over. You won.”
“Winning isn’t enough for us,” I say. “We want to dominate.”
“I wish Waggy were here,” Martha says. “He certainly played a key role.”
“I agree completely,” says Steven. “And is it proper for me to ask what you’ve decided about him?”
“If he ever turns up, and I’m very optimistic that he will, I’m going to file a motion with the court awarding him to you-”
Steven interrupts: “That would be great.” He says it with real enthusiasm, which makes me feel like I made the right choice. Tara won’t admit it, but she’s going to miss Waggy as much as I will. Or maybe she won’t.
“-though I would be reluctant to give him up until I felt certain he’s no longer a target.”
“Makes sense.”
“But if you ever go on vacation, Waggy doesn’t get boarded; he comes to stay at our house,” Laurie says. I have to admit, I love the way she says “our house.”
Steven smiles. “You got a deal.”
“And I get visitation rights,” Martha says.
Steven nods. “Whenever you want.”
I can tell the evening is coming to an end, because Vince signals for the waiter to bring me the check. Steven
