Counterplay

the night your mother disappeared?”

“I believe they’re real.”

“If these memories are real, it could well be a memory from a month before, or a year. Isn’t that correct?”

“I can only tell you that after that night, I never saw my mother again.”

Zachary stepped down without looking at his father. He wiped at the tears on his face and glanced at Guma, who winked and said quietly, “I’m proud of you.”

26

“Your Honor, That Is The People’s case.”

As Guma announced the end of the prosecution case in chief and sat down, Karp glanced over at the defense table. It was now their turn to proceed. Karp wondered about the worried looks and the agitated confabbing between the lawyers and Stavros.

“I don’t think they were prepared for us to be done quite so soon,” Karp whispered. “It seems to have thrown them for a loop.”

“Good,” Guma whispered back. “Anything that’s bad for them is good for us.”

The night before they’d talked and decided to move as fast as possible to finish. We might be able to finish this before the weekend, Karp said. Maybe even get a jury decision by Friday.

What? And deprive Emil of one last weekend boinkin’ the former Miss Bliss? Guma laughed.

Yeah, let’s pick up the pace, and see if we can rattle them a little, Karp said. They had a plan for dealing with the defense’s star witness, Dante Coletta, but it was going to take some finesse and a dash of distraction to spring the trap.

Beginning at 9:00 A.M. sharp, Guma summoned former detective Bassaline to the stand to testify about his investigation into the disappearance of Teresa Stravros.

When he began to testify about what the gardener, Jeff Kaplan, had said about the rose garden, Anderson had objected. Mr. Kaplan is deceased, Your Honor, he said. We won’t have the opportunity to cross-examine him. And who knows if this witness’s recollections after fourteen years are accurate or something he may have…dredged up after talking to the prosecution.

Guma had smiled at the remark and turned to Bassaline. Detective, you wouldn’t have happened to keep any notes of your discussion with Mr. Kaplan, would you?

Bassaline smiled back and produced a detective’s notepad. As a matter of fact, I’m something of a packrat, he answered. Especially in regard to this kind of case…it sort of eats at me, and I can’t bring myself to throw away my notes, just in case. So I spent a chunk of last week up in the attic until I found this. He held up the notebook.

The defense objection is overruled, the judge had said. You may continue, Mr. Guma.

After Bassaline left the stand, Guma called Detective Fairbrother to the stand to testify about the subsequent investigation, including the credit card and bank statement hoax.

In his opening statement, Anderson had already alluded to the hoax having been perpetrated by Kaplan and his alleged girlfriend, a mystery woman no one seemed able to locate. So there was no need to bring up the handwriting analysis that showed the signatures did not match those of Teresa Stavros. However, Guma went into some detail to demonstrate how elaborate the plan had been while Detective Bassaline’s description of Kaplan as a punch-drunk former fighter was fresh in the jurors’ minds.

After the detectives, Karp had quickly moved through his witnesses, Swanburg and Gates. Then Fairbrother had been recalled to testify about Stavros’s flight when the grave was discovered.

When he left the house, did he say anything? Guma had asked innocently.

He said he had errands to run, Fairbrother replied.

Did he say those errands were in Canada? Guma asked.

Objection, Anderson complained. My client was not in Canada when he was arrested.

Close enough, Guma retorted. But I withdraw the question. He’d then waited until Fairbrother left the courtroom and declared that he had concluded the people’s case.

“Very well,” Judge Lussman said. “Mr. Anderson, are you prepared to call your first witness?”

There was still quite a bit of head shaking going on as Anderson rose. “Uh, Your Honor, we’d like to make a motion outside the hearing of the jury.”

Lussman sent the jury out of the courtroom. “All right, Mr. Anderson, make your motion.”

“The defense moves for a directed verdict of not guilty,” Anderson said. “The state has not proved its case beyond a reasonable doubt.”

Guma stood and started to speak, but the judge waved him back to his seat. “No need, Mr. Guma,” he said. “I find that the prosecution has provided enough evidence that a jury could, at this point, find the defendant guilty as charged. Are you ready to call your witness?”

“Well, Your Honor,” Anderson said, “I’d like the morning to prepare a brief on why we believe that the prosecution has not met its burden…”

Karp scowled. It was normal for the defense at this point to make the motion to dismiss the case on the ground Anderson cited. However, the “time to prepare a brief” was just a silly attempt to stall.

“I’ve made my decision, Mr. Anderson,” the judge said. “Now, do you have a witness to call?”

Anderson twisted his lips as if trying to weigh how far he could push the judge. “Well, we were expecting the prosecution to take up all of the morning, as well as most if not all of the afternoon. I’m not sure-”

“He’s stalling,” Karp said under his breath to Guma. “In fact, seems a little desperate.”

“Yeah, wonder why,” Guma agreed. “Maybe our theory about wanting one more weekend with Amarie was on the money.”

“I believe, Mr. Anderson, that I requested that you have your witnesses ready to go this morning,” Lussman said. “I believe you’ve tried cases before me in the past and should know that I don’t like delays. We have asked the jurors to put aside their lives and should respect their time. Not to mention, but I will, we have an enormous backlog of cases before this court-you were the one who insisted that an expedited trial take place on this particular week because of your busy schedule-and there’s no time to waste.”

One of the other lawyers tugged at Anderson’s sleeve and said something. “Yes, Your Honor,” Anderson said. “I was just caught a little off guard is all.”

“Good, then we’ll proceed,” Lussman said. “I’ll ask the jury to return, and you may call your first witness.”

A minute later, Dr. Peter Oatman, a psychologist who taught at the University of California-Santa Barbara, was on the stand to testify about the pitfalls of “repressed memory.” With his bleach-blond-and probably dyed, Karp thought-hair, perfect tan, and heavy gold chain around his neck, the middle-aged psychologist was the stereotypical California beach boy, which gave Karp an idea as he listened to the man testify.

Having noted that he’d been an expert witness at more than three hundred trials, Oatman knew his role. He listened carefully to each question from the defense as if he were hearing them for the first time. Then looking thoughtfully first at the ceiling, he’d drop his gaze to the jurors and give his answer.

“Dr. Oatman, is there any such thing as repressed memory?” Anderson asked.

Oatman allowed himself a small chuckle and shook his head as if he’d been asked if he believed in Santa Claus. “If you’re talking about the sort of small things we all ‘forget’ in the course of our daily lives, then something ‘jogs’ our memory, then yes,” he said. “Our brains can be very selective about ordering up which memories are necessary to get us through the day, such as how to drive a car. We might head out one morning, not quite sure of where to turn, but we see something that reminds us-a street sign or a building-then ‘poof,’ we recall the