“I gave him the treatment for
“I’ll amend my question. You and Mr. Simone didn’t discuss a specific price for your idea and your treatment, did you?”
“No.”
“You didn’t discuss when, where, or how any payment would be made, did you?”
“No.”
“You didn’t discuss who would pay you, whether it would be Mr. Simone or his production company, did you?”
“No.”
“So you discussed no specifics of this supposed deal at your luncheon meeting, did you?”
“No.”
“How about in any of the phone calls or the e-mails between the two of you, about which you testified last week?”
“No, as I said, because-”
“Yes or no.”
”No,” Marz answered reluctantly. His mouth snapped back into its rubber band, and the jurors eyed him, a sympathetic furrowing of their collective brow. They’d not only hold Simone liable for damages, they’d have him drawn and quartered.
“No further questions,” Hartford said, finishing his cross more quickly than anyone except Cate had anticipated.
“Mr. Temin, any redirect?” she asked.
“Yes, Your Honor.” Temin returned to the lectern and embarked upon a series of questions that rehashed old ground, and Cate sustained two of Hartford’s objections for good measure. But the testimony didn’t change anything, and by its conclusion, she adjourned court for lunch, grabbing her legal pad as she rose.
On it, she had written: IS THE ONLY JUSTICE ON TV?
CHAPTER 2
Cate understood on sight why Detective Frank Russo could be a fictional character. His craggy skin served as a rough canvas for dark eyes, a prominent forehead, and heavy, sensuous lips. His shiny hair, a suspicious shade of black, matched a pair of longish sideburns. He wasn’t tall, about five nine, but powerful shoulders stretched his dark jacket across a broad back, and a flashy tie of red silk proclaimed him the aforementioned “tie freak.” He sat forward in the witness stand, leaning to the black bud of a microphone.
“Going back to that two-day meeting, who asked you to come, Detective?” Temin asked, getting to the point.
“Mr. Marz.”
“Did he say why?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He wanted me to help Mr. Simone with research.”
“Where did you meet?”
“Liberties.”
Up on the dais, Cate hid her smile. Russo’s testimony was to the point, typical for law enforcement personnel. Detectives appeared in court so frequently they answered only the question asked and never volunteered a word. Cate sympathized with poor Temin, struggling to pull teeth from even his own witness.
“And by ‘help Mr. Simone out with his research,’ what do you mean, specifically?”
“Give him the standard operating procedures in the Homicide Division. Tell him how we handle murder cases, work with the ADA, and whatnot.”
“Did you do anything after Liberties that day?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you do? And please, explain as fully as possible.”
Russo arched an offended eyebrow, like Italian kabuki. “Mr. Marz asked myself to give Mr. Simone and his assistant a tour of the Roundhouse, which I did. I showed him the squad room, I let him see the interview rooms. I introduced him to the guys, too. I was real popular that day.” Russo chuckled, and so did everyone else.
“Detective, did Mr. Simone ask you any questions that day?”
“He asked about our slang. He said he wanted to make the character talk like a real detective.”
“What did you tell him?”
“We speak English.”
The gallery laughed again, as did the jury and the deputy, loving every minute.
“Detective Russo, did Mr. Simone take notes on what you said at the meeting?”
“No.”
“Was his assistant with him?”
“Yes.”
“Did she take notes?”
“No.”
“Tell me, did you think that was strange?”
“I think everything about Hollywood people is strange,” Russo answered deadpan, and the gallery laughed. So did Cate, caught off-guard.
Temin waited a beat. “Detective Russo, what happened the second day of your meeting with Mr. Simone?”
“Mr. Marz and myself drove Mr. Simone and his assistant down Delaware Avenue and other neighborhoods, not-so-nice ones in North Philly.”
“And what took place during this drive?”
“Mr. Marz told them where the characters in the show would live, where their law office would be, and where they’d each lunch and whatnot. He also told about his experiences as an ADA. Rich is young, but before he started with the computer crimes, he tried a murder case and major felonies.”
“Did you provide information during the drive, too?”
“No.”
Temin blinked. “What did you do?”
“Drove.”
“Then why were you there?”
“Protection.”
The jury and the gallery laughed. Cate looked down, behind her fist.
Detective Russo added, “For the record, I used my vacation days to do this. The city didn’t foot the bill.”
Temin cleared his throat. “Detective Russo, did Mr. Marz ever discuss with you the terms of his deal with Mr. Simone?”
“Objection, irrelevant and calls for hearsay!” Hartford said, rising, but Temin shook his head.
“Your Honor, as you have said, relevance is broadly defined and it’s coming in only for the fact that it was said.”
“Overruled.” On the dais, Cate turned to the witness. “You may answer, Detective.”
“Yes, Mr. Marz discussed the deal with me,” Russo said.
“And what did he say?”
“Continuing objection,” Hartford said, and Cate nodded.
“Noted, Counsel. Detective Russo, you may answer the question.”
“Mr. Marz told me that he made a deal with Mr. Simone and that Simone was gonna pay him when he got paid, like a contingency fee.”
“When did Mr. Marz tell you this, Detective?”
