homicide of Larry and Matthew Witt. In the course of doing background on the suspect, the defendant, Mrs. Witt, I asked about her first husband. She told me he had died of a drug overdose and that she'd collected on an insurance policy. I thought that was a coincidence worth looking into.'
All this was true, and Hardy realized that calling Terrell maybe wasn't such a mistake at all. Terrell's testimony would establish the similarities between the alleged motives behind the two homicides, and would do it before introducing any of the evidence that linked the murders to Jennifer. Actually it seemed a pretty slick opening and Hardy wondered what Freeman was going to do about it. Come right at it and try to knock it down, was the only answer.
'Your Honor.'
In the courtroom, Freeman's voice took on a more sonorous tone, which couldn't be anything but purposeful. Everything Freeman did on this stage was, if possible, rehearsed, although nothing appeared to be. Freeman's voice in other situations tended to the gruff – with a coarse edge, low and guttural. Here, rising, the personification of gentle reason, there was authority, but the tone was that of a kindly grandfather.
Villars waited while Freeman got all the way up. It took longer than it had to, but the trial had just begun and the judge could be expected to incline toward patience.
'Your Honor,' he repeated, 'it's a little early for coincidences. No evidentiary link has been established.'
As Hardy knew, motives were Terrell's weakness. The young inspector, red-faced now, veins visible on his neck, half-stood, leaning forward in the witness box. 'The man was killed and she collected the insurance, what do you want?'
Bam bam bam.
Villars eyes were on fire, although she controlled her voice. 'Inspector Terrell, that's enough. Mr. Freeman is addressing the court, not you. Is that clear?'
Terrell got himself back down. He straightened his jacket, still angry.
'I asked you a question, Inspector. Is that clear?'
'Yes, Your Honor. Sorry.'
Villars nodded once, apparently holding no grudge, satisfied. Even the glaring eye was gone. Nothing personal but make no mistake – there was going to be order in her court.
For two seconds Villars looked at the ceiling, then back down to Freeman. 'The objection is sustained. Mr. Powell, you'll have to be a little more specific.' She turned to the jury box, from firebrand to functionary in a few seconds. 'Ladies and gentlemen, please disregard the inspector's comments about coincidence. It's up to you to make the connections between facts, remember that.' Back to the prosecutor. 'Mr. Powell?'
Powell, who had had the control of the courtroom taken from him in less than the time it took to tie his shoes, was suddenly hyper-aware. His first witness was now a demonstrable hothead with a fraction of his original credibility and they had a long way to go. He smiled his unruffled smile.
'Officer Terrell, let's take a new line, shall we?'
He walked Terrell – carefully, a step at a time – through the interview with Jennifer, leaving out reference to the reasons they had finally gone back and exhumed. The jury, as Villars had said, would have to make that leap. The fact was that they had exhumed, and that they had found a concentration of atropine in the left thigh. Powell did not go near any question of how it might have gotten there.
Ned did have an insurance policy for seventy-five-thousand dollars. Jennifer had provided a copy of the policy and the check from her tax records. Here it is, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, People's Exhibit 1. Jennifer was the beneficiary. Here's her canceled check, People's 2. That's all for the prosecution, Inspector Terrell, thanks very much. Here comes your cross-examination.
Hardy was sure he wasn't alone in the impression that Terrell had gone up there intending to say a lot more, stay a while longer, make more of a splash.
He was still, obviously, pumped up both from nerves and adrenalin. Freeman was playing that against him, shuffling some papers, fumbling up out of his chair, straightening his wrinkled tie. It wasn't quite slow enough to prompt Villars into moving him along, but it clearly was playing all hell with Terrell.
Finally, finally, Freeman got to the center of the courtroom. 'Good morning,' he said genially, and waited some more. The gambit threw Terrell further off-stride, until at last he nodded and mumbled something like a greeting back.
'Now, Inspector Terrell, you have testified that Ned Hollis had a seventy-five-thousand dollar insurance policy and that Jennifer Witt was the beneficiary. That's correct, isn't it?'
The witness looked up at the judge for an instant, then to Powell, finally back to Freeman. 'That's right.'
'What did Mrs. Witt tell you would happen if she died instead of Ned, then what?'
Another pause, thinking about it. 'Then Ned would have gotten the money.'
'In other words, it was a joint policy – a husband and wife, if-one-of-us-dies-the-house-is-paid-for kind of policy.'
'Yes, that's right.'
'And, in fact, did Jennifer tell you that she and Ned owned a house together at this time?'
'Yes, they did.'
'And you checked it out, and that was the truth, wasn't it?'
'Yes, it was.'
'In your investigation, did you come upon any records on the value of that house?'
Terrell cast a what's-all-this-about look at Powell. Freeman knew that if Powell objected to hearsay – what someone had told Terrell out of court – that the objection would be sustained. But Freeman could prove the value of the house anyway, with other records and witnesses if he had to. And the jury would remember that the prosecutor had tried to keep it from them.
Powell said nothing. Terrell answered that yes, Jennifer and Ned had bought a shoebox down near Daly City, putting down twenty-thousand dollars.
'So their loan was eighty thousand dollars?'
'I don't know. I'd assume so.'
'You know they put down twenty thousand dollars, but you don't know what their loan was?'
Powell stood up, trying to save Terrell, at least for later. 'Your Honor. Relevance?'
Villars was curt. 'I think so. Go on, Mr. Freeman. Inspector?'
'Their loan was around eighty thousand dollars, yes.'
Freeman did a little awkward half-turn, almost a pirouette toward the jury. 'And, again in your investigations, did you discover whatever became of that loan?'
Terrell pulled at his suddenly tight collar. 'I believe Mrs. Witt paid it off.'
'With the insurance money?'
'Yes. I believe so.'
'You believe so or you know so, Inspector?'
'I know so. She paid off the loan.'
'Indeed she did.' Freeman went back to his table and took out a fat photocopied document. He had it marked as Defense Exhibit 1 and passed up to Terrell. 'You've seen this before?' As Terrell was looking at it Freeman turned to the jury. 'In other words, Inspector Terrell, from this document you knew that Jennifer Witt did not take a year-long vacation to Las Vegas, for example.'
Powell was on his feet. 'Objection.'
'I'll withdraw the comment, Your Honor.' Freeman had made his point – if Jennifer had killed Ned to take some money and live the high life, she might have been expected to have kept at least some of it to party with. 'There's just one other thing I'd like to ask you about, Inspector. You said Jennifer – Mrs. Witt – told you that Ned Hollis used drugs.'
'Yes.'
'She said he experimented with drugs, isn't that right?'
'That's right.'
'You interviewed people who corroborated that?'
Powell got up again. 'Your Honor. Hearsay. Mr. Freeman is badgering the witness.'
'Not quite, but I take your point.'
