They settled into leather-upholstered chairs, Pincher scowling at them.
Judge Thornberry said: “The defense has made a serious allegation of prosecutorial misconduct.”
“To which I express my outrage,” Pincher said.
“And which we'll prove,” Steve said.
“Okay, let's get to the bottom of this quick,” the judge said. “I want the jury back before they're at one another's throats like in Twelve Angry Men.”
“If Your Honor orders the original autopsy tape to be produced,” Steve continued, “you'll see how the state altered evidence.”
“Keep up the character assassination, I'll sue your ass,” Pincher roared.
Troubled, the judge stood and paced in front of a bookshelf, scanning his volumes. Victoria looked, too. Where were the legal books? Just shelves of novels written by lawyers: Turow, Grisham, Scottoline, Martini, Meltzer, Grippando, Latt, Mortimer, Margolin. Dozens more. Victoria wondered if the judge read any law that wasn't fictional.
He reached to a high shelf, fingered a book by Louis Auchincloss, another by Barry Reed, one by Barbara Parker, then pulled down Kennedy for the Defense by George V. Higgins. “Are you saying the State Attorney framed Katrina Barksdale?”
“Not intentionally,” Steve said. “Mr. Pincher believes my client is guilty.”
“You're damn right I do,” Pincher said.
“It's Charles Barksdale who framed Katrina Barksdale,” Steve said. “The State Attorney only added basil to the bruschetta.”
The judge sat down in his high-backed chair. “How'd a dead man frame his wife?”
The judge sounded confused, Victoria thought. Could Steve pull this off?
“Charles Barksdale tells us how,” Steve said. “He speaks to us from the grave.”
The judge's eyes lit up. “Like Poe.”
“Sir?” Steve asked.
“Edgar Allan Poe. The Tell-Tale Heart.”
“More like Agatha Christie.”
The judge eagerly grabbed a legal pad. “Does it have a double twist? Like Witness for the Prosecution?”
“A double twist with a full somersault,” Steve assured him.
“Where does the story start?” the judge asked. Eager as a puppy.
“A beautiful young woman marries a rich, older man,” Steve said.
“And kills him,” Pincher said.
“This is my story, Sugar Ray, not yours. The couple-call them Charlie and Kat-have a very active, very kinky sex life.”
“A little sex always spices up the story,” the judge said.
“And Charlie really loved her, which is why the next plot point is so painful. He discovers Kat is having an affair with their boat captain.”
“Highly cinematic,” the judge said, “if they did it on the boat.”
Pincher said: “I've got the pictures if you'd like to see them.”
“Now comes the conundrum,” Steve said, ignoring Pincher.
“Like the missing beer glass in Presumed Innocent?” the judge said. “That Turow's a clever fiend.”
“Charlie had his lawyer prepare a divorce petition but he never signed it and he never said why. All we have to go on is a three-line poem Charlie wrote on the petition:
‘Hide a few contretemps. Defer a competent wish. Cement a spit-fed shore.'”
“Odd poem,” the judge said.
“It's really an anagram with a message.”
“Word games. Arthur Conan Doyle would have loved this.”
Now the judge was deep into it, Victoria thought. Okay, so maybe Steve knew his audience. But could he deliver the payoff?
“Unscrambled, the anagram says, ‘The woman is perfected,'” Steve continued. “It's from a poem by Sylvia Plath. She committed suicide just a few days after writing it. Then, the day before he dies, Charlie sends a card to Kat. Of all the things he could write-I love you; I hate you; Have a nice day-he steals a line from Virginia Woolf's suicide note.”
“I get you,” the judge said eagerly, “but just why would Barksdale commit suicide?”
“He was dying of cancer, and there was no time to divorce Katrina and cut her off from his money.”
“But suicide doesn't help,” the judge said. “The widow would still get her share of the estate.”
“Unless-”
“Unless she's convicted of killing him! Outstanding. Perry Mason never came up with anything like this. Not even in The Case of the Daring Divorcee.”
“Barksdale wanted Katrina to be charged with his murder. That's why he didn't just take an overdose or drive off a bridge.”
“Mr. Solomon has a vivid imagination,” Pincher said. “But where's the proof?”
“The anagram,” Steve said. “It tells us everything.”
Here it comes, Victoria thought. Wrapping it all up in a pretty package. But would the judge buy it?
“When Charles scrambled the line of the Plath poem, he had thousands of choices,” Steve said, “but he picked phrases that revealed how he felt about his wife, and what he planned to do. ‘Hide a few contretemps.' That's Katrina, keeping her affair secret. ‘Defer a competent wish.' That's Charles, wanting revenge, but not being able to live to see it. And ‘Cement a spit-fed whore.' That's the biggie. That's Charles sending her to a prison cell, or a tomb, take your pick. That's him framing her for his murder, a murder that never happened.”
“Excellent story. The film rights will be worth a bundle. But what's all this got to do with Mr. Pincher and the autopsy report?”
“When Sugar Ray sees the first draft of the autopsy report, he gets a real jolt,” Steve answered. “Charles was dying of stomach cancer. No way that's gonna make it into the final draft.”
Pincher fixed Steve with a toxic glare.
“Why delete it?” the judge said. “She's still guilty of murder if she strangled him, no matter how sick he was.”
“Because-”
“Wait. I figured out Murder on the Orient Express. I can get this.” The judge took off his glasses, wiped them on his robe, and put them back on. “Give me a clue. Did Charles ever tell Katrina he had cancer?”
“Nope,” Steve said. “He died without her knowing.”
“Then I've got it! The autopsy would give Katrina a defense. She'd come into court and say she knew Charles was dying all along. Why bump him off if all she had to do was wait a bit and collect her inheritance?”
“Exactly,” Steve said. “Sugar Ray assumed she'd lie, and he'd have no way to disprove it.”
“I've heard enough,” the judge said. “The state will furnish the defense with the original tape recording of the autopsy dictation. I warn you, Mr. Pincher, if Mr. Solomon is correct, I'll make a full report to the Ethics Commission. And the Attorney General's Office.”
“This is outrageous!” Pincher said. “We'll appeal.”
Victoria cleared her throat and said: “It may not be necessary to produce the tape.”
Steve gave her a sharp look but said nothing. She was confident he wouldn't stop her. He'd told her several times about his Sonny Corleone rule: Never contradict your partner in front of the opposition.
“Now you don't want the tape?” the judge asked. “Why, Ms. Lord?”
“Because Mr. Pincher is an honorable man. He will do the honorable thing.”
“How's that?” the judge asked, bewildered.
“Yeah, this I gotta hear,” Steve said.
“Mr. Pincher never would have tampered with the evidence had he believed Katrina Barksdale was innocent,” Victoria said. “He thought he was just…”
“Adding basil to the bruschetta,” the judge said.
“Exactly. Now that Mr. Pincher knows the truth, he can dismiss the case, and there'll be no need for anyone to hear the tape.”
