tomorrow, and she had the cards-Evan Scholler was guilty and the jury was going to see it and that was all there was to it. Raising her eyes to the judge, she felt the urge to smile begin at the corners of her mouth. She looked over to the jury, to Washburn, back up to the judge. 'No questions,' she said.
Tollson brought down his gavel. 'Court's adjourned until nine-thirty tomorrow morning.'
25
Fred Spinoza was a far cry from being a hostile prosecution witness.
In fact, he felt seriously abused that someone who worked for his department, played on his bowling team, got his help finding the address of the house he was planning to break into, where he would then commit murder, and had even come to his own home and played the war hero with his children…
Every time Spinoza thought about it, it roiled his guts. He believed that there was a special section in hell reserved for someone who could have done that to his kids.
Never mind what Evan Scholler did to Ron Nolan.
Resplendent in his dark blue uniform, Spinoza settled himself into the chair hard by the judge's platform. He'd put in a lot of time on the witness stand in his career, and rarely had he looked forward to the experience more than today. Now here came Mary Patricia Whelan-Miille up from her table in the packed courtroom, to a space about midway between him and the jury.
Mills and he had shared drinks on several occasions, once they'd gotten to know each other over this case. There had been a short time in the first weeks when he thought she might be coming on to him, but though he found her quite attractive, he loved Leesa and had made that clear enough to Mills that, if she was in fact trolling, she chose to back off.
But some chemistry, he knew, still sparked between them.
He knew that this would play well for a jury-it was just another one of those intangibles that sometimes came into play during a trial. A major People's witness and an assistant DA working in understated sync could bring a sense of rightness, of unassailable conviction, to a prosecution case.
Mills seemed rested and confident as she nodded to the jurors, then smiled at her witness as though she meant it. 'Lieutenant Spinoza, what is your position with the police department?'
'I'm the head of the homicide detail.'
After she went over the details of his service, she got down to it. 'Defendant was a patrolman, was he not, Lieutenant?'
'Yes. He'd been a patrolman working a regular beat before he went overseas, and when he came back, he went back to his former position.'
'How was it, then, that you came to know him?'
Spinoza shot half a grin at the jury, then shrugged. What was he going to do? It was the truth. 'He was on my bowling team.'
'Can you tell the Court, please, Lieutenant, about the first time you ran across a connection between Defendant and the victim in this case, Ron Nolan?'
'Yes. I was in the office on a weekend. The Khalil murders had just taken place, so I was working overtime. I happened to run across the defendant at one of the computers, and I asked him what he was doing. He told me he was trying to locate the address of a drug dealer.'
'Did you ask him the name of that drug dealer?'
'Yes. He told me it was Ron Nolan.'
'Is that against department policy?'
'Well, it's a gray area. Of course, police are not allowed to use computers for personal reasons. He could use the computer to follow up on a narcotics tip, although, strictly speaking, he should have referred the whole thing to vice.'
'How about using the computer to locate a romantic rival?'
'That would not only be against policy, but completely illegal. If he were caught doing that, he could expect to be fired and probably prosecuted.'
'So Defendant's use of the computer in this case was illegal?'
'As it turns out, yes.'
'And yet you helped him?'
In his prep work with Mills, they had both acknowledged that this would be an uncomfortable moment that they needed to address head-on. 'Of course, I didn't know the real reason he was using the computer at that time, but yes. He told me he was tracking a drug dealer and I believed him.'
'So in what way did you assist him?'
Spinoza looked at the jury, spoke directly to them. 'Well, I knew that he'd have to know how to work the system if he ever did need to find an address from a license plate. I suppose you could say I viewed it as more or less a casual thing, a training opportunity.'
'Did Defendant tell you why he wanted to find Mr. Nolan's address?'
'Yes. But I thought his reason…I thought he was making a joke.' This was an important clarification that Mills had wanted him to make sure he got in, since it served to underscore both Evan Scholler's arrogance and his premeditation.
'Nevertheless, what was the reason he gave you?'
'He said he wanted to hunt down Mr. Nolan and kill him.'
A shimmer of reaction echoed through the courtroom, serious enough that Tollson dropped his gavel a couple of times.
Mills let the murmur die down and then resumed her questioning. 'Did Defendant mention this killing of his rival any other times?'
'Yes.'
'And where was that?'
Spinoza turned in the witness chair to face the jury again. 'At my house. After work.'
'Was this a usual occurrence, a patrolman coming to your home outside of work hours?'
'No. It was decidedly unusual.'
'So what happened?'
'Well, we got ourselves some coffee and went outside and since it was something we'd joked about before, I asked him if he'd killed his dope dealer yet.'
'And what was his answer to that?'
'He said he hadn't because Mr. Nolan was out of town.'
'And yet you still considered this a joke?'
'Maybe not a funny joke, but it's the way we cops often talk to each other. It still never in a million years occurred to me that he was actually planning-'
Washburn was on his feet, not letting him finish. 'Objection!'
Not missing a beat, Tollson nodded. 'Sustained. Confine your answers to the questions, please, Lieutenant. Go ahead, Counsel.'
Mills nodded, satisfied, and apparently ready to begin the next line of questioning they'd rehearsed, which was the aftermath of the murder itself, the FBI's involvement, and Scholler's arrest. But then, suddenly, she paused, threw a last glance at the jury, and must have seen something she liked, because her next words were, 'Thank you, Lieutenant.' And then to Washburn, 'Your witness.'
Spinoza knew Washburn well. As head of homicide in Redwood City, he'd sparred with the veteran attorney many times before, and he was particularly looking forward to it today. Confident that even a master like Washburn wouldn't be able to put a different spin on the events about which he'd just testified, Spinoza was settling himself in, getting psyched for a cross-examination he thought he'd actually enjoy, when Washburn lifted his head, shook it, and said to Tollson, 'I have no questions for this witness.'
