I hadn’t known about June, but a few months ago, while I was pregnant with Julie, a photo of Joe and June appeared in the
Joe insisted that there was nothing to the photo, just a charity benefit he’d gone to under pressure. He’d caught a flight back to San Francisco that same evening.
Then June called Joe’s cell phone and I picked up. I announced myself, asked a couple of pointed questions, and June admitted that she was involved with Joe, but that Joe really did love me.
I went bug-nuts.
Joe said that June was lying, that she was trying to make trouble for us out of jealousy, and I can honestly say she wasn’t just trying, she succeeded.
I threw Joe out of the house and changed the locks. He slept in his car, which he parked outside the apartment, just about where June’s car was parked now.
It took a while for me to believe in Joe again, but I love him and I had to trust him. And I totally do.
But now, those old suspicions returned as the beautiful Ms. Freundorfer came toward me, carrying a little turquoise shopping bag from Tiffany.
Martha read my body language and stood at my feet with her head lowered and ears back, ready to spring.
“Lindsay? You are Lindsay, aren’t you?”
“Joe isn’t around, June. Did you call?”
“So I don’t have to introduce myself. Joe always said you were smart. Anyway, I brought a gift for the baby,” she said. “Did you have a boy or girl?”
“We have a daughter.”
June smiled graciously and handed me the bag. And I took it because to keep my hands at my sides would have been childish. I even thanked her for the gift, a thank-you that was less than sincere and wouldn’t fool anyone, especially an FBI agent.
June said, “What’s the baby’s name? I’d love to see her.”
“It’s not a good time, June.”
It would never be a good time.
She said, “Oh. Well. Best of everything, Lindsay. Best to all of you.”
She returned to her car and after she’d waved good-bye and her taillights had disappeared around the corner, I opened the turquoise bag and undid the white ribbon around the small box inside.
June had given Julie a sterling silver rattle.
Very nice.
I took the rattle, the wrappings, and the unopened card and dropped it all into the trash can on the corner. Then I went for a run with Martha.
I ran. I hurt everywhere, but still I ran. Three miles later, Martha and I were back at our front door. I was soaking wet, but I felt something like my old self. It was a beautiful morning. I was married to a wonderful man and I was the mother of a healthy baby girl.
June Freundorfer be damned.
Chapter 12
THE COURTROOM WAS so packed that members of the press were standing together like matchsticks at the back of the room. TruTV cameras rolled, and Yuki saw Cindy Thomas sitting four rows back on the aisle.
Cindy winked at Yuki, who smiled before turning to say, “Your Honor, the people call Mr. Graham Durden.”
A tall black man in his late fifties entered the courtroom from the rear, looking straight ahead as he walked purposefully up the aisle and through the wooden gate to the witness box. He was sworn in, then took his seat.
Yuki greeted her witness and began with questions that established his identity and his role in the case.
“Mr. Durden, what is your address?”
“Fifty-seven Lopez Avenue.”
“Is Mr. Keith Herman your neighbor?”
“Yes. He lives directly across the street from me.”
Yuki noticed that Durden’s hands were shaking. It was understandable. The man was a witness against a killer. If Keith Herman got off, Graham Durden would still be living directly across the street from him.
“Mr. Durden, did anything unusual happen on the morning of March first last year?”
“Yes. I’ll never forget it.”
“Please tell the court about that morning.”
“I had gone out to get the newspaper off the porch and I saw Mr. Herman carry his daughter’s dead body out to his car. I could tell that Lily was dead. He put her into the backseat and drove away.”
There was a gasp in the gallery, a satisfying intake of breath, and the jury appeared absolutely gripped by what they had heard.
“Did you call the police?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did the police question the defendant because of your phone call?”
“Yes. The day after I called nine-one-one, I was asked to come into the station for a lineup. I positively identified the man who put the body of Lily Herman into his car.”
“Do you see that man here today?”
Durden said he did, and at Yuki’s request he pointed to the man sitting next to John Kinsela at the defense table.
“How well do you know Mr. Herman?” she asked.
“I’ve known him for about five years. I knew Lily since she was three. She likes my dog, Poppy. They used to play on my lawn. I know the man’s car, too. Lexus. A 2011 four-door sedan.”
“So you are absolutely sure that the man you saw on the day in question, the man putting Lily Herman into the back of the Lexus, was the defendant, Keith Herman?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Thank you, Mr. Durden. I have no further questions.”
Yuki returned to her seat at the prosecution table. There was some foot shuffling in the gallery, and people coughed on both sides of the aisle.
Judge Nussbaum scratched his nose, made a note on his laptop, then said, “Mr. Kinsela, your witness.”
Chapter 13
JOHN KINSELA STOOD. He didn’t snort or mug for the jury. In fact, he looked quite grave as he faced the witness.
“Mr. Durden, have you ever testified in court before?”
“No, sir.”
“It’s a little nerve-racking, isn’t it?”
Yuki thought it was a question meant to rattle the witness, but it allowed the jury to see defense counsel as sympathetic, treating the witness with respect. If she objected, she could irritate the jury.
“I’m feeling fine,” said Graham Durden. He folded his hands in front of him.
“Good. Now, Mr. Durden, you swore to tell the truth, and yet in truth, you weren’t a hundred percent sure that the man you saw on March first was Mr. Herman, isn’t that right?”
“It was Mr. Herman. I know Mr. Herman.”
“You told the police—and I’m reading from the transcript of your phone call to nine-one-one—‘I’m ninety percent sure that the man getting into the car was Keith Herman.’”
