Bramwell nodded. 'He liked being with us, and Payton didn't seem to mind. So I didn't either.'
With this answer, Mauriani had created an assumption that buttressed Flora Lewis's testimony—where one brother was, so was the other. He chose not to solicit Tasha's admission that, for an hour of private lovemaking, Rennell was left alone: it did nothing for Mauriani's case, directed at both brothers, and James had chosen not to raise it.
'Every Tuesday,' Mauriani asked, 'you had a bookkeeping class. Correct?'
'Yessir. Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday. At three o'clock.'
'But that Tuesday, you chose to skip it.'
'Yes.'
'How many classes did you skip that semester?'
'Just the one.'
Approvingly, Mauriani nodded. 'I guess you're pretty diligent about attendance.'
'I am that,' Tasha affirmed. 'I want to do my best.'
'But you felt comfortable cutting that one class.'
'Yessir.' Pausing, Bramwell smoothed her skirt, then looked back at Mauriani, adding with satisfaction, 'I got an A for the semester.'
Mauriani cocked his head, feigning curiosity. 'On what basis did your professor grade you?'
'Mostly the exams.'
'How many were there?'
For the first time, Bramwell hesitated, puzzled by the level of Mauriani's interest. 'Two,' she answered. 'A midterm, and a final.'
'And were these take-home exams? Or did Professor Lee give them to you in class?'
The name of her professor, slipped into Mauriani's question with seeming casualness, caused Bramwell to pause yet again. 'In class.'
'In class,' Mauriani repeated. 'How'd you do on the midterm?'
Now Bramwell stared at him. 'An A, I think.'
'A minus,' Mauriani corrected genially. 'But close enough.' Turning, he walked over to the prosecution table and then paused, asking over his shoulder, 'You don't happen to remember the date, do you?'
Suspicion formed in Bramwell's eyes. Tersely, she answered, 'No.'
Reaching into a file folder, Mauriani withdrew a document, three photocopied pages, stapled together at the left-hand corner. Courteously, he showed the document to Yancey James, noting the glassy look appearing in his opponent's gaze. Payton's eyes narrowed to slits; only Rennell seemed unaffected. As Mauriani completed the ritual of marking People's Exhibit 27, he spotted Henry Feldt following its progress back into Tasha Bramwell's hands.
Turning, the prosecutor walked toward Bramwell. She slid back in the witness chair, her slender body suddenly appearing frail. When he held out the document for Bramwell to take, she hesitated before accepting it. 'Can you identify this document?' he asked.
Silent, she seemed fixated on one corner of the paper. 'Yes.'
The smile had vanished, Mauriani noted. 'Is that your midterm exam?'
'Yes.'
She looked stunned, almost sick. Evenly, Mauriani said, 'I draw your attention to the upper-right-hand corner of the first page. Can you tell the jury what you see.'
'A date.'
'Would you mind reading it aloud?'
Bramwell exhaled, a slow release of breath. 'September twenty-seventh, 1987.'
'September twenty-seventh,' Mauriani repeated. 'If Professor Lee says that this date is correct, and his grading records confirm that, do you have any concrete reason to believe that was not the date you took the midterm?'
Bramwell's lips parted slightly. 'Just my own recollection,' she answered softly. 'Nothing else.'
Mauriani nodded. 'And if your recollection's wrong, then you were in class that afternoon, and couldn't have been with Payton and Rennell the afternoon when Thuy Sen disappeared.'
Bramwell glanced toward Payton, as though in silent apology. 'No, sir.'
'In that case, you don't know where they were, do you? Or what they might have done?'
Briefly, Tasha's eyes closed. 'No, sir. Except Payton would never do that.'
With a chivalrous air, Mauriani took the document from her hands. 'You care about Payton, don't you?'
'Course I do.' Bramwell's voice held a renewed strength. 'I love him.'
'Enough to visit him in jail?'
'Yes, sir. Every day I can.'
