“I went to the door, opened it, and looked out.”
“Did you? Let’s go back over the exact sequence of events.” Bennie walked around the front of the podium and leaned on it, wincing as her shoulder flexed. If she had to develop her defense as she went along, so be it. She’d always thought that was the worst trouble a lawyer could get into, but that was before last night. “Mrs. Lambertsen, where in your house were you when you heard the gunshot?”
“I was in the kitchen.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
“Rocking the baby, trying to get her to settle down.”
Bennie nodded, wishing she had done the interview of Lambertsen herself and finagled her way into that house. “Where is your kitchen in relation to the front door?”
“The kitchen’s in the front of the house, to the left of the front door.”
“How large is the kitchen?”
“It’s long and skinny. About twenty feet long.”
“So, Mrs. Lambertsen, you walked through the kitchen, about twenty feet, to get to the front door?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” Bennie visualized the scene and imagined a mother’s instinct. “You didn’t take the baby with you to see about the gunshot, did you?”
“God, no. I put her down.”
“Where did you put Molly?”
“In her baby chair, on the counter. One of those portable chairs, with a handle. It was in the kitchen.”
“So you put Molly in her chair. Did you strap her in?”
“Yes. I always do. She’s wriggly. Wiry.”
“Did she sit in the seat willingly?”
Mrs. Lambertsen burst into light laughter. “Molly doesn’t do anything willingly. She has a mind of her own.” The jurors laughed, too, relishing the baby talk, which Bennie knew was only apparently a frolic and detour.
“Did Molly cry in the chair?”
“A little, and kicked. Fussed, you know. Molly was kind of clingy at that age. She didn’t like it when I left the room. She’d kick and cry.”
“So you had to settle Molly before you went to the door, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do to settle her?”
“Gave her a pacifier, then patted her. Smoothed her hair, she likes that.”
“Did she settle down then?”
“No. I think I gave her a toy, too. Her favorite toy then was Rubber Duckie. I gave her Duckie.”
Judge Guthrie smiled benevolently from the dais. “You’re a very good mother, Mrs. Lambertsen,” he said, and the witness blushed at the praise.
“I agree,” Bennie said. She suppressed thoughts of her own mother. “Let’s see, Mrs. Lambertsen, before you went to the door, you put Molly in her chair, fastened the strap, gave her a toy duck and a pacifier, and you patted her and smoothed her hair, is that your recollection?”
“Yes.”
“Where was the rubber duck, by the way?”
“It was in a plastic bin on the kitchen counter.”
“Were there other toys in the bin, Mrs. Lambertsen?”
“There are toys everywhere in my house. Fisher-Price is our decorator,” she answered, and the jurors laughed again.
“So you had to root through the toy bin to find the rubber duck, is that right?”
“Right.”
“How long would you say it took for you to do all those things that good mothers do-that is, put Molly in her chair, fasten the strap, find her a toy duck, give it to her with a pacifier, and pat her and smooth her hair?”
“How much time? Uh, maybe five minutes, maybe more.”
Bennie guessed the witness was underestimating, albeit unintentionally. “How much more? As much as ten minutes?”
“Maybe, but more like seven.”
Bennie had made progress. Seven to ten minutes was almost enough time for a killer to escape and Connolly to arrive, but close. “And that was before you went to the door?”
“Uh, yes.” Mrs. Lambertsen glanced regretfully at Hilliard, taking notes at counsel table.
“Mrs. Lambertsen, after you got Molly the duck, did you walk or run the twenty feet to the door?”
“Walked.”
Bennie reconsidered the scenario. It was hard to think, with her jaw aching. She should have taken more Advil. “Wait a minute. You said Molly’s chair was on the counter in the kitchen. Can you see the baby from the front door?”
“No.”
“So you had to leave Molly out of sight, on the counter, while you went to the door?”
“Yes.”
“And she was kicking and crying, in one of those baby chairs?”
“Yes.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Bennie saw the young mother in the front row frown just the slightest bit. It gave Bennie her cue and she walked stiffly from the podium to the witness stand, instinctively closing in on a point even she didn’t understand yet. “Mrs. Lambertsen, when you left Molly on the counter to go to the door, kicking and fussing, weren’t you worried she would fall off the counter?”
“Objection!” Hilliard shouted, his voice booming from the prosecution table. The sound had the intended effect of interrupting the good vibes Bennie was nurturing. “What could be the possible relevance of these details?”
Bennie faced the judge. “This is an entirely proper exploration of the events of the night in question, Your Honor.”
Judge Guthrie leaned back in his chair, touching his teeth with the stem of his reading glasses. “Overruled.”
Bennie turned to the witness. “Mrs. Lambertsen, weren’t you worried about Molly when you left her on the counter to go to the door?”
“Yes, I was. I should have put the chair on the floor, but I didn’t. I was so distracted by the gunshot and all. It was like two things happening at once.” The witness paused, thinking. “Now that I think of it, I ran back to check when I was halfway there.”
Bennie nodded. It was a break. “Considering that, how long do you think it took you to get to the door? Maybe three to five minutes?”
“Yes, probably.”
“So would it be fair to add three to five minutes to the time you saw Alice Connolly run by?”
“Yes.”
“Would that bring us to a total of ten to twelve minutes between the time you heard the gunshot and the time you reached the door and saw Alice Connolly?”
“Well, yes.”
Bennie paused, pleased, then thought back through Lambertsen’s testimony. It always surprised her that information witnesses volunteered during their testimony assumed significance in context. “Mrs. Lambertsen, you mentioned earlier that Molly needed a nap. When was the last time that day that she had slept?”
“Objection, Your Honor.” Hilliard half rose from his chair. “This line of questioning is totally irrelevant and calls for the witness to speculate.”
“Your Honor,” Bennie said firmly, “the relevancy of the questions will become clear, and I don’t think Mrs. Lambertsen is speculating. She’s obviously very attentive to her child, as you yourself noted.”
Judge Guthrie frowned. “Mrs. Lambertsen, please don’t speculate or guess at your answers. Feel free to say so if you don’t remember.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mrs. Lambertsen said. “I know Molly’s schedule. Even then, she kept to a
