clippers and a good pair of shears.'
'So in using these tools during the course of a day, is it uncommon for stylists to get hair on their clothes?'
'Oh, Lord, no. I must spend half my income on lint rollers.'
More snickers-heard by the judge this time, who gave the people in the gallery an admonishing look, quickly shutting them up.
'Mr. Hardwick,' Abernathy said, 'can you tell us how many employees you have?'
'There are six stylists in addition to myself, and a young girl who shampoos the clients and does general clean-up.'
'And during the month of April of this year, was Veronica Baldacci one of those stylists?'
'Yes.'
'So do you think it's reasonable to assume that, in the course of her duties, Ms. Baldacci had the same problem with dog hair that you did?'
'Oh, of course. Probably more, in fact.'
'Why is that?'
'Well,' Hardwick said, 'she was always a bit wardrobe challenged. I'm not quite sure she knows exactly what a lint roller is.'
Laughter rippled through the courtroom, and Hardwick seemed quite pleased with himself. But the smile on his face disappeared when Waverly shouted over the noise. 'Objection!'
'Settle down,' O'Donnell told the crowd. 'Settle down.' And as they did, he added, 'The objection is sustained-the jury will ignore the witness's last statement.' He eyed Hardwick sternly. 'Mr. Hardwick, we'll have no more jokes at the defendant's expense in this courtroom. Is that understood?'
'Your Honor, I meant no offense. I was simply answering the-'
'Is that understood?'
Hardwick stiffened. 'Yes. Of course.'
Abernathy checked his notes. 'Let's take a moment to look at Ms. Baldacci's history with you as an employee. How long did she work for you?'
'Approximately two months.'
'And during her employment, did she ever take any time off?'
'Yes. Quite a bit, actually.'
'Were these absences full days, partial days…'
'A couple of full days,' Hardwick said, 'but usually partial. Half an hour or so here and there to extend her lunch hour. To be frank, I was becoming quite perturbed by it, because it wasn't time she had earned.'
'So this was unpaid leave?'
'Oh, most definitely. She hadn't been with the shop long enough to accrue any paid vacation.'
'Did you keep a record of this?'
'Yes,' Hardwick said. 'All employees are required to clock in and out using a computerized time card system.'
'And how does that work?'
'We have a station near the employee entrance that's dedicated to time-keeping. Each employee is assigned a PIN number for privacy, which they key into the computer to clock in and out. Every two weeks the data is transferred to our payroll service for processing.'
'Am I correct in assuming that the software allows you to print out payroll reports, including the dates and times the employee clocked in and out?'
'Yes,' Hardwick said.
Abernathy moved to the prosecution table and picked up a sheet of paper. 'On the third of last month you responded to a subpoena from the State requesting such a report in regard to the defendant, did you not?'
'I did.'
Abernathy turned to O'Donnell. 'May I approach the witness, Your Honor?'
'You may.'
Abernathy moved to the witness box and handed the sheet of paper to Hardwick. 'Mr. Hardwick, is this the report we requested?'
Hardwick studied it a moment. 'Yes.'
Abernathy moved back to the prosecution table, picked up another sheet of paper and crossed to the court clerk. 'Your Honor, I'd like to enter this document into the record as State's Exhibit B.'
'So entered,' O'Donnell said.
Now the ADA moved to the easel and flipped the piece of art board over to reveal an enlargement of a computer calendar. The heading read THE LAW OFFICES OF TREACHER amp; PINE, and below this, the week of April fifteenth was displayed with squares representing Monday through Friday. Each square had notations typed in, and in the lower bottom corner of the board were the words, STATE'S EXHIBIT A.
Hutch assumed that this was the printout of Carlene Harding's calendar that had been entered into evidence yesterday.
Abernathy quickly confirmed that assumption. 'Mr. Hardwick, I have here a blow-up of the calendar of phone calls that was provided to us by the victim's secretary, Carlene Harding. I'm going to call out some dates and times, and ask you to check the payroll report of Ms. Baldacci's attendance to see if it shows a corresponding date and time. A perfect match isn't necessary. Whatever comes close.'
'All right,' Hardwick said, looking down at the papers in his hands.
Pulling a laser pointer from his pocket, Abernathy shone a red beam toward the first square on the calendar, which held the notation: V. BALDACCI 11:55 A.M.
Abernathy called out the date and time and Hardwick checked the sheet. 'The closest I have is a clock-out at 11:30 that morning.'
Abernathy pointed the beam at the next square, this one showing three V. BALDACCI notations. 'What about twelve fifteen, one twenty-two or four forty-three p.m. on Tuesday, the seventeenth of April?'
'I show a clock-out at noon that day, a return at one forty-five and a final clock-out at four-thirty p.m.'
This went on for several minutes, and even though he had been warned that this was coming, Hutch's stomach dropped each time Abernathy pointed to a notation and got confirmation of a corresponding clock-out from Hardwick. By the end of that week in April-the week Jenny had been killed-there had been several calls, all of them clustered around Ronnie's extended lunch breaks or the end of the work day.
Knowing this was all part of Langer's sick game didn't make Hutch feel any better, and he could see by the looks on the jurors' faces, their glances toward Ronnie, that the testimony was making an impact.
Worse still, Ronnie's body language signaled her defeat. She was no longer able to look at the jurors or even sit up straight. Hutch wanted to shout at her,
It was at that moment that Hutch realized just how much Ronnie meant to him now. Not as a substitute for Jenny and not merely as a friend, but as someone he had grown to care about in a way he thought he'd never again experience.
Was it love? He couldn't be sure. But it was close. Very close. And to see her looking so forlorn and defeated broke his heart.
When Abernathy was done with his laser pointer, he put it away and said, 'Mr. Hardwick, are you familiar with the Dumont Hotel?'
Hardwick nodded. 'Yes, of course. It's one of the oldest in Chicago.'
'Do you know where it's located?'
'Yes,' Hardwick said.
'And how far is it from your salon?'
'Just a few blocks. I don't know the exact distance.'
'Have you ever walked there on your lunch hour?'
'Not to the hotel itself,' Hardwick said. 'But there's a little sushi place on the same block that I sometimes go to.'
'And how long does it take you to get there?'
