“That’s true,” Pickens agreed.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ben snorted.
“What’s the matter, Kincaid?” Pickens growled. “You think you’re the only one who has any fancy footwork?”
“Your honor, it’s perfectly obvious she just wants the jury to know that he was tried once before for murder. This will be grossly prejudicial.”
“I’m sure it will be prejudicial to your client, Kincaid. But I believe the probative value outweighs the prejudice in this case. I’m going to let it in.”
“Your honor!” Ben exclaimed. “This is absolutely-”
“I’ve ruled, Kincaid.”
Ben’s face tightened. “I move for leave of court to take an immediate interlocutory appeal on this issue.”
“Denied.”
“Your honor, this is simply wrong!”
Pickens brought out his gavel and pointed it so far forward it practically touched Ben’s nose. “I’ve made my ruling, Kincaid. You can live with it or you can leave. Your choice.”
Ben stomped back to defendant’s table, fuming. That ruling was absolutely contrary to law, and he knew it. It could possibly be the basis for a later appeal, but he doubted that remote possibility would be of much comfort to Zak.
Granny repeated her question, and the witness answered, carefully choosing her words. “Many people believed George Zakin should be blamed.”
Ben grimaced. Another unnecessary twist of the knife from Zak’s “understanding friend.”
“What was the reaction of your organization to all this?”
She pushed a few wisps of hair behind her ear. “Well, after that, the rest of the leadership finally came around to my way of seeing things. They realized he was dangerous, a loose cannon. Turned out he’d been agitating all along for the group to become more militant, to plant bombs, sabotage equipment. He was out of control.”
“Out of control,” Granny repeated, just in case someone missed it. “Dangerous. So what action did your group take?”
“We kicked him out, basically. We didn’t want him.”
“I can understand that,” Granny said somberly. “It’s just a shame that someone else did. No more questions.”
Ben pressed his lips close to Zak’s ear. “You were kicked out? You told me you left! You never said you were kicked out.”
Zak didn’t answer him.
“Well? Is it true?”
Zak shrugged. “I probably wouldn’t have used those words.”
Ben pressed his hand against his forehead. Great. Just great. As if he didn’t have enough to deal with. “When are you going to get a clue, Zak? You don’t keep secrets from your lawyer!”
Zak looked away sullenly, like a little boy scolded but not much chastened.
Ben took his place behind the podium. He had only one arrow in his quiver. He thought it best he fire it off before the jury dwelt too long on what they had just heard. “Ms. Cummings, I don’t want to be indelicate, but isn’t it true that you and the defendant were once … romantically involved?”
“We slept together, if that’s what you mean.” She answered matter-of-factly and without the least trace of embarrassment. “In the early days, before I knew him well. But it didn’t last long. I was never in love with him, and frankly, he was never very good in bed. It wasn’t any big deal.”
“Still,” Ben insisted, “you must have been somewhat … distressed when he left you.”
“Is that what he told you? That he dumped me?” She laughed loudly. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Lawyer. That’s not how it happened. I saw Zak come on to everything female that walked through the door. I didn’t need to be told he would be perpetually unfaithful, that he would always be looking for more women to conquer. And I didn’t care to be part of his harem. So I dumped him.”
Ben took a deep breath. This wasn’t exactly going the way he wanted. “Ms. Cummings, forgive me, but despite your protestations to the contrary, I’m detecting a very … bitter tone in your voice.”
“No, you’re confusing anger with bitterness. I am angry-I think he’s a dangerous, unreliable person, and I think he caused considerable damage to the animal rights cause. But I’m not bitter because he didn’t sleep with me anymore. I didn’t want him to sleep with me anymore.”
“Still, how can we be sure your testimony isn’t motivated by … well …”
“Look, if you’re trying to suggest I just made all this up to get back at him, forget it. I was asked by the prosecutor’s office to tell what I know, so I have. But I’ve got no axe to grind. Frankly, until they called me, I hadn’t thought about Zak for years.”
Ben could see he was getting nowhere with her, and his cross-ex quiver was empty. He hated to end on such an unproductive note, but there was nothing else to ask her about. “No more questions.”
As he took his seat, Ben tried to console himself. She had established that Zak knew how to make a bomb, that he had done it in the past. And that he was “dangerous.” But she hadn’t known anything about the present case. She certainly hadn’t established that he made this bomb, the one that killed Dwayne Gardiner.
Which was true-Julie Cummings hadn’t. But the next witness would.
Chapter 52
“The State calls Leonard Cokey to the stand.”
There were some witnesses, Ben mused, you could dress up and make presentable for court, and some witnesses you might as well not waste time trying. Leonard (Ben would be willing to bet he was normally called Lenny) fell into the latter category. Ben had rarely seen anyone who looked more miserable in a suit and tie. His face was nicked in half a dozen places; probably his first shave in weeks, Ben guessed. His sleeves and pant legs were too short; Granny probably found the suit for him in a secondhand store. Even as the bailiff administered the oath, Cokey tugged at his collar like it was strangling him.
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Cokey?” Granny asked.
He squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m a freelance wholesaler.”
Uh-huh, Ben thought. Translation: thief.
“Could you tell us what you were doing on the night of July eleventh?”
“Uh, yeah. I was over at Georgie’s. That’s the pawnshop over on McKinley.”
“And why were you there?”
“I’ve been a bit strapped this month so, uh … I was hocking my TVs.”
Yeah, right, Ben thought. Translation: delivering stolen goods.
“Was there anyone else in the store?” Granny continued.
“Oh sure, sure.” Cokey didn’t seem able to sit still. He kept shifting positions, sitting on his hands. “Georgie was working the bar in the back.”
“The bar in the back? What goes on there?”
“Well …” Cokey craned his neck awkwardly. “That’s where he keeps the handguns but it’s also my understanding that some illegal goods are sold there. From time to time. Of course I wouldn’t know myself from personal experience.”
Ben had had about as much of this shuffle-ball-change routine as he could take. Why didn’t Granny just give the man immunity so he could tell what he knew without all this nonsense?
“Was there anyone else present in the pawnshop?”
“Yeah. Him.” Cokey pointed across the courtroom. “The defendant.”
The jury turned to check Zak, frowns plastered on many faces. What was an upright young conservationist doing in that den of iniquity?
“And where was he?”
“He was at the back bar, doing business with Georgie.”
Granny nodded. “And do you have any idea what business was being transacted?”
“Well, it’s not like I was eavesdroppin’ or anythin’.”
Of course not, Ben thought. Perish the thought.
“But I had to talk to Georgie, see? So I was waiting around. And I couldn’t help hearing what they were talkin’ about.”
“And what were they talkin’ about?”
“Bombs. Big bombs.”
The people in the gallery held their collective breaths.
“What specifically were they discussing?”
Cokey leaned forward, his hands still pressed beneath his legs. “Georgie was supplying chemicals, see? I don’t remember the names, but according to Georgie, if you mixed them together and ignited them-boom!” He threw his hands up in the air.