“And did the defendant receive these chemicals?”
“Oh, yeah. Paid big bucks for them.”
“And you saw this with your own eyes?”
“I did. I swear. On my mother’s grave.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Do you know what the defendant planned to do with the chemicals?”
Cokey nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. Heard enough to know the stuff was for a bomb.”
“Did you hear any discussion of the intended target?”
“Yeah. I heard-”
“Objection,” Ben said. “Calls for hearsay.”
Granny was obviously expecting this one. “Your honor, the hearsay from this Georgie person is being admitted not to prove the truth of the matter asserted, but to put later statements by the defendant in context. And of course the statements from the defendant, being statements against interest by the accused, constitute a hearsay exception.”
“The objection is overruled,” Pickens declared. “Please proceed.”
Cokey leaned toward the jury box. “What I heard was, Georgie asks him, ‘You got plans for this?’ And the other guy, the defendant, he just looks at Georgie real cold-like and says, ‘Yeah. Big plans.’ ”
“Big plans?” Granny parroted. “And this was just two days before the explosion that took Dwayne Gardiner’s life?”
“Yeah. And that ain’t all. Georgie asks him what these big plans are, see?”
“And did Mr. Zakin reply?”
“Oh yeah. He gets all coy and sly-actin’, and he says, ‘I’m going to teach a logger a lesson he’ll never forget.’ ”
The rumble through the courtroom was audible. People turned and stared, eyes widened, across the courtroom. Every eye was focused on Zak. For the first time, they’d heard evidence that portrayed him as not only a bomber, but a bomber with malice. A bomber with a particular target in mind.
“That’s not what I said,” Zak whispered in Ben’s ear. “That stupid weasel got it wrong. What I said was ‘I’m going to teach some loggers a lesson they’ll never forget.’ ”
“Oh, swell,” Ben whispered back. “That’s much better.” He turned and looked at Zak coldly. “You planted that bomb, didn’t you?”
“I was striking a blow for the cause, taking out some machinery. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I specifically set the thing to detonate in the middle of the night, when there was no chance anyone would be on it.”
“Except that someone was.”
“But the bomb I planted wasn’t in that clearing. It wasn’t on that tree cutter. It was somewhere else, in the Crescent Basin old-growth region. And it was set to go off at three, not one.”
“That’s not going to make any difference to the jury,” Ben shot back.
“Mr. Kincaid!”
Ben looked up abruptly. The Time Machine was trying to get his attention.
“Do you wish to cross-examine or not?”
Oops. He wondered how many calls he had missed while he and Zak were gabbing. “I’ll cross.”
Although, as he made his way to the podium, he wondered why. Cokey might be a total sleaze, but his testimony about seeing Zak buy bomb parts appeared to be essentially accurate. And Ben had a hard time getting his heart into a defense for a man who would set a bomb that-
He focused on the witness, clearing his head. He had an obligation to his client, and he had to fulfill it. Zak hadn’t intended to kill anyone.
At least as far as Ben knew. But it was becoming abundantly clear that his client had not told him the whole truth.
“Mr. Cokey, are you sure that what Mr. Zakin said was ‘I’m going to teach a logger a lesson he’ll never forget’?”
“Well … yeah. That’s what I heard.”
“Is it possible that what the man actually said was, ‘I’m going to teach some loggers a lesson they’ll never forget’?”
“Well, geez. There ain’t much difference.”
“There’s a world of difference, sir. It’s the difference between a premeditated plan to strike against a particular person-which the prosecution has proved no motive for whatsoever-and a general plan to strike an economic blow against the logging industry.”
Cokey fumbled a bit. “Well, I thought I heard what I heard.”
“But are you sure?”
“I thought …”
“Mr. Cokey. Is it possible that what you heard Zak say was that he was going to teach a lesson to some loggers?”
Cokey shrugged, then frowned. “I guess it’s possible.”
“Thank you for that admission, sir. I appreciate your honesty.” Not that it was really much of an admission. But Ben might as well build it up as much as possible. At this point, Zak needed all the help he could get.
Chapter 53
Ben spent the rest of the cross picking away at Cokey’s reputation, trying to establish that he was basically a low-life scuz who made a living swiping stuff and hocking it at Georgie’s. By the time Ben was done, he doubted if any of the jurors thought of Cokey as a moral paragon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure it would much matter in the long run. They didn’t have to believe he was a saint to believe he overheard two people talking about bombs in the back room of a low-life pawnshop. In fact, this was one rare instance when the witness’s sleazeball status might actually make his testimony seem more credible.
After that debacle, Ben would’ve been happy to call it a day, but unfortunately, Granny had another witness.
“The State calls Ralph Peabody to the stand.”
Peabody was a young man, strong, well-built, and handsome. He had a thatch of curly blond hair that whipped over his forehead and hovered just above his eyes.
Granny established that he was thirty-two years of age, gainfully employed managing the Canfield Grocery, and a Magic Valley native. “Would you please tell the jury what you were doing on the night of July twelfth?”
July 12, Ben thought. Just before the murder. This could be bad news.
“I was at Bunyan’s,” Peabody answered, then added, “That’s a bar here in town.”
The expression on the jurors’ faces told Ben no explanation was necessary.
“And why were you there?”
Peabody shrugged. “I was just hanging out. You know how it is. It was a Friday night, and there’s not much to do on a Friday night here in Magic Valley.”
That brought a few appreciative chuckles from the gallery.
“Were you alone?”
“Nah. I was with a couple of pals.”
“But were there other people in the bar? Other than your group?”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
“Anyone who might be in the courtroom today?”
“Him.” Peabody pointed across the courtroom. “The defendant. Zakin.”
Granny nodded. “Anyone else?”
“Gardiner. The guy who got killed. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but when I saw his picture in the paper later, I recognized him.”
“When did you first observe Mr. Gardiner?”
“I had to excuse myself at one point-’round about eleven thirty or so, I think. The bathroom is in the back; you walk down a kinda long corridor till you get there. When I was on my way out, I saw Mr. Gardiner in the corridor, facing me.”
“And was he alone?”
“No. He was with the defendant. Zakin.”
Granny nodded appreciatively. “So they did know each other after all. Were they talking?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I guess you could call it that. It was a pretty … heated conversation.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Well, it didn’t take much to see there was some serious bad blood between the two. They were shouting at each other, calling names. At one point Zakin shoved Gardiner backward, hard. That sort of thing.”
“And did you hear what they were talking about?”
Peabody shifted his weight. “Now, you understand-I’m not one to butt in on something that’s none of my beeswax-”
“Of course not,” Granny reassured him. “But I’m sure in that narrow corridor it was impossible to avoid overhearing.”