In the movies, Mike thought, it was always raining at funerals. But not here, not today. The sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm. Some of the attendees were probably melting in their black clothes. Didn’t seem right, somehow. This was play weather. This was a day for the park. Not Bartlett Cemetery.
He and Baxter kept a good distance away so as not to be a distraction, but not so far that Mike couldn’t pick up scattered words and phrases. “We need not grieve for this woman,” he heard the minister try to assure those present. “Now she is home. Now she is at peace.”
“I think coming to Erin ’s funeral to conduct interviews is in incredibly bad taste,” Mike muttered.
“It wasn’t my idea. Sheila Knight requested that we meet her here. And I thought that as long as we’re doing one interview here…”
“This is the sort of idea that might appeal to a new cop, but anyone with any seasoning would know better.”
Baxter’s face clouded over. “I’m new to Tulsa, Morelli. I’m not new.”
Mike watched as the minister with the red scarf around his neck closed his small Bible. The interment rites would soon be over. “We should’ve met her at her home.”
“She specifically said she didn’t want us to come to her home.”
Really? That was interesting. “Then you should’ve made her come downtown.”
“And if she said no? Leave me be, Morelli. Go hit on one of the mourners or something.”
Mike shoved his fists deep into his coat pockets. “And furthermore, I hate funerals. I didn’t even go to my father’s funeral, and I adored him.”
Baxter shrugged. “We all have to die sometime.”
“Right. ‘Send not to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.’ “
“Is that more of your poetry?”
“It’s Donne.”
“Thank goodness.” The funeral was over, and the assemblage was beginning to break up. “I’m going to talk to Sheila. Maybe you could track down the boyfriend.”
Because you don’t want me horning in on your interview with Sheila? Messing up the girl talk? “No, I’ll do Sheila. You find the boyfriend. He’s probably the young guy in the cashmere coat.”
Baxter frowned. “Sure you don’t want me along? It might involve some… you know. Women’s issues. Girl stuff.”
What Baxter obviously wanted, Mike realized, was for him to tell her he needed her. That she might be useful. Which he wasn’t about to do. “I’m sure. It’ll save time.”
“Suit yourself.” She started toward the gathering, then stopped. “But try not to make any remarks about her panties, okay? That sort of thing can really mess up an interview.”
Derek’s face was so flushed and angry Christina began to wonder about his blood pressure. “Are you telling me you want this court to grant relief based upon your hearsay testimony regarding the statements of a woman who is not only not present-but dead?”
“That’s about the size of it, your honor.”
“Ms. McCall, the only reason I have not already thrown you in jail is that I know you are a recent graduate and that you’ve probably acquired your understanding of evidence law from your co-counsel.” Derek’s quick glance in Ben’s direction was enough to send chills down his spine. “That could account for a multitude of sins. Incompetence is contagious.”
“I have researched this, your honor,” Christina said firmly. “There is precedent for making hearsay exceptions. For instance, the rule regarding dying declarations.”
“Which this isn’t.”
“Granted, but it only missed by a few hours.”
“You’re not helping yourself, Ms. McCall.”
Maybe not, but she wasn’t going to let him bully her into stopping the attempt. He might terrorize Ben, but to her he was just a blowhard with an overinflated ego and a bad hairpiece. “There are also hearsay exceptions pertaining to any situation where the declarant is unavailable.”
“Those exceptions presume that the statement has been made in such a way or under such circumstances as to suggest truthfulness. Here, I have only the word of counsel for the defendant-the one who’s trying to escape a rapidly impending execution date. Does that suggest truthfulness to you?”
Christina looked the judge right in the eyes. “I take my professional reputation and my ethical responsibilities seriously, sir. If you’re suggesting that I’m making false statements to the court, with no basis whatsoever, I will not hesitate to file a judicial complaint.”
“Young lady-”
“Don’t you young-lady me. I don’t care if you’re a federal judge or the Prince of Wales. I will not allow you to cast aspersions on my character.”
Ben stared at her, his eyes wide as balloons. Did she want to spend the night in jail?
To his amazement, Derek backed down. “Counsel, let’s return to the case at hand, shall we? I am not going to allow this pseudo-testimony into evidence, and I am certainly not going to reverse a well-reasoned jury verdict on its basis. Do you have anything else?”
Christina’s voice dropped several notches. “We’ve made several allegations of error in our petition.”
“All of which have been ruled upon previously by other courts. Do you have anything that is remotely new?”
“Not really.”
“Then under those circumstances, Ms. McCall, I’m afraid I have no choice but to-”
“Wait a minute. I do have something else. Something the police missed entirely.”
Ben sat up straight. Christina…
“And what would that be?”
“The fact that Ray Goldman couldn’t be the killer who massacred the entire Faulkner family.” She paused. “Because there were two of them.”
“Two? Miss McCall, what do you take me for?” If Derek had been angry before, now he looked ready to gnash Christina’s law diploma to pieces with his bare teeth.
Baxter nailed the boyfriend-James Wesley-on her first guess. Not that there were that many candidates at the funeral from whom to choose.
She discreetly flashed her badge, introduced herself, and asked if they could talk a moment in private.
“I suppose.” His expression was phlegmatic and contained. Was he really so unmoved? Or was he putting a brave face on it? “This day can’t get any worse.”
They moved to the shelter of a large oak tree in the corner of the cemetery. “I know this must be hard for you. I understand you were Erin Faulkner’s boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend may be pushing it.” He was a handsome black man, well educated. Way too young for Baxter, but he had an obvious appeal. His curly black locks alone would be the envy of many a woman. “We went out maybe five or six times.”