‘That’s right.’
‘Before you had agreed to defend Ms Shinn on that charge, and hence before you had established an attorney-client relationship with Mr Fowler, did the defendant tell you why he wanted you to defend Ms Shinn?’
‘He wanted an attorney he knew would present a strong defense.’
‘Did he say Ms Shinn would need a strong defense?’
‘Yes.’
‘In your opinion, Mr Freeman, did Mr Fowler think Ms Shinn was guilty?’
‘Objection!’
Hardy rephrased it. ‘Did Mr Fowler tell you he thought Ms Shinn was guilty of murdering Owen Nash?’
‘Yes, he did. He thought so.’
‘You have won acquittals in several murder cases, have you not, Mr Freeman?’
‘Objection, Your Honor. This isn’t relevant here.’
Hardy was matter-of-fact. ‘Your Honor, the prosecution went over Mr Freeman’s credentials at the beginning of his testimony. I want the jury to be aware of Mr Freeman’s reputation not just as a defense attorney but as an excellent defense attorney.’
‘All right,’ Chomorro, as he often did later in the day, was getting surly. ‘But let’s move it along.’ He had the recorder reread the question, and Freeman answered that yes, he had won several acquittals.
‘In fact, wasn’t it through your efforts that the charges against Ms Shinn were dropped?’
‘Yes. Largely.’
‘Now let’s see if we can get this straight. Mr Fowler, knowing your reputation, hired you to represent Ms Shinn, who was subsequently cleared of the murder charge through your efforts?’
‘Yes, true.’
‘And that reopened the investigation, leading to Mr Fowler’s own arrest for the same crime?’
‘Objection,’ Pullios said. ‘Calls for a conclusion.’
‘What’s your question, Mr Hardy?’
Hardy thought he had made his point by inference, at least. Would a man who was guilty of murder hire an attorney whose past record of successes made it likely he could get the case reopened? The most reasonable explanation for hiring Freeman was that, in fact, Fowler did believe May had been guilty. And, of course, if he thought that, then he wasn’t.
‘I’ll leave it, Your Honor,’ he said. Turning back to Freeman, Hardy asked if, at the time he had been hired, he thought there was any chance that May Shinn’s trial would go to Fowler’s courtroom.
‘No, none at all. If I had thought there was at that time, I would not have taken it. But there wasn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, she was in Department Twenty-two. There were seven trial judges available and I was sure that if Andy got the case he’d recuse himself.’
Pullios was up like a shot, but these were relevant facts and Hardy was able to get Freeman to tell most of the story – how judges were picked for trials, the circuitous route May’s proceedings took before it came before Fowler. It could not have been foreseen…
Finally, Hardy came to the end of it. ‘On the day charges were dropped against Ms Shinn, how many days had she already been on trial? I mean, for example, had you picked a jury? Had the prosecution begun its case?’
‘No. None of that.’
‘Were you aware of any other developments in that case on that day?’
‘Yes. Judge Fowler resigned.’
‘Do you mean he recused himself from the case?’
‘I mean he resigned as a judge, he quit the bench.’
‘And this was how long after the trial had come to his courtroom?’
‘One day.’
Hardy turned to the jury. ‘One day,’ he repeated.
Pullios did not have any redirect on Freeman, and neither did she call Maury Carter, the bail bondsman, since facts relating to the bail had been substantially nailed down in Freeman’s testimony. Instead, after Hardy had finished with Freeman, the prosecution rested.
Hardy had to feel better. Freeman’s testimony, which he had feared would be disastrous, had not been anything of the sort, it seemed. The jury knew the worst of what Andy had done, but at least, Hardy felt, they had gotten it in the least damaging light possible.
During the recess Hardy argued his 1118.1 motion in Chomorro’s chambers. The judge, to his surprise, seemed to be giving him his full attention and proved it by telling counsel he was going to take the weekend to consider the motion. He would render his decision on the motion for a directed verdict of acquittal on Monday. Meanwhile, however, Hardy should be prepared to begin calling his defense witnesses.
His client had not said a word to him the entire afternoon. When the judge came out and adjourned court for the week, he only muttered, ‘See you Monday,’ and went back to join his daughter.
Hardy gathered his papers.
58
At ten past five it was already dark as he went out toward the parking lot. A storm was coming in and a wind had risen, steady and cold, Alaska written all over it.
Hardy put down his heavy briefcase and stood by the entrance to the morgue, looking through a hole in the plywood into the construction site where the new jail was slowly rising. A steady trickle of workers getting off passed behind him, and he envied their snatches of conversation, of laughter, plans for the night, for the weekend. He turned up his suit collar against the wind, feeling alone and desolate.
‘Hey, Hardy! Dismas! Is that you? Knocking off early? Glad I caught up with you.’ It was Ken Farris, walking against the tide flowing from the building. ‘I got your messages but couldn’t get away, thought I’d try to catch you after court. You adjourned already? Is it over?’
What Farris had said was true – he normally could have expected to find Hardy in the courtroom at this time, but his arrival just now struck Hardy as a little convenient. He could just have called back. Hardy said as much.
‘Ah, you know the office. You get to the end of the week, any excuse to get out early. This is on my way home anyway. So how’s it going? What can I do for you? This about May Shinn?’
Hardy looked at him levelly. ‘I guess it’s about a lot if you’ve got some time. You feel like a drink?’
Farris seemed to rein himself in. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Well, let’s say all’s not right.’
They walked back through the Hall and crossed the street. Lou’s, crowded and noisy, was hung with yards of red and green tinsel, lit by Christmas bulbs. With all the seats taken, they stood at the bar. Hardy called for a Bass Ale, Farris ordered a Beefeater martini extra dry. Lou, behind the bar, caught Hardy’s eye. ‘He new?’
Hardy introduced them, and Lou said, dryly, that all their martinis were extra dry – no vermouth. Farris said he’d take whatever Lou poured, which was the right answer – he got some ice, several ounces of gin, a couple of olives.
‘Hell of a place,’ he said, taking it in. He clinked the glass against Hardy’s. ‘Okay, what’s happening?’
‘The prosecution’s rested. I start calling my defense witnesses on Monday.’
‘You’re not asking me to be a witness for Andy Fowler, are you?’
‘No. Why do you ask? You think he killed Owen?’
Farris sipped his gin. ‘Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed May too. I don’t care what they say.’
‘No. May killed herself. If they had found anything that connected to Fowler he’d have been long since charged with it. And they were looking.’ But Hardy didn’t like it, because if Farris still genuinely entertained the thought, maybe the jury did, too, in spite of Chomorro’s instructions. He’d better not forget that. ‘About May… when we first talked, you told me Owen had been paying her?’
‘Right. He paid all of them. So?’
‘Do you know for a fact that he was paying her? Did he specifically tell you he was?’ Farris appeared to be giving it thought. Hardy continued, ‘You told me Nash had changed the last few months. I was wondering, might that have been one of the changes.’