“So she got rid of the knife but kept the bloodstained suit?”
“I dunno. Maybe she hid it somewhere.”
“Sergeant Matthews, you’ve been on the force eighteen years. Wouldn’t you say the murder weapon is a critical piece of evidence in any murder prosecution?”
“I’d say it would be nice to have. But it isn’t required. We’ve got an airtight case against your client. The evidence is overwhelming.”
Not really proper testimony, but Ben supposed he had asked for it. “Another thing I didn’t hear you mention was Keri Dalcanton’s confession, although you used the word ‘confession’ repeatedly. When did she admit she killed McNaughton?”
Matthews did his best to appear bored and unfazed by the defense tactics. “She never confessed to the killing. As you know.”
“Never confessed? But according to you, she had broken down completely and was finally telling the truth. You called it a confession. How could she possibly omit that one detail?”
“She’d broken down, but she hadn’t totally lost her mind. She wasn’t suicidal, if you know what I mean. Don’t be fooled by the stripper thing—she’s a very smart lady.”
“Did it ever occur to you, Detective, that the reason she didn’t confess might be that she didn’t do it?”
“To be honest, yes. But how do you explain the clothes, the blood, the chains? No, she’s the one. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else.”
Ben heard an anguished sobbing behind him in the gallery. Even though he knew he shouldn’t look, he couldn’t resist.
It was Andrea McNaughton, the widow. Apparently this testimony had been too much for her. She was bent forward, her head pressed against her hands.
Ben returned his attention to the witness. “But she never admitted committing the murder, did she?”
“No.”
“ In fact, she denied it.”
“That’s what she said, yes.”
“But you arrested her anyway.”
Matthews allowed himself a smile. “If we never arrested people who denied committing the crime, we’d never arrest anyone.”
Good point, Ben thought. Just wish he hadn’t made it during my cross-ex. “How did you establish probable cause for the warrant?”
“Same way I always do. I told Judge Bolen everything we knew. About the relationship between Joe and the defendant. The fact that they’d been seen together and were believed to be intimate. That there was believed to have been a breakup that could give rise to a motive for murder. That we thought her car had been used to transport the body.”
“What was the scope of the warrant?”
Matthews sighed wearily. “The first warrant only gave us the right to search the defendant’s car. I realized that wasn’t good enough, so I went back and got a second warrant that allowed us to enter and search her apartment. I presented both warrants to the defendant at the appropriate time. We did everything strictly by the book. I’m telling you, counsel—you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Wouldn’t be the first time, either. “Was Judge Bolen satisfied that you had established probable cause?”
“Evidently. He issued the warrants.”
“Then why didn’t he give you the right to search her apartment the first time?”
“It was just an oversight. What does it matter? Like I said, he issued the second warrant in due time.”
For some reason, Ben wasn’t ready to let this go. “It still seems odd—two warrants for one search.”
“There’s nothing odd about it.” Matthews was beginning to get testy. He grabbed the evidence notebook from the rail before him. “The first time, Judge Bolen gave us a warrant to search her car. See?” He held the warrant up and waved it before Ben’s face. “I didn’t even realize when I got it that it was limited to the car, but as soon as I noticed, I went back and got another warrant. See?” He held up the second one. “We had both warrants at Ms. Dalcanton’s apartment before we discovered any of the evidence. Got it?”
Yeah, he got it. Ben took both warrants and held them in his hands. He had seen them many times before. He had read and reread every line, looking for any possible omission or transgression, any failing he could use to suppress the warrants and thus invalidate the search and exclude all evidence collected pursuant thereto. Unfortunately, there was nothing there. They complied with proper form in every respect. They had a clear description, the name of the defendant, a basis for investigation, the judge’s signature …
Wait a minute. Ben peered at the signature at the bottom of each form. Although he had stared at these warrants a million times during the past few months, he didn’t know that he had ever held both of them side by side before. And only by holding them side by side could he notice that not only were both warrants signed …
The signatures were identical.
Ben placed one warrant over the other and held them up to the light. Those signatures weren’t just similar. They were identical.
Judge Hart peered at Ben strangely. “Is there a problem, counsel?”
“No, ma’am. Or—actually, yes. Yes, there is.” He laid the two warrants on the bench before the judge. “These warrants haven’t been signed.”
Matthews leaned out of the witness chair. “What are you talking about? The signatures are right there in the corner.”
“A signature is there, yes. But it wasn’t signed. It’s been stamped. Either stamped or photocopied.” Ben showed the judge that the signatures were identical, then he shifted his gaze to the witness. “What do you do, Matthews? Carry a big stack of these around in the patrol car with you?”
Matthews rose to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ben pushed the warrants closer to the judge. “I’ll bet Matthews got presigned—or prestamped—forms and filled them out himself.”
Assistant D.A. Dexter rushed to the bench. “Your honor! I must object—”
Ben cut him off. “Judge, I request permission to voir dire the witness about these warrants.”
Judge Hart nodded. “Under the circumstances, I’ll have to grant that.”
Ben walked right up into Matthews’s face. “What really happened when you saw Judge Bolen? Or did you even bother to go?”
Matthews’s face flushed with anger. “I’ve told you already, I went to the judge’s chambers.”
“And what did you do?”
“I established probable cause! Like I’m supposed to!”
Ben’s voice bit top volume. “Then why didn’t the judge sign the warrants?”
Matthews took several quick short breaths, puffing his ruddy cheeks. “If you must know, I went to see the judge, according to procedure. But the judge was busy with his misdemeanor docket and couldn’t see me right away. He’s the only judge in the courthouse that time of night. I thought if we waited your client would have time to dispose of the evidence. So I asked the judge’s clerk for an emergency warrant. Two of them, eventually. And he gave them to me.”
“By emergency warrant, you mean a presigned warrant.”
“I didn’t have time to wait for anything else!” Sweat was trickling down the sides of Matthews’s face. “But the point is, I saw the judge. I got a warrant. I did everything I’m supposed to do.”
“Wrong,” Ben shot back. “You’re required by the Constitution of the United States to appear before a judge or magistrate and to establish probable cause for a warrant. It’s the process that’s important, not the product. If every judge handed out warrants without hearing the facts, the constitutional prohibitions against unlawful search and seizure would become meaningless.” Ben whirled around to face the judge. “Your honor, I move that these warrants be suppressed. And I move that all the evidence collected pursuant to these warrants, including my client’s verbal testimony, be excluded!”