“Do you know who the men you saw were?” Ben asked.
“Yeah. I only learned who one of them was this morning. The younger guy, with the long hair and goatee. I tracked him to his office just across the plaza in the city office building. He works as a data processor in the mail room. His name is Bradley Conners.” He glanced at the jury. “He goes by Buck.”
“And do you know who the other man was?”
“Oh, yeah. I knew who he was the second I saw him. I’ve seen him on TV, and I saw him a few weeks ago at a city council meeting. He’s in the gallery today.” Loving lifted a hand and pointed. “It was Councilman Bailey Whitman. Excuse me. Interim Mayor Whitman.”
Murmurs and whispers blanketed the courtroom. No one was clear yet what was the significance of this testimony, but it was definitely interesting.
After Ben sat down, Bullock began his cross. “Now let’s play straight with the jury,” Bullock said. “The fact is, you’re currently employed by the lawyer for the defense, right?”
“Right,” Loving said, without blinking an eye. “I told you that already.”
“He pays you a regular salary.”
A quick glance at Ben. “Well … sorta regular.”
Bullock lowered his chin, his eyes making a beeline for Loving’s. “Well, sir, how much is he paying you today?”
Loving chuckled. “A hell of a lot less than you’re payin’ those fancy experts of yours.”
Several jurors burst out laughing.
“Be honest, sir,” Bullock continued, trying to maintain control. “Don’t you think the fact that you work for Mr. Kincaid has influenced your testimony?”
“No, sir. It didn’t influence what I saw in the least. I saw what I saw.”
“Uh-huh. And what would’ve happened if you’d come back to your boss and told him that you came up with nothing?”
Loving shrugged. “Happens all the time. He ain’t fired me yet.”
A few more chuckles from the gallery. Ben marveled. And he had been worried that Loving would be a flop. He should put him on the stand in every case.
Obviously irritated, Bullock tried a new tack. “Mr. Loving, isn’t it true that you were divorced about three years ago?”
Loving seemed understandably puzzled. “Ye-es.”
“And isn’t it true that your wife’s suit against you was based on claims of moral indecency?”
“Your honor,” Ben said. “This is not relevant. We all know people say extreme things when they’re going through a divorce. This is cheap and petty.”
“True, but I’m afraid I’ll have to allow it.” Judge Hart looked up at Bullock, telling him in no uncertain terms what she thought of this line of questioning without actually overruling him. “You may proceed.”
Bullock looked sternly at Loving. “Please answer the question.”
Loving shot Ben a quick, piercing look. “I don’t personally know what the lawyer said about me at the trial. I wasn’t there.”
Bullock continued. “Isn’t it also true that you were once arrested on charges of solicitation?”
“That was a farce! I picked up this gal at Orpha’s Bar. How did I know she was a hooker? I thought she was just overcome by my manly charm.”
“Nonetheless, you were arrested, correct?”
“Yeah. And the charges were dropped almost immediately. I didn’t even spend a night in jail.”
“Still, if someone sat and watched you and your female companion in … that bar you mentioned, they might well come away with the impression that you had done something illegal, even though you hadn’t, wouldn’t you agree?
“I suppose.”
“So in other words, sometimes, even when you see what you see, it isn’t what you thought you saw. Correct?”
“I think I’m confused.”
“The fact is, Mr. Loving, you don’t know what the two men you observed in the park were talking about, do you?”
“Well, not for certain.”
“And you don’t know why the man you claim was Bailey Whitman gave money to the other man, do you?”
“Not for certain.”
“And you don’t know who hit you over the head, do you?”
“No,” he said, pounding a fist into his hand. “Wish I did.”
“All you know is that two men met in a public park and talked. And that’s hardly illegal, is it?”
“No.”
“Thank you, Mr. Loving. Nothing more.”
Ben thought about redirecting, but innuendos aside, Bullock really hadn’t done that much damage to Loving, and he was anxious to get on with the next witness.
“The defense recalls Harvey Sanders to the stand.”
Ben had made sure Barrett’s now-famous neighbor was in the courtroom. Happily, despite the hard time Ben had given him on cross two days before, he had agreed to come when Ben called him. If anything, he seemed eager to take the stand again.
“How’s the acting career coming?” Ben asked, smiling, as soon as Sanders was ensconced in the witness stand again.
“Much better, actually.” Sanders flashed his grin, the one that had been featured on front pages from coast to coast the day before. “It’s amazing what a few hours in court can do to jump-start a career.”
“I can imagine. Sir, I’ve called you back to the stand to ask you a single question. Earlier, you testified that you saw two strangers casing your neighborhood, and in particular, the home of Mayor Wallace Barrett.”
“That’s correct.”
“And you described one of those two people to the police as male, tall, lanky, wearing green fatigues and sporting a goatee.” Ben was careful to use the same words Loving had used to describe the man he saw meet Whitman in the park.
Sanders grinned. “That’s what I said, counsel. Sounds like you’ve done your homework.”
“You also testified that on one occasion, you saw the tall young man talking to another man in a brown sedan-type car, right?”
“Still correct.”
“But you didn’t recognize that man.”
“ ’Fraid not.”
Ben sidled toward the jury box. “Mr. Sanders, do you read the daily paper?
“Only the horoscopes.”
“Watch TV news?”
“Never.”
“Keep up with local current events?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“Do you think you could identify the members of Tulsa’s city council?”
“I couldn’t even name one.”
“Well, let me ask you this. Is the man you saw sitting in that brown sedan in this courtroom?”
Sanders seemed surprised, taken aback. His eyes began scanning the packed courtroom. “I don’t know.”
“Let me make it easier for you.” He walked over to the prosecution table and asked Bullock to stand. Bullock grudgingly complied. “Is this the man you saw in the brown sedan?”
Sanders shook his head. “No. Definitely not.”
Ben gave Bullock a gentle pat. “Looks like you’re off the hook this time, Mr. Prosecutor.” The jurors, as well as most of the courtroom, laughed.
Ben passed through the swinging doors into the gallery. He approached Brian Erickson, the city councilman from the far south district, and asked him to stand. “What about him, Mr. Sanders? Is he the one you saw in the car?”
Sanders stared at him carefully, then answered decisively. “No.”
Ben crossed the nave of the courtroom and stood beside Interim Mayor Whitman. “Would you please stand, sir?”