“There are some trees.”
I looked at my notes. “At least five large oaks, with very thick trunks, lie between your house and the carriage house, isn’t that right?”
“I suppose.”
“Also, there’s a tall hedge between the two, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“It’s about five feet, is it not?”
“Yes, but we keep it trimmed.”
“But it hasn’t been trimmed recently, has it?”
“No. It was due in early June, but the lawn service isn’t overly reliable. Sometimes in the summer months, the service gets too busy, what with people spraying chemicals everywhere, willy-nilly.” She shuddered.
“It was raining the afternoon of June 18, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“The storm began about three o’clock, didn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Objection,” Ryerson said. “What’s the relevance of this weather report?”
Fuck you. “Your Honor, the relevance will be clear if the young Mrs. Ryerson can be patient.”
“Good. Overruled,” Justice Millan said, and Ryerson flounced into her chair like Scarlett O’Hara. Fiddle-dee-dee.
I cleared my throat. “Do you recall that the sky became very dark as the storm came up, Mrs. Mateer?”
“Yes. It got quite dark. It was the tail end of that tropical storm. Wind was gusting, trees were knocked over. Conestoga Road was blocked for some time, by a branch, in fact.” Her gold bangles jingled as she folded her hands on her lap.
“Mrs. Mateer, wasn’t it raining hard when you saw this person?”
“Yes.”
“It was a driving rain, was it not?”
“A drenching rain, I would say. I was pleased to see it, as a gardener.”
I thought of asking her about the garden club but dismissed it. With what was to come next, it would sound like I was bringing Kate into it. “Did the person you saw have the hat down over his or her eyes?”
“Only partly.”
“Do you remember if they held the brim of the hat, as if to shield themselves from the rain?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.” Mrs. Mateer closed her eyes, trying to remember, and her eyelids fluttered slightly. “Maybe, I don’t know,” she said, nodding, and Ryerson made a note.
“Did you notice any jewelry on his or her hand as they held the hat brim?”
She paused. “No. He may have been wearing gloves, I don’t recall for sure.”
“Did the person have the collar of the raincoat up around their face?”
“I don’t recall.”
Ryerson made another note.
“And you testified the person was rushing, too, so you only saw him or her for a short time?”
Justice Millan harrumphed from the dais. “Do we have to say ‘his or her’ every time, counselor? It sounds so politically correct.”
The reporters laughed. Justice Millan gave good copy.
“Your Honor, this witness’s identification of the defendant is sketchy at best. I can’t concede it was even a man that she saw.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Millan said. “But dump the ‘his or her.’ I’ll remember you have a continuing objection. I’m a woman judge, if you haven’t noticed.”
The gallery chuckled.
“Mrs. Mateer, you testified that you saw this person rush to a black Jaguar?”
“Not exactly. I testified that I saw Judge Hamilton rush to the Jaguar.”
Ouch. “And he got into the car and reversed out the driveway?” I tried to picture it in my mind.
“Yes.”
And the car was backward. “He didn’t turn around in the driveway and drive out with the front of the car facing you?”
“No, there’s not enough room, one has to reverse out. It’s quite inconvenient.”
I paused a minute and the courtroom fell silent. A reporter coughed in the back, and there was whispering. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something was nagging at me as I pictured Fiske running to his car and jumping in.
“Mrs. Mateer,” I asked, “did this person enter the car from its left side or its right?”
She paused. “What do you mean?”
“When the person got in the car, did he enter on the right side or the left?”
She blinked. “I don’t recall. The driver’s side, of course.”
I was building on something, but didn’t know exactly what. I got the same sort of hunch at the poker table, and followed it every time. “You say the driver’s side, Mrs. Mateer, but was it the left or the right side of the car?”
“The right, I believe.” She held up a bejeweled index finger. “Wait… it was the left.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Ryerson said. “Defense counsel is trying to confuse the witness.”
Not this time. “Your Honor, I’m trying to understand exactly what Mrs. Mateer saw. The Commonwealth calls her an eyewitness, after all.”
“Overruled.” Justice Millan nodded, and Ryerson sulked in her chair.
“Mrs. Mateer, I need to know whether the person you saw got into the car from the right or the left. Please take a minute and think about it.”
Ryerson sighed, making a great show of her exasperation, and Fiske tensed at my elbow. He knew where I was going and suddenly so did I.
“The left side,” Mrs. Mateer said. “I’m positive now. The left.”
GO FOR IT! Fiske wrote on my legal pad, but I shook my head. Better to save it for later. It wasn’t a home run at a preliminary hearing but might be enough to constitute a reasonable doubt at trial. I didn’t want to show my hand.
“Mrs. Mateer, you’re sure that the person got into the car on the left in a great hurry, started it immediately, and drove off?”
“Yes.” She drew a deep breath, now that she felt on safer ground.
“And the person didn’t slide over in the front seat to start the car?”
“No.”
“He jumped in and started right off?”
“Yes.”
Fiske wrote GO! GO! GO! on the pad.
No, I wrote back. Not today.
He pursed his lips. He couldn’t have been as good a chess player as I thought. I had learned something, but the police wouldn’t drop a murder charge on it. Fiske’s Jaguar, being British-made, had the steering wheel on the right, so the driver would have entered from the right side of the car. Either Mrs. Mateer wasn’t so good on the details or Fiske was being framed for murder by someone who knew his license plate but didn’t know about his steering wheel. Or who had forgotten.
“Do you have any further questions, Ms. Morrone?” Justice Millan said. “Let’s keep things moving.”
“Just a couple, Your Honor. Mrs. Mateer, how often do you look out of your kitchen window?”
“Every time I’m at the sink. And other times, to check on my garden.”
“I understand.” You’re not a nosy old bird. “Did you ever see people coming and going from the carriage house?”
“Yes.”
“It was mostly men who came and went, isn’t that right?”
“Objection, Your Honor!” Ryerson said. “What is defense counsel suggesting?”
“Your Honor, I’m hoping Mrs. Mateer can help me understand who visited the carriage house. That is highly relevant to proving who killed Patricia Sullivan, which is the only thing the Commonwealth should be concerned about.”
“Overruled,” Justice Millan said. “She’s entitled to inquire.”
“Mrs. Mateer, you said you rented to Patricia Sullivan for a two-year period. Did you happen to notice that men visited her during that time?”
“Well, yes.”
“Would you say that many men visited her or just a few?”
She paused. “I would have to say more than a few.”
“You would have to say ‘many,’ am I right?”
“Yes.”
The reporters started yapping, as I knew they would. I wondered how Fiske would take this. Or Paul. “Mrs. Mateer, did you meet any of these men?”
“What?”
“Let’s back up. You work in the garden out back, and you’re a gardener, correct?”
“Yes.”