“And he was the one who wrote the serial numbers down?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Was he the one who put the money in the cash box?”
“No, he wasn’t. I did that.”
“You did so yourself?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You’re speaking now of your own personal knowledge. When you say the money was put in the cash drawer, you’re not taking Mr. Macklin’s word for it. And you’re not testifying to something Mr. Macklin did. You’re saying that you yourself placed that money in the cash box and put the cash box in the cash drawer?”
“That’s right.”
“And when did you do that?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When did you put the money in the cash box and put the cash box in the cash drawer?”
“Right then.”
“Right when?”
“The time we’re talking about. On the lunch hour. Friday. April 30th. When Mr. Macklin was in our office.”
“I see,” Steve said. “And before the defendant returned from lunch?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And did Mr. Macklin leave before she returned from lunch?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And why was that?”
“Like I said. We didn’t want her to know he was there.”
“Now, when the defendant returned from lunch-you didn’t fire her that afternoon?”
“No. Of course not.”
“You fired her the following Monday. Is that right?”
“Yes, it is.”
“She continued to work for the rest of the day? You let her go on working that afternoon just as if nothing had happened?”
“Yes, we did.”
“And you paid her her salary?”
“Yes, I did.”
“When did you pay her?”
“At the end of the day. Same as usual.”
“Just before you left work?”
“That’s right.”
“Well,” Steve said. “If I understand your testimony correctly, on Friday, April 30th, you went to the bank and took out eight hundred dollars in twenty dollar bills. You gave five hundred of that to Mr. Macklin. He wrote down the serial numbers. Mr. Macklin returned the five hundred dollars to you, leaving you once again with eight hundred dollars. Of that eight hundred dollars you put five hundred in the petty cash box in the petty cash drawer and gave three hundred to the defendant for her salary. Is that right?”
“No, it is not right,” A.D.A. Pearson cried angrily, lunging to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor!”
“Let’s have a sidebar,” Judge Dalrymple said. He rubbed his head, got down from his bench and met the lawyers and court reporter off to one side, where they could confer in low tones out of earshot of the jury. When the reporter was set up to take notes, Judge Dalrymple said, “All right, what’s the objection?”
“I object to counsel summarizing the witness’ testimony.”
Judge Dalrymple shook his head. “He’s merely asking him if certain things he’s testified to are true.”
“I further object on the grounds he’s assuming facts not in evidence.”
“What facts?”
Pearson took a breath. “Well,” he said. “Well, the way he’s phrasing it. That Macklin gave him back five hundred dollars, then he had eight hundred dollars of which he put five hundred in the cash drawer and gave three hundred to the defendant.”
“Which is exactly what happened,” Judge Dalrymple said, irritably. “Now you may not like it, but those happen to be the facts. If you don’t like the slant counsel is putting on them, bring it out on redirect. Meanwhile, the objection is overruled.”
Judge Dalrymple returned to his bench and the court reporter to his seat. A.D.A. Pearson reluctantly sat down and Steve Winslow approached the witness.
“The court reporter will read the question,” Judge Dalrymple said.
As the court reporter droned on through his long summation, Pearson realized that all he’d accomplished by his objection was emphasizing the point and allowing the jury to hear it twice. “Do you understand the question?” Steve said.
“Yes, I do.”
“Can you answer it?”
“Yes, I can,” Frank Fletcher said. “That is not what happened. I put the five hundred dollars Mr. Macklin gave me in the petty cash box.”
Steve smiled. “I understand that is your contention. But it’s not really the question I asked you. Let me make it simpler, Mr. Fletcher. How much’ money did you withdraw from the bank that day?”
“Eight hundred dollars.”
“In twenty dollar bills?”
“Objected to. Already asked and answered.”
“Overruled.”
“Yes. In twenty dollar bills.”
“You gave five hundred dollars of that money to Mr. Macklin?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Did he give you the money back?”
“Yes, he did.”
“Was that before or after you paid the defendant her salary?”
Frank Fletcher glared at Steve Winslow and did not answer.
“I’d like an answer to that, Your Honor,”
“Witness will answer the question,” Judge Dalrymple ruled.
“Was that before or after you paid Miss Dearborn her salary?”
“Before.”
“Later that afternoon you gave the defendant three hundred dollars?”
“Yes.”
“In twenty dollar bills?”
“That’s right.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fletcher. No further questions.”
A.D.A. Pearson was on his feet. His exasperation was evident. “Mr. Fletcher. You stated you gave five hundred dollars to Mr. Macklin?”
“That’s right.”
“He wrote down the serial numbers and gave the money back to you?”
“Yes, he did.”
“And it was that five hundred dollars that you put in the petty cash box in the petty cash drawer?”
“Yes, it was.”
“And there’s no chance whatsoever that you gave any of those twenty dollar bills to the defendant as part of her salary?”
“Absolutely not. I put them in the petty cash drawer.”
“Each and every bill?”
“Each and every bill.”
As soon as he said the words, they echoed in A.D.A. Pearson’s brain. Each and every. Each and every bill. Each and every juror. The same phrase Steve Winslow had tripped him up on during jury selection.
And it was the echo of that phrase that triggered the realization of what he’d just done.
Steve Winslow’s cross-examination of Frank Fletcher had raised the inference that Frank Fletcher had made a mistake and paid the defendant’s salary with some of the bills Mr. Macklin had recorded the serial numbers of. But Winslow hadn’t said so. He’d never actually voiced the thought. Never put it in words.
But Pearson had. He was the one making the suggestion. Granted in a negative context, but even so. He was the one bringing it up.
It took only a split second for all of that to register in A.D.A Pearson’s mind. But in that split second he had time to glance over at the defense table to see a totally demoralizing sight.
Opposing counsel Steve Winslow, grinning broadly.
5
Pearson fired back with Samuel Macklin. This was a change in plans. He’d intended follow Frank Fletcher with Marvin Lowery and save the detective for last. But after Fletcher’s poor showing, Pearson felt he needed to do something right away to win the jurors back.
In this regard, Macklin was a good bet. Solid, stocky, muscular, confident and self-assured, Macklin looked exactly like what he was-an ex-cop. He took the stand and testified to his twelve years on the force and seven years as a P.I.
Pearson’s smile let the jurors see how happy he was with Samuel Macklin’s qualifications.
“Now then, Mr. Macklin,” Pearson said. “Have you ever been employed by F. L. Jewelry?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Please tell us the specifics of that employment.”
“Certainly.” Macklin reached into his jacket pocket and took out a notebook. “If I could refer to my notes?”
“Please do.”
Macklin flipped the pages. “Here we are. I was approached on April 29th by Frank Fletcher of F. L. Jewelry to investigate the disappearance of money from his company’s petty cash drawer.”