Lenore moves to the podium with all the purpose of a bull terrier routing a rat.
“Good morning.” She says this to Frost, whose tight smile is like two rubber bands.
“Sergeant Frost. You say you were told that the electronic wire worn by Ms. Hall that night malfunctioned. Is that correct?”
“Right.”
“When were you told this?”
“I don’t know. A few minutes before I went upstairs.”
“So you weren’t outside the door the entire time?”
“No.”
“How long were you there?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch.” Dodge the details.
“More than a minute?”
“Yeah.”
“More than five minutes?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than two minutes?”
“Like I say, I don’t know.”
“So it could have been less than two minutes?”
“Probably more than that.”
“Were you standing there or kneeling?”
“Standing, I think.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not exactly,” says Frost.
“Could you have been lying on the floor?”
He looks at her as if the question is intended to make him look foolish. “No.”
“So you were either standing or kneeling, for two minutes or five minutes, and at some time before you went upstairs, you don’t know precisely when, you were told that the decoy’s electronic wire had failed?”
Frost looks at her, an expression to kill, but offers no other answer.
“Who told you that the wire had failed?”
He thinks for a moment. “I can’t remember. One of the other officers.”
“Well, let’s try and pin it down. You say there were only four of you assigned to the unit that night. Right?”
“Yeah.”
“And it couldn’t have been Ms. Hall. She was busy in the room?”
“Right.”
“So it either had to be your partner, Smathers, or the other person. Who was the other person assigned to the unit?”
“It was Officer Smathers,” says Frost. Suddenly his memory is better. “I remember he was monitoring the wire.”
This does not divert Lenore. “Who was that fourth person in the unit that night?”
“Brass,” says Frost. He’s shaking his head in uncertainty. “Somebody I didn’t know. A lieutenant assigned from headquarters. I think he was monitoring operations.”
“He was monitoring your performance and you never got his name?”
“I was told,” he says. “I just can’t remember.”
“But you can remember all the details of the conversation between the defendant and Ms. Hall.”
“I was concentrating on that,” he says.
“I’ll bet,” says Lenore.
“We can do without the commentary,” says Radovich.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Was that usual, Sergeant? Somebody assigned from headquarters?”
“From time to time,” says Frost. “They liked to see how we were performing. In case there were complaints.”
“Have you been the target of a lot of complaints, Sergeant?”
“No.”
“And you don’t remember the lieutenant’s name?”
He thinks for a moment. “No. It should be in the report.”
In fact it is not. I had looked at Lenore askance when Frost testified that there were four people in the unit that night. The arrest report reveals only three: Hall, Frost, and Smathers. The mystery man is new to the equation.
“Have you seen this officer since?”
“Hmm.” Considered thought. “No.”
“Let’s talk about the wire,” says Lenore. “Had this ever happened before? Trouble with the electronics?”
“A few times,” he says.
“Do you know what causes it?”
Frost makes a face, an expression for a million reasons. “The things are touchy. Sometimes they get wet,” he says.
“Was it raining inside the room that night, Sergeant?”
Some smiles in the press row.
Frost looks at her, the picture of sarcasm. “No.”
“Was the decoy taking a shower?”
“No, but she might have been sweating.”
“Was she sweating?”
“How do I know? I wasn’t inside the lady’s bra.”
“You couldn’t see her, could you?”
“No.”
“There was no keyhole in the door, was there?”
“No.”
“What kind of lock was it?”
“Electronic,” he says. “You slip a card in a slot and pull it out, and the lock releases. You push the latch and the door opens.”
“How thick was that door, Sergeant Frost?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay any attention.”
“Well, was it one inch thick, two inches?”
“Like I say. I didn’t pay any attention.”
“Was it heavy, hard to push, when it was unlocked?”
“It was a hotel door,” he says. “I didn’t break it down. I just opened it.”
“Do you know if it was wood or metal?”
“I didn’t send it out for analysis. I couldn’t say.”
“Sergeant Frost, would it surprise you if I told you that door was an inch and a half thick, steel frame and outer case, filled with insulation, so that it was not only fire rated, but virtually impervious to sound?”
He makes a face. Gives her a shrug. “Maybe the walls were thin,” he says.
“What was the tone of voice Ms. Hall and the defendant used that night?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, were they shouting, whispering, talking in a normal tone?”
“I don’t know.”
“A moment ago you told us you heard them.”
“That’s right,” he says.
“So what tone of voice were they using?”
“Normal,” he says. “Normal talk.”
Lenore turns away from him at the podium. She drops her voice an octave: “Sergeant, when did you last have your hearing checked?”
“What?”
“Objection, Your Honor. A cheap trick,” says Kline. “I would have hoped for something more from worthy counsel,” he says.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but you were able to hear me.” Lenore turns Kline into her own witness.
“You were facing toward me, away from the witness,” he says.
“The witness by his own admission had a locked door between himself and the two people inside the room that night, an inch and a half of steel and sound insulation, and he just told us they were talking in a normal voice. If he couldn’t hear me, he couldn’t hear them.”
“Now you’re an acoustics expert,” says Kline. “You have no idea what he heard that night.”
“Neither does he.” Lenore points at Frost. “Next he’ll tell us he has X-ray vision. And I’m sure that before we’re all finished he’ll don a cape and tights in a bathroom stall somewhere, and fly around the room for us.”
“Counsel”-Radovich doesn’t like this-“if you have objections, couch ’em the right way, and address ’em to the court.”
“I’d like this. . this. . this. .” Kline searches for a term sufficiently low to describe Lenore’s antics. “. . this stunt”-the best he can do-“stricken from the record.”
“Overruled,” says Radovich. “The witness’s ‘what’ will remain in the record.”
“I’d like an answer to my question,” says Lenore. “When was your hearing last checked?” Insult to injury.
“I have a complete physical every year.”
“Does that involve a complete auditory test, or do they just look in your ears?”
“Look in the ears,” he says.
“Did they find anything inside?” she says.
“Objection.” Kline’s back up.
“Sustained. Ms. Goya, you’re testing the patience of this court.”
“Sorry, Your Honor.”
“Get on with it.”
Kline sits down.
Lenore studies the ceiling tiles of the courtroom for a moment, collecting her thoughts.
“Sergeant,” she says, “were there any instructions given to Ms. Hall that night in order to ensure her personal safety?”
“Like what?” he says.
“Well, here you had a young woman, going behind locked doors with strange men. You had no idea whether potential suspects might be armed. There must have been some precautions taken. Was she armed?”
“No.”
“Was there any kind of signal that she might give if she got in trouble?”