Everybody in the courtroom waited for Millman to say he thought the objects were bones, that they were bigger than anything Colonel Sanders dished out, but Millman surprised them. “I thought they might be weapons,” he said.
Bones turned into rifles on that scary, dark night; it was an elegant move on Jaime’s part. He had just buttressed his legal-search argument with struts strong enough to support the cathedral at Chartres. The police had more leeway in the law when they thought they were seeing guns than when they thought they were seeing evidence. Nina didn’t believe for a second that Millman had really thought about weapons upon seeing a bunch of bones spilling out of a duffel bag.
“What did you do then?”
“I asked the driver to step out. I called Officer Graydon over. Then I asked the driver what he had on the back seat. He refused to answer, so I opened the rear passenger door behind the driver and pulled the bag out onto the street.”
The jury leaned forward again. Madeleine Frey threw a quick glance at Nina to see if she would pop up again to deny them their testimony, but Nina had done what she could. She sat there, hoping to express nothing more than a bland nonreaction while Millman said, “The contents fell out on the road. They appeared to be human bones, and pieces of what looked like a man’s blue suit.”
While a few winced, on the whole this was going to be a tough group-most eyes squinted with interest. A murmur traveled around the courtroom. Millman had the rapt attention of every person there.
“What did you do then?” Jaime asked.
“I attempted to question the driver about the bag. He said he wanted a lawyer, even though I hadn’t Mirandized him or arrested him. I told him he was being detained for questioning and I secured his vehicle and the bones, then put him in the police cruiser and took him to the station.”
“Did the driver say anything on that drive?”
“No, sir. Not one word then or after, so far as I know. He made no attempt to explain.”
“What happened then?”
“Well, Watch Commander said it was okay for him to make a call, so I let the defendant use the pay phone and he called his girlfriend.”
“About what time was this?”
“By then-I would say after three A.M. I escorted him into a witness room for questioning, and Detective Banta took custody.”
Jaime turned his back on Millman to look at Stefan. “And can you tell us the name on the driver’s license you examined that night?”
“Yes, sir, the name on the license and on the registration was Stefan Wyatt.”
“And do you recognize the person you took in for questioning early on Sunday morning, April thirteenth, based on the events you have just testified about, here in this courtroom today?”
“Yes, I recognize the defendant over there. That is the individual I stopped that night.” Millman pointed with his finger.
“Let the record show Officer Millman has identified the defendant, Stefan Wyatt,” Jaime said. “What, if anything, did you do then in connection with this traffic stop and detention?”
“I was on shift until eight A.M. that next morning. Officer Graydon and I called the two cemeteries right across the street from where we first saw the driver-the defendant. At about four-thirty A.M., I got a call on the radio to return to El Encinal Cemetery. Officer Graydon and I returned there and we met Jim Martinez, a groundskeeper. He took us over to a grave in the El Estero Street side of the cemetery, not far from the gate to Pearl Street. In spite of the dark, I could see some evidence of a disturbance there.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“A messed-up surface,” Millman said. “It didn’t look right.”
“What happened then?”
“Jim called in a backhoe operator, who brought floodlights. Oh. I almost forgot. There was a name on the grave. Constantin Zhukovsky. Jim went into the office and called his next of kin on the records and got permission from Alex Zhukovsky, the man’s son, to do the digging.”
So the potential legal issue that the grave had been searched without authority would go nowhere. Nina crossed off her note and waited. Jaime was covering every bet. His examination was a model of careful preparation. Maybe he would get his way this time, and bring Klaus’s distinguished career to a screeching halt. That ought to please Jaime.
“At a little after five-thirty in the morning we-or anyway the backhoe operator-started digging.”
“You were present? Who else was there?”
“Jim Martinez, the operator, Officer Graydon, and myself. And cups of coffee all around.”
“What happened then?”
“We could just see daylight on the horizon. By six-thirty-five A.M. the operator had dug a couple of feet down. He hit something, a woman’s arm, coming out of a trash bag.”
Well, the moment had arrived. All Nina felt was relief.
Madeleine Frey, plainly disturbed, retied the bow at her neck. The rest of the jurors chewed on the skin inside their mouths, scratched their heads, or engaged in other activities that expressed disquiet. They had been chosen in part because they were not newshounds, unlike the reporters in back who scribbled furiously.
Stefan faded into his chair as if he could disappear. He kept his hands on the table as Klaus had instructed, but balled into fists.
“A woman’s arm was sticking out of the trash bag?” Jaime said, although the words had been quite clear.
“A small arm I took for a woman’s. Yes.” Millman wasn’t an exaggerator, Nina had decided. When he bowed his head, remembering, he needed to do it.
“Protruding from a trash bag about four feet down?”
“That’s right. A couple of bags, big, black dirt-covered trash bags with yellow ties.”
Jaime put down his papers, screeched back in his chair, and asked, “What happened then?”
“I called into the station and made contact with Detective Banta. She said she would take over. I stayed and secured the premises until she and other officers from Homicide arrived about half an hour later.”
“And then?”
“And then I wrote up my report, went off duty, and went home.”
“Thank you, Officer Millman. I have nothing further,” Jaime said.
“We’ll take our lunch recess,” said the judge, with the usual words to the jury. Stefan, looking flushed, was led into the back room where the guard would give him his lunch. Klaus and Nina stood up.
“The flashlight-I’m going to do a computer search during lunch,” Nina said, feeling unable to avoid the presence of an elephant in the courtroom.
“You think I made a huge mistake there, don’t you, Miss Reilly?”
“It’s unheard of not to try to suppress traffic-stop evidence in a traffic case,” she blurted.
“You think I’m senile?” Klaus said. “You think I didn’t give the matter due consideration?” He wore an expression as proud and sure of itself as an American flag. “Well, I am old but my mind is intact. I didn’t judge it to be necessary.”
Nina stashed the files in her case. When the courtroom emptied, they left, Klaus in the lead, Nina following behind his erect posture and immaculate suit.
7
Wednesday 9/17
WEDNESDAY MORNING KLAUS CROSS-EXAMINED OFFICER MILLMAN, who diverged not a whit from his testimony. Nina fed Klaus a list of questions about the flashlight search, and he read them through reading glasses, putting them to the witness as she requested, along with a few of his own thrown in for good measure. For now, he behaved like a lamb, modulated and meek, but Klaus was no lamb. He never broadcasted his strength in advance but saved his power for the attack, or at least he always had in the past. She hoped to see it again during this case when they needed it most.
Nina had tracked down her flashlight case, which turned out not to be so significant. A flashlight search was legal anywhere an occupant of a vehicle could reach within it. Millman and Jaime must have read the case, too, because Millman practically quoted it line for line. Yes, Stefan could have reached into the back seat of his small car. Yes, Millman had merely flashed the light through the window. No, he did not insert the flashlight inside the vehicle.