“Did they have a warrant?”
“They didn’t need one. She told them to go ahead, like I told you.”
“Did they find anything?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention that? They found a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson .38, with four rounds fired, cleverly concealed in her underwear drawer.”
“It’s not the murder weapon,” Stone said confidently.
“How do you know? Did you kill them yourself, then hide the gun in her underwear drawer?”
“No, Dino told me the cops had found a snub-nosed .38 in a dumpster, a couple of blocks from where Hedger got his.”
“Well, I’m going to say a little prayer that ballistics makes the dumpster .38 the murder weapon, then I might get bail. I’m outta here.” He hung up.
Stone was surprised that ten minutes passed before Dino called. “You heard?”
“I hear some stuff I can’t believe,” Stone said.
“Looks like your client is in the clear, for the moment.”
“Oh? How did she manage that?”
“The .38 in the dumpster wasn’t a ballistics match. All of us here are very disappointed.”
“Well, pal, don’t give up hope,” Stone said. “The cops have just turned over Robbie’s place and found a snub-nosed .38 in her underwear drawer. But, before you get too excited, it could be an illegal search.”
“Just my luck,” Dino said.
“Herbie is on his way downtown to seek bail, as we speak.”
“Maybe I’ll pop over to the courthouse and attend that arraignment, instead of getting all my news from you.” Dino hung up.
Stone called Herbie on his cell.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Stone.”
“I’m just walking into the courtroom.”
“The .38 the cops found in the dumpster isn’t a match. My advice is to claim an illegal search.”
“They say they got her permission.”
“Find out what she says, and if she says she did, tell her to shut up. Let me know how you come out.”
They both hung up.
41
Herbert Fisher sat down on a bench next to his new client, Roberta Calder. He wanted to address her with his hands around her throat, but he observed courtroom decorum.
“You wouldn’t believe what I went through, who I had to share a cell with,” Roberta said.
“All right, Robbie,” he said, “tell me what you’ve done.”
“Done? Me?”
“Why didn’t you telephone me, as Stone advised, when the police arrived?”
“I did telephone you, and you didn’t show up.”
“You texted me, and you didn’t tell me where to come.”
“Well!” she exploded, causing him to put a finger to his lips.
“Did you tell the police they could search your apartment?”
“I did not.”
“What, exactly, did you say to them?”
“I told them they wouldn’t find anything they were looking for in my home!”
“In exactly those words?”
“More or less.”
“I need to know exactly what words you spoke to them.”
“I may have said something like, ‘Go ahead, you won’t find anything in my home!’”
“Can you see how they might have interpreted the words ‘Go ahead’ as an affirmative response to their request to search your apartment?”
“Well, interpretation is their problem, isn’t it?”
“We’ll see shortly. Now, what else did you say to them?”
“Absolutely nothing.”
“Did they ask you any questions?”
She shrugged. “I suppose.”
“What was the first question they asked you?”
“They said, ‘Where’s the gun?’”
“And how did you respond?”
“I said, ‘Go ahead, you won’t find a gun here.’”
Herb took a very deep breath and let it out slowly. “But they did find a gun, didn’t they?”
“Well, that’s what they said. They shouldn’t be rummaging around in a person’s underwear drawer.”
“Did they show you a gun?”
“Yes, a very small one.”
“Had you seen the gun before?”
“I may have, during the short time Randy and I lived together.”
“Was it his gun?”
“Well, who else’s?”
“Did he show it to you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he say, ‘This is my gun’?”
“Words to that effect.”
“Did he ever fire the gun in your presence?”
“Only once,” she said.
“How many times?”
“On one occasion, but he fired it more than once.”
“How many times?”
“Several.”
“Can you put a number on it?”
“Eight?”
“The gun in question holds only six rounds.”
“What are rounds?”
“Bullets.”
“Okay, less than eight times. I’m not sure how many.”
“Where did the bullets go?”
“Out the barrel, of course.”
“What was the gun pointed at?”
“Me!”
“But he missed?”
“Obviously. I’m not dead.”
“Did the bullets strike something behind you, like a wall?”
“I suppose.”
“Where were you standing at the time?”
“In the corner of my living room.”
They were interrupted by the bailiff, who shouted, “Roberta Hedger!”
Herb stood up, taking Robbie with him. “Here, Your Honor,” he called out and half-led, half-dragged Robbie to the well of the court.
“Roberta Hedger, two counts of murder!” the bailiff shouted.
“Are you Roberta Hedger?” the judge asked her.
“I most certainly am not!” Robbie retorted. “I never took that beast’s name.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “This is Roberta Calder who was married to Randall Hedger, one of the victims. She retained her maiden name.” He hoped to God there was paperwork supporting that.
“All right, Ms. Calder,” the judge said. “Let the record show that the defendant is Roberta Calder. How do you plead?”
“Not guilty, Your Honor,” Herb said.
“Definitely not guilty!” Roberta shouted.
“Your Honor, the defendant is an upstanding member of her community, with a national reputation as a designer, and is without a record of arrest or conviction. She operates a successful custom-clothing business from the basement of her home and employs approximately two dozen people in this endeavor. The business requires her constant presence in order to operate, and we request that she be released on her own recognizance.”
The prosecutor, a woman who appeared to be so young she couldn’t vote, was on her feet. “Objection, Your Honor. The people have in its possession a pistol identified by ballistic science to be the murder weapon.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “Counsel’s assertion is incorrect. Police ballistics have now confirmed that the weapon found in a dumpster two blocks from one of the murder scenes was not employed in either murder. This news has, apparently, not yet reached the prosecution.”
An assistant tugged at the sleeve of the prosecutor and whispered something in her ear. “Your Honor,” she said, “the prosecution withdraws the assertion regarding the possible murder weapon, but can confirm that a search of the defendant’s home produced another weapon of identical caliber and manufacture.”
“And how is ballistics coming along with that one?” Herb asked.
“We expect to have a new ballistics report momentarily,” she replied, “and we also note that the police found four of the six rounds held in the weapon as having been fired.”
“Your Honor,” Herb said. “Those rounds were fired by Randall Hedger at my client and, presumably, still rest in the wall of her living room. The police search, which incidentally was not conducted under a search warrant or with permission from my client, did not include a search for the spent rounds.”