“Well, given what happened-”
“Aha!” Ben pointed across the podium. “Now we get to the truth of the matter. You’re not testifying about what you know. You’re filling in the blanks of what you don’t know, based on what happened later.”
“It’s common sense-”
“It is not common sense. It’s attitude. You could’ve filled in the gaps in such a way as to exonerate your friend. But instead you chose to do it in a way that would crucify him.”
Granny rose to her feet. “Your honor, he’s not questioning the witness.”
Ben continued unabated. “That was a decision you made, Rick, not him. You decided to paint Zak in the worst way possible. And why, I wonder? Could it be because he was promoted over you and made head of this Green Rage team? Could it be that you thought with him executed, you’d have Deirdre all to yourself?”
“Your honor!” Granny shouted. “This witness is not on trial.”
Judge Pickens pounded his gavel. “I’ve had enough of this, Kincaid. Sit down.”
“What about it, Rick?” Ben continued, shouting over the din. “Tell us why you turned Judas on your best friend! Tell us why you’re so desperate to get him out of the way!”
“Kincaid! Sit down!” Judge Pickens had risen to his full height. He was towering over the bench, his arms outstretched. He looked like he was about to throw the gavel across the room like a tomahawk. “This examination is over!”
Ben folded up his notebook and returned to his table. He just hoped his dramatic demonstration had some impact with the jury.
Ben’s eyes met Christina’s. They didn’t have to speak; he knew what they were both thinking. The jury had it all now: means, opportunity-and motive. It would’ve been a stretch to make the jury believe Gardiner was killed just because he was a logger cutting down trees. But a malicious adulterer taking out a jealous husband? That was altogether too easy. That had the ring of truth to it.
The very dangerous ring of truth.
Chapter 56
After a much-needed fifteen-minute break, Judge Pickens reassembled the court for the last witness of the day. The last witness the prosecution was going to call.
And thank God for that, Ben thought. Could it possibly get any worse than this?
As it turned out, it could.
“The State calls Marco Geppi to the stand.”
Ben watched as Geppi was escorted to the front of the courtroom. Ben knew he had been Rick’s cellmate in the county jail for the last several days, but Zak had sworn that he hadn’t known the man before and that he hadn’t told him anything incriminating, so Ben hadn’t worried about it. At this point, however, it was becoming increasingly clear to Ben that Zak’s word wasn’t worth a hell of a lot. And he also had learned that Granny didn’t do anything for no reason. If she wanted to put this man on the stand-as the last witness in her case, no less-that was reason enough to worry.
Geppi wasn’t wearing prison greens, but it wasn’t hard to imagine him in them, either. His hair was unkempt and his chin was stubbled. Had Granny decided cleaning him up wasn’t worth the trouble? Or had she perhaps decided he would be more convincing if he looked like exactly what he was?
“Would you state your name, please?” Ben noticed that Granny wasn’t smiling; for once, she was not suggesting to the jury that this witness was her friend.
Geppi cleared his throat, slumped forward slightly. “Marco Geppi.”
“And where do you live?”
“At the moment, here in Magic Valley.”
“And where do you currently reside?”
Geppi cleared his throat. “Cell Five of the county jail.”
That got the jurors’ attention. “Why are you there?”
“I’ve been arrested. Possession of an illegal substance.”
“Narcotics?” Granny was smart enough to get all the dirt out early, rather than to leave it for Ben to make hay about on cross.
“Yeah. That’s the charge, anyway.”
“And is anyone else currently residing in the county jail?”
“Yeah. Since I arrived, there’s been a guy in the cell next to me. Him.” He pointed across the courtroom. “George Zakin. He told me to call him Zak.”
“Did you know Mr. Zakin beforehand?”
“No. Never met the guy.”
“Had you heard of his organization-Green Rage?”
“Can’t say as I had.” He bowed apologetically toward the jury. “I don’t read the papers much.”
“Well then,” Granny continued, “in the time that you’ve spent with Mr. Zakin, have you come to like him?”
“Oh, he’s all right. Kind of a chatterbox. If I’ve got to be that close to someone for that long, I usually prefer it to be someone who ain’t so fond of talking.”
Some of the jurors smiled.
Granny crossed to the jury side of the podium. “What exactly does Mr. Zakin like to talk about?”
“He’s probably gotten to ’bout everything at one time or another.”
Granny allowed herself a grin. “Can you identify some of his favorite themes?”
“Oh, you know. Trees are dyin’ all over the world and soon there won’t be any left. Magic Valley may have the world’s largest cedar. Loggers are all dimwits and scumbags. That sort of thing.”
“I see. Did he by any chance mention the murder incident that caused him to be incarcerated?”
Ben felt a cold clutching at the base of his spine. He’d prepared enough witnesses for direct to know that nothing is left to chance. You don’t ask a question unless you know the answer-and like it.
“Oh, yeah. In great detail.”
Ben could see the jurors ever so slightly inching forward. They understood now why this witness had been called. And they were anxious to hear what he had to say.
“And why would he talk to you?”
“Well, in part, ’cause he was bored, and in part, I think, ’cause he likes to brag. He’s pretty fond of talkin’ about himself, or so it seemed to me. I don’t know why. Maybe he thought if he made himself out to be the big man, I’d be less likely to hassle him.”
“For instance, what did he say?”
“Well, he bragged about how good he was with bombs, how many bombs he’s planted to blow up loggers’ equipment and stuff. Man, that boy hates loggers-just hates ’em. His face gets all twisted up and weird every time he talks about them. He’s kinda crazy on the subject.”
Ben heard a whispering in his ear. “This isn’t true,” Zak said. “This conversation never happened.”
Granny continued her examination. “Did he mention any specific crimes?”
“Well, he mentioned some logger named Gardiner.”
“Gardiner?” Granny repeated. “Dwayne Gardiner?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Man, he really had it in for that poor chump.”
“Do you know why?”
“Yeah. He told me all about it. Told me he’d been drill-er, um, you know … sleeping with the man’s wife.”
“He told you this?” Granny reiterated. “The defendant himself told you this?”
“Oh, yeah. In great detail. More than I wanted to hear. He told me about all the positions they tried and all the kinky stuff they did. I’m no prude, but even I was kinda grossed out by some of it.”
“Did he tell you anything more about this … relationship?”
“Yeah. Told me that just before the murder, the chump husband-this Gardiner sap-found out about it. Said he was pretty damn angry, too. Threatened Zak within an inch of his life.”
“And what did Zak say he did in response?”
Geppi squirmed a bit in his chair. He glanced up at Granny, then proceeded. “He said he figured he’d better go after Gardiner before Gardiner came after him.”
“The defendant said that?” Granny said in a voice the jury couldn’t possibly miss. “And you heard it?”
“Sure thing. With my own ears. Told me all about how he planted a bomb on this thing, this … um, tree cutter, that’s what it was. Set the bomb, then lured the poor chump out there, shot him, got away to a safe distance-then blew the thing sky-high.”