Hardy studied her face. Elizabeth Pullios, he was coming to understand, had a gift for sincerity. It probably played well in front of juries. ‘But then it was a skull case, and now it’s hot ink.’
‘No, what it is, is a homicide and I do homicides. I’ve worked my way up to there.’
Hardy looked longingly at his darts stuck in the board across the room. In lieu of them, he picked up his paperweight and leaned back in his chair, passing it from hand to hand. It might be unfair, and it might be manure, but it was a done deal, and he didn’t want to discuss it anymore. ‘Farris says the will was Nash’s handwriting,’ he said.
Pullios was right with him. ‘Definite?’
‘Until we get an expert, but it looks like it.’
‘That’s great, that’s what we need.’
‘What do we need?’
‘It’s a hell of a motive, don’t you think? Two million dollars?’
Hardy couldn’t help himself. Things were just falling too easily. If Pullios wanted this job, she ought to do a little work for it. ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that if May were going to collect money on Nash’s death, she wouldn’t have dumped him in the ocean.’
‘Didn’t she?’
‘I mean it was pure luck he washed ashore. How could she have known that?’
‘So?’
‘So if you were going to kill somebody for two million dollars, wouldn’t you want to make sure they found the body? You don’t get the money until he’s dead, right? And he’s not dead till there’s a body, unless you want to wait seven years or so.’
‘But there is a body.’
‘But she couldn’t have known that.’
He enjoyed watching her stew over that, but it didn’t last long. ‘I’ll be prepared for that argument,’ she said. ‘It’s good you brought it up. The great thing is the money angle.’
‘The great thing?’
‘Murder for profit. Makes it a capital case.’
‘A capital case?’
‘Absolutely,’ Pullios declared. ‘We’re going to ask the State of California to put May Shinn to death.’
21
Hardy sat next to Pullios in the courtroom, randomly chosen by computer for Department 11 in Municipal Court, which was where the arraignment in a no-warrant arrest, even on a capital case, was scheduled.
Glitsky was there, sitting next to Jeff Elliot in the mostly empty gallery seats. David Freeman, looking more disheveled than he had on Saturday, came through the low gate and shook hands cordially with both Pullios and Hardy, which was some surprise. Hardy found himself liking the guy and warned himself to watch it. If he was good at trial, he was by definition – like Pullios – a good actor. You could admire the technique, but beware of the man.
The judge was Michael Barsotti, an old, gray, bland fixture in his robes behind the desk. Barsotti had been in Muni Court forever and he wasn’t known for moving things along.
The court reporter sat at a right angle to Hardy, midway between the defendant’s podium and the judge. Assorted functionaries milled about – two or three bailiffs, translators, public defenders waiting to get clients assigned.
Hardy leaned over the table, organizing his binder, now knowing what his role, if any, would be. He wasn’t prepared for his first sight of May Shinn.
She looked so much smaller, diminished. The yellow jumpsuit hung on her. He supposed she’d been in her jail garb on Saturday, but his focus had been talking to her, eye to eye, concentrating on her face.
She walked up with the bailiff, hands cuffed, and stood at the podium next to Pullios, giving no indication she’d ever seen Hardy before, or anyone else.
The gravity of a murder case was underscored by the judge’s first words. Even Barsotti gained a measure of authority, casting off his boredom, caught up in the drama of the formal indictment being pronounced, the courtroom getting still.
‘May Shintaka,’ Judge Barsotti intoned, ‘you are charged by a complaint filed herein with a felony, to wit, a violation of section 187 of the Penal Code in that you did, in the City and County of San Francisco, State of California, on or about the twentieth day of June, 1992, willfully, unlawfully and with malice aforethought murder Owen Simpson Nash, a human being.’
‘How do you plead?’ Barsotti asked.
‘Not guilty, Your Honor.’ Freeman spoke for May. After Freeman’s booming oratorio in the interview room on Saturday, Hardy was struck by the modulation of his voice. He was matter-of-fact, conversational. But there was a fist under the glove. Suddenly, he put on his trial voice. ‘Your Honor, before we continue with this charade I’d like to move to have all charges against my client dismissed due to procedural error.’
‘On a murder charge, Mr Freeman? And already?’
‘Mr Hardy of the district attorney’s office interrogated my client on Saturday morning without informing her -’
‘I object, Your Honor.’ Elizabeth Pullios was up from the D.A.‘s desk, where she’d appeared during the recess. ’Mr Hardy informed Ms Shintaka that she had the right to have an attorney present and Ms Shintaka waived that right. The prosecution has a tape recording of that meeting.‘
‘I think we can establish coercion…’
Barsotti tapped his gavel. He sighed. ‘Mr Freeman,’ he said, ‘save it for the hearing. In the meantime, we’ll move on to bail.’
He adjusted his glasses and double-checked the computer sheet in front of him. The handwritten notation next to the computer line read ‘No bail.’
‘The prosecution asks that no bail be granted?’ he asked Pullios.
‘This is a capital murder case, Your Honor.’
Freeman turned and looked directly at Pullios. ‘You’re not serious.’
Barsotti tapped his gavel again. ‘Mr Freeman, please direct your remarks to the bench.’
‘Excuse me, Your Honor, I am shocked and dismayed by this mention of capital murder. I can see that this is alleged as a special-circumstances case, but I can’t believe that the state is asking for death.’
Pullios stood up. ‘Murder for profit, Your Honor.’
‘I assume you have some evidence to substantiate this claim, Ms Pullios.’
‘We do, Your Honor.’
‘Your Honor, Ms Shintaka poses no threat to society.’
‘No threat? She killed somebody last week!’
The sound of the gavel exploded in the room. ‘Ms Pullios, that’s enough of that. Both of you hold your press conferences outside this courtroom.’
Hardy was impressed. Barsotti might be a bland functionary, but he was in control here.
Freeman had recovered his cool. ‘Your Honor, my client has never before been accused of a crime, much less convicted.’
Pullios wasn’t slowed down by the rebuke. ‘Your Honor, the defendant was attempting to leave the jurisdiction when she was arrested.’
‘Mr Freeman, was your client attempting to flee?’
‘She was going to Japan on business, Your Honor. It’s our contention the arresting officer overreacted. She was intending to come back. There had been no warrant issued. She was going about her normal life, which included a previously planned trip to Japan.’
‘She’d only bought the ticket the day before, Your Honor, and she didn’t buy a return. She’d also packed many personal effects.’
‘And she’d left many more. She wasn’t fleeing the jurisdiction. She was going on a trip. She will gladly surrender her passport to the court. There is no risk of flight here.’
Pullios started to say something more, but Barsotti held up a hand. ‘I’m going to set bail at five hundred thousand dollars.’
Pullios leaned over and whispered to Hardy. ‘Close enough.’
‘A half million dollars is a lot of money, Your Honor.’
‘I believe that’s the point, Mr Freeman. We’ll set the preliminary hearing for -’
‘Your Honor.’ Freeman again.
Even Hardy the novice knew what was next. Although the defendant had an absolute right to a preliminary hearing within ten court days or sixty calendar days of arraignment, no defense lawyer in his right mind would agree to go to prelim that soon, at least until he’d gotten a chance to see what kind of evidence the prosecution had gathered. ‘The defense would request three weeks for discovery and to set.’