Q: How did he react to that?
A: He said he thought I’d been in love with him. I told him I liked him, that he had been very important to me. He asked what if Owen weren’t in the picture anymore, did I think I could see him again?
Q: And what did you say?
A: I said I was sorry but I just didn’t think so. Owen had changed me, or I had changed myself. I just wasn’t the same anymore, I was a different person. He said if Owen wasn’t there maybe I would be – the way I was, feel toward him the way I had. I thought Owen was always going to be there…
Q: It’s all right, Ms Shinn, it’s okay, take your time.
A: I said I didn’t know.
Q: Didn’t know what, May?
A: What I’d do if Owen wasn’t there. I couldn’t think about that. I believed him, Owen I mean. He wasn’t going to leave me. Then Andy… the judge… said what if something happened to Owen. What would I do then?
Q: And what did you say to that?
A: I think I said I didn’t know, I didn’t even want to think about something like that.
Hardy ran into Glitsky under the list of fallen policemen in the lobby of the Hall of Justice. It was 9:20. Court went into session in ten minutes and Andy Fowler had not yet arrived. Jane was calling his home, as she already had done twice since nine o’clock; there had been no answer either time.
Hardy told Abe a little about May Shinn’s damaging testimony.
‘Maybe Fowler just decided to cut and run.’
‘He wouldn’t do that. He put up a million dollars’ bail, Abe. He surrendered his passport.’
Glitsky, more knowledgeable in such matters, smiled. ‘You want a new passport? Give me ten minutes. Cost you fifty bucks.’
‘He wouldn’t do it.’
‘A million dollars doesn’t stand up against a life in the slammer. And for a man like Fowler… you know how long a judge’s life is going to be once he gets there? That’s the good news – he won’t suffer very long. The bad news is he’ll suffer real hard.’
‘He’s not going there, Abe.’
‘Right. I forgot.’
Jane came up, shaking her head no.
‘You know,’ Hardy said, ‘your dad is making me old before my time.’
‘He’ll get here.’
‘So will Christmas, Jane.’
Glitsky looked at his watch. ‘Contempt time starts in about three minutes.’
‘Yes, Mr Hardy?’
‘Your Honor, Mr Fowler called from a gas station about twenty minutes ago. He has car trouble. He was taking a cab from where he was – it shouldn’t be more than a half hour.’
Chomorro spent a minute rearranging things on the bench. He tried not to betray how angry he was and was not entirely successful. ‘Ms Pullios?’ he asked.
‘What’s our choice, Your Honor?’
The judge tried to smile at the jury. Hardy knew this was another prosecution bonanza. Guilty and late. Thought he was still a big shot…
‘Well, ladies and gentlemen, why don’t you all go out and have yourselves another cup of coffee.’ The smile vanished. ‘Mr Hardy, if Mr Fowler is not here at ten-o-one, I’m going to cancel his bail and put him back in custody – is that understood?’
‘Yes, Your Honor.’
To say nothing, Hardy thought, of his own contempt if it turned out that Andy had left the country or taken off- it wasn’t recommended procedure for attorneys to lie to the court, as he had just done. But what was his option?
He got up from the defense table and went back through the swinging door to the gallery, where Jane was sitting next to Glitsky, who had stayed around to view the proceedings.
‘What if he doesn’t show?’ Abe said.
‘Thanks, Abe, the thought never occurred to me.’ He looked at his ex-wife. ‘Any ideas?’
‘About what?’ Pullios had left the prosecution table and was standing at the end of the aisle, from where she just happened to overhear.
Hardy turned quickly around. ‘Lunch,’ he said. ‘We’re trying to decide between Chinese and Italian.’
How much had she heard? Whatever, she gave no sign. ‘It’s going to be a long day,’ she said. ‘Chinese, you eat it and a half hour later you’re hungry again. I’d do Italian.’ Her eyes left Hardy and went to Glitsky. ‘Hello, Abe. I almost didn’t recognize you at the defense side.’
The sergeant nodded tightly. ‘The other side was filled up,’ he said.
Pullios decided against whatever she was going to say, then moved crisply back through the gallery.
‘Bitch,’ Jane said.
Hardy said nothing. He crossed one leg over the other, looked at his watch and waited.
‘Your car broke down – the clutch went out. You called me from out on Lombard and took a cab.’
It was 9:58. Andy Fowler strolled up the center aisle as though he had the world by the tail. He shook Hardy’s hand and kissed his daughter on the cheek. Hardy thought he’d give him the short version and fill it in later.
‘My car is out in the parking lot. How about if I had a flat and they fixed it?’
Hardy sometimes wondered if the reason he hated to lie was because once you started it got so hard to remember exactly what you’d said. Had he told Chomorro it was the clutch? Or was it just car trouble? He knew to keep it simple. He probably kept it simple. ‘All right, it was flat. Jesus Christ, Andy, where the hell were you?’
Fowler had an embarrassed look. ‘May’s,’ he said quietly. ‘I finally went to see May.’
Before Hardy could react, the clerk was calling the court to order. The jury, by and large, hadn’t left the box. It was precisely ten o’clock.
Hardy didn’t hope to get much out of Turkel. The private investigator was wearing a turtleneck and a lime-green sports jacket. After he was sworn in he again made himself comfortable in the witness chair, making eye contact with the jury.
Hardy let him perform awhile, wasting time pretending to read his notes at his desk, then went to the center of the courtroom. ‘Mr Turkel,’ he began, ‘when Mr Fowler first called you, back in February, how did he sound?’
‘Objection. Conclusion.’
‘Sustained.’
Hardy tried again. ‘Can you recall any of the conversation you had, exactly?’
Turkel still had eyes for Pullios, but she seemed to have antagonized him somewhat by pushing yesterday – the private investigator hated rinky-dink testimony – especially being forced to give it by the rules of the court. He was now giving Hardy his full attention.
‘Well, the judge said, ’Hi, Em,‘ asked if I was busy and I said ’Yeah, a little,‘ like I always do.’ He smiled at the jury. ‘Trade secret.’
Pullios spoke up. ‘Your Honor…’
Chomorro leaned over. ‘Just answer the questions.’
‘Sure, Your Honor, just like I did yesterday.’ Chomorro, not getting it, nodded. ‘That’s right.’
Hardy thought he did get it… a prosecution witness deciding he might be able to do something for the defense. Cover your ass two ways to Sunday. ‘Go on,’ he said.
‘All right, then the judge said -’
Chomorro interrupted. ‘Mr Turkel, please refer to Mr Fowler either as Mr Fowler or as the defendant.’
Reasonable, Turkel agreed. ‘Sure your Honor. Sorry again.’
‘Let’s start again, shall we?’ Hardy said. ‘How long have you known the defendant?’
‘Your Honor? Relevance?’
Now Hardy looked to the jury. ‘Your Honor, I’d like to have Mr Turkel be able to get in a word of testimony at some point during this cross-examination. His relationship with the defendant is relevant if we’re to understand the context of the actual words used in their discussions together.’
This, of course, directly related to the testimony yesterday about Andy saying he’d in effect kill Nash. But Hardy was beginning to think if he could get Pullios running she might trip on her own feet. Chomorro overruled her and Turkel got to answer.
‘About four years, I’ve known Mr Fowler about four years.’
‘In what capacity?’
‘Mostly professional. Referrals, like that. But we get along okay. We played golf together a coupla times.’ Turkel looked at the jury again, explaining. ‘He saw me wear this nice green coat in court one time, figured I’d won the Masters.’