“Someone tried to off your client once, remember? Trashed your place, took a few potshots at you. From what I hear, these ANGER dudes are seriously militant. I don’t want you to get caught in the cross fire like the last lawyer did.”
“Understood.”
“Not that I normally think taking out defense attorneys is a bad thing. But I make an exception for you.”
“Thanks, Mike. You’re sweet.”
“I suppose there’s no point in trying to talk you into dropping the case.”
“ ‘Fraid not.”
“Right. Can’t be sensible. You get that from Ben. I could probably get the local PD to assign a security detail.”
“I can’t do my job with security dogs hanging over me.”
“Yeah. That’s what Ben said, too. Give my best to that former brother-in-law of mine, okay?”
“Will do, Major. Talk to you again soon.”
Christina gazed at herself in the mirror. No matter how many times she tried a case, she knew she would never get used to it. The pressure, from the first smash of the gavel to the last, was unrelenting. And it was worse when the stakes were so high. Worst of all when she knew the next witness was a critical one, perhaps the critical one. And she had to cross-examine.
Life was simpler when she had been a legal assistant. But not as much fun.
Before she left the ladies’ room, she made the traditional last-minute glamour check. Hair all properly pinned back. Check. No makeup smears. Check. Lipstick not on teeth. Check. Lunch not in teeth. Check. Everything as it should be.
She took a deep breath and smiled at that cute freckled face in the mirror. Show time.
Roger Hartnell was waiting for her in the corridor outside the courtroom. He was using a cane today but seemed to be able to get around reasonably well. “Ms. McCall! I need to speak to you.”
“I’m surprised to see you up on your feet so soon.”
“Turned out it wasn’t as bad as it looked. Bullet just winged me.”
“Hurt much?”
“Only when I move.”
“Then why aren’t you at home in bed?”
“Because I need to talk to you.”
“Look, if it’s about my dropping the case-”
“I’ve just come from a meeting of the ANGER steering committee.”
“Mr. Hartnell, I understand how you feel about our representation. I’m sure if I’d known Tony I’d feel the same way. But I can’t drop the case. So no matter what you and your committee think-”
“Miss McCall, you have been targeted.”
Christina felt a cold grip at the base of her spine. “You mean-the sniper-the figure hanging in the lobby.”
“I don’t know anything about that. We don’t condone violence. What I’m talking about is… publicity.”
“I’m not following.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a display mounted on stiff cardboard. “Starting tomorrow morning, these ads are going to run in major newspapers and magazines all across the country.”
The layout contained four photos. The top and largest bore the caption: THIS IS TONY BAROVICK. Below, in a photo that appeared to have been taken at Remote Control, were seven people, including Roger and Shelly and the club owner, Mario Roma. THESE ARE HIS FRIENDS. The third photo was captioned: THIS IS THE MAN WHO KILLED TONY BAROVICK. Johnny Christensen, dudded out in his prison coveralls. And the final row of photos was captioned: THESE ARE HIS FRIENDS.
There were only two. Ben and Christina.
Christina felt her jaw stiffening. “You can’t do this. This is slanderous.”
“Our attorneys assure me it is not. All we say is that you have befriended your client, which you clearly have done.”
“I’m not talking about me. I’m talking about Johnny. This ad calls him a killer-which has not yet been established in a court of law. He could sue you.”
“But by the time that case comes to trial, this murder trial will be over, and he will be a convicted killer. Imagine a convicted killer crying because we called him a killer a week early. I just don’t see him raking in the dough.”
Christina pushed the layout away in disgust. “You’re determined to see that Johnny is convicted, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. I loved Tony. I want his killer punished.”
“No, you want Johnny punished. You have no idea who killed Tony. All you know is what the police tell you. And take it from me, Roger-sometimes they’re wrong.”
“Not this time. I’m certain of it.” He put the layout back in his briefcase. “And soon the rest of the world will be certain, too.”
As soon as Christina saw DA Drabble coming through the metal detector, she stepped forward. “Oh, Richard! Glad I bumped into you. The courtroom assignment has been changed.”
He looked at her warily. “It has?”
“Yeah. Apparently a larger room opened up when Judge Pennington finished a big rape trial. We’re going to take over his space.”
“And that’s?…”
“Top floor. End of the corridor.”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Vengeance is sweet, huh?”
“I don’t get you.”
“But he who laughs last, laughs best.”
“You’re just a bundle of clichés this morning, aren’t you?”
He laughed. “Nice try, Ms. McCall, but you’re not going to throw me for a loop on my own home court.”
“You don’t believe the court has been moved?”
“Oh, I can believe that easily enough. I was in the clerk’s office last night and heard them talking about a reassignment. But they were discussing the possibility of going to Judge Cantrell’s courtroom. In Building Three.”
“But there was-”
“So nice try, little lady, but it’ll take a better scam than this lame bit of business to make me late for Lacayo’s court.” He grabbed his briefcase and hurried merrily down the corridor.
Ben came up behind her. “We really are going to Judge Pennington’s courtroom, aren’t we?”
Christina nodded. “Cantrell’s has to be fumigated. Someone saw a rat.”
“And you knew Drabble wouldn’t believe you when you told him.”
“Which is why I met him at the door. Before he had a chance to hear it from someone he trusted.” She checked her watch. “He’s going to be fifteen minutes late. At the least.”
Ben whistled. “You know, Christina, you are just evil.”
She held up her hands. “I can’t help it if he’s a suspicious person.” She smiled. “Who needed to learn a lesson about the consequences of messing with me.”
Among the reasons Christina wasn’t looking forward to this cross was the fact that Amber Wilson seemed like a nice person who was, after all, only doing her job. But in this case, the coroner’s testimony was too important to give her a pass. She had to cross the lady as if she were a combination of Satan, Hitler, and Richard Nixon combined.
Once court finally got under way-and Judge Lacayo finished tongue-lashing Drabble and his entourage for being late-the DA began his direct examination.
“Dr. Wilson, would you please tell us when you became involved in the Tony Barovick case?”
Wilson twisted around to face the jury. “I arrived soon after the body was discovered.”
“And what did you find?”
“A severely damaged corpse. As was immediately apparent, the victim had a shattered jaw, two shattered legs, and numerous cuts and abrasions. The body was covered with blood.”
“He was dead?”
“Very.”
“Were you able to determine a cause of death?”
Wilson ran a hand through her brown hair. “Technically, the cause of death was cranial asphyxia-technically, that’s the cause of almost every death. What caused oxygen starvation of the brain is more difficult to say. In this case, the victim had been so mistreated, had been so… damaged in so many ways, it’s impossible for me to say exactly which blow killed him. It could have been the one to his neck and jaw causing a closure of the respiratory passages in the neck, or a compression of the major blood vessels in the neck-the carotid arteries and jugular veins. The blows to the legs could have caused shock, leading to heart failure.”