“Just keep your fingers crossed,” I say, before Hatchet comes in and we’re all rising to our feet.
Sykes takes the stand, and Hatchet reminds him that he is still under oath from his last trip there.
“Mr. Sykes, Walter Timmerman was the founder of Timco, the company you currently preside over as CEO. Is that correct?”
“It is.”
“And how many years did you know Mr. Timmerman?” I ask.
He thinks for a moment before answering. “Twenty-two.”
“He was instrumental in your career advancement?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Mr. Sykes,” I say, “do you remember when I came to visit you in your office?”
“I do.”
“And do you recall that I told you I had evidence that you had been having an affair with Walter Timmerman’s wife, Diana?”
“Yes. I recall that.”
Sykes seems pretty much at ease. This is what he expected was coming, and he is prepared for it.
“And did you admit that you were having an affair with Diana Timmerman?”
“I said that we were in love,” he says, lying through his teeth. “I told you that it wasn’t anything we had planned; it just happened.”
“So you admit to the relationship here, under oath, as well?”
“Yes.”
“Did you also tell me that it was your belief that Walter Timmerman was also unfaithful to his wife?” I may be stretching this too far, but I want Sykes to be totally confident of where I’m going, so when I strike it will be a shock to him.
“Yes, I told you that, but I also said I only suspected it, and had no firm information about it.”
“Mr. Sykes, did you kill Walter Timmerman?”
He snaps back in the chair as if I had punched him in the chest. “What? No. Of course not. How could you ask me something like that?”
“Mr. Sykes, the way it works here is that I ask the questions and you answer them. Until now, I thought you had that down pat.”
Richard objects to my mistreating the witness, and Hatchet sustains. Business as usual.
“Where were you the night of the murder?” I ask.
“I was at home,” he says.
I introduce the Timmerman house security log from that night as a defense exhibit, and then show it to Sykes. I get him to read that it shows him arriving at the house at six forty-five in the evening.
“Is that accurate? Did you arrive there at that time?”
He seems to be trying to figure out the best answer, and finally nods. “Yes, apparently so. It was months ago, and I had forgotten. I was only there a short time, and I think I went straight home from there. Though I may have run a couple of errands.”
“Why did you go there that night?”
“To see Mrs. Timmerman,” he says.
“Was Walter Timmerman at home?”
“He was not.”
“Did you know where he was?” I ask.
“No.”
“Did his wife know where he was?”
“I don’t know.” His answers are getting shorter as his worry increases. Some people do the opposite; they feel if they talk enough, they can make the problem disappear in a sea of words. Sykes’s reaction is the opposite; I’m going to have to pry the words out of his mouth with a crowbar.
“But she wasn’t worried about his returning and walking in on you?”
“She did not seem worried. No. And we were not doing anything we needed to worry about.”
“Is it possible that Walter Timmerman was at home, and that you forced him into the trunk of your car and drove him to Paterson?”
Richard objects before Sykes can answer, and Hatchet admonishes me. I didn’t expect to get an answer, which would have been an outraged no anyway. What I wanted was to get my theory in front of the jury, so they’d have a road map to follow.
“Mr. Sykes, may I see your cell phone, please?”
I see a flash of real worry, if not panic, in his eyes. “It’s turned off.”
“That would be a good answer if the question had been, Mr. Sykes, what is the current status of your cell phone? But what I asked was if I could see it.”
He takes it out of his pocket, and I get permission from Hatchet to have him turn it on. I then get Hatchet’s approval to have the court clerk dial a number, which I have her read off one of the discovery documents. As soon as she does, Sykes’s cell phone starts to ring.
“Please answer it,” I say.
He does so, but doesn’t look happy about it. “Yes,” he says, and the court clerk confirms that she hears Sykes’s voice through the phone.
“Mr. Sykes, based on the documents that were provided by the prosecution and submitted to the court, your phone is the one that called Steven Timmerman at seven twenty on the night of the murder. It was registered to Timco, so the prosecution assumed, I believe incorrectly, that Walter Timmerman made the call. Did you call him?”
If he says no he will clearly be lying, so he tries “yes.”
“What was the purpose of that call?”
“Mrs. Timmerman had told me she was concerned about Walter; she didn’t know where he was, and that was unlike him.”
“But she wasn’t concerned thirty minutes before, when you were there?” I ask.
“That’s correct. Maybe something happened; maybe she learned something. I didn’t ask. I called Steven to see if he knew where his father was.”
“You were out at the time? Is that why you used your cell phone?” I ask.
“Yes. I was in the car, as I said, I was probably running some errands.”
“But you knew his number?”
“Yes.”
“Because you had called him before?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I introduce more documents into evidence, and then hand them to Sykes. “These are Steven Timmerman’s phone records from that number for the last year. Please look at them and tell the jury which calls that you made to him. Take your time.”
He looks through the papers for about three minutes and then hands them back to me. “I don’t see any. But I know I called him a number of times. Maybe it was more than a year ago.”
“But you called him often enough that you remember the number?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you can help me. I haven’t called Steven at home because he has been in a jail cell since he was wrongly accused. When he’s released I’ll need to call him to discuss my fee, so what is his number? Just so I’ll have it.”
He hesitates, and then says, “I can’t remember now. It’s hard to think clearly when I’m being attacked like this.”
“When you called Steven, what did he say?”
“That he had no idea where his father was; that they hadn’t been in much contact lately.”
“So when he was no help, who did you call next?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Your phone records show no other calls that night.”
“Then I didn’t make any.”
“So you were worried about Mr. Timmerman, you got no information from Steven, and that eased your mind enough not to call anyone else?”
“I said that Diana was worried about him. She probably made the other calls. These were not very significant events at the time, Mr. Carpenter. My recollection is not clear.”
“Okay. I’ll change the subject to something hopefully clearer. Let’s talk about money. I was reading the terms of Walter Timmerman’s will, and basically he left his estate and share of the company to his wife, Diana. Are you aware of that?”
“I’ve read it in the newspapers.”
“If she were not alive when the estate was settled, the money would then go to Steven. Are you aware of that?”
“Vaguely.”
“But if Steven were not in a position by law to receive the money, say if he were in jail for killing his father, Walter Timmerman’s stock goes back into the company. Did you know that?”