“Yes, sir. That’s what I told the lieutenant.”
“What time did that interrogation take place?”
“About two o’clock in the morning, sir.”
“Had you been asleep prior to their arrival?”
“Yes, sir. For several hours.”
“I see.” Davic paused again. “Now tell me, Earl — not at two o’clock in the morning, not when you’ve been pulled out of bed by police officers without a warrant — tell me now, in this orderly courtroom... do you know of a farm called Vinegar Hill?”
“Not by that name, sir.”
“Ah.” Davic nodded slowly. “Then you knew that farm by^ another name. Is that what you’re telling me, Earl?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What name do you know it by?”
“The Taggart Place, sir.”
“Under what circumstances did you know the Taggart Place?”
“It belonged to a friend of our family, General Adam Taggart. The general’s son was a classmate of mine at Rockland. We called it the Taggart Place. Or the General’s Place. When I was at college, some of us used to go there to hunt pheasants.”
“I want to emphasize one particular point now, Earl. You did not lie to Captain Slocum that night, did you?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“You did not know of a place called Vinegar Hill, did you Earl?”
“I certainly didn’t, sir.”
“Your Honor” — Davic addressed the bench — “there are other specifics of the People’s evidence I can’t refute at this time although I intend to later. But in fairness to my client, I would like to defer this examination. A witness for the defense has been delayed enroute to these hearings. His testimony is crucial to the proof of Earl Thomson’s innocence.”
“All right, Mr. Davic. But understand that People’s counsel may cross-examine the defendant on the portion of his testimony now part of this trial record.”
“Yes, Your Honor. I understand. Thank you.”...
They needed time to rehearse Ace Taggart, Selby thought, that had to be why Davic was stalling. Obviously they’d convinced young Taggart it was safe for him to take the stand and lie. In whatever Davic and Earl Thomson had told him, in the time at the Hell for Leather, the trip with Santos to the Pilgrims Bank in Wilmington, somewhere in that welter of people and places was the proof that had convinced AC-DC Taggart there was no risk in perjuring himself. But they also might be building a house of cards with a marked deck, Selby felt. It was like a trapeze act where the performers worked happily and skillfully without a net or safety straps until they found out that one of them had a trick knee or a hangover or was just a little short on nerve or guts. Then everything and everybody could collapse. One break was what his side needed. When they spotted the marked card, or the fingertips missed connections, the whole thing could go down...
At the recess Burt Wilger joined Selby in the corridor outside Superior Nine. “There’s a call for you in the pressroom,” he told him. “They switched it down from Brett’s office.”
A desk lined with phones had been moved against a wall in the temporary pressroom. Noise and smoke clogged the air. A girl in jeans extended a phone to Selby, mouthed his name inquiringly.
Victoria Kim did not identify herself. She told Selby what he needed to know about the Cadle brothers and broke the connection.
Selby picked up his coat and left the courthouse. From a pay phone he called Wilger and asked him to tell Brett he was on his way to Philadelphia. He forestalled the detective’s questions by saying a hasty goodbye and hanging up.
Maybe he’d already spotted one of the marked cards, Selby thought as he drove out of East Chester and followed the traffic into Philadelphia. The smiling athlete in the trapeze act with the trick knee he wouldn’t admit to, the blurred vision or fears that hit him in the morning when it was dark and he couldn’t get back to sleep... Who was it? Santos? Ace Taggart, or the little Sicilian, or Thomson’s mother, or Eberle, the drunk cop? Or Thomson himself? Or one of the Cadles. Who would crack first? Or was he whistling in the dark? Would anybody crack? He had to believe it. He couldn’t give up...
The clerk intoned, “All rise.”
After seating himself Flood said, “People’s counsel will bear in mind that cross-examination of the defendant will not extend beyond the testimony on record.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Please proceed then.”
Brett began casually. “Were you upset, Mr. Thomson, when you left The Green Lantern and discovered your car was missing?”
“I wasn’t upset, ma’am, but I was puzzled, I’ll admit.”
“I’ve checked several local dealers who handle Porsches, Mr. Thomson. Considering that your car was equipped with” — Brett picked up a note pad from the plaintiff’s table and read — “internally vented disc brakes, an electronic digital ignition system and so forth, the dealers’ consensus was that your Porsche Turbo 924 would be worth around thirty-five thousand dollars at current prices. Does that sound like a fair estimate?”
“I believe so, ma’am.”
“Some of the terminology is beyond me. Perhaps it’s not relevant, but would you mind explaining what turbocharging means?”
Thomson’s smile was confident; he was very comfortable in this role. “There’s a density in the charge supplied to any internal combustion engine. To put it simply, a turbocharger increases that density to about twice the normal atmospheric pressure. In contrast to a naturally aspirated engine of similar size — well, to put it simply, turbo engines increase horsepower by thirty or forty percent, which gives better performance all round.”
“Thank you, Mr. Thomson.” She paused. “But you weren’t upset, merely puzzled that someone had made off with your very expensive turbocharged car?”
“Let me explain that. What I meant was that I wasn’t worried, ma’am. That Porsche is a very distinctive car, and I figured it would turn up.”
“What did you do when you discovered it was stolen?”
“As I said, I didn’t realize it was stolen until later.”
“You assumed some friend had driven it off as a joke.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Being the victim of that joke, what did you do?”
“I walked to the Bellflower diner and called home. I told Miguel Santos what had happened. Our regular chauffeur wasn’t there...” Earl smiled. “I have the feeling we’ve been through this, ma’am.”
“Do you find it tiresome, Mr. Thomson?”
“Not at all. I’ll dot every i and cross every t if you want me to. I told Miguel where I’d be waiting and told him to come over to Muhlenburg and get me.”
Brett adjusted her black-and-white-checked scarf with a seemingly distracted gesture, as if she herself weren’t quite sure of her next question. Then she said, “Why did you choose The Green Lantern for your meeting with Charles Lee?”
“I figured that would be convenient for both of us.”
“But The Green Lantern is seventeen miles from your home in Wahasset, Mr. Thomson. It’s more than nine miles from Hosckessin in Delaware, where Mr. Lee works. What made you decide The Green Lantern was convenient for either of you?”
“Let’s put it this way. I knew where it was. That’s probably why I suggested it. At least I was sure I could find it.”
“You know that area well then?”
“I’ve driven by there, yes.”
“You know that The Green Lantern is only a half mile from Fairlee Road then?”
“Objection, Your Honor. The question is irrelevant.”