Almost on cue, Raymond stood, appeared to be thoroughly exasperated, and said, “Your Honor, please. Why are we wasting so much time?”
“State your objection, Mr. Lassiter,” Her Honor said sharply, as if irritated by him.
“Your Honor, we have tried and tried to stipulate that Simon Latch dined there several times, then later stopped on two occasions to buy two boxes of ginger cookies. He bought them for Ms. Barnett while she was in the hospital. But he didn’t poison them.”
“That’s enough! Overruled. Please continue, Ms. Cook.”
Sami produced the credit card receipts as the prosecutor projected them on the screen. Simon used the diversion to glance at the jury. Number two was Linda Garfield, age thirty-seven, a real estate appraiser for a bank, an attractive woman with large, sad, brown eyes. If it was possible to flirt with a cute woman sitting on your jury, then Simon had been flirting. There was no way Linda would convict him.
Cora picked up two exhibits, the carryout containers for Tan Lu’s orders to go, and Sami identified them as being identical to the ones she had sold to Mr. Latch.
At first, Raymond thought about waving off the witness and forgoing any cross-examination, but decided to poke some fun at the prosecution’s case. He ambled over to the podium and asked, “Now, young lady, who bakes these Saigon ginger cookies in your restaurant?”
Sami offered a lovely smile, her first of the day, and said, “Oh, everyone. Me, my parents, my sister, my aunt. The entire family works in the restaurant.”
“So you can bake these cookies all by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And for how long have you been doing this?”
“I don’t know. Many years.”
“What are the ingredients?”
“White flour, cane sugar, brown sugar, butter, baking powder, eggs, ground ginger, molasses, a little salt, some ground cinnamon. I think that’s all.”
“Sounds delicious. Do you need to use a recipe when you bake these cookies?”
“No. I’ve done it many times.”
“And they’re baked fresh every day?”
“Yes.”
“Approximately how many are baked each day?”
“About ten dozen.”
“Did you bake the cookies purchased by Mr. Simon Latch?”
“Oh, there’s no way to know. We sell a lot of them and, as I said, the entire family works in the kitchen.”
“Has anyone ever complained about getting sick from eating your cookies?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Are you familiar with a poison called thallium?”
“No.”
“Have you or anyone in your family ever added thallium to your cookies?”
“No.”
“So, as far as you know, when Mr. Latch bought the cookies, both to carry out and to eat in the restaurant, they were free of thallium and all other poisons?”
“As far as I know, yes.”
“Well, has Mr. Latch complained of being poisoned by your cookies?”
“I don’t think so. Not to my knowledge.”
“Thank you.”
Judge Shyam said, “You may step down.”
It came as no surprise when Cora stood and said, “Your Honor, the Commonwealth of Virginia rests.”
Her Honor thought for a second as she reviewed some notes. She directed the bailiff to dismiss the jury, then adjourned until 9 A.M. Thursday morning. With the early adjournment, Simon, Raymond, and Casey disappeared into an empty courtroom down the hall. Raymond was of the opinion that the Commonwealth had mismanaged its case and allowed it to end without a punch. It simply ran out of gas. The last witnesses were ineffective and Cora Cook appeared to be stalling, trying to burn some clock.
Casey was more pessimistic. Because he was not on his feet interrogating witnesses, he spent more time watching the jurors, and he was worried about most of them.
Simon was still praying for a miracle but expecting the worst. From a third-floor window, he watched the news vans close up shop and leave the courthouse. When all was clear, he said, “I’m going for a drive. Call me if you need me.”
Raymond said, “What about tomorrow? Do you want to testify?”
“I don’t know. I’ll sleep on it. Let’s meet for coffee at seven and we’ll decide.”
Chapter 49
For a moment, he thought he was being followed by a blue Impala, but it soon disappeared into traffic south of Norfolk. He zigzagged at random to be safe, and finally relaxed on a county road near Suffolk. For three hours he drove at a leisurely pace through the peanut farms and tobacco fields of southern Virginia. It was a perfect spring day and life would have been something quite pleasant, but for the horror of tomorrow when his future would be handed to twelve ordinary people, a jury of his peers.
He replayed every witness and every word of testimony he could remember. At times the past three days were a blur. A moment later, he could recall the attire of every witness and hear their voices. The Commonwealth’s case was heavy on suspicion and motive, but severely lacking on direct proof. Sure, he bought the damned cookies, and gave them to Tillie who took them to Eleanor, who ate them and died. But the crucial part about the poisoning had been botched by the prosecutor and her team. They simply had no proof, primarily because there was no proof. Simon had nothing to do with her death, and the fact that he was even suspected of it still made him burn. The possibility of being convicted of it was overwhelming.
Paula had moved the kids into a three-bedroom apartment in a new complex on the eastern edge of Danville. A crowd of young singles lounged around the pool, sipping beer and listening to music. On a playground nearby, toddlers swung and seesawed as their mothers chatted.
Not a bad place and very far from Braxton.
Buck answered the door and gave his dad a hug, one he meant, and he was soon joined by Danny and Janie. Simon was determined not to get emotional and tried to keep things light. Paula was at the stove cooking pasta. For a few hours, they felt like a family again, eating slowly and talking about life — school, the new town, new friends, and old ones from Braxton. Janie asked if they were ever going back there, even referred to it as “home.”
With one week left in the school term, homework was not a priority. After the dinner table was cleared, they sat for a long time and talked about the trial. Simon went through each witness and gave honest assessments. He explained that his defense would begin first thing in the morning and would not take long. He didn’t have to prove anything. He was presumed to be innocent, and was in fact innocent. The burden was on the prosecution, and his lawyers thought the Commonwealth had not done an effective job.
The kids believed every word he said. Paula had repeatedly assured them that their father would never commit such a crime.
Simon asked about the media coverage and said he had ignored most of it. Buck said there was still plenty of it in the Washington and Richmond press, but nothing much in Danville. After all, it was a small town. Danny said the online stuff was terrible so stay away. Simon had no plans to take a look.
The conversation drifted to the end of school and summer plans. The year before, the family had gone camping and canoeing in the Smoky Mountains, and, in spite of the friction between the mother and the father, they had enjoyed themselves. Simon hoped they could do it again, though sharing a tent with Paula was not going to happen.
His heart ached for his children. They had done nothing to deserve the unfairness of being forced to flee their home and listen to the crap about their father. And if he was convicted, they would be scarred for life.
They talked and talked and couldn’t get enough of their time together. They were starved for his attention. At 10:45, Paula finally said, “Fifteen more minutes, then lights out.”