When they were finally in bed, he said, “We need to talk.”
“Okay. There’s no booze.”
“I don’t need it.”
“Do I?”
“You’re okay. How about coffee?”
“Decaf?”
“Even better.”
When they were sure the kids were asleep, Simon said, “I think Tillie may have been involved in Eleanor’s death.”
Her mouth dropped open but she didn’t speak.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’m listening.”
He slept on the sofa, the same one he and Paula had purchased on sale in Braxton years earlier when the kids were small and life was much less complicated. But sleep was only a goal. At 3 A.M., he finally got up and quietly left the apartment. Driving away, he wondered when he would see his kids again. It could be as soon as the weekend, assuming his trial ended well. Or, it could be weeks, months, or years.
In the early days of his practice, he had a court-appointed criminal client who pled guilty and went to prison. Simon liked the guy and they kept in touch with mail and an occasional phone call. The client left behind a wife and kids, and he would not allow them to visit him in prison. He missed them greatly, but didn’t want them to see him in prison clothes. Six years passed before he was paroled and went home.
Six years? Simon was facing a lifetime behind bars.
Pushing the speed limit, he made it to his hotel by dawn, showered and changed, and met his lawyers at 7 A.M. for breakfast. As soon as the waitress walked away, Raymond said, “We are of the opinion that you should not testify.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve tried a thousand cases, Simon, and I can remember only a handful in which the defendant helped himself by taking the stand. When they do so, they become fair game for a brutal cross-examination, one the prosecutor has been planning from day one. There will be traps, trick questions, insinuations, arguments, retorts, irrelevant comments. Of course, I’ll be there to object and raise hell, but in the end we’ll probably wish you had stayed in your seat.”
Simon looked at Casey and asked, “And you?”
“You’re a lawyer, Simon, and half the jury will suspect you’re not being truthful just because you’re a lawyer. You’re fighting for your life and you’ll say anything to stay out of prison. But you’ve never been cross-examined like this before. Some of your actions look suspicious on the surface. By the time they’re hashed and rehashed on cross-examination, they’ll look even more damning. I agree with Raymond on this one. Let’s play it safe and keep attacking the Commonwealth’s case.”
Simon looked at Raymond and asked, “If the jury voted right now, what’s the score?”
Raymond took a sip of coffee and closed his eyes. “Eight to four to acquit.”
Casey asked, “Who are the four to convict?”
With no hesitation, Raymond replied, “Two, four, seven, and eleven.”
Casey said, “I’ll take those four and add eight and nine.”
For a second Simon felt like he was at a poker table with two professionals. He flashed back to those halcyon times at Chub’s when he played video poker for hours while drinking bourbon and ginger ale and watching three games on the big screens.
But it was his life they were betting on.
Casey said, “I’ve never liked this jury. I’d say a six-six split.”
“So no acquittal?” Simon asked.
“No acquittal, no conviction. A hung jury with a retrial later this year and a better jury.”
Chapter 50
The person who acquired the thallium and added it to the ginger cookies did so either in private or in Eleanor’s room when the hospital was quiet. Matilda was the only possible suspect who could have doctored the cookies either at the law office or at her apartment. But she was gone and no longer involved in the trial. There was not a speck of proof against her, only speculation. There was no procedural gimmick that would allow the defense to haul her back to court for more questions. And if there had been, why bother? She would simply take the stand again and deny every hint of culpability.
Simon still found it difficult to believe Tillie was involved, but was wavering. Her little romance with Jerry Korsak added plenty of suspicion.
What intrigued him were the comings and goings at the hospital. There was virtually no security or surveillance. Most of the doors to the patients’ rooms were partially open all the time and never locked.
At his suggestion, the first witness for the defense was Loretta Goodwin, the charge nurse who supervised the east wing of the third floor of the hospital. Raymond had plenty of time and much ground to cover. He liked to roam his side of the courtroom, asking questions and listening as he gave various looks to the jurors.
Loretta had been a registered nurse at the hospital for eight years and a floor supervisor for the past three. One of her duties was to coordinate care for her patients, including Eleanor Barnett. She met with Simon Latch on several occasions and was impressed with his willingness to help his client. She got the impression he did not want to be in the middle of Eleanor’s problems, but there was no one else. Loretta was in the room when Eleanor signed the advance directive and power of attorney, and, while it was an unusual event, she believed Simon was acting in the best interest of his client.
Raymond belabored this to the point of overdoing it. Simon scribbled, “Okay, move on,” and Raymond must have read his mind.
Raymond talked about the security at the hospital, the visitation procedures, the flow of traffic between the floors and down the halls. As in many hospitals, there was a constant stream of health care workers in and out of the rooms.
How many? To prove that dozens of people had unlimited access to Eleanor’s room, Raymond went to the big screen. He began with a large color photo of Dr. Connor Wilkes, the CEO, a witness the jury had already met. Then Dr. Samuel Lilly, the attending physician. Then Dr. Joe Huber, the chief resident. With each, Raymond asked the same questions, which were becoming monotonous. Loretta patiently explained that the doctors had unlimited access to Eleanor’s room, as did the nurses, beginning with Loretta herself. She was amused to see her smiling face on such a large screen and quipped, “A bad hair day.” The jury thought it was funny. Two registered nurses followed. They were followed by four licensed practical nurses and four certified nursing assistants. Raymond asked what role each nurse played in Eleanor’s care, and Loretta patiently explained things to the jury. Blue Ridge Memorial had two NPs — nurse practitioners — who ranked above Loretta and periodically checked on Eleanor. Their faces went up on the screen.
By ten-thirty, it felt like the entire hospital staff had been introduced to the jury. Finally, Ms. Cook had had enough and said, “Your Honor, this is all quite fascinating but I’m losing any sense of relevance here.”
Judge Shyam said, “So am I. Mr. Lassiter?”
Raymond anticipated the interruption and pounced. “Your Honor, we have the right to prove that as many as thirty hospital employees had unfettered access to Ms. Barnett’s room twenty-four hours a day with little or no surveillance, registration, or observation. We cannot prove, nor has the Commonwealth, who actually poisoned the deceased, but we can prove that her door was open at all times.”
“That’s enough, Mr. Lassiter. I didn’t ask for a closing summation. Let’s take a break and we’ll continue in twenty minutes.”
A cup of coffee did nothing to throttle the defense. With Loretta back on the stand, Raymond picked up where he had left off. With photos, they introduced three nurse’s aides (uncertified), three orderlies who did a variety of jobs, two janitors assigned to the third floor, and five technicians who worked on every floor and could come and go as needed and for the most part went unmonitored.