10th Anniversary (6 page)

“Why did Dennis Martin hire you, Mr. Podesta?” Yuki asked.

“Mr. Martin knew that his wife was having an affair and he wanted pictures of them, uh, in flagrante delicto.”

“Did you get pictures of the defendant with her lover?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you learn anything else during the time she was the subject of your investigation?” Yuki asked.

“Yes.”

“Please tell us what you learned.”

“On one of the nights I was tailing her, Candace Martin met with a man I believe to be a contract killer.”

A rumble came up from the gallery, and Hoffman shot to his feet with an objection.

“Your Honor, this is pure hearsay. How can this witness know that the man he says he saw is a contract killer? If he was so sure, why didn’t he call the police? Instead, the State is using this extremely dubious testimony to impugn the reputation of a heart surgeon. How does this make any sense?”

The judge quieted the room with two hard bangs of his gavel and said, “I’d like to hear this, Mr. Hoffman.”

When she could speak again, Yuki asked, “You have proof of this meeting, Mr. Podesta?”

“I followed Dr. Martin from her house in St. Francis Wood to Hunters Point. I followed her to Davidson Avenue. That’s a dead end. A late-model Toyota SUV was parked at the end of the street, where it butts up against the I-280 overpass. This is a bad neighborhood, but I was able to watch without being seen.”

“Go on, Mr. Podesta.”

“The meeting was clearly clandestine,” Podesta said. “I took photographs of Dr. Martin getting into this SUV. When
I downloaded them onto my computer later, I thought I’d seen the man’s face before.”

“And what happened next?”

“Two weeks later Dennis Martin was murdered.”

“What did you do, Mr. Podesta?”

“I compared my picture of the man in the SUV to pictures on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. In my opinion, the man I saw talking to Dr. Martin was Gregor Guzman.”

“And why is Mr. Guzman on the FBI list?”

“Your Honor. Is this witness an FBI agent? What the—?”

“Sit down, Mr. Hoffman. The witness may answer to the best of his knowledge.”

“Gregor Guzman is wanted on suspicion of murder in California as well as a few other states and other countries. He’s never been arrested. I contacted the FBI three times, but no one ever got back to me.”

Yuki introduced the photograph of Candace Martin sitting in a dark sports utility vehicle with a balding man with a shock of hair at the front of his scalp. It was a grainy photo, taken with a long lens at night, but it appeared as Podesta described it.

“Thank you,” Yuki said. “That’s all I have for you, Mr. Podesta.”

“YOUR HONOR, SIDEBAR?” Hoffman said stiffly.

The judge waved the two attorneys in toward the bench and said, “Go ahead, Mr. Hoffman.”

“Your Honor, this witness is a private investigator. He’s not even a cop. His testimony is pure guesswork. Where is this so-called hit man? Why isn’t
he
on the witness list? How do we know
why
my client was seeing this man, or even if this person is who the witness says he is?”

“Ms. Castellano?”

“Mr. Podesta didn’t say he was an expert witness. He followed the defendant, who got into a car with a man who resembles Gregor Guzman. Mr. Podesta took pictures of a clandestine meeting between them. He compared the picture of the man in the SUV with photos of Gregor Guzman issued by the FBI. He made a match—
in his opinion.
That’s his testimony.”

“Mr. Hoffman, I’ve heard you. Now, please cross-examine the witness,” LaVan said.

Phil Hoffman addressed Joseph Podesta from his seat beside his client, trying to show the jury how little regard he had for the witness.

“Mr. Podesta, I don’t know which piece of fiction to begin with. Okay, I’ve got it,” he said before Yuki could object.

“First, have you ever worked for the FBI?”

“No.”

“Do you have any specialized training in the identification of contract killers?”

“I have a very good eye.”

“That wasn’t my question, Mr. Podesta. Do you have any specialized training in the identification of contract killers? Did you get this man’s fingerprints? Did you get his DNA? Do you have a tape recording of this assumed conversation?”

“Objection,” Yuki said. “Which question does counsel want the witness to answer?”

“I’ll withdraw all of them,” Hoffman said, “but I object to this exhibit. The quality of this photograph stinks and it proves nothing. In fact, I object to this entire testimony and move that it be stricken from the record.”

“Overruled,” said the judge. “If you’re finished questioning this witness, Mr. Hoffman, he may step down.”

“THE PEOPLE CALL Ellen Lafferty,” Yuki said.

The doors opened at the back, and a pretty, auburn-haired woman in her early twenties wearing a tight blue suit and a blouse with a bow at the neck came into the courtroom and walked down the aisle. She passed through the gate to the witness stand, where she was sworn in.

“Are you employed by Candace and the late Dennis Martin?” Yuki asked her witness.

“I am.”

“In what capacity?”

“I am the children’s nanny. I work days and live out.”

“How long have you worked in the Martin house?” Yuki asked.

“Just about three years.”

Yuki nodded encouragingly. “In your opinion, what was the state of the Martin marriage?” she asked.

“In a word,” Lafferty said, “explosive.”

“Could you give us a couple more words?”

“They hated each other,” said the nanny. “Dennis wanted to divorce Candace, and she was furious about it. She once told me she thought getting a divorce would be messy. It would hurt her children as well as her standing in the medical community.”

“I see,” Yuki said. The witness was describing a marriage held together by practical considerations rather than love, and Yuki knew the jury would understand that.

“Were you in the Martin house on the day that Dennis Martin was killed?”

“Yes. I was,” Lafferty said. She had kept her eyes on Yuki until this moment, but now she swung her gaze toward the defendant and fixed it there.

“Did something remarkable happen that evening?”

“Absolutely.”

“Please go on.”

Lafferty turned back to Yuki.

“I was getting ready to leave for the day. It was six o’clock and I was going to meet a girlfriend at Dow’s Imperial Chinese at six-fifteen. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and I was really looking forward to seeing her.”

“Go on,” Yuki said.

Lafferty said, “I was putting on my lipstick when Dr. Martin came home. She had a funny look on her face. Distracted,
or maybe angry. I went into her office to ask her if everything was okay, and when I got there, she was putting a handgun in her desk drawer.”

“You’re sure it was a gun?” Yuki asked.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Did Dr. Martin ever tell you she wished her husband were dead?”

“Many times. Too many to count.”

“Too many to count,” Yuki said pointedly to the jury.

“And did Mr. Martin tell you about his feelings for his wife?”

“He said she was cold. He used to say that he didn’t trust her.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lafferty. That’s all I have for this witness.”

Hoffman stood, his chair scraping noisily against the oak floor. He put his hands in his pockets and approached the witness, who stiffened her shoulders and looked up at him.

“Ellen. May I call you Ellen?”

“No. I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. Ms. Lafferty. Did you think Dr. Martin was going to kill her husband?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“So, if you thought she was going to commit murder and you saw Dr. Martin with a weapon, why didn’t you call the police?”

Yuki watched Lafferty’s righteous indignation melt into an expression of grief.

She said, almost begging Hoffman and the jury to understand, “I wasn’t thinking about her that night. I was in a
hurry. In hindsight, I should have called the police or warned Mr. Martin. I blame myself. If I’d done something, Mr. Martin would still be alive and the children would still have their father.”

The little boy’s wail cut through the air like a siren:
“Elllllll-ennnnnnnn.”

The witness leaned forward in her chair and called out across the well of the courtroom, “Duncan. Baby. I’m right here, sweetie.”

That’s when Judge LaVan went nuts.

YUKI TOOK THE ELEVATOR up to the DA’s offices, her mind still busy with the sound of the child’s scream and Judge LaVan’s reaction.

Christ. It was as if Duncan Martin had yelled,
“Stop beating me!”
There was a good chance Hoffman’s sympathy ploy had worked.

Yuki left her briefcase in her windowless office, made her way to the corner office facing Bryant Street, and knocked on the open door.

Leonard Parisi, deputy district attorney and her direct superior, asked her to come in and sit down.

Parisi had been nicknamed Red Dog for his thick red hair and his unshakable determination. He was a large, pear-shaped man of fifty with coarse skin and clogged arteries, but the expression on his face was just beautiful.

He was smiling. At her.

“I peeked in this morning. Saw your examination of that private eye. Fantastic job, Yuki,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“Thanks, Len. LaVan just called us into chambers,” Yuki said, taking the chair in front of his desk.

“Oh? What was that about?”

“Hoffman had the defendant’s kids in the courtroom, half to gain sympathy from the jury, half to rattle me. I objected, but LaVan overruled me.

“So I’ve got the Martins’ nanny on the stand, and she says if she’d called the police on Candace, Dennis would still be alive. And, Len, the little boy just
screams
for his nanny. Nanny calls out to him from the stand, ‘There, there, I’m here, baby.’ ”

“Huh, huh, huh,” Parisi grunted sympathetically.

“Court’s adjourned for the day. The judge says to me and Hoffman, ‘You two. See you in back.’ He tells Hoffman, any more out of the kids, he’s barring them from the courthouse.”

“Good. LaVan doesn’t kid around.”

“Len, tell me what you make of this. Hoffman came up to me afterward,” Yuki told her boss. “He said, ‘You know, Ellen Lafferty’s testimony was a pack of lies.’ I said, ‘Well, I sure didn’t see that on cross.’ Hoffman wanted to talk to me about it, but I didn’t have time. I knew it was just going to be more of his B.S.”

“Sure. He’s trying to mess with your head, Yuki. Shake your confidence. Disrupt your momentum, that SOB. Listen, switching gears, I’ve been wanting to tell you. Craig Jasper is leaving. Moving to San Diego at the end of the month.”

Craig Jasper was a bright light in the department and had been Parisi’s protégé. Yuki told Red Dog she was sorry, but he waved the comment away.

“I see opportunities for you, Yuki. You just need a couple of wins under your belt.”

Yuki’s face brightened and she nodded. She would love to get an upgrade in status and pay grade. It was really time. The Martin case had been important a minute ago, and it just got more important.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this case,” she said, standing to leave.

“Me, too,” said Red Dog. And he smiled again.

Yuki fixed her makeup in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. She was psyched at the idea of the job and more responsibility, but it also meant more pressure. And she already had no shortage of that.

She had a date later with a guy who was almost too gorgeous for her. She hoped she could calm down and not talk too much, not scare the guy off.

They had a lot in common. The guy was a cop.

I WAS LEAVING for the day when Phil Hoffman galloped up to me in the all-day lot across from the Hall. I like Hoffman, even though his job is getting off killers and perverts and other living human garbage. He was one of the few criminal defense attorneys I’d met who could actually pull off this kind of dirty work without acting smug about it.

On the other hand, Yuki was locked in mortal combat with Hoffman and she was my friend.

“Hey, Phil,” I said as he pulled up next to the spot where I’d parked my Explorer. I took off my jacket and tossed it into the backseat.

“Lindsay, I need your help.”

“Can we talk tomorrow?” I asked him. “I’ve been slogging through hell all day,” I said, thinking of the dozens of consecutive
hours I’d been working on finding the Richardson baby.

“This will only take a minute.”

“Okay, then. Shoot.”

“You’re aware of Candace Martin?”

“Sure. My colleague Paul Chi worked the Martin case. And Yuki, of course.”

“Yes. That’s right,” Hoffman said, putting his briefcase down on the asphalt. He ran a hand through his hair. “Something new has come up regarding the testimony of one of the witnesses. I asked Yuki to hear me out, but I’m the enemy. She’s not inclined to believe anything I say.”

“Phil, why don’t you just say your piece in court?”

“If I could get Yuki’s ear out of court, it would be better for all concerned. This new information I have is going to reverse the trial. Let me be clear. The case will be dismissed and you’ll be booking someone else for Dennis Martin’s murder.”

My mind spun. I heard what he said, but I didn’t get why Hoffman was talking to me. “How can I help you?”

“I want you to talk to my client.”

“Me?”

“Yes. After that, maybe you can get Yuki to hear me out.”

“So if I get this right, this is the long way around in getting Yuki to talk to you.”

Everything about Hoffman’s request was inappropriate. I was the wrong cop and he was going around everyone in the Hall of Justice. But Paul Chi reported to me. I had to worry if
the SFPD and the District Attorney’s Office had the wrong person in the dock.

Hoffman’s request made me uncomfortable. But off the record? Unofficially?

Phil Hoffman had definitely gotten my attention.