On this Tuesday morning, U.S. Attorney Royce had requested and been granted that the lunch recess be extended an hour. Bob suspected what that maneuver meant. Martha Luce, a defense witness, and one of their most believable because of her timid, earnest demeanor, was being leaned on.
If Haskell had made a copy of the books he had kept, Luce's testimony swearing to the accuracy of Jimmy's records was probably being held as a weapon over her head.
If Martha Luce turned prosecution witness in exchange for immunity, it was all over.
Bob Kinellen sat silently looking at every possible thing in the room other than his client. He felt a terrible weariness, like a weight crushing him, and he wondered at what moment it had invaded him. Thinking back over the recent days, he suddenly knew. It was when I delivered a threat concerning my own child, he said to himself. For eleven years he had been able to keep to the letter of the law. Jimmy Weeks had the right to a defense, and his job was to keep Jimmy from getting indicted. He did it by legal means. If other means were also being used, he did not know nor did he want to know about them.
But in this trial he had become part of the process of circumventing the law. Weeks had just told him the reason he'd insisted on having Mrs. Wagner on the jury: She had a father in prison in California. Thirty years ago he had murdered an entire family of campers in Yosemite National Park. He knew he intended to hold back the information that juror Wagner had a father in prison and make that part of Weeks' appeal. He knew, too, that was unethical. Skating on thin ice was over. He had gone beyond that. The burning shame he had felt when he heard Robin's stricken cry as he struggled with Kerry still seared him. How Kerry explained that to Robin? Your father was passing along a threat his client made about you? Your father's client was the man who ordered some bum to terrify you last week?
Jimmy Weeks was terrified of prison. The prospect of being locked up was unbearable to him. He would do anything to avoid it.
It was obvious that Jimmy was wildly upset. They had lunch in a private room of a restaurant a few miles from the courtroom. After the orders were taken, Jimmy said abruptly, "I don't want any talk about plea bargaining from you two. Understand?"
Bartlett and Kinellen waited without responding.
"In the jury room, I don't think we can count on the wimp with the sick wife not to buckle."
I could have told you that, Bob thought. He didn't want to discuss any of this. If his client had tampered with that juror, it was without his knowledge, he reassured himself. And Haskell was the victim of a mugging, an interior voice mocked.
"Bobby, my sources tell me the sheriff's officer in charge of the jury owes you a favor," Weeks said.
"What are you talking about, Jimmy?" Bob Kinellen toyed with his salad fork.
"You know what I'm talking about. You got his kid out of trouble, big trouble. He's grateful."
"And?"
"Bobby, I think the sheriff's officer has to let that prune-face, uptight Wagner dame know that her daddy, the murderer, is going to make big headlines unless she comes up with some reasonable doubt when this case goes to the jury."
Lie down with dogs and you'll get up with fleas. Kerry had told him that before Robin was born.
"Jimmy, we already have grounds for a new trial because she didn't reveal that fact. That's our ace in the hole. We don't need to take it any further." Bob shot a glance at his father- in-law. "Anthony and I are sticking our necks out by not reporting that to the court as it is. We can get away with claiming that it only came to our attention after the trial was over. Even if you're convicted you'll be out on bail, and then we delay and delay and delay."
"Not good enough, Bobby. This time you've got to put yourself on the line. Have a friendly chat with the sheriff's officer. He'll listen. He'll talk to the lady who already is in trouble for lying on her questionnaire. Then we have a hung jury, if not an acquittal. And then we delay and delay and delay while you two figure out a way to make sure we get an acquittal next time."
The waiter returned with their appetizers. Bob Kinellen had ordered the escargots, a specialty here that he thoroughly enjoyed. It was only when he finished and the waiter was removing the plate that he realized he hadn't tasted a thing. Jimmy isn't the only one who's being backed into a corner, he thought.
I'm right there with him.
Kerry went back to her office after the call from Si Morgan came through. She was now convinced that Arnott was irrevocably tied in some way to Suzanne Reardon's death. Just how, though, would have to wait until he was in custody and she and Frank Green had had a chance to interrogate him.
There was a pile of messages on her desk, one of which, from Jonathan, was marked "Urgent." He had left his private number at his local office. She called him immediately.
"Thanks for calling back, Kerry. I have to come over to Hackensack and I want to talk to you. Buy you lunch?"
A few weeks ago, he had started the conversation with "Buy you lunch, Judge?"
Kerry knew the omission today was not accidental. Jonathan played it straight. If the political fallout from her investigation cost Frank Green the nomination, she would have to forget about a judgeship, no matter how justified she had been. That was politics, and besides, there were plenty of other highly qualified people panting for the job.
"Of course, Jonathan."
"Solari's at one-thirty."
She was sure she knew why he was calling. He had heard about Dr. Smith and was worried about her and Robin.
She dialed Geoff's office. He was having a sandwich at his desk.
"I'm glad I'm sitting down," he told her when she filled him in about Arnott.
"The FBI will be photographing and cataloguing everything they find in the Catskill house. Morgan said the decision hasn't been made whether to move everything into a warehouse or to just invite the people who've been robbed to come and identify their stuff right at that site. However they do it, when Green and I go up to talk to Arnott we want Mrs. Reardon along to positively identify the picture frame."
"I'll ask her to postpone going in for the angioplasty for a few days. Kerry, one of our associates was in federal court this morning. He tells me that Royce requested an extra hour for the lunch break. The word is that he may be offering immunity to Jimmy Weeks' bookkeeper. He's not going to take a chance on losing another prize witness by playing hardball."
"It's coming to a head, then?"
"Exactly."
"Have you called Skip about Smith's letter?"
"Right after I talked to you."
"What was his reaction?"
"He started to cry." Geoff's voice became husky. "I did too. He's going to get out, Kerry, and you're the reason."
"No, you're wrong. You and Robin are. I was ready to turn my back on him."
"We'll argue about that another time. Kerry, Deidre Reardon's on the other phone. I've been trying to reach her. I'll talk to you later. I don't want you and Robin alone in your place tonight."
Before Kerry left to meet Jonathan, she dialed Joe Palumbo's cellular phone. He answered on the first ring. "Palumbo."
"It's Kerry, Joe."
"Recess is over. Robin is back inside. I'm parked in front of the main entrance, which is the only unlocked door. I'll drive her home and stay with her and the sitter." He paused. Don't worry, Momma. I'll take good care of your baby."
"I know you will. Thanks, Joe."
It was time to meet Jonathan. As she hurried out to the corridor and rushed through the just-closing elevator door, Kerry kept thinking about the missing pin. Something about it seemed familiar. The two parts. The flower and the bud, like a mother and child. A momma and a baby... why did that seem to ring a bell? she wondered.
Jonathan was already seated at the table, sipping a club soda. He got up when he saw her coming. His brief, familiar hug was reassuring. "You look very tired, young lady," he said. "Or is it very stressed?"
Whenever he talked to her like that, Kerry felt the remembered warmth of the days when her father was alive and felt a rush of gratitude that Jonathan in so many ways had been a surrogate father to her.
"It's been quite a day so far," she said as she sat down. "Did you hear about Dr. Smith?"
"Grace called me. She heard the news when she was having breakfast at ten o'clock. Sounds like more of Weeks' handiwork. We're both heartsick with worry about Robin."
"So am I. But Joe Palumbo, one of our investigators, is outside her school. He'll stay with her till I get home."
The waiter was at the table. "Let's order," Kerry suggested, "and then I'll fill you in."
They both decided on onion soup, which arrived almost immediately. While they were eating, she told him about the Federal Express package with all the jewelry and the letter from Dr. Smith.
"You make me ashamed that I tried to dissuade you from your investigation, Kerry," Jonathan said quietly. "I'll do my best, but if the governor decides Green's nomination is in jeopardy, it would be like him to take it out on you."
"Well, at least there's hope," Kerry said. "And we can thank Grace for the tip she gave the FBI." She told him what she had learned about Jason Arnott. "I can see where Frank Green is already planning to defuse negative publicity about Skip Reardon being unfairly prosecuted. He's dying to announce that the cat burglar who murdered Congressman Peale's mother was captured because of a tip from the wife of Senator Hoover. You're going to come out of this as his best friend, and who can blame him? God knows you're probably the most respected politician in New Jersey."
Jonathan smiled. "We can always stretch the truth and say that Grace consulted Green first and he urged her to make the call." Then the smile vanished. "Kerry, how does Arnott's possible guilt in the Reardon case affect Robin? Is there a possibility that Arnott is the one who took that picture of her and sent it to you?" "No way. Robin's own father passed along the warning and in essence admitted that Jimmy Weeks had that picture taken."
"What's the next step?"
"Probably that Frank Green and I will bring Deidre Reardon up to the Catskills first thing tomorrow morning to positively identify that miniature frame. Arnott should be being cuffed right about now. They'll keep him in the local jail, at least for the present. Then, once they start connecting the stolen goods to specific burglaries, they'll begin arraigning him in different locations. My guess is they're itching to try him first for the murder of Congressman Peale's mother. And, of course, if he was responsible for Suzanne Reardon's death, we'll want to try him here."
"Suppose he won't talk?"
"We're sending flyers to all the jewelers in New Jersey, naturally concentrating on Bergen County since both Weeks and Arnott live here. My guess is that one of those jewelers will recognize the more contemporary jewelry and tie it to Weeks, and that the antique bracelet will turn out to be from Arnott. When it was found on Suzanne's arm it obviously had a new clasp, and the bracelet is so unusual some jeweler might remember it. The more we can find to use in confronting Arnott, the easier it should be to make him try to strike a deal."
"Then you expect to leave early in the morning for the Catskills?"
"Yes. I'm certainly not going to leave Robin alone in the house in the morning again, but if it turns out that Frank wants to be on the road very early, I'll see if the sitter will stay over."
"I have a better idea. Let Robin stay with us tonight. I'll drop her off at school in the morning, or, if you want, you can that Palumbo man pick her up. Our house has state-of-the-art security. You know that. I'll be there, of course, and I don't know whether you realize that even Grace has a gun in her table drawer. I taught her to use it years ago. Besides, I really think it would be good for Grace to have Robin visit. She's been rather down lately, and Robin is such fun to have around."
Kerry smiled. "Yes, she is." She thought for a moment. "Jonathan, that really could work. I really should get some work in on another case I'll be trying, and then I want to go through the Reardon file with a fine-toothed comb to see if there's anything more I can pick up to use when we question Arnott. I'll call Robin when I know she's home from school and tell her the plan. She'll be delighted. She's crazy about you and Grace, and she loves the pink guest room."
"It used to be yours, remember?" "Sure. How could I forget? That's back when I was telling Grace's cousin, the landscaper, that he was a crook."
The extended recess over, U.S. Attorney Royce returned to court for the afternoon trial session of the United States versus James Forrest Weeks. He went secure in the knowledge that behind her timid, unassuming facade, Martha Luce had the memory of a personal computer. The damning evidence that would finally nail Jimmy Weeks was spilling from her as she responded to the gentle prodding of two of Royce's assistants.
Luce's nephew/attorney, Royce admitted to himself, had possibilities. He insisted that before Martha began singing, the bargain she was striking had to be signed and witnessed. In exchange for her honest and forthright cooperation, which she would not later rescind, any possible federal or other criminal or civil charges would not be pressed against her either now or in the future.
Martha Luce's evidence would come later, however. The prosecution case was unfolding in a straightforward way. Today's witness was a restaurateur who in exchange for having his lease renewed admitted to paying a five-thousand-dollar-a-month cash bonus to Jimmy's collector.
When it was the defense's turn to cross-examine, Royce was kept busy jumping to his feet with objections as Bob Kinellen jabbed at the witness, catching him in small errors, forcing him to admit that he had never actually seen Weeks touch the money, that he really couldn't be sure that the collector hadn't been working on his own. Kinellen is good, Royce thought, too bad he's wasting his talent on this scum.
Royce could not know that Robert Kinellen was sharing that same thought even as he grandstanded to a receptive jury.
Jason Arnott knew there was something terribly wrong the minute he walked in the door of his Catskill home and realized that Maddie was not there.
If Maddie's not here and she didn't leave a note, then something is happening. It's all over, he thought. How long before they would close in on him? Soon, he was sure.
Suddenly he was hungry. He rushed to the refrigerator and pulled out the smoked salmon he had asked Maddie to pick up. Then he reached for the capers and cream cheese and the package of toast points. A bottle of Pouilly-Fuiss‚ was chilling.