New Tricks (31 page)

I’m finished; there is nothing left for me to ask, no other avenues to probe. Hatchet turns Corvallis over to Richard, who
mercifully has no questions for him.

Hatchet also seems to understand that the only kind thing to do is to quickly put us out of our misery. After a brief preamble,
he says, “The defense had requested Agent Corvallis’s testimony in the stated belief that it would implicate one or more other
possible perpetrators, and would therefore be crucial testimony to present to the jury.

“Agent Corvallis has testified, under oath in these proceedings, that he is aware of no other possible perpetrators, and that
the theory of the defense, to the best of his knowledge, is incorrect.

“It is therefore the ruling of this court that the testimony of Agent Corvallis will not be required nor permitted. Agent
Corvallis, thank you for appearing here today.

“The defense will begin presenting its case tomorrow morning.”

K
EVIN
, L
AURIE, AND
I
are all realists. It is one of the key reasons we work so well together. When things are going bad, we recognize it and
confront it if we have to. And right now this case has gone world-class bad.

We were counting on Corvallis testifying; it was essentially our only way of getting our theory of the case before the jury.
Now we know that we won’t have him, and we have to change our plan of attack. Unfortunately, we have nothing decent to change
it to.

The only approach left to us is to attack the details of the prosecution’s case at the edges, to find minor inconsistencies
and make them seem like major flaws. Jurors will want to look at the big picture, and we will be giving them nitpicks, because
we have no other bullets in our gun.

Our case will open on the night of Walter Timmerman’s murder, and our plan tonight is to dissect it, moment by moment, and
show holes in the prosecution’s case. We take out every document and piece of information that we have and spread it out on
the dining room table, in case we need to refer to any of it.

“Okay, so let’s start at the beginning,” I say.

Kevin nods. “Good. Steven is at home in New York, and his father calls him and asks him to meet him in Paterson.”

Laurie, who has been reading the transcripts on a daily basis, nods and says, “And there’s testimony that he went through
the toll-booth about half an hour later. He went to Mario’s, waiting to meet his father.”

“Wait a minute. Kevin, remember that note I passed you the other day? I asked how Walter got to the murder scene.”

Kevin nods. “And I told you the killer brought him there.”

“Then where did he meet the killer?”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, he didn’t drive to where the killer was; the documents show his car was in the garage when the house was destroyed.
He sure as hell didn’t take a bus to downtown Paterson. So how did the killer get to him? When and where did they meet that
night?”

“Maybe he took a cab.”

“Why would he?” Laurie says. “He had a car. And if a cab picked him up a couple of hours before he was murdered, it likely
would have come out already. The media coverage the day after the murder was substantial, I assume?”

“Very substantial,” I say.

“I admit it’s an interesting question,” Kevin says. “But what does it ultimately mean? We know that Jimmy Childs killed him,
so what’s the difference how he got to him?”

“Because maybe he had help,” I say. “Maybe it’s a way to get Robinson back into the case. Let’s get the security guard logs
at the house gate from that night. Maybe Robinson came there at the time in question and drove off with him.”

“We should be so lucky,” Kevin says, but promises to subpoena the records first thing in the morning.

Unfortunately, the morning comes way too quickly. I was hoping we could skip it entirely, along with the next few months.
But that’s not how it works out, and before I know it Hatchet is taking his seat on the bench.

I make the obligatory yet pathetic motion to dismiss, and Hatchet immediately denies it. He tells me to call our first witness,
and I call Jessica Santorini, a bartender at Mario’s.

After establishing that she was at the restaurant that night, I ask her if she remembers seeing Steven there.

She nods. “I do. He was sitting at the bar.”

“About how long was he sitting there?”

“I’m not sure of the exact time, but it was quite awhile. I remember because all he had was one or maybe two drinks, and I
kept asking him if he wanted something else. He said no, and I think he said he was waiting for somebody.”

“Did you talk about anything else?”

“I’m not sure; it was pretty busy that night.”

On cross-examination, Richard asks her, “Did the defendant pay by credit card or cash?”

“Gee, I wouldn’t know,” she says.

Richard introduces the restaurant’s record that night, which show no credit card payment by Steven. “If he didn’t pay by credit
card, then it must have been cash, correct? There’s no other choice, is there?”

“No, that’s it.”

“So there’s no way to identify his check?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Not really.”

“And no way to know what time he left?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

I bring in a waitress and a patron at the restaurant that night, both of whom basically say the same thing: They’re pretty
sure they remember Steven, but they can’t say for sure when he left.

We’re not exactly generating headlines here.

At lunch, a court messenger brings Kevin an envelope, and he opens it and takes out some papers. “The security gate logs from
that week,” he announces, as he tries to locate the night in question.

“Robinson? Tell me he was at the house that night,” I say, hoping it will show Robinson can be shown to have arrived at the
house and left with Walter Timmerman.

“No,” Kevin says, looking up at me. “But Thomas Sykes was. He arrived at a quarter to seven.”

The name surprises me. “Could he have been shacking up with Diana at that house?”

“Either that or he came to see Walter,” he says. “There’s no way to tell from this whether Walter was home.”

“Does it say if Sykes left alone?”

Kevin shakes his head. “No.” Then, “So what have we learned?”

“We’ve learned something; we just don’t know what it means, or if it has any value. We’ll figure it out tonight.”

I go outside and use my cell phone to call Laurie. “How are you feeling?” I ask.

“I feel fine,” she says.

“Ready to go to work?”

I can see her smile through the phone. “You’d better believe it,” she says.

“L
ET’S MAKE SOME ASSUMPTIONS
about Thomas Sykes,” I say. “Let’s assume that he was not at the house that night for a quickie with Diana Timmerman. And
let’s further assume that he was involved in the murder of her husband.”

“We have nothing to base that on,” says Kevin.

“I would say almost nothing. We do at least know he was at the house that night, and we know he was having an affair with
Timmerman’s wife. But I’ll concede the point; we aren’t close to implicating him. I’m just suggesting we assume the worst,
and try to figure out the pieces. If it doesn’t fit, then we’ll move on.”

“Okay,” Kevin says. “Sykes went to the house, grabbed Walter Timmerman, and drove him to Paterson, where Jimmy Childs was
waiting to shoot him.”

Laurie says, “The head of security, Durant, says that if Walter Timmerman had been in Sykes’s car when he left there should
be a notation to that effect.” I had asked Laurie to interview Durant while we were in court today, and she did so.

“He was in the trunk, or tied up in the back if Sykes had an SUV.” They both stare at me as if I’m an idiot, so I say, “Assumptions.
Assumptions.”

“Fine,” Laurie says, going along. “He tied him up, and then when they got away from the house, he forced Walter to call Steven.”

Another piece, something I had completely missed until now, clicks into place, and I can feel my excitement starting to grow.
“What happened to his phone?” I ask.

I pick up my own phone without waiting for an answer to my question, but before I dial I ask Kevin to dig out all the cell
phone records. “The ones in discovery and Sam’s as well.”

I dial Billy Cameron, the public defender who was representing the young man originally accused of the Timmerman murder. He’s
not home, but when I tell his wife who I am and that I am calling on an urgent matter, she gives me his cell number.

“Billy? Andy Carpenter.”

“Let me guess: They nailed you on the dognapping and you need me to arrange bail.”

“No, if that happened I would call someone competent. But I do have a question I need you to answer.”

“Shoot,” he says.

“Your client was picked up with Timmerman’s wallet. Did he have anything else of Timmerman’s on him?”

“I don’t think so. Like what?”

“Like his cell phone.”

Billy thinks for a moment. “No. I would remember that. I can check the files when I’m in the office, but I’m pretty sure he
didn’t have it.”

“Thanks, Billy. That’s what I needed.”

“I just got back to town yesterday. How’s the case going?”

“Getting better all the time.”

When I get off the call, Kevin is ready with the cell phone information. “Sam’s documents never showed the call on Timmerman’s
cell phone, but that was explained in court. The phone company rep said that the call was made from Timmerman’s business phone,
under the Timco account. I was never much interested in checking on whether the call took place, because Steven had confirmed
to us that he received it.”

“What if it was Sykes’s phone?” I ask, and by now I’m almost yelling. “Everybody assumed it was Timmerman’s phone because
it came up as Timco, but Sykes’s phone would show the same thing. He’s the goddamn CEO. We need to call Sam and get records
from that cell phone. And I need Steven’s home phone records for the last year.”

“Okay, let’s take a step back and look at the big picture,” Laurie says. “Why would Sykes want Walter Timmerman dead?”

“To take over the business entirely?” Kevin asks. “Or maybe so that Diana Timmerman could inherit her husband’s money, and
then Sykes could marry her?”

“That didn’t work out too well,” I say.

Kevin is getting into this. “It could also have to do with Timmerman’s work. Sykes is a scientist; maybe he found out about
it and wanted to take it over for himself. For all he knew, Timmerman was working alone and in secret. If Timmerman were to
die, Sykes might be able to walk in and take over without anyone knowing. Especially because Timmerman’s lab was in his house,
and Sykes would have access through Diana.”

“So why blow up the house?” Laurie asks.

That’s a tough one, but I take a shot at it. “Maybe Sykes had already gotten what he needed, and he didn’t want anyone else
to get it as well. And maybe this way he was able to get rid of Diana, who was the only witness to what he was doing.”

“Holy shit,” Laurie says, thereby exposing her delicate side. “I just had a thought; try this out. Maybe Sykes killed Timmerman
for personal reasons, and then someone else blew up the house. Maybe with Timmerman dead, someone wanted to make sure no one
had access to his work.”

“What are you basing that on?” I ask.

“Childs never told Marcus he killed Walter Timmerman, remember? All he told him was that he blew up the house and tried to
kill Waggy. We just assumed he didn’t admit to killing Walter because Marcus didn’t ask the question, but maybe it was because
it never happened.”

The three of us just look at one another for at least sixty seconds, as we all come to grips with the fact that, at the very
least, we’ve come up with a very viable theory.

“Now, how are you possibly going to prove all this?” Laurie asks.

“We don’t have to prove it,” I say. “We all think this is possible, right? We just have to get the jury to think like us.”

We talk for another hour, and then Kevin heads for home. As Laurie and I are about to get into bed, I say, “You ready for
a stakeout, and maybe a phone call?”