New Tricks (34 page)

“I have unfortunately been involved in a great many murder cases, and let me tell you, ladies and gentlemen, they rarely are
as uncomplicated as this.

“Now, at the last minute, the defense pointed their fingers at Thomas Sykes and said, ‘He did it.’ And when, in the face of
an unexpected barrage of accusations, Mr. Sykes displayed nervousness and faulty memory, they said, ‘Aha! There’s proof of
his guilt.’

“Let’s be clear on something, ladies and gentlemen. There is no physical evidence against Mr. Sykes, not a shred. No blood,
no murder weapon, no parking ticket showing him in downtown Paterson. He is not an explosives expert, nor has the defense
even attempted to give a motive for why he would kill the woman that he loved.

“Mr. Carpenter told you at the opening of the trial that Steven Timmerman’s record was clean, that there was no hint of violence
in his past. Well, believe me, the same thing is true in spades for Thomas Sykes.

“So I ask just one thing of you. Please stick to the facts, and make your decision according to what makes sense. That’s all.
Thank you.”

Obviously it’s important to hear the prosecution’s closing arguments, because I can then adjust my remarks to counter it,
but I often wish I didn’t have to hear them at all. Richard has done a terrific job, and if I were a member of the jury I
would probably be thinking,
Hang the bastard.
But I have to put that out of my mind, or I’ll be too defensive and therefore too cautious.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Richard Wallace is a fine attorney, and he’s done a fine job presenting his case, but he simply could
not be more wrong. There is nothing simple about this case. Nothing at all.

“The perpetrator of these murders wanted it to appear simple. He planted such obvious clues that a person in his first year
at the police academy could have followed them. All signs pointed to Steven Timmerman, so let’s go get him, full speed ahead.

“Of course, for it all to be true and real, Steven Timmerman would have to be not just a murderer, but also a moron. He would
have had to leave his victim’s blood in his car and never bothered to wash it out.

“He would have had to make the decision to kill his stepmother by blowing up her house with an explosive when everyone knew
of his expertise using that explosive. Why do that? Why not shoot her, or poison her, or stab her? Why do it the one way that
would point clearly to him?

“Then, to cap off this run of stupidity, he would have had to hide the gun in the one place it could be traced to him. After
wiping off the fingerprints, no less.

“But that last one didn’t work out so well, because the police couldn’t find it. So someone had to call anonymously and tell
them to go back and look in the table. Who was that person? Someone Steven told? Otherwise, how could they have known? Could
Steven be that dumb? Could anyone be that dumb?

“Steven Timmerman is not dumb, and he is not resentful, and he is not violent. He took very little from his father, choosing
instead to work his trade. It is ludicrous to think that he murdered so as to gain what he had spent so long turning down.

“Now I want to talk to you about Thomas Sykes. Thomas Sykes admits to an affair with Diana Timmerman. He was at Walter Timmerman’s
house two hours before he was murdered, and his phone was used to place what can only be described as a suspicious call to
Steven Timmerman, the first time he had ever called him.

“And Thomas Sykes stood to make eighty million dollars if Walter and Diana Timmerman died. But he would make that only if
Steven Timmerman were not in a position to claim his rightful inheritance. What a coincidence.

“And, ladies and gentlemen, sometimes all the facts are not readily available, and the ones that are can only take you so
far. So you have to go with your gut feelings about people and the way they act.

“Thomas Sykes looked like a deer caught in the headlights on the witness stand. He was trapped, and he sounded like it, and
he looked like it.

“Now, you may not know with certainty that Thomas Sykes murdered Walter Timmerman. I’m not saying you should; he has not been
investigated by the authorities, and there is much more for all of us to learn.

“But consider this: Judge Henderson will explain to you that to find Steven Timmerman guilty, you must do so beyond a reasonable
doubt. If you think that there is a chance, even a relatively small one, that Thomas Sykes is guilty, then you must have a
reasonable doubt as to Steven’s guilt.

“It’s as simple as that.

“Steven Timmerman is a victim. He’s lost his father, and he’s lost his freedom. His father is gone forever, but you have the
power to give him his freedom back. Thank you.”

When I take my seat, Steven puts his hand on my shoulder and softly says, “Thank you; I think you were fantastic.”

“I wish you were on the jury,” I say.

He smiles. “So do I.”

I’
LL NEVER AGAIN
describe waiting for a verdict as the most stressful thing I have ever faced. Not after sitting in that hospital room while
Laurie was in a coma, fighting for her life. Nothing compares to that, but waiting for the jury to rule is no day at the beach.

I’m naturally pessimistic when it comes to this point in the trial, and Kevin is naturally optimistic. The truth is that neither
of us knows what the hell he is talking about. Jury verdicts are impossible to predict.

It’s an accepted maxim that the longer the jury is out, the better for the defense. That is because defense teams usually
consider a hung jury to be a victory, and the longer a verdict watch goes, the more likely that somebody on one side or the
other is holding out.

Of course, like everything else, this accepted maxim is by no means always accurate. I have seen juries vote to acquit in
an hour, and vote to convict after two weeks.

So the way I deal with my stress is to hang out and try not to think about the verdict. The longest I have successfully avoided
those thoughts is about twenty minutes, but as I recall they were a very peaceful twenty minutes.

I make it a point to visit Steven once a day, though it’s unlikely I make him feel any better. I scrupulously don’t give him
my opinion as to the outcome; instead I mouth meaningless phrases like “I’m cautiously hopeful” and “We’re not going to know
until we know.” Real profound stuff.

We’re in the third day of waiting when Laurie comes into the den. It’s in the morning, and she knows I like to obsess and
agonize in the den in the morning. After lunch I prefer obsessing and agonizing in the living room, and after dinner my choice
is to obsess and agonize while pacing around the house. The variety appeals to me.

Laurie generally knows enough to leave me alone at these times, so her entry is a small surprise. I worry for a moment that
she is going to tell me that the jury has reached a verdict, but I haven’t heard the phone ring. I’m not sure why I hate being
told that a decision has been reached, but it might be that it’s because at that moment it feels officially out of my control.

“Hi,” she says. It’s not a particularly interesting way to open a conversation, but the tone in her voice indicates that she
has something on her mind.

“Uh-oh,” I say as I stand up and gird for the worst. For some reason I gird better standing.

“I know you don’t like to talk when you’re waiting for the jury, but I’ve figured things out as well as I’m going to, and
I know you were anxious to have this conversation, so…”

So intense was my focus on the jury that the situation with Laurie had almost been totally out of my mind, but now it is staring
me in the face. I don’t want to hear bad news now, but if I don’t hear what she has to say, I’ll agonize and obsess about
it as well. That won’t be good; when it comes to obsessing and agonizing, I’m basically monogamous. One thing at a time.

“Say it really fast,” I tell her. “Whatever it is, say it really fast.”

She laughs. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“You’re not going fast enough.”

“I want to live here, with you.”

Did she say what I think she said? “Did you say what I think you said?”

“If you think I said I want to live here with you, then yes.”

I go over and kiss her, mainly because that way she won’t be able to talk and tell me she changed her mind. Then I ask, “What
about getting married?”

“That’s up to you,” she says. “I’m fine with it, but I don’t need it. We love each other, and I want to spend the rest of
my life with you, and that’s enough for me.” She smiles. “Besides, I’m already in the will.”

I kiss her again. “What made you decide to live here?”

“Probably what I went through. Life is too precious, and it’s too damn short. I hope we each have a hundred years left, but
if we don’t, or even if we do, I want to spend it with the person I love.”

“And will you be my investigator again? Coincidentally, a position just opened up.”

She smiles. “Maybe. I haven’t thought that through. And I’m going to have to spend some time in Findlay, transitioning to
my replacement. And I’ll want to visit a lot; I have so many great friends there.”

“I understand; that’s perfect.”

“I feel good about this, Andy. I’m very happy with what I decided.”

“You’re the second happiest person in the room,” I say.

We kiss again, and the phone rings. I answer it, and Rita Gordon, the court clerk, says, “Andy, they’ve reached a verdict.”

I hang up and turn to Laurie. “You’re now the happiest person in the room.”

“I’
VE NEVER EXPERIENCED
anything like this,” Steven says when I see him before court. “I never really realized it was possible to be this scared.”

I’m not about to tell him that his fear is unwarranted, because it isn’t, and because he wouldn’t believe me anyway. There
is nothing like this in any other area of our society. In a few minutes, twelve strangers are going to tell Steven that they’ve
decided he can live in freedom, or in misery. And then they’ll go home, and that will be that.

Richard and his team arrive a few minutes after we do, and as he walks in, we make eye contact. I get up and meet him off
to the side of the room, and we shake hands.

“Good luck,” he says.

I nod. “The same to me.”

He smiles. “There’s always more at stake on your side of the table, Andy. I know that. I want to win, but I’m sure not anxious
for you to lose.”

I ask him something that I never, ever ask anyone, especially a prosecutor. “Do you think he did it?”

“Probably,” Richard says. “Am I certain beyond a reasonable doubt? I don’t think so. But I’m comfortable whichever way it
goes.”

“Will you do me a favor?” I ask.

“If I can.”

“When this is over, no matter how it goes, will you try to get a judge to issue a search warrant on Thomas Sykes?”

“For what?” he asks.

“Trace evidence in his car, and his computer.”

“Why his computer?”

“There’s an e-mail that was sent to Walter Timmerman by the head of a DNA lab. It would be important to know if Sykes ever
saw it. I’ll tell you all about it when we have more time.”

The bailiff signals to us that Hatchet is about to come in. “Right now we have no time,” Richard says.

“Will you do it?”

“I’ll certainly give you a chance to talk me into it.”

That’ll have to be good enough for now. I go back to the defense table, my heart beginning its pre-verdict pounding. Hatchet
comes in and announces that the jury has, in fact, reached a verdict.

He calls them in, and they file in slowly, not looking at us. That’s usually either bad news, or good news. Jury-predicting
doesn’t become any easier as you get closer to hearing their verdict.

Hatchet goes through some court business, which I can barely focus on. He then gives the obligatory warning that he will not
tolerate any disorderliness in the courtroom once the verdict is read.

He asks the jury foreman if they have reached a verdict, and the woman confirms that they have. She hands the verdict form
to the bailiff, who brings it to Hatchet. Hatchet looks at it for a few moments, probably delighting in the fact that he is
now the only person other than the jury to know what it says.