Obstruction of Justice (32 page)

"Can you at this time, based on your experience in investigation of crimes and your review of the reports and information we have just discussed, reconstruct what occurred at the cemetery, in your professional opinion?"

"Here’s what I think," Suntan said. "The defendant here was digging up the body of his father at the cemetery. He wasn’t going to let his grandfather get hold of it. I don’t know too much about the family situation, but evidently the family was pitted against the grandfather on this. It was a control thing, some kind of symbol as to whether the grandfather was going to take over for the father who had just died—"

"Your Honor," Nina said. "Move to strike all the testimony after the word cemetery, even if the witness has hearsay third-hand reports of Sigmund Freud. He’s a policeman, not a psychiatrist."

"Let’s get this over with," Amagosian said. "The witness thinks the defendant was the one doing the digging. Move on."

"The defendant was doing the digging, and the grandfather was watching from the bushes," Suntan continued. "How the grandfather knew this was going on has not been established. The defendant had almost completed his task when the grandfather came over and tried to stop him. In the struggle that followed, the defendant grabbed the shovel and hit his grandfather with it. Quentin de Beers was unconscious or dead at that point, I don’t know.

"Then the defendant dragged both bodies into the trunk of the grandfather’s car and drove to the cabin at Wright’s Lake. He must have been flustered at this turn of events and he felt safe there, or maybe he had planned to go there all along. He got the two bodies into the living room of the cabin and decided to set the place on fire as a cover-up. That’s it in a nutshell."

"What about the woman who called 911?" Collier said.

"I don’t think a man could sound that shrill. I do believe it was a woman, so it wasn’t the defendant calling it in. So there was a woman there. A witness or maybe a coconspirator. The defendant might have called somebody to help him. But I don’t believe anyone else was at the grave site, based on the footprints and other evidence."

"Thank you, Deputy Beatty. I have nothing further," Collier said, and Suntan stepped down, smiling at everyone.

The minute hand on the clock clicked into its place, exactly on twelve.

"Come with me," Paul said, and then, whispering into Nina’s ear, he added, "you shrill thing." In a normal voice he said, "We’ve got an hour and a half. We’ll catch a sandwich on the way back. Here, hand me that." He took the briefcase and tossed it in the back of the van.

"I don’t know."

"If you stare at the paperwork anymore, you won’t be able to think this afternoon. Let’s go." He tucked her into the seat belt and zoomed off, taking a left at Al Tahoe Boulevard, then a right onto Pioneer Trail.

"Where are we going?"

"Close by." They passed Black Bart and Golden Bear and Jicarilla, quiet streets off to their right. To the left was national forest, thick and fragrant. On this afternoon of oranges and yellows, sun fell onto her tired eyes; they closed, and next thing she knew they were parking in the driveway of a chalet-style house in some quiet neighborhood somewhere. A small blue painted sign said
_{90 K}
U
_L
OW. She frowned, trying to remember where she’d heard that street name before.

"What’s this?" she said.

"The house Sandy’s been trying to get you to go and see." He held a key in his palm. "The realtor loaned it to me for the afternoon. I told her you were a hotshot attorney in the middle of a trial who could steal a few minutes to look at it at lunch. Gullible, isn’t she?"

"You and Sandy cooked this up?"

Blameless, wide eyes. "We just thought you ought to have a look."

Her little lapse into unconsciousness had left Nina groggy and all the more finely attuned to her overwhelming fatigue. She shook her head and looked around, at the deep lot with its hundred-foot high ponderosas, at the peaceful street with a few houses here and there, not too close together, not too grand, not too mean, each one different. And this one—oh, it was beautiful with its pointed gable and warm brown color....

"Come on."

She followed him up a few porch steps to the solid carved front door, but he took her arm and steered her around to the back. A pine deck about four feet above the ground, of the same warm color, encircled most of the house, extending out into the yard about thirty feet in back. The forest beyond was undeveloped. Native shrubs, tall trees, and a soft mat of pine needles preserved the wilderness feeling. They walked down a few steps into the yard, and found at the far boundary a dip near the fence where a creek would run in the spring.

Nina hadn’t said a word. She just followed Paul around as he went to the front door and opened it to an entry with curved wooden hooks protruding from its walls.

"For skis, see?" Paul said, demonstrating how they would be hung. "Here’s where you take your winter woolies off." But she had moved on, venturing onward into the living room. This room rose all the way to the exposed ceiling rafters. Past the wood stove, a picture window at least fifteen feet high overlooked the deck and backyard forest beyond.

"The kitchen," Paul said. Off to the right of the living room, the small and well-equipped room featured the ideal window over the sink opening onto yet another view. She stood at the window for a moment, arms folded, gazing out at the sunlight on the trees, taking in the clarity of the air, which let each leaf and pine needle quiver individually in the breeze, and the tranquil perfection of this artwork composed by nature.

Then he led her down the hall to a large bathroom with a claw-foot tub, sun pouring through the dust in the air, and two bedrooms beyond, lit from one angle like a Vermeer, still, suggestive, and enticing.

"It’s beautiful," she breathed.

"Last but not least." A staircase rose from the entry, and up they went quickly, Paul pushing Nina from behind as if she couldn’t make it on her own. A sort of balcony or loft extended out over part of the living room, opening onto another bathroom and another door. She pushed the door, opening it into a spacious pine-paneled attic room, all eaves, with a small casement window hanging like a European window over the street. While she stood riveted, looking up and down the street at the neighboring cabins and the white-and-blue swirl of the Tahoe sky, Paul went back downstairs.

When she finally came down, she found him cross-legged on the floor taking in sun by the big window. She sat down next to him.

"Not too easy in a skirt like that," Paul said. "You do it very well." He leaned his back against the wall, looking drowsy.

"Bob could have one of the downstairs bedrooms," she said. "And the other one would make a little office. I have so many books in boxes in Matt’s garage."

"Bob’ll want the attic."

"Not a chance," Nina said. "How much are they asking?"

He named a figure within her budget, underpriced according to most California standards, as so many Tahoe homes were.

"Not bad," she said.

"You’d have to pay three times that in Carmel," Paul said.

"Who’s the realtor?"

"Well, how’s this for a coincidence? It’s one of Sandy’s aunts, a hawk-nosed lady with pointy glasses."

"And we’ll eventually find out Sandy owns the place." They both started laughing. Nina laughed and laughed, and couldn’t stop, and the pressure of the laughter brought tears at last. She let them flow.

Paul hadn’t bothered her. He still sat against the wall, looking away, but there was a watchful stillness in him.

"Paul," she said. "I’m scared. I’ve done something."

"I know."

"I love the house, but I can’t have it. I can’t make any plans."

"Okay. I’ve been patient with you. I’ve watched you eating yourself up. You ready to tell me now what’s going on? What the heck did you do?"

"When I went into that cabin, it was already on fire. I saw a pair of green Vuarnet sunglasses lying on the floor. I picked them up. I didn’t have more than an instant to think, Paul, but I knew they were Jason’s. I took them."

"You took evidence from a crime scene?"

"I didn’t know anybody had been murdered. I didn’t know it was a crime scene. His mother was my client. I felt that he was too, because the case involved the whole family. I mean, it was just too obvious the way they were lying there planted, just waiting to be found!"

"Not that obvious," Paul said. "If they were going to burn in the fire, they couldn’t make much of a plant."

"Now I know that. If only I’d left them there to burn ..."

"What did you do with them? Throw them out in the woods on your way out?"

Nina sighed. "I thought I should hold on to them, Paul. I couldn’t destroy evidence—I didn’t want to compound it."

"So where are they now?"

"I stuck them in a plastic bag and slipped them under my mattress."

"Oh-ho. The first place the cops would look."

"Not just the cops. Anyone. I tried to find them over the weekend. They’re gone. Someone came and got them. I thought I could handle what I’d done, Paul. I even felt brave about it, like I could tempt fate and get away with it. But then the sunglasses were gone, out of my control, and in such a stealthy way...."

Paul had sat up. "One of the kids?"

"No, I asked them all. Someone broke in."

"I could swear you told me Matt insisted on an alarm after your last case...."

"Oh, we have an alarm system now, but with three kids running in and out and three adults, the house isn’t always secure. I’m sure someone went through my dresser drawers too."

He stared at her. She had jolted him.

"Did you tell Matt?" he asked a moment later.

"No."

"Oh, Nina."

"He’s been trying to get me to move out, Paul. At first he was really patient, but I guess once the idea was planted he wanted to see progress. He sees I’m not looking, and he’s getting antsy. I tried to talk to him about it over the weekend, and explain about this case. He said there’s always a case. I just couldn’t tell him someone had broken in. I’m afraid he’d physically throw me out, which is probably exactly what I deserve. Matt’s been such an angel to me and Bob, but he’s the devil when anything threatens his family. He has a right to view me as a major risk factor."

"But you told Jason, didn’t you? Mistake number two. "

"I wanted to know if he had an explanation. I asked him not to tell anyone I had the sunglasses. He swears he didn’t."

"You might have been overheard accidentally on purpose at the jail."

"That’s illegal."

"So?"

"I don’t buy that the police broke into Matt’s house. I don’t buy that they taped me illegally. Collier would know, and he would find a way to let me know. But someone knew about the sunglasses and that means someone besides Jason and me knows what I did."

"You’re in trouble, Nina."

She nodded. "You heard that 911 call today and so did Collier. I’m amazed I wasn’t made right there in front of Judge Amagosian and that reporter for the Tahoe Mirror who’s always yipping at my heels. And at this very moment, they may have somebody working out the tire tracks and the prints on the phone. My time’s running out. Collier’s going to recognize my voice or the tire tracks and wonder if I was there that night and made that call. When he asks me, I won’t lie."

"If he’s got any balls, he’ll let you go."

"I just didn’t want to see an innocent person convicted. But how innocent is Jason really? I can’t help wondering. Did he dig up his father’s grave? Did he set the cabin on fire?"

"You’re convinced, for whatever reasons, he didn’t kill his grandfather. That’s all you have to worry about right now. He gets charged with something else, you can farm it out."

She couldn’t let it go. The relief of telling Paul and not having the sky fall on her felt tremendous. "My heart went out to Sarah and to her son. I had to step in. I guess ... I still don’t regret it. Jason was drowning, Paul."

Paul leaned across the floor and took both of her hands, rubbing them between his. "You’re cold," he said.

She let the sun’s warmth and his hands do their work on her.

Paul was patting her knee, awkwardly. It was so warm there on the floor. Exhausted by the effort her confession had cost her, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

"You’re closer to a basket case than I realized," he said. "You shouldn’t have intervened. You may go to jail. It could happen."

"It was arrogance, Paul. I had started thinking I could save everybody. What do you think I should do?"

... If she lived here, she would light a fire in the stone fireplace, pulling up a chair right in this sunny spot, with down cushions and a footstool. She would put a table right next to the new chair, piled with newspapers and a cup of coffee. And then, equipped for perfect leisure, she would doze like Hitchcock, mindless and happy, with music just like this music she was hearing now, playing in the background, soft voices singing.

She must have fallen asleep then, because she heard Paul’s voice over the song, obtrusive as boots on gravel, saying, "Don’t you worry about a thing now, Nina. Paul’s on the case. First thing, I’ll tell Sandy you’ll be making an offer. Second thing..." But she didn’t hear the second thing.

27

"DEPUTY BEATTY." NINA INCLINED HER HEAD. AN hour ago, Paul had let her sleep for ten minutes, and she felt like a new person.

"Ms. Reilly."

Nina consulted her notes. In spite of the warm courtroom, Amagosian looked frisky and energized. His hair was wet, as if he had been swimming. Everyone else seemed to drag, especially Jason, who had barely said a word to her in the five minutes they had had before the afternoon session began.

She charged ahead. "Deputy Beatty, did you find any fingerprints of Jason de Beers at the site of the fire at Wright’s Lake?"

"All the results aren’t in."

"I thought you said the only prints you found were in the bedrooms and belonged to Quentin de Beers."

"That’s not what I said. I said that Quentin de Beers’s prints were among those we lifted. There are a number, still unidentified, from the bedrooms. What we don’t have is prints from the living room due to the almost complete destruction of the walls and furnishings by scorching or smoke damage or actual burning. We also have a few we can’t identify from the front door."

Could he hear her heart pounding?

"Do you have two base sets of Jason de Beers’s fingerprints, taken as a result of his application for a driver’s license and from the booking process?"

"Yes."

"Have you compared those prints with the unidentified prints from the bedroom and doorway?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"No match."

"The defendant’s prints are not there?"

"They are not there." He sure lucked out with the prints, Suntan’s face said.

"Thank you." She consulted her notes, to give that point a chance to sink in with the judge. "You spoke with some neighbors who indicated they had seen Jason de Beers at the Wright’s Lake cabin. How about a time frame on those sightings?"

"They were pretty vague. During the summers."

"During which summers?"

"They weren’t clear on that."

"Possibly ten years ago, then?"

"On several occasions during the summer."

"He could have been a child of five?"

"Definitely more recent than that."

"Within the last month?"

"Not specifically. The summer season was over on Labor Day, and the cabins have been pretty much unoccupied since then."

"So no one has seen the defendant at that cabin within the last month?"

"Not specifically."

"Help me here, Deputy. What exactly is the physical evidence that shows Jason de Beers was present at any time on August twenty-second at the cabin on Wright’s Lake?"

Suntan thought. The heel of his expensive shoe rubbed up and down against his chair while he thought.

"It’s a logical deduction," he said. "The defendant was present at the grave site, if the fingerprints on the shovel are any indication. He got involved in a fight with his grandfather. His grandfather’s body ended up in the cabin. Now, it didn’t walk there by itself."

"Oh? How do you know that?"

"Because Quentin de Beers was knocked unconscious."

"He may or may not have been knocked unconscious. But how do you know he didn’t recover and drive his car up to Wright’s Lake on his own, with the body of his son in the trunk?" Nina said.

"If he drove up there, where’s his car now? And if he wanted to burn his son’s body, why burn himself? It doesn’t make sense."

"Where is Quentin de Beers’s car?"

"We’re still looking for it."

"Is it your theory that Jason de Beers drove in that car to the cabin?"

"Since it’s missing, it could well be, but I don’t know for sure. We know he didn’t take the Jeep he shares with his sister."

"Lots of theories," Nina said. "Where’s the beef?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Where’s some solid evidence that Jason de Beers was at the cabin?"

"I believe the primary physical evidence connecting the defendant with Quentin de Beers’s death was found at the grave site."

"In other words, there is no physical evidence at all that Jason de Beers was at the cabin that night. Right?"

"Not at this time." Just say no, Nina thought. She felt like a dentist extracting molars from an especially stubborn jaw. Her poor neglected dental-malpractice client, Ed Mills, flashed into her mind. She crossed off that segment of her notes, and said, "Let’s talk about the physical evidence located at the grave site. Let’s talk about the fingerprints on the shovel. You were present, sitting at the counsel table with Mr. Hallowell, when Sergeant Balsam testified this morning?"

"Yes."

"And you have read the reports of Sergeant Balsam concerning his investigation of the scene at the Happy Homestead Cemetery?"

"I have copies, yes."

"Are you aware that the defendant’s father, Raymond de Beers, died the previous week and was buried at that cemetery?"

"Yes, based on the reports."

"And that there was a funeral and that the burial was attended by his family?"

"I presume that would happen. But I have no personal knowledge—"

Collier, who had been following her questions with a frown, said, "Objection. Deputy Beatty is being asked to read between the lines of Sergeant Balsam’s report. Why didn’t Counsel question Sergeant Balsam on these points?"

"I’m saving time in the interests of judicial economy, Your Honor," Nina said. "I’m permitted to question this officer concerning the reports of other officers even though it’s hearsay, under Penal Code section 872(b). I know the district attorney’s office feels that section was enacted just for them, but—"

"But Sergeant Balsam was right here!" Collier said.

"Mr. Hallowell had no problem using Sergeant Balsam to talk about the fingerprint expert’s report, Your Honor, when it suited his convenience. I’m merely doing the same thing," Nina said. What she really was doing was making a stink, getting Amagosian involved, to drive her next point home.

"What are you trying to get at here, Mrs. Reilly?" Amagosian asked.

Nina walked around the counsel table, aware of all the eyes on her, especially Amagosian’s. She bent over in front of the judge and made a shoveling motion. "This, Your Honor," she said. "At the burial service a shovelful of dirt is often thrown on the grave by a family member."

"But this witness can’t testify as to whether that actually happened!" Collier protested.

"Exactly," Nina said. She leaned on her nonexistent shovel, looking back and forth from Collier, whose mouth remained open, to Amagosian.

"Now defense counsel is trying to testify, Your Honor! There’s no evidence the defendant touched that shovel the week before!"

"There’s no evidence he didn’t," Nina said. "The obvious explanation, that the defendant did touch the shovel at the funeral just a few days before, hasn’t been ruled out by the prosecution. The police don’t know when the fingerprints were made on the shovel. How can they try to pass that off as evidence?" She walked back to her chair and sat down, satisfied. She had made the point in Amagosian’s mind, and she didn’t care how.

Amagosian said, "Deputy Beatty, to your knowledge has any investigation been made as to whether the defendant might have touched the shovel during his father’s burial?"

Suntan raised his eyebrows at Collier, who gave him a stony nod. "Your Honor," he answered, "we haven’t had time to complete all aspects of the investigation. If the Court will recall, the defendant has insisted on his right to hold a preliminary hearing within ten days. We are still in the evidence-gathering phase."

"Well, you still have to cover your probable cause bases," Amagosian said. "Mrs. Reilly?"

"Thank you, Your Honor," she said, meaning it for once. "Now, Deputy Beatty, what has law enforcement got in the way of physical evidence, other than fingerprints, which connect the defendant to any alleged crime at the grave site?"

"Other than fingerprints? There’s the fact he fled the jurisdiction. The fact he wasn’t home that night, and nobody saw him. The motive evidence."

"You’re purposely misunderstanding me, aren’t you, Deputy?"

Suntan was blinking. "Misunderstanding?"

"None of that is physical evidence. None of that is direct evidence. Other than the fingerprints, you don’t have any direct link at all between the defendant and—"

"Objection. Argumentative. Asked and answered."

"Sustained."

Again Nina studied her notes, using the few seconds to calm down. It seemed to her that the atmosphere of the courtroom had changed. She had control of the moment, and she mustn’t let it go.

"All right. You say the defendant fled the jurisdiction."

"He was arrested in Las Vegas. I have the report of the Las Vegas police department."

"I have it too," Nina said. "Isn’t it true that the defendant was registered at a Las Vegas motel in his own name?"

"Yes. "

"Isn’t it true that the defendant offered no resistance?"

"Yes."

"And that he waived extradition?"

"Yes, but—"

"Didn’t even request counsel before waiving his right to fight extradition?"

"That’s my understanding."

"So he went to Las Vegas," Nina said. "In what way does that constitute flight?"

"He was wanted for questioning."

"Did he know that?"

"How could he know that? He had fled the jurisdiction!"

"He might not see it that way at all. Isn’t it equally possible that the defendant, who was mourning the loss of his father, just decided to get away for a few days?"

"That would not be my interpretation," Suntan said.

"Of course not," Nina said. "Well, then. In the sense that he has relied on his right to remain silent and you haven’t located any witnesses who saw him somewhere other than the cemetery that night, Jason de Beers does not have an alibi. You find that suspicious?"

"It indicates he had opportunity. People who aren’t up to something generally are in their beds at three o’clock in the morning. Where was he?"

"If he had an alibi, you think he would have come forward with it?"

"Certainly."

"What about his right to remain silent while the prosecution sets out the evidence against him? He’s not supposed to be penalized for exercising that constitutional right, is he?"

"He has that right," Suntan said, his lips compressed.

"But he’d better not use it, or he’ll look bad," Nina said.

"Your Honor!" Collier said.

"Don’t get carried away with your own cleverness, Counsel," Amagosian said.

"Sorry, Your Honor," she said. "I did get carried away."

"You may continue."

"Okay, Deputy Beatty, the last factor you mentioned was motive evidence. What did you mean by that?"

"I was referring to the civil suit in which the defendant was pitted against his grandfather. De Beers versus County of El Dorado. The defendant submitted a declaration through your office stating that he opposed an exhumation of the body for any purpose. He stated that he believed the grandfather was using a pretext and actually wanted to satisfy a paranoid suspicion that Raymond de Beers did not die of natural causes."

"So what was the motive, in your opinion?"

"Well, the defendant’s mother, Sarah de Beers, had changed her mind, which meant that the exhumation order would likely issue. The defendant thought his grandfather had pressured his mother into withdrawing her opposition. That made him angry at his grandfather."

"How do you know that?"

"His mother told us."

Jason, who had sat quietly up to now, muffled some sound.

"She said when he found out she was going to let them go ahead, he told her it would never happen. That’s in her statement."

Now Nina was in a quandary. If she attacked the statement Sarah had signed, Collier would put Sarah on the stand and emphasize it. If she didn’t attack it, it would certainly appear that Jason had a motive, however far-fetched, to murder his grandfather. She decided to let it pass.

"Let’s say he was angry with his grandfather," she said. "Are you telling us he went to the cemetery and dug up the grave, knowing his grandfather would follow and planning to hit him with the shovel?"

"No. That would not be my reconstruction from the crime scene. I would say he was digging up the grave to frustrate the grandfather’s plan to exhume the body. The grandfather followed and tried to stop him. The defendant attacked him with the shovel. It’s all linked to animosity."

"So you don’t feel Quentin de Beers’s death was planned before the events at the cemetery that night?"

"I couldn’t say that at this time, no. It was more a situational thing."

"All this is a reconstruction from what you call the motive evidence?"

"From all the evidence I’ve mentioned."

"Which is all really just supposition, isn’t it?"

"Objection. Argumentative."

"Sustained."

"Just a house of cards?"

"I wouldn’t say—"

"Same objection."

"Sustained."

"You don’t have a single solitary piece of real evidence, do you?"

"Objection!"

"Withdraw the last question," Nina said. "I have nothing further."

"We’ll take the midafternoon break," Amagosian announced.

The courtroom cleared. "Now I’m starting to feel like I have a chance," Jason said.

"In spite of yourself," Nina said, gathering up her papers.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind. Collier!" Collier was just walking out. He waited for her, but he didn’t look happy. Close up, it was evident to her that he was working from some reserve of energy that was draining away his health.

"I just wanted to say... I know the hearing isn’t going well for you..." she said.

"You shouldn’t have pushed me into a ten-day hearing," Collier said. "You know how short-staffed we are. In spite of what the law says, the other defense attorneys work with us, give us time to prepare. That’s the way it’s done, Nina. As usual, you’ll do whatever it takes to win, to hell with protocol."

"I have to make strategic decisions based on what’s best for my client."

"That may work for you this time around. But at some point in some case you’re going to need an accommodation from our office. And you won’t get it. That’s how it works."