The Perfect Game (19 page)

Chapter Forty-nine

(Monday, September 25)

Candace said nothing as she packed up her documents. The walk back to the war room was long and solemn.

As soon as they entered the war room and secured the door behind them, Candace let out a whoop. Kyle clapped Lauren on the back, and Ryan gave her a one-armed squeeze. Lauren caught a whiff of his cologne, an intoxicating combination reminiscent of pine trees and ocean breezes.

“Lauren, you let me worry all weekend, but you really pulled it out of your ass,” Candace said. “That bit about going outside to warm up and fetch your coat from your car was sheer brilliance. Very believable.”

“It was the truth,” Lauren answered.

Candace's face betrayed her doubts.

“That's exactly why I went out those doors.” Lauren persisted with a fierce determination to convince them all she was telling the truth. “When Pratt showed me the tape today, my memory finally clicked in. I suddenly got painfully cold that night so I ducked out of the ER through the closest door, knowing I would defrost outside. I'm pretty sure if you look at the image of me when I reappear on the screen an hour later, you'll find I'm wearing my lab coat.”

Candace pulled out their copy of the video. “Isn't it interesting they had the time to dub us a copy and label it for us even though they supposedly discovered this footage moments before they brought it into court?” Candace commented while she fast-forwarded to the designated time on the time stamp.

They watched intently. At 6:42 p.m., Lauren departed the ER in her scrubs. When she re-emerged from the treatment area for the second time at 7:47 p.m., she was wearing her white lab coat.

“It was right there in front of us this whole time,” Candace said. “Listen, Lauren, I'm sorry I gave you so much grief over this. I've never had my work so scrutinized. Idiots on the national news picking apart my performance and relishing in finding fault with me. And not just the way I'm prosecuting the case, but my hair, my suits, my shoes. It's driving me crazy. Can I plead temporary insanity?”

All was forgiven. Candace had given up so much of her personal life in her impassioned quest to secure justice for Liz.

Local restaurants donated lunches to the Prosecution team every day. “Apparently, there are some folks out there who support us,” Candace observed.

“Either that or they're hoping we will plug their restaurant when we win this case,” Kyle offered.

Today, they found several platters of Japanese food awaiting them. Lauren's favorite. As they enjoyed their meal of miso soup, salad, and several artfully prepared sushi rolls, they rehashed the battle of wits between Pratt and Lauren. The others unanimously declared Lauren the victor.

“What was the deal with that strange pillow exhibit?” Lauren asked. “Did Pratt think I would beat the living daylights out of the pillow until feathers flew everywhere and he could jump up and shout ‘Aha' like Perry Mason?”

Candace laughed. “I think he was hoping you would use your left hand to hold the hammer so he could shout ‘Aha' like Perry Mason. Shouldn't Jake have been able to tell him whether you were right-handed or left-handed?”

“Jake was too busy trying to frame me for his own crime to notice which hand I was using. Funny thing though, if Pratt had given me a golf club, I would have swung left-handed. I'm ambidextrous.”

“Your golf clubs were on the search inventory list.” Candace said as she rifled through her courtroom file box, pulling out a list of all of the things that had been confiscated from Lauren's apartment during the search. “One set of left-handed women's golf clubs. That must have made Pratt think you were left-handed. He must have been surprised and disappointed when you picked up that heavy hammer with your right hand.”

It reminds me of an old joke.” Although Lauren did not often tell jokes, she geared up to share this one. “After attending her first bullfight, a woman ate dinner at a nearby restaurant. She noticed the man at the next table was enjoying a delicious-looking dish topped with two big juicy meatballs. She asked the waiter for the dish, but he said it was a bullfight special called Espagueti Testiculos and only one could be served each evening because it was made with the testicles of the defeated bull. So she skipped the bullfight the following evening in order to be the first to order the Espagueti Testiculos. Her mouth watered in anticipation, but when her order came out, she was disappointed to find a plate of spaghetti topped with two shrunken meatballs. ‘Waiter,' she complained, ‘this isn't what I ordered. I wanted the same dish you served that gentleman last night.'”

“‘But madam,' the waiter responded, ‘the bull does not always lose.'”

Already in a punch-drunk mood resulting from weeks of intense stress, cumulative sleep deprivation, and the elation of the morning's victory, the others roared with laughter.

Chapter Fifty

(Monday, September 25)

Perhaps Pratt had gotten some sort of pep talk over lunch or maybe Jake had pumped him up with a fresh set of false accusations against Lauren. Whatever the case, Pratt looked rejuvenated. He dispensed with any niceties and launched immediately into quick-fire questions intended to rattle Lauren.

“I am going to ask you a series of yes-no questions and I would like you to respond with a simple yes or no answer. Is that clear?”

“No,” Lauren responded.

“No? No? You don't understand?”

“No.”

“Let me get this straight. You are a medical doctor with an advanced degree, but you are unable to comprehend the basic principle of answering questions with a simple yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I am unable to comprehend your request.”

The vein in Pratt's forehead throbbed. He clearly wanted to explode on Lauren. She wished he would. Lawyers love to try to make witnesses lose their temper because it undermines their credibility. Wouldn't it be great if she could turn the tables on Pratt?

“Your Honor,” Pratt whined. “Will you please counsel the witness?”

“Dr. Rose,” Judge Robles said sternly, but Lauren detected a twinkle in his eyes. “Please do your best to answer Mr. Pratt's questions with a simple yes or no response.”

“I would be happy to if Mr. Pratt asks simple yes or no questions,” Lauren answered sweetly.

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Pratt said as if the judge had just solved the problem of world hunger.

Pratt resumed glaring at Lauren. “Wasn't your sister, Elizabeth, more successful than you?”

“No.”

“Wasn't she wealthier than you?”

“Yes.”

“Didn't you feel like your sister was prettier than you?”

“Yes.”

“Wasn't your sister more famous than you? Uh, at the time of her death, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Isn't it true you were jealous of your sister?”

“About some things, yes.”

“Were you the sole beneficiary of Elizabeth's life insurance?”

“Yes.”

“Did you receive the million dollar payout, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Isn't it true that within two months of your sister's death, you bought yourself a brand new Acura?”

“Yes.”

“And shortly after your sister's death, you began to spend personal time with your sister's husband?”

“Yes.”

“And, after your sister's death, you slept over at her house?”

“Once.”

“Isn't it true you asked Mr. Wakefield if you could wear some of your sister's clothes?”

“Once, so I could go running because I didn't have any exercise clothes with me.”

“Isn't it true you attended several of Mr. Wakefield's baseball games?”

“At his invitation.”

“Isn't it true you called Jake Wakefield frequently in the weeks following your sister's death?”

“Yes.”

“Would it surprise you to learn you called him at least fifty-four times between July twenty-third and October fourteenth?”

“How many times did he call me during the same time frame?”

Pratt exploded in a narcissistic fit of fury. “I ask the questions and you answer them, is that clear?”

Judge Robles was not amused. “Mr. Pratt, it is not your job to correct the witness. You may take the issue up with me and I will counsel the witness, is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Dr. Rose,” the judge said. “I understand that answering complex questions with a simple answer can be challenging for all of us at times, but I do ask you to limit your responses.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“You may continue, Mr. Pratt,” Robles instructed.

Pratt stood staring at Lauren momentarily, trying to remember where he was. Several journalists would later report that Pratt had attempted to stare down his first witness.

“Would it surprise you to learn you texted Jake Wakefield ninety-eight times between the dates of July twenty-third and October fourteenth?”

“No.”

Pratt made a show of introducing Lauren's cell phone records into evidence and having Lauren confirm all of the times that Jake's phone number appeared. Lauren knew the following page of the same cell phone bill would show how many times Jake had called her, but Pratt didn't seem interested in asking about that.

“Isn't it fair to say you were obsessed with Jake Wakefield during that time period?”

How do I answer that question?
At the time, she had been falling for Jake. But everything had changed so much since then.
The medical definition for ‘obsession' was a persistent unwanted thought. Back then, my thoughts about Jake weren't unwanted.

“Do you need me to repeat the question?” Pratt demanded.

“No. The answer to that question is no.”

“No?” he asked again as he did when he did not like her response.

“No, not during that time period.”

Pratt's eyes lit up. “Were you obsessed with him during a different time period?”

“I'm quite preoccupied these days with the idea of him being justly convicted for killing my sister, if that counts.”

“Objection. Non-responsive. Move to strike,” Pratt directed at the judge.

“Overruled.”

“Isn't it true you attempted to conceal your relationship with Jake Wakefield?”

“We thought…”

But Pratt interrupted, “Yes or no, Miss Rose?”

“No.”

“Didn't you choose not to sit in Jake's VIP seats at the ball games because others would know you were there to watch Jake?”

“Yes.”

“And didn't you begin calling Jake from pay phones and other land lines after the police searched your apartment?”

“Yes, because…” but Pratt would not allow Lauren to finish her answer.

“When we saw that video tape taken at the hospital earlier today, you were wearing scrubs, weren't you?”

“In the first image, I was wearing scrubs. In the second image, I was wearing scrubs and my lab coat.” There was whispering among the observers.

“There was no second image, Miss Rose,” Pratt snapped.

“Oh, there is, the court just hasn't seen it yet.”

Pratt's objection was sustained.

“And your scrubs are issued by the hospital, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Rose, would you be surprised to see one of your colleagues walking around the hospital with blood on their scrubs?”

“Not particularly. We change our scrubs when they get soiled, but we can't always do so right away.”

“If your scrubs get dirty, you just change into new ones?”

“Yes.”

“And where would you place your bloody scrubs after you were done changing?”

“In the hospital laundry.”

“So, the hospital must wash a lot of bloody scrubs?”

“Yes.”

“And you also use latex gloves at work?”

“Yes.”

“So those gloves are readily available to you?”

“Yes.”

Pratt continued his offensive. “Miss Rose, didn't you decline to attend the wake for your sister?”

“I attended the memorial service, but I didn't go to the Wakefields' home afterward. My grandmother was…”

Pratt interrupted. “Isn't it true you were offered a year off from work so you could grieve the death of your sister, but you declined?”

“Yes. I couldn't afford to take a year off from work.”

“Even though you collected a million dollar life insurance payout?”

“I was never expecting that money, nor did I keep it when it was offered to me.”

“Isn't it true you disparaged the detectives in this case by referring to them as Walrus and Pretty Boy?”

“Jake coined those nicknames.”

“So you never referred to the Detectives as Walrus and Pretty Boy?

“I might have, but I was only repeating what Jake called them.”

“So, you were eager to have Jake like you?”

“Yes, at that time, I wanted him to like me.”

“You very much wanted him to like you?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Isn't it true you told Jake you have always loved baseball?”

“Yes, because I
have
always loved baseball.”

“Isn't it true you asked Jake about Elizabeth's life insurance policy?”

“Yes, because…”

“And isn't it true you began talking like your sister when you spoke to Jake, using the same verbal expressions she used to use?”

“We used the same expressions because we were sis—”

“And isn't it true you told Jake you wished you could eat delivery meal services like he received all the time?”

“Yes, because…”

“And isn't it true you enjoyed the things Jake's money and fame could get you like limousine rides, VIP parking, and good baseball tickets?”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean…”

“And didn't you call your sister's cell phone at 8:23 p.m. on the night she was killed?”

“Yes. I wanted to…”

“And didn't you leave a message on her voice mail, saying “Hey, call me back as soon as you can?”

“Yes.”

“And didn't you leave that message to try to disguise the fact you had just killed your own sister.”

“No!”

“You were jealous of your sister and wanted what she had, so you snuck out of the hospital, drove to her house, let yourself in using her alarm code, bludgeoned her to death, returned to the hospital, changed out of your bloody scrubs leaving them in the hospital laundry, collected her insurance payout, and promptly pursued her husband?”

Candace's objection was overruled.

“No, none of that ever happened.”

“None of that ever happened?”

“Correct, none of that happened.”

“We know the jealousy part did happen because you have already admitted to that.”

“I was jealous of her at times, but the rest of it didn't happen.”

“You didn't collect the insurance?”

“Yes, but…”

“And shortly after her death, you slept in her home, and spent personal time with her husband, yes or no?”

Lauren made a concerted effort to maintain her composure. “Yes.”

“No more questions for this witness,” Pratt said victoriously. As Pratt had no doubt been counting on, Judge Robles recessed court for the day, which would allow the jury time to contemplate all of the dirty little secrets they had learned that day about the victim's sister. Things that were not nearly as dirty nor as secret as they appeared.