‘So what happens, practically, if we don’t challenge it?’
‘We’ll tell the jury this evidence exists, but we’ll imply it’s not important – that it doesn’t prove anything. The bite-mark evidence is different, we’ll fight that the whole way.’
Alexandra turned her head away, tears forming in her eyes.
‘Whatever you think is best. I’m just so worried about the trial. I-I-I can’t look at her. I don’t want to be in the same room as her. She killed my dad, she wants to ruin my life. I don’t want to see her. Is there a screen or something that could be put up, so I don’t have to see her every day of the trial?’
‘Not that I know of … I’ll look into it. I know it will be hard …’ Kate broke off when she saw Alexandra’s fingers trembling. It occurred to Kate that her client’s main concern wasn’t whether she would be convicted – it was the loss of her father, and the deep, perpetual wound caused by his murder.
‘Leave it with me. I’ll see if something can be done. If it can’t, then I will need you to be strong. You don’t have to look at her. Look at the jury. Let them see what I’m seeing now.’
Alexandra met Kate’s gaze, her chin wobbled, and she licked a tear from the corner of her mouth.
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Alexandra, taking in a long breath and holding it. While she exhaled, her fingers pressed on the table, then slid around in patterns, as if she was feeling for every imperfection in the wood and exploring it.
She let out the air in her chest, drew a handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse and wiped delicately at her wet cheeks. Kate detected the smell of lavender and spice in the air, probably from the handkerchief. Alexandra took a sniff at the scented handkerchief, rubbed the cotton between her forefinger and thumb, then unfolded it and held it up for Kate to see.
The corner of the material bore the initials ‘FA’, which had been monogrammed onto the material in black thread.
‘Dad’s smell is still on these handkerchiefs,’ said Alexandra, fresh tears forming in her corners of her eyes. ‘It’s all I have left of him.’
Kate took hold of Alexandra’s hand, and they exchanged bittersweet smiles.
‘It’s the polygraph tomorrow. Remember this feeling. This will get you through it,’ said Kate.
TWENTY
EDDIE
‘My landlord doesn’t allow dogs in the building,’ I said.
‘No shit. You told me that yesterday. And the day before. In fact, you’ve said the same thing for weeks. Ever since I started bringing Clarence to the office. I’m beginning to get the impression you don’t like him,’ said Harry.
He was reading the final pages of the prosecution discovery. The bundles of documents were spread out on my couch and at Harry’s feet was the dog he’d met the night of his retirement party. Harry had named him Clarence. They seemed to be at one with each other. The dog lay on its side and each time Harry reached down to grab the next set of pages, his tail would beat on the floorboards. Every hour, Harry would reach into his pocket and draw out a frankfurter from a baggie that he hand-fed to Clarence. He must’ve been on the streets a long time. When Harry first took the dog in, it was skinny and had lost a lot of fur. Now the bald patches were beginning to disappear, and you could no longer see the poor animal’s ribcage.
Harry put down the last set of papers, patted his pal and gave him a frankfurter. I got up from behind my desk, retrieved the papers scattered around the couch and the floor and piled them on my desk. We had split the discovery. I read half. Harry read half. Now we swapped.
Two hours and two and half frankfurters later, all three of us looked like we could use a drink. I filled a cereal bowl with water from the faucet in the bathroom, and left it on the floor. Clarence lapped up the water greedily.
‘He doesn’t look like a Clarence,’ I said.
‘He’s a dog. I didn’t name him after Darrow because of what he looks like. Clarence Darrow was the best defence attorney who ever lived. And a survivor, just like this little one.’
‘And does Clarence Darrow here have any bright ideas on how to defend our client?’
Harry wasn’t even looking at me. We’d both finished reading the prosecution discovery – which amounted to the entire case against our client. Harry seemed to be more focused on Clarence. He rubbed the dog’s belly, while Clarence kicked his little back legs in delight.
‘Clarence says he’s thinking about it. This one isn’t easy. A drink might help?’
I poured Harry and I some coffee from the pot. I gave him his mug and he stared at it with open displeasure. Like I’d given him a mug filled with the leftover water from what was now Clarence’s bowl.
‘I thought we were going to have a drink?’
‘That is a drink.’
‘That stuff will kill you. Give me a large Scotch.’
He put the coffee as far away from him as he could, while remaining seated, and continued to massage Clarence while I poured him a real drink. He took the Scotch, sipped it, and Clarence let out a low, contented growl.
We fell quiet for a time, and I stretched my back and felt the dull ache leave the base of my spine.
‘Talk to me,’ said Harry. ‘What are the main prosecution pillars?’
This was defense prep 101. It was up to the prosecutor to build their columns of evidence. They want to put a guilty verdict on the roof. The weaker we can make the supporting structure, the less likely it is that the roof will hold.
Simple.
‘The crime scene investigator takes a single hair from one of the wounds on Avellino. This is hair that he says was partially trapped in the wound. It was a long hair, measuring nine inches. He says the only way that hair gets down into the wound is if it was trapped there when the knife made the incision. That has some logic to it.’
‘On its own that’s not too damning,’ said Harry. ‘Professor Shandler is the one who tested the hair. He’s the one who really gives us the problem.’
The prosecutor’s hair fiber expert – Professor Shandler – examined the hair and determined that it matched hair samples taken from Sofia.
‘Hair-fiber analysis is not an exact science. There might be a way of attacking his findings. That’s the only line of attack on this one.’
‘Agreed,’ said Harry. ‘Let’s ask Harper to research the good professor. With the amount of convictions overturned on unreliable hair-fiber analysis, somebody is bound to have questioned Shandler’s methods before now.’
‘I’ll ask her to dig into the professor’s personal history too. Maybe he has a few skeletons in the closet.’
‘Good. So where does that leave us? The bite-mark expert says the wound on the victim’s chest is consistent with Alexandra’s teeth having made that mark. Good for him. Maybe we can use that to our advantage. If the bite-mark expert is good then it helps Sofia,’ said Harry.
‘Yeah, and if the hair-fiber guy is good then it cuts both ways. We could try and bolster the prosecution case on that point, throw their expert a few softballs in cross-examination and do real damage to Alexandra, but you know that just doesn’t feel right to me.’