‘So what do we do now? We can’t let her get away with this,’ I said.
‘If I put her on the witness stand you can cross-examine her?’ said Kate.
‘You’d be knowingly throwing your client under the bus. You can’t elicit false testimony from her either – what if she convinces the jury she didn’t do it? She’s managed to convince both of you. If I call Sofia and Dreyer does a number on her then it could make things even worse,’ I said.
We sat in silence for a few moments, lost in thought.
‘Don’t call the defendants,’ said Bloch. ‘The problem is the journal. We show the jury it’s a fake. The DAs spent all their time proving it is authentic. I don’t think they’ve had time to consider if it’s accurate.’
With the exception of Kate, who was casually eating a French fry while her friend talked, Harry, Delaney and I were all open-mouthed. These were the first words Bloch had spoken since we’d sat down. I guess she didn’t talk unless she had something damn important to say.
‘Holy shit, that’s exactly what we need to do,’ I said.
Bloch said nothing.
‘Damn, that’s the whole nine yards right there,’ said Harry. He stared straight at Kate and said, ‘Does she do that a lot?’
Kate raised her soda to her lips, hesitated and said, ‘Welcome to my world.’
FORTY-SEVEN
EDDIE
The sound of Sylvia Sagrada’s heels on the floor. It was a clock ticking down to my cross-examination. Another night with no sleep. This time, I’d been working. I was ready to take down Sagrada this morning. I’d done the work. Made the calls.
And yet I wasn’t ready. I didn’t feel it.
Sagrada took her seat in the witness box and began to pour a glass of water.
‘Eddie …’ whispered Harry.
He began talking softly, but I couldn’t hear him. I wasn’t thinking about the journal, or Sagrada, or Sofia or Alexandra. Because my head had been filled with those thoughts all night, and the only thing on my mind this morning was Harper. I’d spent every night since her death thinking about her, and last night felt like a betrayal. She was on my mind. I’d tried to flip the switch, but it wasn’t working.
‘Remember, you’re still under oath, Miss Sagrada,’ said Judge Stone. ‘Mr. Flynn, do you have any questions for this witness?’
I did. And I couldn’t ask any of them. The pain felt like living inside one of those old deep-water diving suits. The ones with the copper helmet and bubble visor, the lead boots and weighted belt. I was protected from the world by this pain, and it weighed heavy on me. Dragging me down.
‘Eddie, let’s go. This is for Harper,’ said Harry.
I stood, deciding not to hide this pain, but to use it.
‘Dr. Sagrada, do you accept that some members of your profession could examine this journal, and come to a different conclusion about the identity of its author?’
‘I accept that. We can only give our opinion. I understand others may have a different opinion.’
First step.
‘You accept that your interpretation of who wrote the journal may be flawed?’
‘It may be. I don’t believe it is, but it may be.’
She was careful not to back herself into a corner. She needed a way out with her professional credibility intact if I happened to nuke her opinion in the next twenty minutes. Smart. Plus, it gave the jury some confidence in Sagrada’s credibility – she was stating an honest belief, and her mind was open to other possibilities. This made her testimony even stronger. I had to be careful here.
‘You based your opinion on letter formation – the style, if you will? And syntax and sentence construction, is that right?’
‘Principally, yes.’
‘But the handwriting in the journal did not exactly match Frank Avellino’s known handwriting samples, correct?’
She looked away from me, gave her explanation straight to the jury.
‘Handwriting can change over time and circumstance. It’s all similar. Some of it more than other sections. The known variable here is that the victim was being drugged at the time he wrote this journal.’
‘Someone who knew the victim’s handwriting well, someone who knew how the victim spoke, they could produce a pretty good approximation of the deceased’s handwriting, couldn’t they?’
‘Depending on their skill level. Yes, I suppose it’s possible.’
‘The first entry in the journal is dated August thirty-first last year. I’ll just read some of the opening page – I hate writing this shit. Never done it before. I’m not a man who wants to have his memoirs published. There’s enough skeletons in my closet to fill a goddamn graveyard – twice. This is on doctor’s orders. This is for me only. And Doc Goodman … If it’s not my prostate it’s my brain. Hal Cohen finally persuaded me to go see the doc about both. I’m on pills for the prostate, and I have to write this shit for my brain. Doc asked me some questions, which I answered, and he said I was fine. But to please him, he wanted me to write down my thoughts and any symptoms I notice. He’ll see me in a couple of months. I think it’s fair to say that this journal was written on advice from the victim’s neurologist, Doctor Goodman, who wanted to get an overview of symptoms?’
‘I’d say that’s accurate. The doctor probably wanted to know if this was stress-related, or something else, before he performed brain scans. I imagine the doctor was concerned it may be early-onset dementia.’
‘I think that’s accurate. And you were given the victim’s medical records, correct?’
‘Yes, I wanted to know if the victim was being treated for any conditions that could affect his fine motor skills, ergo his handwriting.’
I leant over the defense table, took a page from the pile in front of me and approached the witness.
‘This is an extract from Frank Avellino’s medical records. This is an attendance with Doctor Goodman, the victim’s neurologist. It records blood pressure and vitals, and the results of a physical examination. The last handwritten entry reads – RV 3/12 DY, can you see that at the bottom of the page?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘I wasn’t sure about the abbreviations and their meaning. I think RV 3/12 is review in three months?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It accords with what the victim wrote in his journal.’
‘And DY, for a time it had me foxed, but do you concede it’s probably shorthand for diary?’
‘I do more than concede, I agree. Dr. Goodman probably recorded that he wanted to see the results of Frank’s diary in three months’ time. And, of course, the letter formation and sentence construction in that journal entry is consistent with that of the victim.’
‘Thank you. The next entry in the diary, or journal, is September fifth of last year. Again, I’ll just read a section – I am not losing my mind. I came out of Jimmy’s restaurant after breakfast and she was on the other side of the street. This was the second time I’d seen her in as many days. She gunned the bike and rode away just as Hal came out the front door of the restaurant. He said he didn’t notice her. Maybe Hal’s losing his goddamn marbles. I called my lawyer, Mike Modine, right then. I told him to hire the PI Hal had recommended. Was this section consistent with the victim’s letter formation and constructions?’