Chapter 11

"Did you get in touch with Calea about the addition to our witness list on Friday?" Carmichael asked.

Concentrating on the traffic in front of him, McCoy answered, "I talked to her about it on Saturday afternoon, at her office."

"How did it go?"

"She doesn't think Tina Ackerman is going to make a credible witness. Before we put her on the stand, I want us to go over her testimony carefully. If there are any discrepancies, we might not put her on."

"What about the harassment suit? That makes her pretty credible as far as I'm concerned," she protested.

"It was settled privately and Calea said she's the one who convinced Fairchild to do so. She seems to know a lot about this woman and what she had to say didn't sound very good. She claims Ackerman took money from the company."

"Do you believe her?"

"I doubt she would have told me that if she couldn't substantiate it."

"Well, I ran a background check on Ackerman and everything seemed fine. Maybe Calea was trying to throw you off track, to convince you not to put her on," Carmichael suggested.

He shook his head. "She didn't seem too worried. And if she's right, it certainly won't help us to put Ackerman on the stand. I think we should check out her story more carefully before we make a decision."

After driving in silence for a moment, Carmichael asked casually, "Did you talk about anything other than the case?"

"We talked about a couple of other things," he answered vaguely, knowing she was fishing for details.

"Like what?"

He looked over at her and smiled at her expectant expression.

"I took your advice," he admitted as he turned his attention forward. "I asked her to do something I knew she had an interest in."

"Really? What did you do?"

"I took her to the zoo."

"The zoo?" She sounded incredulous. "Whatever made you think of the zoo?"

"I knew she liked animals," he explained. "So I called a friend of mine that works there and asked him if he knew of anything that might impress an animal lover."

"I take it he did."

"He let us help bottle-feed two tiger cubs."

He could hear the surprise in her voice. "Wow, Jack. I'm impressed and I didn't even get to go. Did Calea enjoy it?"

"I think so. Afterwards, she invited me over to her place for dinner." He glanced over for her reaction.

She was staring at him in disbelief. "She went from refusing to go out with you, to asking you over for dinner? I'd say she was more than a little impressed as well." After a pause she asked, "And how was it?"

"Great. She's a good cook."

Carmichael let out an exasperated sigh. "That is not what I meant. How was the evening?" she asked pointedly.

"We talked until one in the morning."

"I'd say it went well."

"I guess it did. I mean, I think it did." He sighed. "She isn’t an easy person to read."

"Sounds to me like you're doing fine," Carmichael said with a smile.

As they approached the criminal courts building, they noticed a group of reporters and news personnel crowded around several figures on the steps.

"Doesn’t that look like Fairchild?" McCoy asked.

"Yes it does. And it looks like Calea was right about the media involvement," Carmichael noted.

"Do we want to give a statement, or do we park around the block and go in the back?"

Carmichael sighed. "It's Monday. I don't know about you, but I don’t feel very quotable."

***When Carmichael entered the courtroom, Morgan was already sitting at the defense table. She looked up from her paperwork as Carmichael approached the table across the aisle.

"Hi, Abbie," she said brightly. "How are you this morning?"

"Good. And you?"

"Fine, thanks."

"How was your weekend?"

"Busy. And yours?"

"The same," she answered, glancing over her shoulder as she heard McCoy approaching. "I don't see your client. Did he skip town?"

Morgan smiled at her mild sarcasm and assured her, "He's around here somewhere." She looked up as McCoy reached the table. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Calea." He noticed that her dress was the same shade of dark green as the sweater she had worn on Saturday, and so were her eyes.

Noting her paperwork and the pen in her hand he asked, "Still working on your opening statement?"

She smiled at him. "Not exactly. I was going over a contract for a client, with whom I have an appointment at my lunch break."

"So I assume you're completely prepared for this case."

"Of course," she assured him.

"No butterflies?"

She shrugged. "I skipped breakfast. They don't bother me as much if I don't feed them."

He smiled as she reached into her briefcase.

"Speaking of feeding..." She handed an index card across the aisle.

"Thanks," he said, taking the neatly written recipe from her. "I didn't think you'd remember."

The door behind them opened and the sound of small feet echoed in the mostly empty room. A little girl came to a breathless stop between the two tables.

"Aunt Calea, guess what? My Daddy's going to be in the newspaper," she said excitedly.

"Great," Morgan answered, sounding decidedly unexcited.

"They took some pictures of all of us. They might put our pictures in the paper, too."

Morgan smiled. "They might. Where is your dad now?"

"He's coming with Mommy and Gatlin. I ran faster so I could tell you first."

"That's nice Jess, but you're not supposed to run in the court building. I don't think all of the people here would appreciate that. Why don't we go find your dad," she suggested, standing up.

The door opened again and Fairchild hurried in.

"Jessica, I told you to slow down," he admonished. He looked apologetically at Morgan. "Sorry, Calea. She took off when we came out of the elevator."

"That's okay." She looked at him a little more seriously. "There isn't much time until we start."

He glanced at the table where Carmichael and McCoy were preparing and nodded. "I'll be right back. Can she stay with you? Leslie should be here in a second."

"Sure," Morgan answered.

When he had left, she turned to the little girl. "Why don't you come and sit beside me for a minute. You can draw a picture." She sat down and took a legal pad and a pencil from her briefcase.

But before she could hand it to her, the girl said, "Mommy!"

A tall blond woman approached carrying a small boy on her hip.

As Morgan stood up, the woman asked, "How much time?"

"About thirty minutes."

"Can I trade you?" she asked, indicating the boy.

Morgan held out her arms and the little boy reached for her with a smile.

"Come on, Jessica," Leslie Fairchild said, holding out her hand. "We'll come right back."

After Morgan sat down with the boy on her lap, she glanced up and caught McCoy watching at her. Mistaking his look for disapproval, she said, "Don't worry. They're not staying."

"I didn't say anything, Counselor," he assured her.

She turned her attention to the boy. "Did you get your picture taken too, Gatlin?"

He nodded and held up one chubby finger. "Two times," he answered.

She pried one more finger from his fist. "Two times," she smiled.

Fairchild returned quickly and took his son, allowing Morgan to slip the contract she had been working on back into her briefcase and arrange files and notes on the table in preparation for the trial.

By the time the jurors began to file in, there were numerous reporters and other interested parties seated in the chairs behind the rail. When the jurors were all seated, Fairchild stood up and handed the boy to his wife. Morgan gave her a reassuring smile, as she turned to leave with the children.

When she was gone, Morgan glanced at Fairchild and sighed as they both sat and waited.

***McCoy stood in front of the jury, and twelve solemn faces waited for him to begin.

"You're here today because a crime has been committed. That crime is murder. The person who was murdered was a man named Evan Carpelli. He was someone much like you and I, who worked hard and led an ordinary life. And Mr. Carpelli's business partner, Peter Fairchild, took that life from him, for his own personal gain.

"Over the next few days, you are going to hear expert testimony and be presented with evidence that will establish what we call the three main elements of a crime: motive, means, and opportunity. Sometimes when we present a case to a jury, we're not able to establish all three as plainly as we would like. That makes our jobs more difficult. But in this case, all are clearly evident. The motive was several million dollars. The weapon was a gun, found in Mr. Fairchild's apartment. We will also prove to you that he had the opportunity to murder Mr. Carpelli. And once we establish all of these facts, you must hold him accountable for the crime he has committed."

As McCoy resumed his seat, Morgan stood up and walked thoughtfully toward the jury.

"I agree with many of the things Mr. McCoy has said. A crime has been committed and the responsible party should be held accountable. But it would be equally criminal to require an innocent person pay for a crime he did not commit. Simple facts can be interpreted in different ways. What one person sees as evidence, many times is simply a coincidence. And sometimes, things are not as they immediately appear. Sometimes, it takes a little digging to get to the truth of a matter.

"As an attorney, I've known Mr. Fairchild for nineteen years. He is a devoted husband and father, and a productive, respected member of our community. Now, he has not only lost his business partner and friend of over ten years, but through a series of coincidences, has been accused of murdering that friend. And it is my responsibility as his attorney, to gain an acquittal by creating within you a reasonable doubt that he committed the crime with which he has been accused.

"But I'm not just Peter Fairchild’s attorney. I also have the distinct pleasure of considering him to be my friend. As his friend, I know without a single doubt, that he is incapable of hurting anyone for any reason. And as his friend and attorney, I will present facts to you, that by the end of this trial, will lead you to the same conclusion."

When Morgan sat down, McCoy glanced over at her. If he hadn't, he might have missed Fairchild's appreciative look as he put his hand on Morgan's forearm. He was sure the jury hadn't missed it.

***The prosecution's first witnesses were from the forensics lab. They established when and how Carpelli was killed, allowing the gun to be admitted into evidence. Morgan objected to none of their testimony, only stressing the point that no fingerprints were found on either the gun or any of the bullets found remaining in its chambers, and that there was no physical evidence linking Fairchild to the murder.

The day passed quickly and when court was adjourned, Fairchild had a few quick words with Morgan before excusing himself to meet his wife, who was standing at the back of the room with the children.

"I'd say the first day went pretty well for our side, Counselor," McCoy said when the three attorneys were alone.

"The key words in that sentence being 'first day'," Morgan countered, packing up her things. "I already have the jury wondering about your evidence and I haven't even started my side of the story."

"I think they're drawing the right conclusions," Carmichael observed. As they walked out together, she asked Morgan, "Are you going for a run this evening?"

"Yes, I am. Would you like to join me?"

"What time?"

"I was planning on going around 7:00. Do you think you can make it by then?"

Carmichael glanced at McCoy questioningly.

"Unless there's something pressing waiting for us back at the office, I don't have anything that would keep you late," he said.

While they waited for the elevator, Morgan pulled out a business card and pen. She quickly jotted an address on the back and handed it to Carmichael. "That's where the townhouses are. I'll be at my office until about 6:30. If you can't make it by 7:00, call me and I can meet you later."

When they had exited the elevator on the ground floor, they all turned toward the back entrance.

Once outside, Carmichael said, "See you in a couple of hours."

Morgan nodded. "Park in the area to the right of the gate. I'll introduce you to whomever is on duty." Turning to McCoy, she added, "See you tomorrow, Jack."

"Have a good evening, Calea."

***"Counselor," McCoy called to the figure several yards ahead of him.

Morgan turned to look over her shoulder, then stopped to wait for him.

"Good morning."

"Morning," he smiled, joining her to walk toward the back door of the court building. "I read your 'no comment' in the paper."

She arched her eyebrows. "Should I rephrase?"

"Oh, I'm not complaining," he assured her. "I'm just surprised. I expected you to have a well thought-out, seemingly spontaneous statement, ready at will. After all, everything else seemed so carefully planned: the photo of your client holding his son in his arms, his beautiful wife and daughter by his side, not to mention the family scene for the jury yesterday morning. And then there was the mayor's comments on what an outstanding citizen Peter Fairchild is, and how this is all a huge misunderstanding. It was all so perfect."

"Gee, all of that without a word from me."

Ignoring her sarcasm, he said, "I guess I'm mostly surprised by the fact that you would allow your client to speak to the press without you."

"I trust him. He has nothing to hide and knows what he can and can't say to the press, the same as he did with your detectives during their interrogation. Nothing says ‘innocent’ like someone unafraid to answer questions. And I do seem to remember warning you that the case would be covered by the media."

"So why didn't we here from you? And given the fact that the mayor seems so interested in this case, I half expected to hear that Adam Schiff had received a phone call from him on the matter."

Morgan gave him a sideways look. "I prefer to try my cases the old-fashioned way: you know, on the facts. I may even have mentioned something to that effect when Peter introduced me to the mayor, although he did offer to help. Besides," she shrugged, "I don't need to ask for favors from anyone to win this case."

She flashed him a bright smile as he shook his head and opened the door for her.

***Detective Briscoe was the prosecution's first witness of the day. He testified to the reasons for concentrating their investigation on Fairchild, and to eventually finding the gun, already established as the murder weapon, in his apartment. After McCoy was satisfied with his testimony, he relinquished the questioning to the defense.

Morgan spent a great deal of time establishing the fact that all of the evidence Briscoe had presented was circumstantial and that no one had actually seen Fairchild shoot Carpelli. From his answers to her questions, she also made it clear that the police had been unable to link the murder weapon to her client in any way other than the discovery of it in the Fairchild's apartment. She spent the rest of her examination questioning him about the anonymous phone tip: the time he had received it, the length, and the inability to trace it.

"Detective Briscoe, isn't it true that at one time the gun found in the Fairchild's apartment was excluded as evidence, due to the fact that this anonymous tip was unsubstantiated?"

At McCoy's quick objection, she said, "Question withdrawn." As she turned to resume her seat, she stopped. "One last question, Detective. In the interrogation room, just before he was taken to be held overnight after being arrested, what did my client request to do?"

"Objection. Relevance?" McCoy interrupted.

"The question is relevant to the character of my client, Your Honor," Morgan argued.

"Overruled," Judge Rivera decided.

"Detective?" Morgan prompted.

"He asked if he could make a phone call."

"Specifically?"

"He asked if he could call his children to say 'good-night'," he answered.

"Thank you, Detective Briscoe."

***The next few days were filled with a parade of prosecution witnesses.

The garage attendant at the apartments where the Fairchilds lived testified that he hadn't seen Fairchild come home on the night of the murder. Morgan made it understood that he had left his post several times during the night, in the course of his duties.

The security officer at the firm's offices stated that he had seen a man matching Fairchild's general description leaving at about the time of the murder. The defense countered that the officer had only observed the man from the back, outside of the building, and in the dark.

To establish a motive, McCoy entered as evidence the partnership agreement, stipulating how profits were to be distributed in the event of the death of one partner, and the contract between Fairchild's firm and the City of New York, showing how much the firm would be paid on completion of the renovation project. By late Thursday afternoon, he began to call those employees who had overheard Fairchild and Carpelli arguing. None seemed very anxious to speak out against Fairchild, and on cross-examination each was quick to admit they couldn't be sure exactly what the two had argued about.

***"It's obvious that all of Fairchild's employees either like the guy, or know their going to lose their jobs if he's convicted," Carmichael said, as she and McCoy drove back to the office Thursday after court. "I don't think we have anything to lose by putting Tina Ackerman on the stand. She doesn't work for the firm anymore and she doesn't like Fairchild. The harassment suit will work in our favor, even though Fairchild settled. All the jury is going to hear is Ackerman's side, unless Calea puts Fairchild on the stand. And I definitely don't see her doing that."

McCoy sighed. "I don't know. Calea's claim that Ackerman was fired for misappropriation of funds concerns me. If she can prove it, it's going to hurt us."

"There was no evidence of it in any of the files or records we have from Fairchild's office, and none of the other employees knew anything about it. I checked Ackerman's bank statements and financial records again too. I couldn't find any trace that she had ever received a large sum of money, other than the settlement amount. There again, unless Calea puts Fairchild on the stand, I don't see how she can substantiate that claim."

He glanced at her. "We'll finish up with the other employees tomorrow and Monday. We still have the V.P. from Jacobson. If we think we need Ackerman after that, we'll put her on. But if Calea nails her, you get to explain to Adam why we did it," he warned.

"No problem." Carmichael shifted in her seat, wincing slightly as she did.

"What's wrong?" McCoy asked.

"I'm sore from running. I may be a few years younger, but Calea’s consistency has given her a definite edge. I thought I'd be over it after taking yesterday off, but I think my body is going to keep punishing me. I was going to skip running tonight, but she promised we could cut back on the laps."

"Sounds like the two of you are becoming friends."

Carmichael nodded, "Yeah. I think we are. We have a lot in common. But we don't get to talk much while we're running. I can barely breathe while we're running, let alone talk. We mostly visit when we walk during our cool-down lap."

It was his turn to fish for details. "What do you talk about?"

"Oh, you know, girl talk," she shrugged. "Ending world hunger, fighting drugs and crime, stuff like that."

He smiled at her. "The kinds of things all girls talk about, right?"

"I don't know about all girls; I only know about the ones from Texas."

***Friday was no different than any of the previous days in most respects. That morning, like every morning, Leslie Fairchild was there with the children, waiting until the trial began to slip quietly out of the courtroom, then reappearing in the afternoon before the jury was dismissed for the day. And like most of the previous days, Morgan left for lunch with her client, leaving little of the opportunity McCoy had hoped the two of them would have to spend time together.

So far, the trial had proceeded smoothly. McCoy was not only impressed with Morgan's skill at forming questions that elicited the responses she desired from his witnesses, he was also impressed with her calm and polite manner. She always thanked each witness sincerely and stood to the side of the jury, so that they had a clear view of the person testifying.

He felt comfortable with the case he had presented to that point. The weapon and opportunity to use it were certainly well established. That left only the motive. The money Fairchild stood to collect was only a part of it. He needed to prove that Fairchild had shown at least some animosity for Carpelli. But even after questioning more employees, by the end of the day, he still didn't feel confident that he had done so.

When Judge Rivera dismissed court for the day, Fairchild quickly left to join his wife and the attorneys gathered their belongings.

"Are you up for a run this evening?" Morgan asked Carmichael, as they exited the building.

"I'll take a raincheck. I'm meeting some friends in a little while."

They stopped when they reached the sidewalk at the bottom of the broad steps.

"See you in court, Calea. And I'll see you in the office Monday morning, Jack," Carmichael said, before walking to the corner of the street.

Morgan and McCoy turned to walk in the opposite direction that she had taken.

"What about you, Counselor? What kind of plans do you have for the evening?" McCoy asked.

"I have to stop by my office and pick up a file to review for an early meeting in the morning. And I'd like to try to finish my run before it gets too late tonight."

He shook his head. "Has anyone ever told you that you work too much?"

With a smile she said, "I seem to remember my employees mentioning that a time or two."

"Do you think I could talk you into going with me to get a drink somewhere?" he asked hopefully.

She looked at him for a minute before shrugging. "I'd better not. I need to get to the office."

"And what about your weekend? Think you might have some time to feed the tigers?"

Her smile was warm. "As tempting as that sounds, I'll have to pass. I have meetings all morning tomorrow and I have to be at the police station in the afternoon. Sunday, I'll be feeding Peter's little tigers. This week has been pretty stressful for him and Leslie, so I offered to take the kids for the day."

"Are you thinking of adding babysitting to your list of back-up careers?" he teased.

"Only if I get to pick the kids," she said, stopping at the intersection.

"Where did you park?"

She motioned ahead. "Just down the street."

As the light turned green, he asked, "Why would you spend time on a Saturday afternoon at the police station? Shopping for your next client?"

Choosing to ignore the wisecrack, she said, "My reason for going pertains to my current client. I'm going to hold Mr. Rigel's hand while he looks at mug shots." At his blank look, she added, "You know, the Fairchild's building manager; the one who let the workman into their apartment?"

McCoy nodded as he remembered. "Why is he looking at mug shots?"

"Because I asked him to," she said matter-of-factly.

"And does everyone do what you ask them to?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"When they're properly motivated," she assured him.

Somehow, he didn't have a difficult time believing someone would do as she asked, just because she asked. "And exactly how did you motivate Mr. Rigel?"

"He likes his job." Stopping beside her car, she explained, "He did let someone into their place, and according to building policy, he or one of his assistants should have stayed with the man if no one was home. Once I very tactfully pointed out that fact, he was only too willing to do his civic duty."

"And you think he might find the man he saw in the mug books?"

She shrugged. "Maybe. It's only a hunch." She pulled her keys out of her briefcase.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "And if he finds this mystery man?" He held out his hand for her keys.

Morgan looked a little surprised, but dropped the keys into his hand. "I don't know. I guess I'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it."

He didn't immediately unlock the car door. "You will keep me posted." It wasn't exactly a command, but neither was it a request.

"Of course."

He took a step forward and leaned past her to unlock the car. In the daylight, her eyes were very blue. After he opened the door, she tossed her briefcase onto the front passenger seat and held out her hand for the keys.

He placed them on her hand slowly, his fingers brushing her palm.

"If you find out anything Saturday, you can call me at home," he suggested. "I'll give you my number."

"I already have it." At his obviously pleased look, she added with a little smile, "You gave it to my receptionist, remember?"

He nodded. "So I did."

"See you Monday, Jack."

"Be careful driving home, Calea," he replied as he closed her door.