City of Angels (The Trials of Kit Shannon #1) Page 23

  "Can you explain?"

  "A lot of crime, sir."

  "What sort of crime?"

  "Prostitution, mostly."

  "How would you characterize the prostitutes who work on Alameda Street?"

  "Characterize?"

  "Yes. What sort of women are they?"

  Earl Rogers said, "I object, Your Honor. This officer has not been called to render an opinion on the social profile of prostitutes. What possible relevance is there to the facts of this case?"

  "Overruled," growled Judge Ganges.

  Rogers sat down, this time with a vigor that betrayed his annoyance.

  Sloate waited a moment before resuming. "You may answer the question, Officer O'Toole."

  "Well, the women down there on Alameda Street are down on their luck, mostly. They have no other way to make a livin', or that's what they think anyway."

  "Are they violent women?"

  "No, sir, you couldn't say that, sir."

  "Are they stronger women?"

  "Sir?" O'Toole asked.

  "Physically stronger than other members of their sex?"

  "No, I would not venture to say so."

  "But for their profession, are they as vulnerable as any other woman?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Especially at the hands of a strong man with murder on his mind?"

  This time, Rogers objected from his chair. "That is a speech, Your Honor, not a question!"

  The judge took a moment to scowl at Rogers. "I will advise you to stop interrupting the questioning, Mr. Rogers. Your objection is overruled."

  Kit could see the back of Rogers' neck as it turned a dark shade of red. Then she heard Rogers' voice, packed with barely concealed anger. "I inform this court that I will object to questions that I find improper, and I will insist that Your Honor's rulings are clear on the record."

  The entire courtroom hushed at what was a gauntlet thrown. Kit felt her heartbeat intensify. Was such a thing done? Saying such things to a judge? Couldn't he . . .

  "Do you wish to be held in contempt of this court?" Judge Ganges said. "If that's your intention, Mr. Rogers, I can see my way clear to accommodate you."

  "I am not trying to show contempt for this court," said Rogers. Then he turned, and under his breath, so only the first row of spectators could hear, he said, "I'm doing my best to conceal it."

  A wave of laughter. Judge Ganges pounded his gavel on the bench. "I'm warning you, Mr. Rogers!"

  "I will withdraw my obviously worthless objection, Your Honor." He sat.

  Resuming once more, Sloate asked Officer O'Toole to explain how he came to the murder scene.

  "I heard one of the ladies screaming," O'Toole said. "So I made my way toward where I heard it. And there was one of them, one of the ladies, name of Rita, and she said, 'Something terrible has happened.' "

  "And how did you respond?"

  "I asked her where, and she pointed across Alameda Street to one of the cribs on the other side."

  "What did you do next?" Sloate continued.

  "I walked over to the door, which was open a bit, and I pushed it open some more and went inside. And that's when I seen her."

  "Whom did you see?"

  "The poor girl, Millie Ryan."

  "Did you know this girl?"

  "I knew her by sight, not by name. I learned that later."

  "Describe the scene for the gentlemen of the jury." Sloate indicated the jury box with a wave of his hand.

  O'Toole turned to the jury and said, "It was very bloody. There was a pool of blood around her head and neck, and bloody footprints from the body to the door."

  "These footprints, were they Millie Ryan's?"

  "No, sir. They were too big for that."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I went to a box and called headquarters. Then I stood outside and made sure no one went into the room."

  "Did you talk to this Rita?"

  "Yes, I did. I asked her to tell me what she saw that night."

  "And what did she say?"

  "Objection!" said Earl Rogers. "That would be hearsay, Your Honor. We are entitled to cross-examine anyone who speaks to the issues, in order that the jury might make the determination of the truth or falsity of the testimony. Mr. Sloate knows that, and so do you."

  The judge looked ready to overrule again, but then he paused. Kit studied his face, for this was one objection that was so firmly grounded in the law even this judge could not ignore it. Or could he?

  "Mr. Sloate," Judge Ganges said, "do you intend to call this woman, this Rita?"

  "I have not made that decision, Your Honor," said Sloate, looking slightly surprised.

  "Well, you're gonna have to," said the judge. "If she's available, call her as a witness. I am going to sustain the objection."

  It was difficult to tell who was the more surprised, Heath Sloate or Earl Rogers. After a moment, Sloate asked his final question. "How would you characterize the killing of this poor young woman, Officer O'Toole?"

  As if his answer had been fully rehearsed, O'Toole said, "A horrible act of depravity."

  "Take the witness," Sloate said to Rogers.

  The courtroom seemed to lean forward as one in anticipation of Rogers' questioning.

  Rogers removed the gold lorgnette from his vest and held the glasses to his face. He looked at O'Toole for a long time. The policeman began to shift around in the witness box.

  Finally Rogers said, "A horrible act of depravity, eh?"

  O'Toole's eyes darted between Rogers and Sloate. "Yes, sir."

  "When was the last time you used the word depravity, sir?"

  "I . . . I don't know."

  "Is it a word you use often?"

  "It's just a word."

  "Words have meaning, sir. Words are used to convey thought. This word, depravity, has some heft to it. I just wondered if you used that word before this trial began."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Or was it fed to you by the prosecutor?"

  Sloate leaped to his feet. "I object! The insinuation!"

  "Insinuation is not a grounds for objection," Rogers said calmly. "Surely the witness can answer for himself."

  Kit remembered something Rogers had told her. Sometimes the question is as powerful as the answer.

  "You have stepped over the line," Ganges said. "Mr. Sloate's reputation is well known."

  "That's why I asked the question," said Rogers.

  Howls of laughter from the courtroom. Kit looked across at John Barrymore, who was enjoying himself enormously. Aunt Freddy, in the back, seemed nonplussed. She caught Kit's eye, then looked down.

  "Let us move on," Rogers said. "Officer O'Toole, how long have you been a police officer in Los Angeles?"

  "About four years."

  "And before that?"

  "I served on the force in New York City, I'm proud to say."

  "Yes, it's a famous police force, isn't it?"

  "Sure it is, sir."

  "Why did you leave it?"

  "Sir?"

  "Why did you leave the New York City police force, where you so proudly served?"

  O'Toole shifted in his seat. "I . . . saw that there were opportunities here."

  "Just thought you might try something new, eh?"

  "Something like that, yes."

  "It couldn't be that you had a reason to leave New York, could it?"

  "Reason?"

  "Other than what you've told us." Rogers waved his arm at the men in the jury box, as if he were one of them, too.

  "No, sir," O'Toole said firmly. "I just wanted to try me hand out here."

  "I see," said Rogers. He turned and walked to his table, where he picked up a letter that had been folded neatly under a law book. Kit knew which letter it was.

  Rogers opened the letter and looked at it a moment. Then to Officer O'Toole he said, "Isn't it true, Officer O'Toole, that you were drummed out of the New York City force for taking money from prostitutes for protection?"

/>   The color drained from O'Toole's face. His chin dropped.

  Sloate quickly objected. "I demand to know the basis for this scurrilous charge!"

  Rogers said, "Your Honor, I have a letter here from Mrs. Melle Stanleyetta Titus, of the University of New York Law School. She has referenced the date and page of the New York Times where this item appeared. Shall I read it to the court?"

  "No," Sloate said. "This is not admissible evidence! We have no way to test the veracity of this letter."

  "That's quite true," Judge Ganges quickly agreed.

  "Your Honor," Rogers said, "I do not wish to introduce this letter into evidence. I was merely answering the query of my esteemed colleague, Mr. Sloate. This is the basis upon which I am asking Officer O'Toole the question. He can answer with a simple yes or no as to whether the charge is true."

  For a moment no one said anything. The judge seemed to be considering what to do, as if all this was new ground for him.

  "Very well," the judge said finally. "Answer yes or no and we will continue."

  Kit watched O'Toole's face. He had been given time to think. The judge had apparently given him a way out. Only one answer was necessary to get him out of the uncomfortable situation. "No," he said. "That charge is not true."

  But the truth of it seemed written across O'Toole's face. Kit looked at the jurors, as Rogers had instructed her to do, and tried to determine what they thought. Their faces were impassive.

  Then with a voice dripping with contempt, Earl Rogers said, "I have no further use of this witness."

  From the looks of it, things had not gone well for Heath Sloate. But the trial had only just begun.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  SLOATE'S NEXT WITNESS was the county coroner, Raymond J. Smith. Sloate led him quickly through the same testimony the medical expert had given at the preliminary hearing. This time, Kit noted, Smith lingered longer over the details of the wound. Sloate must have told him to make it as grisly as possible.

  Rogers wasted no time in getting to the point of his cross-examination. He held in his hand a sheaf of papers.

  "Dr. Smith," he said, "do you recall my questioning you during the preliminary hearing?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Rogers looked at one of the pages in his hand. "And at that time, do you remember my asking you about the direction of the knife across the throat of the victim?"

  "Yes."

  "And did you not say that the direction was from the victim's right side to her left side?"

  "I believe I said that, yes."

  "You believe? It's here in the transcript. Shall I show it to you?"

  "No, sir. That is what I said."

  "I see. Your Honor, I would at this time like to give the jury a demonstration of the doctor's testimony."

  Before the judge could say anything, Rogers turned to Kit and motioned for her to come forward. As Kit rose, feeling the gaze of everyone in the courtroom, she heard Judge Ganges say, "Mr. Rogers, just what are you proposing?"

  "Surely Your Honor wishes the jurors to be clear on what actually happened?"

  "Of course, I . . ."

  "Thank you, Your Honor."

  Kit was now standing next to Earl Rogers. She looked toward the back of the courtroom and saw Aunt Freddy fanning herself vigorously.

  Rogers reached into his briefcase and pulled out a large hunting knife. Several spectators gasped.

  "I have here a knife similar to the one the coroner has said was used to kill Millie Ryan." He held it up for all to see.

  "Your Honor," Heath Sloate said, "must we continue with this?"

  Judge Ganges looked at the jurors with a furrowed expression. "I think the jury would be helped by this, Mr. Sloate." He nodded at Rogers to continue.

  Rogers took Kit by the arm and placed her in front of him, so she was facing the jury. Her pulse was pounding to the point she thought the whole courtroom must be able to hear it.

  "Now," said Rogers, "to be consistent with the testimony of the doctor, the wound to Millie Ryan must have been administered this way."

  Kit felt Rogers' right hand reach around her, across her chest, until he could grab her left arm. Then he reached with his left hand, which held the knife, so the blade was poised in front of Kit. "Don't move," he whispered to her.

  He made a quick cutting motion, from Kit's right to her left, just in front of her neck.

  A woman in the first row screamed. The jurors looked at Kit, mesmerized. Her knees wobbled slightly.

  "So," Rogers said, releasing Kit, "the wound would have been administered by a man who is left-handed!"

  Dr. Smith did not look flustered. "Or," he added, "from the front by a man who is right-handed."

  Rogers nodded, then said to Kit, "Thank you, my dear."

  Kit resumed her seat, but not before she saw Barrymore give her silent applause. Aunt Freddy had her eyes closed.

  To the witness Rogers said, "If this wound were administered from the front, the killer would have been covered with the victim's blood, isn't that true?"

  "Not necessarily."

  Rogers seemed surprised by this answer. He took up the transcript pages again and turned to one. "Didn't I ask you at the preliminary hearing about the projection of the blood?"

  "I recall that, yes."

  Rogers read from the page. "And didn't I ask, 'When the carotid artery is severed in this manner, the blood is projected outward in a violent fashion.' Do you recall that?"

  "Yes."

  "And did you answer 'Yes, sir'?"

  "I believe I did," Smith said.

  "Thank you. Now about this violent projection of blood—"

  He was interrupted by Heath Sloate. "Your Honor, the witness has not been allowed to answer fully."

  Rogers turned on him. "The witness most certainly did answer!"

  "All right, all right," said the judge. "You want to add anything, Doctor?"

  "Yes," said Smith.

  "I protest!" Rogers said.

  "I'm asking the questions now," said the judge. "You go ahead, Doctor."

  Smith looked calm as he spoke. "There are some instances when the issue of blood would not be violent from a wound like this," he said. "Certain conditions of blood flow and the like. There is no one way these things happen."

  The judge looked satisfied. So did Sloate. Rogers did not. He said, "You didn't qualify your answer at the preliminary hearing, did you, Doctor?"

  "I've had a chance to think about it."

  "Then you weren't thinking at the preliminary hearing?"

  "Objection," said Sloate.

  "Sustained," said the judge.

  "No more questions," said Rogers.

  Heath Sloate, looking a bit stunned, stood up. "Your Honor, the prosecution requests a recess until tomorrow morning."

  Rogers snapped, "But we're just getting started here!"

  Judge Ganges banged his gavel. "We'll be in recess until tomorrow morning at nine o'clock." And as quickly as that he was off the bench.

  Was this an attempt by the judge to get Sloate off the hook? It seemed to Kit that Rogers had done a masterful job on cross-examination. Sloate would need time to think, all right.

  Kit then stood and was immediately set upon by two people—Barrymore and Phelps. Was this to be a repeat of the earlier scene? Would a fight break out here in court?

  "Please, Miss Shannon," Phelps said, casting a wary eye at Barrymore.

  "Brigand!" Barrymore said.

  "Please, one minute of your time!" Phelps said.

  "Nay!" said Barrymore.

  "In Christian charity!" Phelps said.

  Kit almost smiled. Phelps was clearly desperate to talk to her, and he had pulled out his biggest gun, an appeal to her faith! Now she was curious. What harm would a minute do?

  "One minute—no more," she said. "I have to help Mr. Rogers."

  Phelps's face showed ample signs of relief. Barrymore's, however, was less sanguine. His eyebrow was raised almost to the top of his head.
/>
  "If you need me," Barrymore said to Kit, "I shall be at the ready." And with a scornful glance at Phelps, he left the courtroom.

  "I want you to know something," Phelps said.

  "I'm listening."

  "That story that came out about you and the case and all the intimate details—I didn't write that."

  "It had your name on it."

  "But I did not write the story."

  "Do you really expect me to believe that?" Kit studied his face, as she would have a juror or witness.

  "No," Phelps said. "I don't. But at least let me tell you what happened."

  Kit folded her arms and waited.

  "I did make notes about our meeting that day with Pearl Morton and about this case. And I was intending to write the story. I was angry."

  "Why?"

  "You know why. I did not like getting the brush-off. Call it male vanity."

  "Go on."

  "But I couldn't write it. I didn't feel it was right. You thought we were off the record, and as a reporter, I had to respect that," Tom concluded.

  "Then how did the story appear?"

  "A kid in the office by the name of Bloomfield, a cub reporter who wants to be famous, heard me talking about it, and he transcribed my notes. He turned the story in with my name on it! When it came out I hit the roof. I throttled him. He begged me not to tell. Had this sob story about an invalid mother. Well, I just let it go. But the story was out."

  "Anything else?" she said.

  "Will you accept my apology?"

  "All right."

  "Will you let me make it up to you?"

  "There is no need. I must go."

  "Please!"

  "Well," Kit said, "maybe I can think of something." She turned and left him.

  Kit returned to Rogers and helped gather up notes and files, placing them in her briefcase. He told her to head back to the office, where he would meet up with her later.

  Outside the courthouse the weather had turned dark and cold. Kit started down the steps when she looked left and saw, at the far end of the portico, the figure of Heath Sloate leaning over the trembling form of her great aunt.

  Kit's blood stirred at the sight. Unable to ignore them and Sloate's likely manipulation of her aunt, she hurried toward them. As soon as she got there, Kit could see that Aunt Freddy's eyes were red with tears. Those same eyes widened as she saw her niece. The look made Heath Sloate whirl around to Kit. His eyes burned with a hatred more intense than she had ever seen.