Cruel Justice

51

AFTER LUNCH, BULLOCK CALLED his next witness. With the medical testimony out of the way, Ben expected Bullock to take them directly to the night of the murder. To his surprise, Bullock instead called someone he’d never heard of before.

“The State calls Ramona de Vries.”

Who? Ben whirled around and made eye contact with Christina, who was rapidly rummaging in the files. She shrugged; she was as much in the dark as he was.

While the woman walked to the witness stand Ben searched through his notes and outlines for some mention of a Ramona de Vries. His eyes fell on the large cardboard box Bullock had dropped on his table that morning.

There she was—right on the top. A file folder labeled RAMONA DE VRIES. Ben had noticed it earlier, but the name didn’t mean anything to him and he hadn’t had time to browse.

Bullock had stung him again. If Ben objected because Bullock had called an unendorsed witness, Bullock would rebut that he had provided the defense with advance notice and full disclosure. And no protest was made—not on the record, anyway. And as long as the record was clear and there was no risk of appeal error, Hawkins would have no problem letting Bullock get away with anything.

And Ben was the one who kept getting called a shyster trickster.

Ramona De Vries was a well-kept woman in her mid-forties, with strong features, a firm chin, and hair the color of steel. She didn’t look as if she wanted to be here. But then, who did?

While Bullock introduced the witness, Ben scanned the file and tried to figure out who she was and what connection she had to the case. Ramona de Vries was a wealthy society woman. Married, rich beyond measure—and she spent most of her time at the Utica Greens Country Club. Even after listening to the first several minutes of her testimony, though, Ben still couldn’t fathom why she had been called.

Until Bullock took her to the day of the murder. “Ms. de Vries,” Bullock asked, “were you at the Utica Greens Country Club on the afternoon of August twenty-fifth that year?”

“Goodness, it’s been so long ago.” She waved her hand wearily. “I believe I was.”

“What were you doing about two in the afternoon?”

“I was sunbathing near the pool.”

“Were you alone?”

“I didn’t have anyone with me. There was someone else sunbathing. A blonde woman, as I recall. Maybe a few others. I’m not sure.”

Bullock approached the witness. “Ms. de Vries, I’m going to hand you a picture of a woman I will represent to you was named Maria Alvarez.” Bullock showed what looked like a passport photo to the judge, then to Ben.

“Thought you didn’t have any pictures of the victim that weren’t splattered with blood,” Ben whispered to Bullock.

“Guess I forgot about this one,” Bullock whispered back. He passed the photo to the witness. “Have you ever seen this woman before?”

“Why, yes. I saw her that day at the club.”

“Really,” Bullock said, feigning surprise. “And what was she doing at the club?”

“I can’t imagine,” de Vries replied, one eyebrow arched slightly. “I mean, she obviously shouldn’t have been there. She couldn’t have been a member. I don’t know how she made it through the gate.”

“What was she doing when you saw her?”

“She was talking to some of the other members—or trying to, anyway. No one wanted anything to do with her. Rather understandable, if you know what I mean.”

“Did you know what she wanted?”

“Not then, but she eventually approached me. I was sunbathing by the pool, and she just walked up and started babbling at me. I mean, can you imagine? I was appalled. I pulled my sun hat down over my eyes and tried to ignore her, hoping she would go away. But she didn’t. I mean, really!”

“What did she ask you, Ms. de Vries?”

“Well, that’s just it. Who could tell? She was rattling on in some foreign language. Spanish, I suppose. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. I mean, if those people insist on coming to our country, they could at least have the decency to learn the language.”

“Could you … tell what she wanted?” Bullock was obviously pushing for something in particular. He wasn’t quite leading, but he was getting pretty close.

“I might have been mistaken, but at the time I thought she was looking for someone. I couldn’t tell who. I mean, I couldn’t imagine that she would know anyone who was a member, and if it wasn’t a member, why was she looking for them there? Maybe she was after one of the staff, I don’t know. I couldn’t understand it.”

Bullock took a step closer to the witness stand. “What happened when you told her you couldn’t help her?”

“Well, you just wouldn’t believe it. She started to screech and wail and moan. She actually cried, tears streaming down her face. It was disgraceful. Finally, she wandered off, probably so she could accost some other poor defenseless member. She was a menace, running around the club, bothering everyone like that. I mean, who knew what she might do?” She folded her arms across her chest. “I almost called security. I really did.”

“Did you notice what Ms. Alvarez did after she left you?”

“How could I help it?”

“Were you the only person watching her?”

“Oh no. Someone else was watching her very carefully.”

“And who would that be?” Bullock asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“Him,” she answered, pointing at the defendant’s table. “The caddy.”

“Let the record reflect that the witness has identified the defendant,” Bullock said. The judge nodded. “How do you know he was watching, Ms. de Vries?”

“Well, I saw him, of course. I could hardly miss it.”

“Was he near you?”

“Constantly. He was always loitering near the pool. Anytime he wasn’t on the golf course where he belonged, he was at the pool.”

“Did this make you uncomfortable?”

“Of course it did. Why do you think people join country clubs? It’s to get away from—” She cut herself off. Even Ramona de Vries seemed to realize that this was going too far.

“I mean, that’s why we built the caddyshack, for God’s sake. To give them someplace to stay. He should’ve stayed in it.”

“And why was Leeman watching her?”

“Objection!” Ben said. “Calls for speculation.”

Judge Hawkins shrugged. “I’ll allow it. Please answer.”

“Well …” Ramona’s lips thinned. “I think he … liked her.”

“Liked her?”

“Yeah. Very much. His eyes never left her body. And the expression on his face.” She arched an eyebrow. “Like a dog eyeing a piece of meat.”

“Objection!” Ben cried.

Hawkins gazed down at him. “On what grounds, Mr. Kincaid?”

Ben sputtered for a moment. Improper use of metaphor? In fact, he didn’t really have any grounds, but he couldn’t tolerate just sitting there while Bullock used Ramona to develop his sex-pervert theory.

“Well, your honor … it’s just … it’s … not right.”

Hawkins pressed two fingers against his brow. “I don’t think I’m familiar with the not right provision of the Evidence Code, counselor. Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Bullock.”

Bullock nodded. “When did you last see the defendant that day?”

“When he left the pool area.”

“And why did he leave?”

“He was following the woman.”

“Do you know why?”

“Well, you know … they like the dark ones. …”

“Objection!” Ben repeated, then hastily added: “Speculation. Lack of personal knowledge.”

The judge nodded. “So you have read the Evidence Code after all. I’m so pleased. Objection sustained.”

“That’s all,” Bullock said, retaking his seat. He’d made his point clear to the jury.

“Cross-examination?” the judge asked.

“No kidding.” Ben positioned himself squarely in front of the witness. He was going to have to be forceful with her. She had tried to paint Leeman as a deviant; Bullock would use that in closing argument to create a motive for murder. He had to rehabilitate Leeman’s reputation.

“Isn’t it quite a coincidence that Leeman happened to be loitering by the pool at the exact moment this unknown woman came by?”

De Vries seemed unperturbed. “Not really. As I said, he came there all the time.”

“Was he permitted to swim?”

An involuntary shudder passed through her body. “No, of course not.”

“Then why would Leeman come to the pool?”

“Well, do I have to spell everything out? All the women at the pool would be wearing bathing suits. I myself was wearing a skimpy little two-piece number. I had anticipated being able to sunbathe with a certain amount of privacy. I could go to a public pool if I wanted to be leered at.”

“What makes you think Leeman was looking at you?”

“A woman knows these things.” To his horror, out of the corner of his eye, Ben saw one of the female jurors nod her head. “After all, everyone knows what they’re like. They have these … urges. …”

“They?” Ben pounced on the word. “And when you say they, are you slandering blacks or the mentally retarded?”

“Objection,” Bullock said.

“Sustained,” Hawkins said quickly.

Ben leaped right back into the fray. “Did you ever report the woman to security, ma’am?”

“No. Well, before I had a chance, he killed her.”

“Your honor!”

The judge nodded. “The witness will refrain from speculating. The jury is instructed to disregard.”

“How did you find out the woman was dead?”

“My masseuse told me when I arrived at the club the next day.”

“Were you upset?”

“Well, of course I was upset. I mean, it happened right there at the club!” She paused for a moment. “Although, really, in a way, I suppose I felt a certain amount of relief. If she hadn’t been there, he undoubtedly would’ve gotten someone else.”

Forget about trying to rehabilitate Leeman’s reputation; Ben had to get this dangerous witness off the stand. “Nothing more.”

“Redirect?” the judge asked.

“Can’t say as I see any reason for it,” Bullock said confidently. In other words, since Ben hadn’t laid a glove on Ramona during cross, he was going to leave well enough alone.

Ben couldn’t blame him for that. Truth of the matter was, so far, Ben hadn’t put the least little dent in Bullock’s case. If things didn’t take a turn for the better soon, Leeman didn’t have a prayer.