Naked Justice

Chapter 63

NORMALLY, EVEN THE SLEAZIEST swine in the universe dress up for court. Buck Conners, alas, had never had a chance. Ben had managed to get Judge Hart to issue an emergency subpoena and warrant; the second the server laid the paper in Buck’s hands, two men from the sheriff’s office escorted him across the plaza to the courthouse. He had had no opportunity to upgrade his attire. More important, he had had no opportunity to call Whitman, or anyone else for that matter, other than an attorney, which he declined.

He was not, as Ben had hoped, wearing the now-famous green fatigues, but his tattered blue jeans and black T-shirt didn’t seem far from the mark. He had shaved off the goatee, however, and his hair seemed significantly shorter than it had been when Loving saw him at O’Brien Park.

“Would you state your name, please?”

Buck cleared his throat. “Uhh … that’s, um, Bradley Conners. My buds call me, uh, Buck.”

Ben nodded. “You’ll excuse me if I call you Mr. Conners.”

“Whatever.”

“Mr. Conners, what do you do for a living?”

A small crease slithered down the center of his forehead. His concern was understandable; he had no way of anticipating what question would come next. He didn’t even know why he had been dragged to court. Not for certain, anyway. “I’m a data processor. In the mail room. In the city building.” He pointed. “You know. Just across the way.” He shrugged. “Sometimes when they get busy I help sort the mail.”

Ben suppressed a smile. Buck had given him twenty-eight words in response to a question he could’ve answered with four. Just the kind of witness lawyers liked. “How long have you worked there?”

“ ’Bout six months.”

“Do you use a computer?”

“It’d be pretty hard to data-process without one.”

“Does your computer have e-mail capability?” Ben briefly explained what that was for the benefit of the non-computer-literate jurors.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Who can you get e-mail from?”

He shrugged. “I think anyone in the building who’s got a computer.”

“Good.” Ben was trying to lay all the necessary groundwork before he asked the questions that were likely to make Buck balk. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

Buck grinned. “Several.”

Ben did not grin back. “Do you know a sixteen-year-old girl named Martha Meanders?”

Buck’s face paled. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I know her.”

“Spend a lot of time with her?”

He did his best to appear indifferent. “Some.”

“Hang out together?”

“Whatever.”

“Go for walks?”

“Right, right.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you particularly like to go for walks on Terwilliger Avenue. Where Wallace Barrett and his family lived.”

Bullock jumped up. “Objection, your honor! He’s leading, plus this entire examination is a ridiculous fishing expedition. Are we going to hear from everyone who ever walked down this street—”

“Counsel, sit down.” Judge Hart pivoted her chair decisively away from Bullock. “As for the leading, I will declare Mr. Conners to be a hostile witness. As for the objection, it’s overruled. Mr. Kincaid, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, your honor.” Ben tried not to stare. What on earth had happened? Somehow Bullock had definitely found his way onto Judge Hart’s mad list. “What about it, Buck? Ever take a stroll down Terwilliger?”

“I might’ve. Is that against the law?”

“Nope. Why did you carry the camera?”

Buck was slow to answer. Ben could almost see the wheels turning as Buck tried to decide how big a lie he could get away with. “I’m an amateur shutterbug. It’s my hobby.”

“Uh-huh.” Ben decided to back off for the moment. In all likelihood, the man was not going to confess to murder. It would be best to get as much as he could out of him as possible before pressing him to the breaking point. “Mr. Conners, do you know the members of the city council?”

“Oh, I see some of them come through the office sometimes, on meeting days.”

“Ever do any business with any of them?”

Another thoughtful pause. “Like who?”

“Mr. Conners, let’s not beat around the bush. I’m talking about Councilman Whitman, who I guess is now Interim Mayor Whitman. You and he have been … well, working together, haven’t you?”

“I’m … not sure I know what you mean.”

“Don’t know, Mr. Conners, or don’t want to know?” Ben inched forward, laying on the pressure. “It’s an easy question. Have you ever done business with Councilman Whitman?”

“We’ve talked a few times.”

“About what?”

“Objection.” Bullock had mustered enough courage to attempt another objection. “Calls for hearsay.”

Judge Hart frowned. “I suppose I’ll have to sustain that objection as to what Mr. Whitman may have said. For now, anyway. Until an acceptable foundation for an exception is laid.”

She couldn’t have told Ben what to do more clearly if she’d given him a road map. “What was the nature of the relationship between you and Councilman Whitman?”

Buck propped himself up with one arm. “He’s asked me to take care of a few things for him.”

“So you were in business together.”

Buck shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”

“And what was the nature of the business?”

Buck’s answers came slower and slower. “It varied. Different stuff.”

“Mr. Conners, you are being uncommonly evasive. Why don’t you just come clean and tell the jury what it was you were doing for Councilman Whitman?”

Several seconds ticked by. Finally Buck answered. “Yard work.”

“Yard work?” Ben’s eyes ballooned. “You were helping him do yard work?”

“Well, he’s a busy man, and he has a big yard.”

“Is that right. Tell me, Mr. Conners, when you met with Councilman Whitman in the middle of the night out at O’Brien Park, was that to discuss yard work?”

Buck clenched his jaw.

“Don’t bother denying it. I can have Mr. Loving back on the stand in a heartbeat, not to mention Mr. Sanders. They both can and will identify you.”

Buck clenched his jaw all the tighter, but did not answer.

“Mr. Conners, do you understand that perjury is a criminal offense? I want an answer, and I want the truth! Were you meeting our city councilman in the middle of the night in secret to discuss yard work?”

“Well … no.”

“Then what was it? Why were you meeting a city councilman in secret in the middle of the night?”

Buck looked up at the judge. “May I have a lawyer?”

“If you wanted a lawyer present, you should have arranged it before you took the stand,” she said firmly. “You will answer the question or I’ll find you in contempt of court.”

Buck turned slowly back toward Ben. “I’m not gonna answer that.”

“Didn’t you hear the judge?”

“I’m taking—whaddaya call it?—I’m taking the Fifth.”

Ben took a step back. Damn. This was an obstacle that would be difficult to overcome. “Are you refusing to answer my question?”

“I ain’t refusing. I’m just taking the Fifth.” He looked up at the judge again. “Don’t I have the right to do that?”

Judge Hart nodded. “That you do. If you believe answering the question might tend to incriminate you. But you should be aware that any refusal to answer will result in your testimony being brought to the immediate attention of the district attorney’s office.”

Some threat that was, Ben thought, since the district attorney’s office probably preferred that he not answer. “So,” Ben asked, “you admit that you met Whitman for some illegal purpose.” With luck, maybe he could bully the witness into answering.

“I ain’t admittin’ or denyin’,” Buck said flatly. “I just ain’t answerin’.”

“But you admit that you met Whitman in the park. That you were the man my investigator saw.”

Buck shrugged. “I suppose.”

“And you were the man Mr. Sanders saw in his neighborhood. The man with the camera who was seen near the Barrett home.”

“It’s possible.”

“Why were you casing the Barrett home, Mr. Bradley?”

Buck looked away. “I’m takin’ the Fifth on that one, too.”

“But you were there.”

“I’m not answerin’ any more.”

“I’m not asking you why you were there. But you were there, right? You were there!”

Buck’s teeth locked; he frowned. “Right. I was there.”

“Thank you.” Ben knew that was the most he could get out of this witness, now, anyway. Best to quit while he was arguably ahead. “That’s all.”

Judge Hart cocked an eyebrow. “Cross?”

Bullock waved a flat hand. “None, your honor. I’m going to wait until counsel has a witness say something that relates to this case.”

“Fine. Then the witness is dismissed.”

“Your honor,” Ben said, “I may need to recall this witness.” And then again, I may not. How was he supposed to know? He was making this up as he went along. “I request that he be required to remain in the courtroom till the close of trial today.”

“Granted. The sergeant at arms is so instructed. Call your next witness.”

Ben took a deep breath. Had he created a reasonable doubt? Buck had certainly suggested that something improper was going on, but had he suggested enough to dissuade the jury from finding Barrett guilty? He couldn’t be sure. Like it or not, Ben had to try to get more. “The defense calls Bailey Whitman to the stand.”