The Fifth Witness - Michael Connelly [117]
It would be an unexpected move, but the only one that worked with the defense theory of a setup. The lead through Jeff Trammel that the hammer might be in the back of the BMW he’d left behind when he disappeared to Mexico didn’t pan out. Cisco was able to locate that car, still in use at the dealership where Jeff Trammel had worked, but there was no hammer in the trunk and the man in charge of fleet management said there never was. I dismissed Jeff Trammel’s story as an effort to get paid off for information that might be helpful to his estranged wife’s case.
The murder weapon sequence brought us to lunch, and the judge, as was beginning to be his custom, broke fifteen minutes early. I turned to my client and invited her to go to lunch with me.
“What about Herb?” she said. “I promised him I would go to lunch with him.”
“Herb can come, too.”
“Really?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Because I thought you didn’t… Never mind, I’ll tell him.”
“Good. I’ll drive.”
I had Rojas pick us up and we went down Van Nuys to the Hamlet near Ventura. The place had been there for decades and while it had classed itself up since the days it was called Hamburger Hamlet, the food was just the same. Because the judge had gotten us out early, we avoided the noon lineup and were immediately shown to a booth.
“I love this place,” Dahl said. “But I haven’t been here in ages.”
I sat across from Dahl and my client. I didn’t respond to his enthusiasm for the restaurant. I was too busy working out how I was going to play the lunch.
We ordered quickly because even with the early start our time window was small. Our conversation was focused on the case and how Lisa perceived things to be going. She was pleased so far.
“You get something that helps me from every witness,” she said. “It’s quite remarkable.”
“But the question is, do I get enough?” I responded. “And what you have to remember is that the mountain gets steeper with each witness. Do you know the piece Boléro? It’s classical music. I think it was composed by Ravel.”
Lisa gave me a blank stare.
“Bo Derek, in Ten,” Dahl said. “Love it!”
“Right. Anyway, the point is it’s a long piece, maybe fifteen minutes or so, and it starts off slow with just a few quiet instruments and then it gathers momentum and builds and builds into a crescendo, a big finish with all the instruments in the orchestra coming in together. And at the same time, the emotions of the listeners build and come together at the same moment. And that’s what the prosecutor is doing here. She’s building sound and momentum. Her best stuff is still to come because she’s going to bring everything together with drums and strings and horns by the time she’s finished. You understand, Lisa?”
She nodded reluctantly.
“I’m not trying to knock you down. You are excited and hopeful and righteous and I want you to stay that way. Because the jury picks up on it and it helps just as much as anything I do in there. But you have to remember, the mountain is getting steeper. She’s got the science still to come and juries love science because it gives them a way out, a way of deferring. People think they want to be on jury duty. You get out of work, you sit front row on an interesting case, real-life drama in front of you instead of on the tube at home. But eventually they have to go back into that room and look at each other and decide. They have to decide somebody’s life. Believe me, not too many people want to do that. The science makes it easier. ‘Oh, well, if the DNA matches then it can’t be wrong. Guilty as charged.’ You see? This is what we still face, Lisa, and I don’t want there to be any illusions about it.”
Dahl gallantly put his hand on her arm, which leaned on the table. He gave