Just Take My Heart Page 7

  Just enough mileage left for me to have driven to Natalie's house that Monday morning, killed her, and been back in Manhattan on schedule, Gregg thought. Could I have done that? When did I ever jog for over two hours? Was I so out of it that I don't remember going there?

  Could I have left her bleeding to death?

  He opened his eyes and turned up the volume with the remote. His former close friend Michael Gordon was saying: “Tomorrow there should be fireworks in court when the state's star witness, Jimmy Easton, testifies that he was hired by Gregg Aldrich to mur?der his estranged wife, acclaimed actress Natalie Raines.”

  Gregg pushed the off button on the remote and finished his drink.

  Just Take My Heart

  18

  Your Honor, the state calls James Easton."

  The door leading from the holding cell opened. Easton emerged, walking slowly toward the witness chair, escorted by sheriffs officers on either side of him. As she looked at him, an expression that had been a favorite of her grandmother's rushed through Emily's mind: “You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear.”

  Jimmy was wearing the dark blue suit, white shirt, and patterned blue tie that Emily had personally selected for his appearance in court. Under protest, he had gotten a haircut from the jailhouse bar?ber, but even so, as Emily had remarked to Ted Wesley, he still looked like the con man he was.

  From long prior experience before criminal judges, he knew what came next. He paused as he reached the area directly in front of the bench. Judge Stevens directed him to first state his full name and then spell his last name.

  “James Easton, E-A-S-T-O-N.”

  “Sir, please raise your right hand to be sworn,” the judge in?structed.

  The pious look on Jimmy's face when he swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth caused a ripple of snick?ering among a number of the spectators in the courtroom.

  Terrific, Emily thought, dismayed. Pray God, the jury will keep an open mind about my star witness.

  Judge Stevens rapped his gavel sharply and warned that anyone who reacted verbally or visibly to any witness's testimony would be removed immediately and would be barred from attending further sessions.

  When Jimmy was settled in the witness chair, Emily walked over to him slowly, her expression grave. Her strategy was to immediately elicit from him his prior criminal record, and the plea agreement he had made with her. She had addressed his background as a longtime felon in her opening statement and now she wanted to get the de?tails out immediately. She hoped that facing these circumstances head-on would at least convey to the jury that she would be forth?right with them and that this witness, despite his laundry list of crimes, should be believed.

  I'm walking on thin ice, she thought, and maybe the ice will break. But as she asked question after question in a matter-of-fact tone, Jimmy Easton's response was everything she could hope for. His voice humble, his manner hesitant, he admitted to his many ar?rests and frequent prison terms. Then out of the blue he added gra?tuitously, “But never once did I hurt a hair on anyone's head, ma'am. That's why I couldn't go through with the deal to kill Aldrich's wife.”

  Richard Moore sprang to his feet. “Objection.”

  Way to go, Jimmy! Emily thought. So what if it was stricken from the record? The jury heard that loud and clear.

  It was already late morning when Easton's testimony began. At twelve twenty, Judge Stevens, recognizing that Emily was about to transition her questioning to Easton's involvement with Gregg Al?drich, said, “Ms. Wallace, since we're close to the usual twelve thirty lunch break, I will recess until one thirty.”

  Superb timing, Emily thought. Now Jimmy's record will be at least somewhat separated from his testimony about Aldrich. Thank you, Judge.

  Her face impassive, she waited at the prosecutor's table until Eas?ton was escorted back to the holding cell by a sheriff's officer, and the jurors had left the courtroom. Then she hurried to Ted Wesley's office. He had sat in the courtroom all morning and she wanted to get his reaction to the way she had handled Easton.

  In the two weeks since the announcement was made that he'd been nominated to be the attorney general of the United States, there had been a flurry of press about him and the coverage had been generally very favorable. Why wouldn't it be? Emily asked her?self as she hurried down the corridor. Ted had been a prominent at?torney and active in Republican circles before he was appointed prosecutor.

  When she entered his office she could see a stack of clippings on his desk that she was sure were about his nomination. And it was obvious that he was in a very upbeat mood.

  “Emily!” he greeted her. “Come on over here. Take a look at these.”

  “I'm sure I've seen most of them. You're really getting fabulous press. Congratulations.”

  “You're not doing so bad yourself. You've pretty much knocked me off the front page with the great job you're doing on this case.”

  He had sent for sandwiches and coffee. He pulled open the bag and started unpacking the food. “I ordered ham and swiss on rye for you. And black coffee. Right?”

  “Perfect.” She accepted the sandwich he held out to her.

  “Then sit down and relax for a few minutes. I want to talk to you.”

  Emily had just started to unwrap her sandwich. Something's up, she thought and looked at him, a question in her eyes.

  “Emily, I'm going to give you a piece of advice. You haven't wanted to publicize or even discuss the fact that you had a heart transplant two and a half years ago. Everyone in this office knows that you had heart surgery and, of course, you were out sick for sev?eral months. But because you were so quiet about the details, I think I'm the only one here who knows that your surgery actually involved a transplant.”

  “That's true,” Emily said quietly as she opened the packet of mus?tard and squeezed it across the bread. “Ted, you know what Mark's death did to me. I was a basket case. People were so kind, but I was smothering in sympathy. Then, not even a year later, when out of the blue I had to have my aortic valve replaced, it was more of the same. Everyone expected me to be out for three months anyway. So, when the valve failed so quickly and I ended up needing a trans?plant, I was blessed to get one right away. I went back into the hospi?tal quietly and only told a very few people, including you, what had happened.”

  Ted leaned forward in his chair, ignoring his own sandwich and looking at her with deep concern. “Emily, I absolutely understand and have always understood why you didn't want to talk about this. I saw your reaction when I asked you six months ago if you felt well enough to take this case. I know you don't want to be considered to be fragile in any way. But let's face it. You are trying a very high-profile case and are becoming very well known. The case is on Courtside every night and your name keeps coming up. They're talk?ing about you. It's only a matter of days before they start really dig?ging, and trust me, they'll find out about this. It's great human interest. Between the transplant and losing Mark in Iraq, you're going to be fodder for the tabloids, even though they'll probably be nice to you.”

  Emily took a sip of the coffee. “Your advice, Ted?”

  “Be prepared. Expect the questions and don't let it upset you. Like it or not, you've become a public figure.”

  “Oh, Ted, I hate that thought,” Emily protested. “I've never wanted to talk about it. You know that some of these guys make it tough enough to be a woman in the prosecutor's office.”

  Including and especially guys like your cousin, she thought.

  “Emily, believe me, I've admired the fact that you absolutely have never allowed me to give you any slack because of the health prob?lems you've had to deal with.”

  “There's something else,” Emily said quietly. “Mark didn't expect to die. He was so sure he'd make it home. He had so many plans for what we would do the rest of our lives. We were even suggesting to each other the names we'd call our children. Now I am constantly and fully aware that I am alive because someone
else died. Whoever that person was, he or she had to have plans and hopes for the fu?ture. That's never been easy for me to accept.”

  “I can understand that, too. But take my advice. Be prepared to be asked about it.”

  Emily took a bite out of the sandwich and forced a smile. “To change the subject, my guess is that you believe I'm doing okay so far with Jimmy Easton.”

  “Emily, I was watching Richard Moore squirming when Jimmy was laying out his prior record and the plea deal. You were taking the wind out of Moore's sails when you were dealing with it all up front. You managed to convey to the jury that you think Easton's a real lowlife, but that in this case he's not lying.”

  Emily took a few quick bites of her sandwich and wrapped the rest of it up. “Thanks, Ted. I was hoping you'd feel that way.” She hesitated, trying to swallow over the lump in her throat. “And thanks for everything else . . . Your support when I lost Mark . . . When I got sick . . . And then giving me this case, I'll never forget it.”

  Ted Wesley stood up. “You've earned every bit of support I have ever given you,” he said heartily. “And trust me, Em, if you convict this guy Aldrich, I can picture the new prosecutor offering you the first-assistant position. Believe me, that's not far-fetched. Go back in there and sell Easton to that jury! Make them think he got religion.”

  Emily laughed as she got up from her chair. “If I can do that, then as my grandfather used to say about me, I could sell a dead horse to a mounted policeman. See you, Ted.”

  Just Take My Heart

  19

  Although he had no way of knowing, Jimmy Easton had exactly the same lunch as Emily, a ham and cheese on rye and black coffee. The only difference was that he complained to the guard at the hold?ing cell that he would have liked more mustard.

  “We'll remember that tomorrow if you're still here,” the guard said, sarcastically. “We wouldn't want you to be unhappy with our cuisine.”

  “I'm sure you'll speak to the chef,” Jimmy grumbled. “And tell him next time to throw in a slice of tomato.” The guard did not answer.

  Apart from the lack of sufficient mustard, Jimmy was actually feeling pretty good about his performance so far. Reciting all of his past crimes had been sort of like going to confession. “Bless me, Fa?ther, for I have sinned. It's been thirty years, give or take, since my last confession, I've been arrested eighteen times, have been in prison three times for a total of twelve years. Then six months ago I ransacked four houses in one week and was dumb enough to get caught at the last one. But I always knew I had an ace in the hole.”

  Of course, he hadn't told that story to a priest. Instead, he had spilled the beans about Aldrich to that guy from the prosecutor's of?fice, which is why he was sitting here all dolled up, instead of already serving a term of ten years.

  Jimmy finished the last drop of coffee. Maybe he should tell the wise-guy cop who had brought him the sandwich that tomorrow, if he was still here, he'd like a bigger cup. And a pickle, he thought with a grin. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost one. The judge would be back out there in half an hour. “All rise for the court.” Why not “All rise for Jimmy Easton?” Later some of the guys from the jail would watch that Courtside program featuring him. He'd do his best to give them a good performance.

  Jimmy got up and rattled the bars on the holding cell. “I want to go to the can,” he shouted.

  Promptly at one thirty he was back on the stand. As he sat down, Jimmy remembered Emily Wallace's instructions. “Sit up straight. Don't cross your knees. Look at me. Don't even think of playing to the jury.”

  But I bet she didn't mind that I tossed in that line about not ever hurting a hair on anyone's head, Jimmy thought. His expression now serious, he looked at Emily. Sometimes when she interviewed him in jail, she had worn her hair pinned up. Today it was loose on her shoulders, but not sloppy loose, just every strand even, kind of like a waterfall. She was wearing a pants suit in a kind of deep blue color, almost the same shade as her eyes. There was no doubt that she was a good-looking broad. He had heard from some of the guys that she could be one tough cookie if she was out to get you, but she wasn't out to get him, that was for sure.

  “Mr. Easton, do you know the defendant, Gregg Aldrich?”

  Jimmy closed his lips on the answer he would otherwise have given. “You bet I do.” Instead, keeping his tone low but audible, he answered, “Yes, I do.”

  “When did you meet Mr. Aldrich?”

  “Two and a half years ago, on March second.”

  “Under what circumstances did you meet Mr. Aldrich?”

  “I was in Vinnie's-on-Broadway. That's a bar on West Forty-sixth Street, in Manhattan.”

  “What time were you there?”

  “It was about six thirty or so. I was having a drink and the guy on the stool next to me asked me to pass the dish of nuts, so I did. But first I picked out a couple of the salted almonds and he said those were his favorites, too, and we got to talking.”

  “Did you exchange names?”

  “Yeah. I told him I was Jimmy Easton and he said he was Gregg Aldrich.”

  “Is Mr. Aldrich in this courtroom?” “Sure he is. I mean, yes.”

  “Will you please point to him and briefly describe what he is wearing?”

  Jimmy pointed to the defendant's table. “He's the one in the mid?dle sitting between the other two guys. He's wearing a gray suit and blue tie.”

  “The record will reflect that Mr. Easton has identified Mr. Al?drich,” Judge Stevens said.

  Emily resumed her questioning. “Did you strike up a conversa?tion with Gregg Aldrich, Mr. Easton?”

  “I think I'd put it this way. Aldrich started talking to me. He had half a bag on — ”

  “Objection!” Moore shouted.

  “Sustained,” Judge Stevens said, then added, “Mr. Easton, please just answer the question that is posed.”

  Jimmy tried to look repentant. “Okay.” He caught Emily's look and hastily added, “Your Honor.”

  “Mr. Easton, in your own words will you please describe the con?versation you had with Mr. Aldrich?” This is it, Emily thought. My case begins and ends here.

  “Well, you see,” Jimmy began, “we had both had a couple of drinks and we both were kind of down in the dumps. I don't usually talk about being in jail, you know, it's kind of embarrassing, but I'd been looking for a job all day long and been turned down all over the place, so I told Aldrich it was hard for a guy like me to go straight even if I wanted to.”

  Jimmy shifted in the witness chair. “Which I do,” he assured the courtroom.

  “How did Gregg Aldrich react to your telling him that?”

  “At first he didn't. He took out his cell phone and pushed a num?ber. A woman answered. When she knew it was him, she got mad. I mean she was screaming so loud I could hear her. She yelled, 'Gregg, leave me alone!' Then she must have hung up, because he got flustered-looking and I could tell he was mad as hell. Then he looked at me and said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' ”

  “Will you repeat that, Mr. Easton?” Emily asked.

  “He looked at me and said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' ”

  “Gregg Aldrich said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' ” Emily repeated slowly, wanting the words to sink in with the jury.

  “Yeah.”

  “And that conversation took place around six thirty on March second, two and a half years ago.”

  “Yeah.”

  Emily stole a look at Gregg Aldrich. He was shaking his head as though he could not believe what he had just heard. She could see the perspiration forming on his forehead. Moore was whispering something to him, obviously trying to calm him down. It won't work, she thought. I've barely scratched the surface.

  “Mr. Easton, what was your reaction when Mr. Aldrich made that statement?”

  "I knew he was really mad. I mean furious. I mean his face was all red and he slapped his phone down on the bar, but I still thought he was kidding. So jus
t kidding around myself, I said, 'I'm broke. For twenty thousand bucks I'll do it for you.'

  “What happened then?”

  “Some guy who just came into the bar spotted Aldrich and made a beeline for him.”

  “Did Mr. Aldrich introduce you to that man?”

  “Naw. The guy stayed just long enough to say that he had seen Natalie in Streetcar Named Desire and she was superb. That's the word he used, 'superb.' ”

  “What was Mr. Aldrich's reaction?”

  “He said in a kind of annoyed tone that Natalie was superb in any part she played, then turned his back on the guy. So the guy just shrugged and went into the dining room and I could see that he joined some people at a table.”

  “Were you aware that this man was talking about Natalie Raines?”

  “I figured that out right away. I like to go to the movies and I saw her in the one where she was nominated for an Oscar. And I'd seen the ads for Streetcar.”

  Emily took a sip of water. “Mr. Easton, after that brief encounter, what did Mr. Aldrich say to you?”

  “I said to him, just kidding, you know, 'Hey, your wife is Natalie Raines. My price to off her just went up.' ”

  “What was Mr. Aldrich's reaction to that statement?”

  “He looked at me and didn't say anything for a minute, then he said, And what is your price, now, Jimmy?' ”

  “How did you respond to that question?”

  “Still kind of kidding, I said, 'Five thousand down and twenty thousand when I deliver'.”

  “Then what did Mr. Aldrich say?”

  “He said, 'Let me think about it. Give me your phone number.' So I wrote it down for him, and then I started to leave, but I figured I'd stop at the can. I guess he thought I was gone because not five minutes later when I was washing my hands, my phone rang. It was Aldrich. He said that he was taking me up on my offer and that I should stop by his apartment the next day and pick up the five thou?sand in cash.”