An Eye For Justice Page 19

  I know I was, but then Judge Friedman was looking at the clock - hopefully thinking same as me, it was time for lunch, but he let Hannah’s testimony run on until she had been going for around 2 hours straight without a break. Then he dutifully adjourned and we bundled our stuff up and made our way out of court and the first thing I saw was Pascal.

  She was sitting on a bench in the waiting area, but the real shock was the strange looking little girl who was sitting calmly beside her. The girl had her arm around a moth-eaten teddy bear and was holding tightly onto it, and onto Pascal’s other hand, and she was watching everything - lawyers, clients, witnesses - as they traipsed past her. As we approached, the child’s eyes seemed huge, but also worryingly blank, and they didn’t seemed to register us even when we were standing in front her. As I looked down at them I wondered what the hell Pascal had got herself into this time.

  * * * *

  As Morganna stood before judge Friedman after the lunch break, I was still trying to process Pascal’s story, especially O’Leary’s death and the presence of the little girl. I watched a look of incredulity spread across Friedman’s face as Morganna finished speaking.

  ‘So what you’re saying, in effect, if I am following you correctly, Miss Fedler, and I’m not at all sure that I am,’ Friedman said, voice laced with sarcasm. ‘Is that you want to go traipsing off to the Office of Children & Family Services so you can temporarily adopt, albeit on an emergency basis, an eight year old child, whilst you leave Mr. Calver here, to run this case for you, a case for which you are the sole attorney of record? Do I have that about right, Miss Fedler?’

  ‘Your honour, it will only be for the afternoon,’ she said plaintively. ‘You have seen that this witness is currently giving uninterrupted testimony that barely requires the presence of an attorney to elicit it. Mr. Calver is actually far more knowledgeable about this case than I am, and indeed, the plaintiff is in fact the client of his UK firm.’

  I had to admire her chutzpah, and the way she came right back at Friedman, refusing to be cowed by him. So much for the rookie. But Browder, unable to contain himself, was up again like a salmon going for fly. ‘Your honour, I am sure it will not have escaped your attention that Mr. Calver is currently on trial for murder. As well as that, he is precluded from acting anyway, as he is not licensed to practice as an attorney in the state of New York, or indeed, as far as I am aware, anywhere else in the US.’

  ‘Your honour,’ Morganna said, coming right back at Browder with the world weary air of a parent trying to explain something to a small child, ‘I am surprised it should be necessary to remind Mr. Browder that Mr. Calver is innocent until proven guilty, and I might add that he vehemently denies the prosecutions case and will shortly be mounting a vigorous defense. Not only that, he has taken and passed the New York Bar exams last year.’

  I was glad someone had such confidence in me. As I idly listened to the back and forth, another part of my mind was pondering Pascal’s retelling of the events of the last 24 hours. From experience I knew it was foolhardy to accept everything she said at face value, so I wasn’t going to.

  I’d known there was some encrypted kiddie porn on O’Leary’s laptop, but I hadn’t known it was footage of him abusing his own 8 year old daughter. Pascal said she had gone to O’Leary and threatened him with exposure if he didn’t tell us what really happened the night of the murder, and he had apparently just folded. Just like that. He’d given her the name John Fossey as a taster and promised more if she came to the house that night, and then he hangs himself. It made no sense to me.

  It seemed more likely that he just went home and got rid of any incriminating evidence, and then hanged himself. It was clear to me that he’d lied throughout his testimony in my trial, and he was probably the only person who had evidence that could have got me an acquittal, and now he was gone, because of Pascal. And of course Pascal was also now a material witness to his death, and although it was clear they accepted, because of what Cara apparently told them and the estimated time of death, Pascal couldn’t have been there when O’Leary dropped the noose around his neck, all it did was complicate things for me in my murder trial.

  Great work Courtney - all she’d done was allow O’Leary to ditch vital evidence that I might have been able to use in my defense to prove my innocence. And now I was going to put on that defense when I had nothing to show the jury by way of evidence, other than me saying I didn’t do it.

  As all this roiled around in my overheated brain I tuned back in to the proceedings to hear Friedman saying, ‘so I am afraid, Miss Fedler, I cannot accede to Mr. Calver acting as an attorney here. He is not licensed, and none of— ’

  ‘Perhaps I could just act for myself this afternoon,’ Hannah piped up from the witness box, all but forgotten by the jousting protagonists. For a second there was a startled silence. Then she added, ‘I am simply telling my story and don’t need counsel, and I’m sure I can handle anything that Mr. Browder might throw at me in the meantime.’

  There was some muffled laughter and I think I detected a faint ghost of a smile on Friedman’s lips. Before anyone could answer I was on my feet. ‘And I will stay and take notes, your honour and can report to Miss Fedler at the end of the day on any legal issues,’ I said

  Friedman mulled it for a moment. ‘Mr. Browder?’ he said.

  I watched Browder squirm; he knew the jury were with us on this and it would look churlish to object. Not only that, it really wasn’t going to change anything other than make it easier for him if he did fancy making an objection during the afternoon.

  As Browder stayed put in his chair, Friedman nodded. ‘Miss Fedler you may go, and good luck with the child. Make sure you are back here tomorrow morning.’ Then he turned to Hannah and said, ‘please proceed.’

  I nodded to Morganna and winked, and then she was racing for the door of the court where Pascal and Cara were waiting.

  As the doors swung shut behind her, Hannah seemed to shake herself. She looked at Friedman and me once, then it was just her and the jury again, but this time with no Morganna to prompt her. But it didn’t seem to phase her, and she got right back into it. I supposed she was anxious to get to the heart of the case.

  ‘When I got to Mrs. Van Der Valk that night she immediately agreed to hide us so we could escape the deportation the next day. Remember,’ Hannah said, looking up at the jury. ‘I had saved her sons life and although she had given me the golden pendant and brooch, she was very glad to try and help us.

  ‘When I got back to my family we packed that night and left by 4 am in the morning. Grandpa got the old coal cart out and we filled it with cases of clothing and other keepsakes, some food, pots and pans and what valuables we had, including the box with the treasured pendant and brooch.

  ‘Funnily enough,’ Hannah said smiling grimly, ‘to start with it wasn’t at all unpleasant living with the Van Der Valk’s because we had the run of the house and garden, but within weeks we were hearing that the Germans were hunting for the people who were missing from the quotas, and people in hiding were being found or betrayed. The deportation notices were now coming out in the hundreds every week and the forced round-ups were becoming very frequent.

  ‘As a result we had to move into the attic for fear of being discovered, and that was very grim. It was one room with a low roof, meaning you could never stand up straight, and there were no windows. It was cramped and stuffy and only one person could move at a time when we were all in there. We slept lined up on blankets on the floor, and when sealed in we had to use a bucket for a toilet. Access was via a ladder through a trapdoor and Grandpa had camouflaged it so it looked liked like part of the ceiling, although it would not survive a close examination.

  ‘The first time the house was searched we were lucky— ’

  ‘Your honour,’ Browder interjected lazily from his chair. ‘Whilst we have great sympathy with the lady’s sufferings seventy odd years ago, we have to ask, what exactly has any of this testimony got to
do with the loss of the pendant and brooch?

  I glanced at the jury and reckoned Browder might have badly miscalculated with his intervention. Legally of course he was on very firm ground as it was clear that Hannah’s recent testimony had very little relevance to the issue before the court. But the jury quite clearly were interested, even engrossed, in her story.

  I looked up at Friedman as he cogitated. ‘Miss Palmer. Mr. Browder does have a point, but I also believe,’ he said, nodding over at them, ‘the jury would like to hear the whole story of what happened.’

  The jury clearly agreed with him as there was some generalized muttering and nodding of heads amongst them.

  ‘But I have to be careful and fair to both sides whilst keeping in mind that evidence or testimony given here, must be relevant to be admissible in this court,’ Friedman said.

  It looked to me like Friedman was having trouble deciding, but I also thought he had warmed to Hannah as the trial had progressed and was probably genuinely interested in what had happened to her and her family.

  ‘Just how much more testimony is there before you get to the important parts, if I can put it like that?’ he asked Hannah.

  ‘Oh, not much, your honour. Not much at all,’ Hannah said, and I wondered whether she really knew that, or was just guessing.

  ‘Mr. Browder,’ Friedman said, nodding at him. ‘I am going to allow some leeway, and in any event, from what plaintiff says, we are nearly there any way.’

  ‘I understand, your honour,’ Browder said, and for once he had the good sense not to argue the point.

  Friedman looked over at Hannah. ‘You said the first time the house was searched you were “lucky”, so I am assuming that you were discovered in a later search, so perhaps,’ he said looking up at the clock, ‘when we come back, you can start your testimony from there, when you were discovered by the Germans?’

  Hannah nodded and smiled gently. ‘Yes, thank you honour,’ she said.

  ‘Good,’ Friedman said. ‘Court adjourned.’

  Chapter 21

  Hannah, Christoff and I were sitting around the kitchen table chewing the fat when Pascal, Morganna and Cara arrived back from Children & Family Services looking like part of a carnival troupe. Morganna was carrying Cara, who was holding on tightly to her large moth-eaten teddybear. ‘Meet the newest member of our commune,’ Morganna said, doing a twirl. ‘Miss Cara O’Leary. She’s going to be staying a while until her Mom is better.’

  Cara seemed bemused, holding on tightly to her teddybear. We all smiled back at her like idiots, and then Morganna said she and Hannah would go and settle our new guest in.

  As they trooped out Pascal followed but returned moments later with a large bottle of Gin. Christoff ambled over to the side of the kitchen and rooted around in the fruit and vegetable trays until he found a lemon, then went to the fridge, cracked out a bucket of ice and brought it over with a large bottle of tonic water. No one spoke as Pascal mixed three large Gin & Tonics and passed them around. Then we each had a sip.

  ‘John Fossey?’ Pascal said, wiping her hand across her mouth.

  ‘Christoff?’ I said, turning to him.

  ‘John Fossey,’ he repeated slowly. ‘You guys want to hazard a guess where he spent the night of the murder?’ he asked.

  ‘Somewhere in New York?’ Pascal said.

  ‘Yep, the Marriott. Five minute walk away.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But so what? My trial re-starts tomorrow, and I need something more than that. He was in New York. So what?’

  I guess he detected the slightly desperate tone in my voice.

  ‘Okay. Well have a look at this,’ Christoff said, turning his laptop so that I could see the screen. It was a story in the Cincinnati Enquirer, from 9 years earlier with the headline, “Conspiracy to Rob Trial Collapses.”

  I scanned the story. Seems that John Fossey along with two others was accused of conspiring to rob a large jewellery store. It was alleged that Fossey was the inside man for the heist, gave the other two the plan and then he got rid of the video surveillance tape. He had originally proffered a doctored tape to the prosecutor which then subsequently mysteriously disappeared when it was challenged. Seems the trial collapsed for other reasons, to do with legal technicalities, including chain of evidence and custody issues. The jewellery was never recovered and Fossey left the firm shortly afterwards.

  I mulled over the little story. Back in the day 9 years ago the surveillance equipment was pretty primitive. Probably just a video tape; dead easy to doctor or lose. Nevertheless it showed Fossey had a predisposition towards that type of behaviour. Problem was, he was acquitted, and anyway, so far we couldn’t link him to my case other than showing he stayed at a hotel nearby on the night of the murder. Back to square one, or maybe, just edging forward a bit. I turned to Pascal.

  ‘Courtney?’

  She drew breath as if she had been saving up to say something. ‘Look, Calver, I know you think I’m getting too close to Daly, but I think you’re wrong. The guy’s stubborn as a mule, I know, but I think he’s starting to take us seriously and ask some questions of his own about the murder, and I think he’s a good detective. He’s already suspicious about John Palmer’s death and he’s pulling the autopsy report for me. And he came straight down to O’Leary’s when I called, which isn’t his precinct, and without him there it would have gone pretty bad for me. The point is, he, just like us, keeps coming up against the CCTV, which so far seems irrefutable. Now this break, if it is a break, with Fossey, could be the thing that will convince him.’

  ‘Okay,’ I said, ‘but what has Daly got to do with Fossey?’

  ‘I think we need to enlist Daly to help us. We can’t check Fossey’s record or try and interview him, he’d see us coming a mile away and tell us to do one. I thought maybe we could try something, get in with Fossey somehow, but as you said, Calver, we, and especially you, don’t have any more time. We need it now.’

  ‘She’s right, Jonas,’ Christoff said.

  ‘Wouldn’t it mean him going off the plot with NYPD, freelancing? Aren’t there rules about that, especially on a case where the investigations closed and he’s a major prosecution witness?’ I said, to test her, but already convinced that if she could get something out of him, it had to be worth a shot. What else did I have?

  ‘Hey, trust me, Calver. That won’t be a problem,’ she said with a strange smile. ‘I’m due to see him for a drink tonight, so are we all agreed? I’ll give him what we’ve got, even though he’s technically on the other side, and see if he’ll help us out?’

  I looked at Christoff who nodded, and then so did I, just as Pascal’s smart phone started screeching out some awful thrash music. She checked the caller and answered immediately. ‘Chantelle,’ she said, smooth and friendly. ‘How are you?’

  She listened for a beat, then said, ‘good, good. Look Chantelle, I’m with Jonas Calver and another friend, Christoff, whose helping us, and who I spoke to you about. Is it alright if I put you on speakerphone so we can all hear?’

  ‘Sure honey,’ she said, and I could hear her without the speakerphone, but then Pascal flicked it on and her voice boomed out. ‘Not sure I’ve got anything that will help you all, but I did think of something about getting in the building,’ she said.

  We all looked at each other before Pascal said, ‘go on.’

  ‘Well back in the day, Angel just loved his German food. And we used to get a delivery from a Deli that also baked their own bread. Now these guys had special access if you like. Once a week the guy would bring this special bread that Angel loved but also other stuff like, what they call it, Wiener Schnitzel. I do remember the bread was called “Pumpernickel” and he told me the German bread is different to American Pumpernickel, so he ordered it in special.’

  We looked at each other again, faces blank. Pascal, said, slowly, ‘so how does this help us, Chantelle?’

  There was a silence the other end, until Chantelle giggled. ‘Well maybe I been wat
ching too many Hollywood movies. Thought maybe you could impersonate the bread delivery guy, if they’s still doing the deliveries……,’ she said, her voice tailing off as she possibly realised just how far fetched it sounded.

  I ran my hand across my eyes, ready to groan with frustration, but then I clocked how Pascal and Christoff were looking at each other. Surely they weren’t taking it seriously?

  ‘Did the bread delivery guy not pass through normal security, Chantelle? How did he get in?’ Pascal asked.

  ‘Oh no, he come up the service lift, then direct into the kitchen. Angel didn’t want no one poking around in his food. He most particular about that. His son David and Schmidt didn’t like it at all, but Angel refused to change, and end of the day, his word was law around there.’

  ‘What was the name of the Deli, Chantelle?’ Pascal asked.

  ‘I think it was called “Oskars” , with a K.’

  ‘Hi, Chantelle. Christoff here. Did the bread guy have any special ID he had to show, to get in? How did that work?’

  ‘Hi, Christoff,’ she said, her voice taking on a kind of flirtatiousness that hadn’t been there when she was speaking to Pascal. ‘Guy had a card. Think it was a blank one in my day, with maybe one of those magnetic strips on it. But I guess that’s changed by now if they’s still doing it.’

  Pascal looked at me and Christoff to check if we had anymore to ask and we both shook our heads. ‘One last question, Chantelle,’ she said. ‘D’you know when the K Building was actually built?’

  ‘I’d guess the seventies,’ she said.

  Pascal thanked her and said we would probably have some more questions and maybe we’d come out there or arrange for her to come up to town so we could speak face to face. Chantelle said she’d like that and then Pascal finished the call.

  Before anyone could say anything, Pascal looked at Christoff, and said, ‘blueprints, building plans with service elevators, air condition ducts?’