“A case like this, there’s only one verdict, Ted. I’m going to tell him he should ride it out. I think it’s clear sailing from here. Have a good lunch.”
I left him there at the gate, halfway expecting him to shout a new offer to my back as I went down the center aisle of the gallery. But Minton held his ground.
“That offer’s good only until one-thirty, Haller,” he called after me, an odd tone in his voice.
I raised a hand and waved without looking back. As I went through the courtroom door, I was sure that what I had heard was the sound of desperation creeping into his voice.
Thirty-five
After we came back into court from Four Green Fields I purposely ignored Minton. I wanted to keep him guessing as long as possible. It was all part of the plan to push him in a direction I wanted him and the trial to go. When we were all seated at the tables and ready for the judge, I finally looked over at him, waited for the eye contact, and then just shook my head. No deal. He nodded, trying his best to give me a show of confidence in his case and confusion over my client’s decision. One minute later the judge took the bench, brought out the jury, and Minton promptly folded his tent.
“Mr. Minton, do you have another witness?” the judge asked.
“Your Honor, at this time the state rests.”
There was the slightest hesitation in Fullbright’s response. She stared at Minton for just a second longer than she should have. I think it sent a message of surprise to the jury. She then looked over at me.
“Mr. Haller, are you ready to proceed?”
The routine procedure would be to ask the judge for a directed verdict of acquittal at the end of the state’s case. But I didn’t, fearing that this could be the rare occasion that the request was granted. I couldn’t let the case end yet. I told the judge I was ready to proceed with a defense.
My first witness was Mary Alice Windsor. She was escorted into the courtroom by Cecil Dobbs, who then took a seat in the front row of the gallery. Windsor was wearing a powder blue suitwith a chiffon blouse. She had a regal bearing as she crossed in front of the bench and took a seat in the witness box. Nobody would have guessed she had eaten shepherd’s pie for lunch. I very quickly went through the routine identifiers and established her relationship by both blood and business to Louis Roulet. I then asked the judge for permission to show the witness the knife the prosecution had entered as evidence in the case.
Permission granted, I went to the court clerk to retrieve the weapon, which was still wrapped in a clear plastic evidence bag. It was folded so that the initials on the blade were visible. I took it to the witness box and put it down in front of the witness.
“Mrs. Windsor, do you recognize this knife?”
She picked up the evidence bag and attempted to smooth the plastic over the blade so she could look for and read the initials.
“Yes, I do,” she finally said. “It’s my son’s knife.”
“And how is it that you would recognize a knife owned by your son?”
“Because he showed it to me on more than one occasion. I knew he always carried it and sometimes it came in handy at the office when our brochures came in and we needed to cut the packing straps. It was very sharp.”
“How long did he have the knife?”
“Four years.”
“You seem pretty exact about that.”
“I am.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he got it for protection four years ago. Almost exactly.”
“Protection from what, Mrs. Windsor?”
“In our business we often show homes to complete strangers. Sometimes we are the only ones in the home with these strangers. There has been more than one incident of a realtor being robbed or hurt… or even murdered or raped.”
“As far as you know, was Louis ever the victim of such a crime?”
“Not personally, no. But he knew someone who had gone into a home and that happened to them…”
“What happened?”
“She got raped and robbed by a man with a knife. Louis was the one who found her after it was over. The first thing he did was go out and get a knife for protection after that.”
