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long in the sun. Been working? Or have you perhaps finally taken Special Agent
Swift up on her many offers?
Swift just likes to kid around.
Who s kidding who? She s been after your bones since she showed up in Tulsa.
They sure make em horny down South.
Don t be so crude.
How else do you explain it? I mean, you re okay-looking, but honestly.
Mike tapped his pencil eraser on his desk. I seem to recall a night when you
didn t think I was all that unpleasant to be with.
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I must ve been feverish. Or seriously bored. You working on the murders?
What else would I be working on?
How should I know? She paced around his desk. Your obsessions seem to come
and go. I mean, a few days ago you were all wrapped up in that kidnapping
case. Now another mystery comes along, and you re staying up all night working
on that. It s as if you have no personal life. As if the normal cycles of life
never
Mike sat upright. Wait a minute. You re right.
About what?
He ran for his coat. You should be proud of yourself.
I d be prouder if I knew what I d done.
What every muse does. Open thine eyes / That the blind might see. He
cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. You re brilliant.
Her response was a little slow in coming. I thought we agreed
Sorry. I was momentarily overcome. I ll be back soon.
Morelli! I want to know what
But it was too late. He was gone.
41
The next morning the courtroom atmosphere was even more agitated than it had
been before. The throng outside had doubled, and three incidents of violence
were reported before Ben and Christina even arrived. The corridors of the
courtroom were jam-packed, and spectators jostled and thrust for a chance to
get one of the treasured gallery seats. It seemed everyone was anxious to hear
what the defense had to say.
Ben was amazed that the case still seemed to hold the media s interest; he
couldn t think of a network that didn t have someone on the premises. Most of
the familiar faces he d noticed in the gallery were back again: Roger
Hartnell, still hobbling along with his cane, Gary Scholes, the frat boy
turncoat. Mario Roma was there, too; Ben made sure he never had a chance to
get anywhere near Christina.
And Ellen was present, of course.
You know I m a reasonable man, Drabble said, running his fingers through
his hair. You know it. Tell me I m a reasonable man.
You ve been a reasonable man, Ben answered. Most of the time.
I don t go in for dirty tricks.
Right, Christina said. That little prank you pulled on me my first day was
a clean trick.
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Drabble ignored her. I ve turned over the evidence I m supposed to turn
over. I ve given you access to the witnesses.
You coached Gary Scholes to hold back the kicker.
I did nothing of the sort. I play by the rules.
Ben was becoming impatient. Fine, fine. You re a paragon among prosecutors.
Of course, that s rather like being the Earl of Earwigs.
Drabble drew himself up. But I absolutely draw the line at surprise
witnesses plopped into my lap seconds before they testify.
It s not as if Ellen Christensen dropped out of the heavens. You ve known
about her. You ve talked to her on several occasions. She s on our list.
Only in a pro forma way. You never suggested she was a material alibi
witness.
Look, if you want to talk fairness, I didn t know Scholes was going to say
Johnny left the bar at exactly the coroner s estimated time of death, did I?
I m calling her to rebut your surprise assault on our defense. I need her.
Well . . . that s just too diddly-doggone bad.
Don t be vulgar. It detracts from your rugged good looks.
You heard what I said. Drabble projected his voice so every reporter in the
courtroom could hear. I won t stand by quietly while you thwart justice. The
answer is no.
But Judge Lacayo s answer, happily, was yes. He was wary of denying the
defense anyone they called a critical alibi witness especially, Ben suspected,
when the case looked like a prosecution win, which would guarantee an appeal.
He offered Drabble extra time to prepare his cross which, to Ben s surprise,
he declined.
That won t be necessary, your honor, Drabble grumbled. I have a pretty
good idea what I m going to do.
What can he be thinking? Ben wondered. As always, any time a prosecutor knew
something he didn t, he was left with an unshakable foreboding.
Christina handled the direct examination of Ellen Christensen. It wasn t an
easy task for her especially knowing what she did about the woman s past with
Ben but she also knew it would be a mistake to ask Ben to do it.
After establishing who she was, where she lived, and her relationship to the
defendant, Christina took her directly to the time in question.
What were you doing on the night of March 22?
I was at home. Alone. I m a widow my husband died two and a half years ago.
What were you doing?
After dinner, I read a novel. The new Anne Tyler.
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Would you please tell the jury where you live?
At the corner of Madison and 21st. Near campus.
And near Remote Control?
Yes. Very near.
Did you have any visitors that night?
One. She paused. My son. John Christensen.
And what time was it when he came by?
I can t say exactly, but I remember my grandfather clock striking 11:00, so
it was a little later than that. About 11:10, 11:20, I d guess.
There was a discernible rustling in the gallery. Now the crowd and the
jury understood the importance of her testimony. While she had their
attention, Christina thought it would be an advantageous time to establish a
little essential background information.
Have you been close to your son in recent years, Mrs. Christensen?
Ellen s gaze went downward, not toward the jury, as Christina would ve
preferred. It was acceptable to seem a little nervous jurors expected that.
But Christina didn t want it to be too extreme especially not with a witness
whom they were likely to be skeptical of from the outset. We were close for
many years. After I married his father. I loved him I love him just as if he
were my biological son. In my mind, he is. But after Larry died . . . he
seemed to change. He became distant. It was almost as if he blamed me for
Larry s premature heart attack. He started spending less time at home and more
time with his friends often friends I did not approve of. When he finished
high school and wanted to go to college, it was a relief.
Did you know about his involvement with the fraternity? And the Christian
Minutemen?
Yes, even as little as I saw him, he made sure I knew about that.
Did you approve?
Of course not. Larry and I were always very liberal in our thinking. In a
way I think perhaps that was why he did it. It was the ultimate way of
punishing me, of rebelling. By being a part of something I found truly
appalling.
How did he look when he came to see you that night?
Horrible. Strung out. His hair was a mess, he was drenched in sweat. His
clothes were dirty and there were . . . splatters of blood on his shirt and
hands. And he reeked of alcohol.
Why did he come?
He said he needed to talk to someone someone he could trust. I was pleased
and flattered of course, but that died fast. When he told me what he d done.
What did he say?
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He said he d been with a friend. They d both been drinking. Johnny is not a
good drinker. It turns him into someone . . . someone entirely different from
himself. He said they kidnapped a man in a parking lot and beat him. It wasn t
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