Sleight of Hand - By Phillip Margolin Page 0,81
some of his victories were achieved.”
“Such as?”
“Nikolai Orlansky is a mobster, Russian Mafia. A lot of Benedict’s business comes from him, and a lot of those cases have been dismissed because of missing witnesses or evidence, not because of anything Benedict has done. Basically he’s a lightweight, a .250 hitter. You need a big bat in your corner, Horace. You need to get rid of this guy. Especially after the way he fucked up your bail hearing.”
“What do you mean?”
“In court a witness can’t testify to what another person has told him if the testimony is introduced to prove the truth of the statement. That’s the hearsay rule. For example, if you’re my witness and I ask you where the sun rises, you can’t say, ‘I don’t know, but Joe told me it rises in the east.’
“But there are exceptions to the hearsay rule. A witness can testify about something someone told him if a lawyer ‘opens the door’ by asking a question that invites the witness to testify to what someone else has told him.
“Benedict killed your chances for bail when he asked Detective Santoro questions that let Santoro testify about everything Barry Lester told him about the prenup and your supposed confession. That was an amateur mistake no decent lawyer would ever make.”
Blair looked crushed.
“Don’t beat yourself up for hiring Benedict,” Pratt said. “You didn’t have a lot of time to think after you were arrested and you trusted him because he gave you the DVD and didn’t ask for anything in return.”
Pratt paused. “Horace, we go back a long way, and you know I’m your friend as well as your attorney. Do you believe you can trust me?”
“Of course.”
“I’m going to tell you something that is going to be tough to hear. There’s another reason you have to get rid of Benedict. There’s a good possibility that he did not make a mistake at the bail hearing. He may have acted intentionally so you wouldn’t get bail.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There is someone waiting outside I want you to meet. Dana Cutler is a private investigator who knows more about your case than anyone else. She’s convinced me that Charles Benedict murdered Carrie and has been framing you for her murder from the start.”
Horace listened to Dana’s tale of her quest for a mythical golden scepter and the trail of clues that led her to the conclusion that Charles Benedict killed Carrie and framed him for her murder.
“There’s one piece of this puzzle I can’t solve,” Dana concluded. “If Benedict murdered your wife and is behind this frame, he had to get your front-door key. Did he have an opportunity to do that before the body was discovered?”
Horace looked completely defeated. “I’ve been a fool,” he said so softly that Dana had to strain to hear him.
“Benedict is a brilliant criminal,” Pratt said. “We’d all have fallen for his tricks.”
“I certainly did, and I know exactly how he got the key.”
Horace told Dana and Pratt about Benedict’s demonstration with the keys at his home on the evening he brought over the DVD.
“Do you remember telling me that you had seen Benedict perform magic at a Bar Association awards dinner, Jack?”
Pratt nodded.
“I know very little about magic but I imagine that a magician would have little trouble swapping my house key for a look-alike that would not open my front door.
“And the evidence in the trunk of my Bentley. The trunk was locked and there was no sign that it had been forced open, but Carrie had a key to the Bentley. After he murdered Carrie, Benedict could have made a copy and used the key to get into the trunk.”
“That must be it,” Pratt said. “But, unfortunately, this is all guesswork. However, Dana has a plan.”
Horace looked at the investigator. For the first time in a long while Horace Blair thought he might be saved.
“If I’ve learned one thing about Benedict,” Dana said, “it’s that he’s very, very smart. I have theories about every step he’s taken to frame you but I can’t prove any of them because Benedict dots every I and crosses every T. And that’s what’s going to trip him up.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Charles Benedict woke up with a smile on his face. The nubile young blonde who had shared his bed last night had been expertly trained by one of Nikolai’s whoremasters, and her performance had left him drained and satisfied, but not as satisfied as he was with the way the case was proceeding.
If