New Tricks - By David Rosenfelt Page 0,89

game, like athletes?” she asks.

“On the contrary, it’s encouraged. It clears the mind and makes questions crisper and clearer.”

“Is that right?”

“Absolutely. The more sex, the better the lawyer. That’s why so many hookers have become Supreme Court justices.”

“Then by tomorrow morning they’ll be calling you Chief Justice Carpenter.”

WE NEED A PERRY MASON MOMENT.

Actually, what we really need is Perry Mason, but since he must be pushing 130 years old, we probably have a better chance at getting one of his moments.

A Perry Mason moment is when the witness cracks under the relentless pressure of a brilliant defense attorney and confesses to the crime right on the stand. A perfect example of it was when Tom Cruise asked, “Did you order the code red?” and Jack Nicholson screamed back at him, “You’re goddamn right I did!”

The first thing I do when the court session is convened is ask for a meeting with Hatchet and Richard in chambers. I tell them, “My first witness is going to be Thomas Sykes, and I would like him designated as a hostile witness.”

Hatchet seems surprised. “He is hostile to the defense?”

“He’s going to be,” I say. “We believe that Thomas Sykes murdered Walter Timmerman, and we are going to use his testimony to show the credibility of that theory.”

“Whoa,” Richard says. “I thought you were blaming some international bad guys after Timmerman’s work. Where is this coming from?”

I smile. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait for the show to open. But it’s legit, Richard.”

“Does the prosecution wish to lodge an objection to my declaring this witness hostile?” Hatchet asks.

“No objection. But I would remind Your Honor that defense counsel cannot make reckless charges without foundation.”

“It’s lucky you’re here to remind me of things like that,” Hatchet says, drily. “If I didn’t have you, I’d have to invent you.”

We get back to court, and when Steven is brought in I greet him in what I think is the same way I do everyday. But no sooner have I said hello than he asks, “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s up,” he says. “There’s something about you that’s different today.”

“Just keep your fingers crossed,” I say, before Hatchet comes in and we’re all rising to our feet.

Sykes takes the stand, and Hatchet reminds him that he is still under oath from his last trip there.

“Mr. Sykes, Walter Timmerman was the founder of Timco, the company you currently preside over as CEO. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“And how many years did you know Mr. Timmerman?” I ask.

He thinks for a moment before answering. “Twenty-two.”

“He was instrumental in your career advancement?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Mr. Sykes,” I say, “do you remember when I came to visit you in your office?”

“I do.”

“And do you recall that I told you I had evidence that you had been having an affair with Walter Timmerman’s wife, Diana?”

“Yes. I recall that.”

Sykes seems pretty much at ease. This is what he expected was coming, and he is prepared for it.

“And did you admit that you were having an affair with Diana Timmerman?”

“I said that we were in love,” he says, lying through his teeth. “I told you that it wasn’t anything we had planned; it just happened.”

“So you admit to the relationship here, under oath, as well?”

“Yes.”

“Did you also tell me that it was your belief that Walter Timmerman was also unfaithful to his wife?” I may be stretching this too far, but I want Sykes to be totally confident of where I’m going, so when I strike it will be a shock to him.

“Yes, I told you that, but I also said I only suspected it, and had no firm information about it.”

“Mr. Sykes, did you kill Walter Timmerman?”

He snaps back in the chair as if I had punched him in the chest. “What? No. Of course not. How could you ask me something like that?”

“Mr. Sykes, the way it works here is that I ask the questions and you answer them. Until now, I thought you had that down pat.”

Richard objects to my mistreating the witness, and Hatchet sustains. Business as usual.

“Where were you the night of the murder?” I ask.

“I was at home,” he says.

I introduce the Timmerman house security log from that night as a defense exhibit, and then show it to Sykes. I get him to read that it shows him arriving at the house at six forty-five in the evening.

“Is that accurate? Did you arrive there at that time?”

He seems to be trying to figure out the best answer, and finally