Page 5
Story: Where Secrets Lie
Savannah let her sister tug her toward the door. By the time Jess had to be back for Simon, Hez would be out of court, and they’d have to decide together what came next.
***
Martine took Hope’s place at the lectern. “Good morning, Mr. Webster.” Her voice held a hint of a French accent from her Paris childhood. “Let’s start with a standard preliminary question that Ms. Norcross forgot to ask. Are you under the influence of alcohol or any other substance that might impair your ability to testify accurately and completely?” The gleam in her dark eyes said that she knew all about Hez’s past.
Hez smiled. He’d expected her to try to rattle him. “Nothing except caffeine.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Mr. Harrison was friends with Savannah, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, though that was before he tried to kill her.”
Martine’s full lips twitched. “We’ll get to that. As her friend, it would make sense for him to be concerned for her welfare, correct?”
“I suppose.”
“And that would explain why he was so interested in seeing her cleared of an unjust murder charge, right?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that.” Which almost certainly wouldn’t happen. No competent defense lawyer would put the defendant on the stand in a case like this. A prosecutor like Hope couldn’t comment on Beckett’s decision to take the Fifth, but Hez was a mere witness today, so the same rules didn’t apply to him.
Martine’s eyes narrowed. She adjusted her notes on the lectern, knocking a pen off in the process. She bent over to pick it up, flashing her ample cleavage at Hez. He suppressed a chuckle and kept his gaze fixed on the back of the courtroom. She had told him about this trick over drinks when they dated briefly before he met Savannah. She called the tactic “blinding ’em with boobs” and used it to knock difficult male witnesses off-balance.
Martine straightened. “The video allegedly showing Mr. Harrison with Ms. Legare’s fleece does not show his face, correct?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, the only reason you think it shows Mr. Harrison is the scar on his leg, correct?”
“That, plus the fact that his build and gait are the same as the man in the video. Plus, he had been in Ms. Legare’s office on multiple occasions and likely knew she kept a fleece there.”
“Are you aware that Mr. Harrison is an avid cyclist?”
“I’ve seen him dressed in bike shorts on occasion.”
“Are you aware that many cyclists have scars on their legs?”
Hez shrugged. “I know a lot of bikers, and I’ve never seen a scar exactly like that.”
“But some of them do have scars?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see the murder weapon in Mr. Harrison’s possession?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear him threaten to kill either Ellison Abernathy or Peter Cardin?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see him act aggressively or violently toward either of them?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see a trafficked artifact in Mr. Harrison’s possession?”
“No.”
“How about fraudulent documents designed to allow the sale of such artifacts? Did you ever see him with any of those?”
***
Martine took Hope’s place at the lectern. “Good morning, Mr. Webster.” Her voice held a hint of a French accent from her Paris childhood. “Let’s start with a standard preliminary question that Ms. Norcross forgot to ask. Are you under the influence of alcohol or any other substance that might impair your ability to testify accurately and completely?” The gleam in her dark eyes said that she knew all about Hez’s past.
Hez smiled. He’d expected her to try to rattle him. “Nothing except caffeine.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Mr. Harrison was friends with Savannah, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, though that was before he tried to kill her.”
Martine’s full lips twitched. “We’ll get to that. As her friend, it would make sense for him to be concerned for her welfare, correct?”
“I suppose.”
“And that would explain why he was so interested in seeing her cleared of an unjust murder charge, right?”
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him that.” Which almost certainly wouldn’t happen. No competent defense lawyer would put the defendant on the stand in a case like this. A prosecutor like Hope couldn’t comment on Beckett’s decision to take the Fifth, but Hez was a mere witness today, so the same rules didn’t apply to him.
Martine’s eyes narrowed. She adjusted her notes on the lectern, knocking a pen off in the process. She bent over to pick it up, flashing her ample cleavage at Hez. He suppressed a chuckle and kept his gaze fixed on the back of the courtroom. She had told him about this trick over drinks when they dated briefly before he met Savannah. She called the tactic “blinding ’em with boobs” and used it to knock difficult male witnesses off-balance.
Martine straightened. “The video allegedly showing Mr. Harrison with Ms. Legare’s fleece does not show his face, correct?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, the only reason you think it shows Mr. Harrison is the scar on his leg, correct?”
“That, plus the fact that his build and gait are the same as the man in the video. Plus, he had been in Ms. Legare’s office on multiple occasions and likely knew she kept a fleece there.”
“Are you aware that Mr. Harrison is an avid cyclist?”
“I’ve seen him dressed in bike shorts on occasion.”
“Are you aware that many cyclists have scars on their legs?”
Hez shrugged. “I know a lot of bikers, and I’ve never seen a scar exactly like that.”
“But some of them do have scars?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever see the murder weapon in Mr. Harrison’s possession?”
“No.”
“Did you ever hear him threaten to kill either Ellison Abernathy or Peter Cardin?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see him act aggressively or violently toward either of them?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see a trafficked artifact in Mr. Harrison’s possession?”
“No.”
“How about fraudulent documents designed to allow the sale of such artifacts? Did you ever see him with any of those?”
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