Page 79 of The Hamptons Lawyer

“I think at this point in our relationship, we can both be on a first-name basis,” I say.

“You’re the boss,” Jimmy says, and I hear some chuckling from the jury box. A good thing. I want them to feel as if they’re eavesdropping on a conversation between a couple of old pals.

Which, in essence, they are.

I go through some preliminaries of my own, asking him how long he was with the NYPD. He tells me. I ask how he progressed through the ranks to detective, and he tells me that, too.

“In the course of your career, you ever see a murder weapon planted?” I ask.

“On multiple occasions.”

“And did the people doing the planting go down for that?” I ask.

Jimmy shrugs. “Sometimes it was the planterwho went down, sometimes the plantee.And sometimes none of the above.”

“And how often were you able to catch the people who planted a weapon as a way of framing someone for a crime he, or she, didn’t commit?”

“Objection,” Katherine Welsh says. “Ms. Smith is clearly leading this witness. Your Honor, I’m sure Ms. Smith and Mr. Cunniff are often in the habit of finishing each other’s thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s completely inappropriate in these circumstances.”

“Sustained,” Judge Horton says.

“Letmerephrase,” I say. “If someoneweretrying to frame someone for murder, wouldn’t it be easy for them to hide a weapon as a way of making it look as if the person being framed had been the one hiding it?”

“All you’d need,” Jimmy says, “is access to the weapon, and access to the hiding place.”

I nod, and grin. “And how many people would you guess might have access to our client’s town house?”

“At this point in time?” Jimmy says. “A shorter list might be people whodon’thave access.”

“Objection! Calls for speculation.”

“Sustained,” Horton says. He then focuses a withering glance at Jimmy. “I understand that you are a bar owner, Mr. Cunniff, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Your Honor, it is.”

“Well, you’re not seated at the end of the bar this morning,” Horton continues.

To me the judge says, “Proceed.”

“Jimmy,” I say, “you’ve often told me that jails aren’t filled with smart people, isn’t that correct?”

“It’s an expression cops use quite a lot.”

“But smart people, even if they’re guilty, often find a way to stayoutof jail, isn’t that also correct?”

“Unfortunately, it is.”

“And if they’rereallysmart, they can frame someone for a murder they didn’t commit,” I say, not even attempting to make a question out of it.

“Objection!” Katherine Welsh says, shouting this time.

But I’m already walking back to my table.

“Withdrawn,” I say. “Nothing further.”

SIXTY-FOUR

I SIT BACK DOWN, suddenly exhausted, feeling a little sick and a little dizzy at the same time, as if my condition had once again chased me down from behind, and tried to knock me down, as jazzed as I’d felt questioning Jimmy, and finishing up the way I had.