Part 31 (2/2)
And there was always the matt *r of ego. n.o.body likes to lose.
Carmen Tanagra was sworn in by the court clerk. John Whatley rose from the counsel table to question her.
In clipped, unemotional prose, the former JSO Homicide sergeant set the scene for us: the luxurious beach estate, the tropical night, the hard glare of the floodlights.
She and Sergeant Nickerson pulled up in the driveway. The Jacksonville Beach patrolmen took them straight to the body on the terrace, which was identified by Neil Zide as his father, Solomon Zide, who appeared to have been shot at least twice. She checked for a carotid pulse. ”There was none,” she testified. ”He was dead.”
The crime scene, as far as she knew, had been preserved. She herself, after making sure that Mrs. Zide's bleeding had been stanched and that she was resting comfortably on a sofa in the care of a housemaid, who had been awakened by the commotion, talked briefly to Neil Zide and then left him with Sergeant Nickerson. She walked about the grounds and discovered the dead Doberman by the dunes near the beach cabanas. In the wet sand closer to the ocean she found the imprint of the sneakers of two running men. She determined that one of the fleeing murderers wore size fourteen or fifteen shoes.
I could have objected to her a.s.sumptions, but I kept still.
When she got back to the house, red lights were flas.h.i.+ng. An ambulance had arrived, and paramedics were bundling Mrs. Zide into it. Her partner, Sergeant Nickerson, was questioning Neil Zide. The tech squad had arrived too; someone was taking photographs. Armed with Neil Zide's description of the two young black men who had apparently bungled a burglary, then shot and killed his father, she and Nickerson set out together into the dark night to see if they could find the perpetrators.
Tersely she described the encounter at the Lil' Champ, the death of William Smith, the arrest of Darryl Morgan.
”Pa.s.s the witness,” Whatley said.
I rose slightly in my chair. My tone was as casual as it could be without putting everyone to sleep.
”Ms. Tanagra,” I asked, ”when you and Sergeant Nickerson arrived at the Zide estate in your car, how did you get in?”
”Through a gate down at the road,” she said.
”The gate was open?”
”I don't really remember. Maybe open, maybe shut. There was a security guard there. Maybe he opened it. This was thirteen years ago-it's hard to say.”
”I appreciate that. So the security guard may have unlocked the gate and let you in?”
”He may have.”
”Did you speak to him?”
”I don't really remember.”
”Can you describe him?”
”Not after this long a time,” she said.
”Do you remember if he was young or old?”
”Old, I'd say.”
”Over forty?”
”Definitely. Well, probably.”
”By any chance, do you recall his name?”
”No. It's too long ago.”
”Could it have been Terence O'Rourke?”
”That sounds familiar. But I don't really remember.”
”Did you wonder, considering that several shots had been fired, why he was there at the gate and not up at the house?”
Carmen Tanagra thought that over for a while. ”I seem to recall that someone had given him an order to stay there because the police were coming.”
”He told you that?”
”I think so. I'm not sure.”
”Did he say who gave him that order?”
”If he did, I don't remember.”
”How far was it from the gate to the house?”
”Hard to say.”
”If you don't mind, I'll try to refresh your memory.” I signaled to Gary Oliver, who stepped into the hallway leading to the judge's chambers and returned with an easel and a large sheet of white cardboard. On it in bold black lines was drawn a plan of the Zide estate. It had been drafted with the aid of the original architect and landscape designer. Gary had been on their backs all fall for them to get it done, and they had signed an affidavit as to the plan's accuracy.
Muriel inspected the affidavit. All right, she was willing to stipulate that the plan was accurate. ”However, Your Honor,” she said, ”I don't see the relevance. I'd like to remind the court that basically we're here to listen to fresh evidence promised by the defense. This is not fresh evidence.”
”The purpose of this line of questioning,” I said, ”is clarity. And enlightenment.”
That was the magic word. The judge said, ”If you're objecting, ma'am, I'm overruling.” He turned to me. ”Just hurry it along, Mr. Jaffe.”
Muriel smiled graciously and sat down.
I pointed out to Carmen Tanagra that according to the landscape designer's drawings it was approximately one quarter of a mile from the front gate, where she and Nickerson had entered, to the main rooms of the Zide house.
”That seems about right,” she said.
”Ms. Tanagra, if a shot had been fired in the house while you were pa.s.sing through that gate, would you have heard it?”
”Of course,” Carmen said.
”But no shots were fired while you were there?”
”No.” She seemed puzzled. That was fine. I meant her to be puzzled.
”When you reached the house, what other vehicles were parked on the driveway in front of the house?”
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