Part 32 (1/2)
”Two black-and-whites from Jacksonville Beach. And one civilian car.”
”Belonging to?”
”A man named Victor Gambrel.”
Gambrel was in the main living room, she explained, when she and Nickerson entered the house. He identified himself immediately as director of security for Zide Industries. He was with Mrs. Zide, taking care of her. He had been there for only a couple of minutes, he told them, after a telephone call he received from Neil Zide.
”Were you able in any way to corroborate that last statement of Mr. Gambrel's? That he'd been in the house 'only a couple of minutes'?”
”I believe the security guard corroborated it.”
”Oh? The one down by the gate?”
”There was only one, I believe. So yes.”
”When did you talk to him?”
”Sergeant Nickerson questioned him the next day. Down at the sheriff's office.”
”You weren't present at that questioning?”
”I was doing some other work. I don't remember exactly what.”
”And did either of you question Mr. Gambrel?”
”Sergeant Nickerson did, then and later. He and Gambrel knew each other. As soon as we walked in, Gambrel looked up and said, 'h.e.l.lo, Nick,' and Nickerson said, 'h.e.l.lo, Victor.' ”
”Like they were old friends?”
”Not quite. Like they knew each other professionally, I'd say. I think Gambrel had been a JSO officer before he went into private work.”
Gary Oliver was scribbling notes as fast as his black Flair pen could fly across or over the lines of his legal pad. His handwriting was a large scrawl, so that every minute or so he would flip the page loudly to uncover a fresh one. For a moment I glanced at Muriel Suarez. Her eye for that split second was on Gary as he wrote; she was frowning. In this courtroom today the lawyers didn't have to hide their emotions. There was no jury to observe, to wonder.
I looked at my own notes. ”Ms. Tanagra, you said in direct examination that, as far as you knew, the crime scene had been preserved. I'm curious-what did you mean by 'as far as I knew'?”
”Well... it didn't seem to have been disturbed.”
”How did you make that judgment?”
Her nostrils flared; she was angry. She wasn't a cop anymore, but she still wanted to be thought of as having been a good cop. ”I don't recall,” she said.
”By 'the crime scene,' I take it you mean the immediate area around the body of the murdered man.”
”Yes, more or less.”
”Did you ask Mrs. Zide and Mr. Neil Zide if they'd touched anything in that area? And if they'd moved the body at all?”
”Yes, I did ask. They said no.”
”And you believed them?”
”They were in a state of shock,” Tanagra said.
”That's not what I asked you. I asked if you believed them when they said they hadn't touched anything or moved the body.”
”Up to a point. I mean, this was a hysterical woman. She was bleeding all over the place. She might have moved the body, might have tried to cradle her husband. Sure, that could have happened. A lot of things happen that aren't meant to happen. But the medical examiner-”
”Was the son hysterical?” I persisted. ”Neil Zide?”
”A little. Yes, he was.”
”Was Mr. Gambrel hysterical?”
”I don't recall that at all. He'd just arrived.”
”He was calm?”
”I believe he was calm, yes.”
”You talked to him?”
”No, Nick-Sergeant Nickerson talked to him. I went off to find the dog.”
I'd been fis.h.i.+ng. The hook was wiggling a little in the murky depths, and I wasn't at all sure what was on it. But I felt that slight pressure.
Slowly I said, ”Ms. Tanagra, you went off to find the dog at the beach cabanas, is that right?”
”Yes.”
”And the dog, the Doberman, when you found him, was dead. Poisoned, as I recall, by Smith and Morgan.” Darryl, at my side, s.h.i.+fted his weight and grunted. ”By Smith,” I corrected myself.
”Right.”
”When you went off toward the beach, Ms. Tanagra, did you know the dog was dead?”
”No, of course not.”
”Did you know there was a dog there at all?”
Her brow knitted; she was trying to recall. But it was thirteen years ago. That's nearly five thousand days and nights crammed with incident. She shrugged a bit helplessly.
”Let me see if I can refresh your memory again,” I said, ”and please stop me if I'm wrong. You left the living room, where all these people were gathered ... you went outside onto the terrace.” She was nodding, so I kept going. ”You could have gone in any direction, but you didn't. You turned left”-I knew that house and lawn and terrace, of course; I had partied there, I had even f.u.c.ked there- ”and you crossed the lawn toward the beach. Why did you do that?”
”To see if the dog was all right,” she said.
”Why did you want to see if the dog was all right?”