Part 16 (1/2)

Other people might ooh and aah over the setting's soaring ceilings, marble columns, and perfectly placed centerpieces, but Laurie was energized by this room for reasons that had nothing to do with the party that would start here in a few hours. Laurie was excited because she loved being on set. She loved the feeling that came with knowing that she was about to tell a story-not just with words, but with images, dramatic pauses, and sound effects. No matter what happened, she knew she would make a high-quality program. And with a little bit of luck, they might also obtain some justice.

She found Ryan pacing in the hallway, next to the pay phones. ”Are you ready for your Under Suspicion debut?”

He held up a finger until he finished mouthing words to himself from a note card. ”I'm good.”

He did not look good. He looked nervous and was still wearing the towel that the makeup technician had tucked into his front collar. Laurie had been afraid this was going to happen. Alex had been the rare attorney who was comfortable doing his job in front of a television camera. In contrast, some of the most gifted courtroom lawyers turned to stone once cameras were rolling, while the ”talking head” types might be good on camera, but only with a teleprompter or canned sound bites. She had no idea whether Ryan could combine the two talents.

”Are you starting a new fas.h.i.+on trend?” she asked, pointing to her own neck.

He looked down, seemingly confused. ”Right,” he said, pulling off the towel.

”Have you found out anything more about Mark Templeton hiring a defense lawyer?”

”I'm working on it.” He was still paying more attention to his notes than to her.

”When you called the U.S. Attorney's Office, what did they say?”

”Like I said, Laurie, I'm working on it. Give me a little more time.”

For all she knew, I'm working on it was code for I forgot all about it. But now was not the time to lecture him about workplace communication. They were about to start shooting and needed to focus.

Their first witness, Jason Gardner, had arrived.

43.

As Ryan questioned Jason Gardner, Laurie's gaze bounced between the live conversation and the screen feed beside the cameraman, hoping that the televised version would somehow be better than reality. When she caught the cameraman's worried expression, she knew there'd be no such luck.

Jerry leaned down to whisper in her ear. ”It's like the two of them are having a contest to see who can talk faster. I can't tell who's more nervous. And what's up with those note cards? Even if we zoom in to crop Ryan's hands in post-production, his eyes will be downcast the whole time.”

”Cut,” Laurie called out. ”Hey, I'm sorry, guys. This is going great, but we've got a lighting issue. Too much glare off the chandeliers. It'll just be a few minutes to adjust, okay?” She signaled for Ryan to follow her out to the hallway. Once they were alone, she held out a palm. ”Give them to me. The note cards, all of them.”

”Laurie-”

”I'm serious. You don't need them. We've gone over everything backwards and forwards.” She was no fan of Ryan, but his resume was undeniable. He was never going to be Alex, but he could certainly be better than what she'd just seen in front of the camera. ”This isn't a Supreme Court brief. There's no judge here. The judge is the audience. They need to trust you, and that won't happen if you make them uncomfortable.”

”But I've got all my questions here-”

”No,” she said, s.n.a.t.c.hing the cards from his hand. ”You have them in that Harvard-trained mind of yours. Tell me five things we want to know about Jason Gardner.”

He looked at her, clearly frustrated. ”Pretend I'm Professor Bigshot and just called on you in a packed lecture hall. Quick: five things.”

He rattled off five points as quickly as if he were reciting the alphabet. She was impressed.

”There, you're ready.”

Five minutes into the next session, Ryan was walking Jason through his time line the night of the gala. His body language was comfortable and his confidence seemed to grow by the second. Laurie could feel her fists begin to unclench.

According to Jason, he spoke to Casey only briefly after he first arrived at the gala at about eight-thirty. At that point, she seemed as if she might have enjoyed a gla.s.s of wine or two, but did not appear impaired and did not complain of any kind of illness. Jason noticed Casey leave with Hunter, but stayed with his co-workers until the end of the party, then went home alone. By the time Ryan wrapped up the time line, he had already met one of his five goals for Jason's session: he had established that Jason had no alibi for the time of Hunter's murder.

”Now, you said your employer had bought a table at the gala, correct?”

”That's right. Taking a table is one way for a firm to support a charitable cause.”

”And your firm had only one table?”

”Yes, as far as I recall.”

”That's eight seats. But your firm had more than a hundred financial a.n.a.lysts, not to mention support staff and other personnel. So how does the firm determine who attends any given event? Do they force you to go?”

”Oh no. It was a volunteer type situation.”

”So you knew in advance that you were attending a gala to benefit the Raleigh Foundation?” Ryan asked.

”Of course.”

”Then you certainly would have antic.i.p.ated b.u.mping into your ex-girlfriend and her fiance, Hunter Raleigh.”

Jason finally seemed to realize where the questions were heading, but it was too late to avoid the obvious implication. ”Yes, I suppose that's right.”

”Here's what confuses me, Jason. Your book, My Days with Crazy Casey, describes a woman and a relations.h.i.+p that-well, I think the t.i.tle says it all. If you believed Casey was volatile to the point of insanity, why would you purposefully show up at a gala that her fiance's family was hosting?”

”Well, I thought it would be a nice gesture.”

”So you were still on good terms with her?”

He shrugged.

”Even though, as you wrote in your book, you bolted yourself in your apartment bathroom one time because you were afraid that she was going to attack you physically?”

”I'm not sure afraid is the right word.”

”Should we get a copy of your book? I believe your exact words were that you feared for your life and wished you'd hidden the kitchen knives.”

”That might have been an exaggeration. Obviously, the publisher wants to sell books.”

Ryan was finding a rhythm. He had just nailed down a second point: Jason's book was not the same thing as testimony under oath.

”Speaking of your book, it was published by Arden Publis.h.i.+ng. I believe your editor was a woman named Holly Bloom. Can I ask how you came to be published by Arden?”

”What do you mean? I had an agent and he helped me.”