Stone Barrington 06-11
cross-examine the prosecution’s witnesses to within an inch of their lives. After all, it’s they who have to make a case, not we.”
“You don’t think we ought to try?” Stone asked doubtfully.
“Let me ask you something, Stone: Can we prove Arrington didn’t shoot Vance?”
“Maybe not.”
“If we could prove she didn’t do it, we’d be home free, but we can’t. So we’re going to have to cast so much doubt on the prosecution’s case that the judge will throw it out.”
“And how are we going to do that?” Stone asked.
“I know Beverly Walters better than you,” Marc replied.
“How well, Marc?”
“Well enough, trust me.”
“All right, I’ll trust you.”
“Have you got any other ideas about how we might proceed?”
Stone took a deep breath. “I think we ought to call Felipe Cordova.”
“I thought he was lost in darkest Mexico.”
“He was, but he’s back in L.A. Brandy Garcia gave me a heads up.”
“Doesn’t it bother you that the prosecution would call Cordova, if they knew what we knew about his actions that night?”
“No.”
“Stone, we’re going to have Beverly Walters on the stand saying she saw Arrington shoot Vance, while Arrington doesn’t remember what she did or didn’t do. Cordova is just going to back up Beverly’s story, isn’t he?”
“I don’t think so,” Stone said.
“And why not?”
“A couple of reasons. First, Vanessa Pike told me she drove Beverly to the Calder house, and that Beverly saw what happened from the rear of the house, at the doors to the pool.”
“Wait a minute. What Vanessa told you was that she drove somebody to Vance’s; she didn’t say who.”
“But we know it was Beverly.”
“How do we know that?”
“Because Charlene Joiner says that the two of them left her house together that evening, after a day lying around the pool.”
“At what time?”
“At just about the time it would have taken for them to drive to the Calder house and arrive at the time Vance was being shot.”
“Will Charlene testify to that?”
“Yes, to that and more.”
“What else?”
“She’ll testify that Beverly was wearing a terrycloth robe over a bathing suit when she left her house.”
“So?”
“Cordova says he saw a woman next to Vance’s body, and she was wearing a terrycloth robe.”
“Did he see her face?”
“No.”
“Then it could have been Arrington.”
“Arrington doesn’t wear terrycloth robes. She likes plain cotton or silk.”
“Can we prove that?”
“We can call her maid, who would know her wardrobe intimately, and who got her out of the tub and into a robe.”
“I like it,” Blumberg said. “But how are we going to put Beverly in the house?”
“I think she’ll admit being outside, and it’s a short step from the back door into the hallway where Vance died. And there’s this, Marc: I’d be willing to bet that Cordova is not mentioned in Beverly’s story, because she didn’t see him.”
“Yeah, but can Cordova prove he was there?”
“The police can; they’ve got a photograph of his shoeprint.”
“But you have the shoe.”
“Yes, it’s in the trunk of my car. I bought the shoes from Cordova in Mexico.”
“Nikes, weren’t they?”
“Right.”
“There are millions of pairs of Nikes out there.”
“There aren’t millions of size twelves, and remember, Cordova’s have a cut across the heel of the sole that shows up in the photograph.”
“You know, Stone, I think we’re awfully close to being able to prove that Arrington didn’t kill Vance.”
“Close but not quite there. Cordova didn’t see Beverly shoot him.”
“And we don’t have a motive.”
“Or the weapon.”
“Shit!” Blumberg said. “What could her motive be?”
“I think they were sleeping together. It could be that he told her to get lost, and she reacted badly.”
“Could be, but how do we prove that?”
“I wish Vanessa were still alive; she could probably tell us.”
“I’d give a million bucks for that gun with her prints on it.”
“So would I,” Stone agreed, “but it doesn’t look as though we’re ever going to find it.”
“I’d give a lot for a witness who could put Beverly in the sack with Vance, too.”
“Oddly enough, Beverly is known among her friends as a blabbermouth, but apparently, she never blabbed about a relationship with Vance.”
“Except maybe to Vanessa.”
“Maybe, but we’ll never know.”
Marc suddenly stood up. “Jesus,”
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