“You’re sure it was a gun?” Yuki asked.
“Oh, absolutely.”
“Did Dr. Martin ever tell you she wished her husband were dead?”
“Many times. Too many to count.”
“Too many to count,” Yuki said pointedly to the jury.
“And did Mr. Martin tell you about his feelings for his wife?”
“He said she was cold. He used to say that he didn’t trust her.”
“Thank you, Ms. Lafferty. That’s all I have for this witness.”
Hoffman stood, his chair scraping noisily against the oak floor. He put his hands in his pockets and approached the witness, who stiffened her shoulders and looked up at him.
“Ellen. May I call you Ellen?”
“No. I’d rather you didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. Ms. Lafferty. Did you think Dr. Martin was going to kill her husband?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“So, if you thought she was going to commit murder and you saw Dr. Martin with a weapon, why didn’t you call the police?”
Yuki watched Lafferty’s righteous indignation melt into an expression of grief.
She said, almost begging Hoffman and the jury to understand, “I wasn’t thinking about her that night. I was in a hurry. In hindsight, I should have called the police or warned Mr. Martin. I blame myself. If I’d done something, Mr. Martin would still be alive and the children would still have their father.”
The little boy’s wail cut through the air like a siren: “Elllllll-ennnnnnnn.”
The witness leaned forward in her chair and called out across the well of the courtroom, “Duncan. Baby. I’m right here, sweetie.”
That’s when Judge LaVan went nuts.
Chapter 22
YUKI TOOK THE ELEVATOR up to the DA’s offices, her mind still busy with the sound of the child’s scream and Judge LaVan’s reaction.
Christ. It was as if Duncan Martin had yelled, “Stop beating me!” There was a good chance Hoffman’s sympathy ploy had worked.
Yuki left her briefcase in her windowless office, made her way to the corner office facing Bryant Street, and knocked on the open door.
Leonard Parisi, deputy district attorney and her direct superior, asked her to come in and sit down.
Parisi had been nicknamed Red Dog for his thick red hair and his unshakable determination. He was a large, pear-shaped man of fifty with coarse skin and clogged arteries, but the expression on his face was just beautiful.
He was smiling. At her.
“I peeked in this morning. Saw your examination of that private eye. Fantastic job, Yuki,” he said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thanks, Len. LaVan just called us into chambers,” Yuki said, taking the chair in front of his desk.
“Oh? What was that about?”
“Hoffman had the defendant’s kids in the courtroom, half to gain sympathy from the jury, half to rattle me. I objected, but LaVan overruled me.