“And he was aware that my meeting related in some way to Walter Timmerman’s work?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“And Charles Robinson was killed by dangerous people?”
Corvallis smiles. “Most certainly.”
“And Walter Timmerman was involved with the same people?”
“Perhaps indirectly, but yes.”
It’s time to ask the key question. “Is it conceivable that those same people played a role in Walter Timmerman’s death?”
“No.”
Of all his possible answers, no is my least favorite. I sense a disaster looming, but I press on, mainly because I have no choice.
“It’s not conceivable?”
“That is correct, to the best of my knowledge.”
“Is it conceivable that different people murdered Walter Timmerman than murdered Charles Robinson, but that Timmerman was killed because of his work?”
“No, it is not conceivable,” he says.
I’m getting frustrated; I sincerely doubt that Corvallis would lie under oath, but his answers are hard to believe.
“Do you know who murdered Walter Timmerman?” It’s a dangerous question, but with the jury not present, I feel I can take the chance, especially since I know that Jimmy Childs committed the murder.
“I have no personal knowledge of it, though you have presented me with your account of it.”
“Then how can you be so sure it was not work-related?”
Corvallis looks over at his attorneys, and then speaks to Hatchet. “I would like to alert my attorneys to intervene if I start to say too much.”
“That’s fine, but not necessary. Attorneys are born with that instinct,” Hatchet says.
Corvallis nods and turns back to me. I can feel the bomb about to go off. “The bureau has devoted substantial resources to this investigation, in concert with other agencies,” he says. “We have people in place who have therefore accumulated significant information, though I can’t say how, or what much of that information is.”
He pauses, probably for effect. “But I can tell you with certainty that the people whom Walter Timmerman was dealing with, who murdered Charles Robinson, were not involved in Timmerman’s death. I can further say that it would have been totally counterproductive for them to have killed him; they were in fact extraordinarily upset when he died. I am close to certain that Walter Timmerman did not die as a result of his work.”
I’m finished; there is nothing left for me to ask, no other avenues to probe. Hatchet turns Corvallis over to Richard, who mercifully has no questions for him.
Hatchet also seems to understand that the only kind thing to do is to quickly put us out of our misery. After a brief preamble, he says, “The defense had requested Agent Corvallis’s testimony in the stated belief that it would implicate one or more other possible perpetrators, and would therefore be crucial testimony to present to the jury.
“Agent Corvallis has testified, under oath in these proceedings, that he is aware of no other possible perpetrators, and that the theory of the defense, to the best of his knowledge, is incorrect.
“It is therefore the ruling of this court that the testimony of Agent Corvallis will not be required nor permitted. Agent Corvallis, thank you for appearing here today.
“The defense will begin presenting its case tomorrow morning.”
KEVIN, LAURIE, AND I are all realists. It is one of the key reasons we work so well together. When things are going bad, we recognize it and confront it if we have to. And right now this case has gone world-class bad.
We were counting on Corvallis testifying; it was essentially our only way of getting our theory of the case before the jury. Now we know that we won’t have him, and we have to change our plan of attack. Unfortunately, we have nothing decent to change it to.
The only approach left to us is to attack the details of the prosecution’s case at the edges, to find minor inconsistencies and make them seem like major flaws. Jurors will want to look at the big picture, and we will be giving them nitpicks, because we have no other bullets in our gun.
Our case will open on the night of Walter Timmerman’s murder, and our plan tonight is to dissect it, moment by moment, and show holes in the prosecution’s case. We take out every document and piece of information that we have and spread it out on the dining room table, in case we need to refer to any of it.
“Okay, so let’s start at the beginning,” I say.
Kevin nods. “Good. Steven is at home in New York, and his father calls him and asks him to meet him in Paterson.”
Laurie, who has been reading the transcripts on a daily basis, nods and says, “And there’s testimony that he went through the toll-booth about half an hour later. He went to Mario’s, waiting to meet his father.”
“Wait a minute. Kevin, remember that note I passed you the other day? I asked how Walter got to the murder scene.”
Kevin nods. “And I told you the killer brought him there.”
“Then where did he meet the killer?”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Well, he didn’t drive to where the killer was; the documents show his car was in the garage when the house was destroyed. He sure as hell didn’t take a bus to downtown Paterson. So how did the killer get to him? When and where did they meet that night?”
“Maybe he took a cab.”
“Why would he?” Laurie says. “He had a car. And if a cab picked him up a couple of hours before he was murdered, it likely would have come out already. The media coverage the day after the murder was substantial, I assume?”
“Very substantial,” I say.
“I admit it’s an interesting question,” Kevin says. “But what does it ultimately mean? We know that Jimmy Childs killed him, so what’s the difference how he got to him?”
“Because maybe he had help,” I say. “Maybe it’s a way to get Robinson back into the case. Let’s get the security guard logs at the house gate from that night. Maybe Robinson came there at the time in question and drove off with him.”
“We should be so lucky,” Kevin says, but promises to subpoena the records first thing in the morning.
Unfortunately, the morning comes way too quickly. I was hoping we could skip it entirely, along with the next few months. But that’s not how it works out, and before I know it Hatchet is taking his seat on the bench.
I make the obligatory yet pathetic motion to dismiss, and Hatchet immediately denies it. He tells me to call our first witness, and I call Jessica Santorini, a bartender at Mario’s.
After establishing that she was at the restaurant that night, I ask her if she remembers seeing Steven there.
She nods. “I do. He was sitting at the bar.”
“About how long was he sitting there?”