Back in the courtroom, Edward found Veronica already in her place, looking through her notes. Her eyebrows, partially drawn in, curved seductively around her deep brown eyes. Was it his imagination, or had she been getting prettier during trial? Maybe using every tool she had to get the jury on her side? No, that was ridiculous. At any rate, she looked good in a deep green suit and a yellow blouse to which his eyes refused to wander.
‘What?’ she said without glancing up.
‘Be thinking about a better plea bargain offer,’ Edward said. ‘Maybe something closer to the eight Donald pled for the last time.’
Now she did look at him. ‘Are you crazy? What’s gotten worse with my case or better with yours?’
‘Ask your clients.’ Edward looked out into the audience, where Mr and Mrs Greene weren’t even sitting together. Sterling remained in his usual seat while Diana was closer down with her sister, the district attorney.
Veronica didn’t even glance back. ‘My only client is the State of Texas.’
‘Right. I forgot. Justice and all.’ Edward took his seat.
When the judge asked Veronica if she had further cross-examination she curtly said no. Edward had already decided to ask nothing else of his client. Donald stood up from the witness stand and walked slowly to his place, looking everywhere but at the jury. For one long moment he stared out into the audience.
Edward called Detective Reynolds as his next witness. He came in from the hall carrying a package now wrapped in brown paper, and took that into the witness stand with him. Edward really wanted to turn around and see the effect on the Greenes, but refrained. Isaiah Reynolds stood to take the oath, then sat at ease.
‘Good afternoon, Detective. Please remind the jury of your profession.’
‘I’m a detective with the Houston Police Department.’
‘Yesterday did you do something in that capacity relevant to this trial?’
‘Yes, sir. I obtained and executed a search warrant.’
‘Where?’
The detective said an address, then clarified, ‘The home of Sterling and Diana Greene.’
‘What were you authorized to search for?’
‘A painting. A portrait of Mrs Greene.’
‘Did you find it?’
‘It turned out to be surprisingly easy. Mr Greene came out of the house carrying it just as I arrived.’
‘As if bringing it to you? Had you called him in advance?’
‘Oh, no. Carrying it as if taking—’
‘Object to speculation, Your Honor.’ Veronica had found her feet and her voice. She no longer sounded hostile, just very professional.
Edward stood slowly and said, ‘He’s a veteran detective, Your Honor. I believe he can testify to what his observations led him to believe.’
The judge hesitated, one finger on his lips. He was a good judge, Judge Roberts, he didn’t make snap judgments. ‘That will be sustained,’ he said slowly. Then he added: ‘Ask a different question, Mr Hall.’
Good instruction. ‘How did Mr Greene look when you saw him coming out of his house, Detective?’
Isaiah Reynolds raised his gaze, remembering. ‘Hurried. Furtive. Obviously surprised to see me. His eyebrows shot up, he tried to thrust the painting behind him, realized that wasn’t going to work, and started back toward the house until I stopped him and said I had a search warrant for that very object.’
‘Did he say anything then?’
‘Only that he wanted a receipt for the painting.’
‘Well, no reason to keep the jury in suspense any longer’ – Veronica rose quickly and objected to sidebar remark. Edward ignored her, as did the judge. She stood looking uncertain, then slowly sank back into her chair – ‘Detective. Do you have the painting with you?’
‘I do.’ He held up the wrapped package.
Edward established this was the same object the witness had seized from Sterling Greene at his home, how he knew, so forth, the few crucial sentences, then said, ‘Move to admit Defense Exhibit Three, Your Honor.’
Veronica stood next to him. ‘We are so far from relevance I can’t even see it from here, Judge. What does this portrait have to do with anything?’
The judge gestured them forward with a bending finger. At the bench he leaned toward them, looking directly at Veronica and said, ‘As we’ve already established, counselor, Mr Hall has explained to the court’s satisfaction the relevance of this line of inquiry. In answer to your question, as we used to say when I was a child, that’s for me to know and you to find out.’
In a louder voice he said to the jury. ‘The exhibit is admitted.’
Back in his seat, Edward said, ‘Did you look at the portrait, Detective?’
‘I didn’t study it. But of course I looked closely enough to make sure it was what I was sent to find.’
‘Can you describe it? Generally.’
‘It’s a portrait of a woman. Nude. Reclining.’
Edward felt Veronica’s stare on the side of his face. Why was he being so coy? Why not just show it to the jury?
‘Do you know the subject of the painting, Detective Reynolds?’
‘I’d never seen her before yesterday. But I see her sitting in the audience.’
‘Can you point her out and describe her?’
‘The woman there next to the district attorney. Fortyish, mid-length brown hair that flips up at the ends, wearing a blue blouse.’
Edward had heard a lot of testimony in his life, some of it excruciating in its gory details, but he had rarely heard anything as brutal as that brief description of a woman trying very hard to be beautiful and largely succeeding, but the brief description reducing her to a nondescript white woman verging on middle age. He turned and looked at Diana. Yep, the detective had gotten it right. Except he might have mentioned she was blushing.
‘Pass the witness.’
Veronica looked at the police detective, opened her mouth, closed it, and shrugged. ‘Since I have no idea what relevance all this has to this trial, I have no questions.’
‘Do you have any other witnesses, Mr Hall?’
‘I’ll re-call Anali Haverty, Your Honor.’
The gallery owner came down the aisle moments later. Today she wore a sheath dress in thin vertical black and white stripes, black high heels, and another scarf, this one a muted red. She walked carefully but casually, eyes on the jury. She was not smiling. No smile was even hovering in the vicinity.
The judge reminded her she was under oath. Edward started in quickly. ‘Ms Haverty, there’s a wrapped painting there in the witness stand with you. Will you unwrap it, please?’
She did so, expertly, then sat looking at the painting in her lap. Her expression was hard to read. Appraisal of the painting’s value, laced with a hint of jealousy? He may have been reading in that last part.
‘Can you identify the subject of the painting, ma’am?’
Her eyes went up into the audience. ‘Diana Greene.’
‘The same woman of whom Anthony Alberico painted an official sort of portrait?’
‘Yes.’
‘The same woman whose portrait he was painting in the studio behind your house?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was flat.
‘The same woman who was the subject of the nude photos we saw?’
‘Yes.’
Edward shifted, edging into this. ‘Ms Haverty, you were Tony’s exclusive dealer, weren’t you? The only art dealer who sold his works?’
‘As far as I know. I certainly thought so.’ She was still looking out into the audience. So were a few of the jurors.
‘Did you sell that portrait you’re holding to anyone?’
‘No. I’ve never seen it before this minute.’
Edward asked to approach the witness and did, treading through her stony gaze. He found on the bench the collection of nude photos that had been previously admitted, handed them to the witness, and said over his shoulder as he returned to his seat, ‘Ms Haverty, will you please look closely at both those photos that have been previously admitted and the painting you’re holding?’
As Anali started doing so, Veronica said, ‘Your Honor, I object to this. Whatever he’s asking her to point out, the jury can see for themselves.’
Edward responded, ‘Do I have to establish her credentials as an art expert, Your Honor? Haven’t we already—’
The judge said flatly, ‘No, Mr Hall, you don’t. The objection is overruled.’ He seemed to be regretting having let the trial go down this path.
In the meantime, Anali Haverty was following Edward’s instruction, eyes going back and forth between the painting and the photos, at first angrily, then leaning closer, eyes intent.
‘Do you see any differences between the painting and the photos, ma’am?’
‘Yes. In the portrait there’s a mark on the subject’s neck that doesn’t appear in the photos.’
Edward made an elaborate note of that, letting it sink in with the jurors. She had a good eye, Ms Haverty.
‘You were familiar with Mr Alberico’s work?’
She looked up from her study. ‘Very. I followed Tony’s work for years, since he was a student.’
‘Did you ever know him to do a follow-up nude portrait like this after doing a commissioned painting of the subject?’
‘No. I never knew him to paint a nude at all. This is the first one I’ve seen.’
There was that hint again. Edward said, ‘I pass the witness, Your Honor.’
Veronica looked exasperated, even made a gesture as if to say, What am I supposed to do with this? Then she said to the witness, ‘But you have no way of knowing, do you, ma’am? For all you know he painted naked pictures of every woman he ever painted, right?’
Anali waggled her head. ‘That’s true. If he sold such a painting privately, or gave it away, I’d have no way of knowing.’
Veronica walked up to the witness stand. ‘May I see the painting, ma’am?’ She took it and studied it closely. She showed it to Anali again. ‘How do you know this is Mr Alberico’s work?’
Anali looked at the painting as if asking herself the same question. ‘It’s his signature, for one thing, the way he signed all his work, that short squiggle followed by his readable last name. Plus it’s just Tony. I know his style when I see it. That direct stare out of the canvas, for example. That’s a Tony touch. He got a woman’s stare better than anyone I’ve ever seen. Not sleepy like the Mona Lisa. Not coy. A woman looking at something she wants. That’s Tony.’
Veronica looked at her, taken aback. She handed the painting back to the witness and walked to her seat. Just before sitting she looked at Edward, studying him briefly. Then she said, ‘But there are imitators, aren’t there, Ms Haverty? Other painters who make a living copying the style of more successful artists?’
‘Of course. There always have been. Some of them are good enough that I sell their regular work.’
‘Had Mr Alberico become well-known enough to have such an imitator?’
Anali shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Of course.’
Veronica looked back into the audience. ‘So if Mr and Mrs Greene liked her official portrait, as Mr Hall called it, aren’t there local artists they could have hired to replicate the style but this time a nude of Mrs Greene? Because they wanted one for their own private reasons?’
She seemed to be suggesting a story line to her clients. Nothing Edward could do about that. But he did stand to say, ‘Objection, Your Honor, calls for speculation. That’s based on absolutely no evidence at all and the witness has no way of—’
‘Sustained,’ the judge interrupted him, with a strong subtext of Shut up.
But the story had already been unleashed in the courtroom. ‘Pass the witness,’ Veronica said, and Edward wasn’t imagining the smugness. He asked, quickly, ‘Ms Haverty, you knew Tony Alberico well?’
‘Very well.’ She was holding herself very upright.
‘We’ve heard in this trial, and I suppose you knew, he was killed with his own gun? Did you have a reaction to that news?’
‘I was very surprised. Tony wasn’t the kind to own a gun. He was always caustic about Texans and their guns.’ She shrugged, Gallically. ‘People can change, I suppose.’
Edward sat thinking, then asked to approach the witness again.
‘Knowing Tony as well as you did, have you been to his house?’
‘Many times.’
There was an edge to that answer as she looked out into the audience.
‘Would you please study the background of that painting and see if you recognize where it was painted?’
She drew glasses from her purse and did as Edward had asked, studied the painting closely. ‘Oh,’ she said after a moment.
‘Do you recognize the locale?’
‘It’s Tony’s house. Specifically his bedroom.’ Her voice had flattened again.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. That small corner of wood behind her, that’s the edge of his desk. And the thing she’s lying on, it’s a small divan Tony had next to the desk. I hadn’t noticed.’ She took one more close look and put away her glasses. ‘I’m sure,’ she said, looking at Edward.
‘Your Honor, I offer Defense Exhibit Three.’
‘Object to relevance,’ Veronica said, obviously with no hope of being sustained. She was correct. Edward took the painting from the gallery owner’s hands and handed it to the jurors, who passed it slowly among themselves. It was interesting to watch their reactions. Some took it as if contact was going to stain their hands and passed it on quickly. A couple of the men pretended to do that but let it pass slowly across their fields of vision as it moved on. Two or three of the men and at least as many of the women gave it a long gaze.
‘Where was that house, Ms Haverty?’
‘In the Heights. Ninth Street, a block or two off Studewood.’
Edward took a photograph off his table and carried it to her. ‘Is this the house, ma’am?’
‘Yes.’ She said it quickly but then continued to stare at the picture. Her expression projected melancholy, nostalgia, and some other emotion. A portrait in herself.
‘Offer Defense Exhibit Four, Your Honor.’
While the inevitable objection was overruled and the photo admitted, Edward studied it himself. A little white house with blue trim and nice decorative touches like a porch railing painted to duplicate the house. Flowers in a permanent holder. A porch swing on chains, padded with cushions. A pretty little house reflecting a nice life. Very inviting. But also very private. The windows were shaded, the door without glass. Edward looked at it closely, feeling he was there.
It all came down to that little house in the Heights.