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Dan checked once, twice, three times before he crossed the street to the courthouse. Maybe he was being paranoid. But that was the problem with having someone try to run you down. It left you somewhat unsettled.
And it isn’t paranoia if the threat is real.
Probably the next assassination attempt wouldn’t happen in broad daylight. But then again—who knew? It was a matter of public record that he would be at the courthouse today. If that Jag seriously wanted to take another shot...
He steeled himself and crossed the street. Damn this all to hell, anyway. He was into extreme sports. He met every challenge with a steely eye and grim determination.
And now he was getting chills about crossing the street.
Back in the courtroom, he noticed that the gallery had swelled. Was word out that the next witness was a big deal? Or perhaps that the prosecution was about to rest? Whatever the reason, the number of reporters, busybodies, and looky-loos was on the upswing.
He spotted Prudence, Sweeney’s assistant dominatrix, or whatever she was. Why was she back in the courtroom?
After a few preliminaries, Jazlyn called her final witness, Frank Esposito. Frayed suit, ten years old at least. Crumpled collar. Brown belt with black shoes.
Jazlyn quickly established his role as the mayor’s campaign manager. “Were you a member of the mayor’s staff?”
“No, independent. Contract labor. She just brought me in to handle the paperwork. Campaign finance is my specialty and these days you need a specialist because the laws are crazy complicated. Once the controversy arose, of course, she brought me in to do a full rundown, get everything in order, answer the allegations.”
“What was the problem?”
“The usual. Bad loans. Shady PACs. And missing money.”
“What would cause money to go missing?”
“Once you’ve eliminated math errors, there’s only one explanation.” Pause. “Someone had their fingers in the cookie jar.”
He noted how different Esposito’s tone was compared to when he’d met the man privately. And he couldn’t help but notice that the man kept glancing out into the gallery. Where Prudence sat, watching.
“Did you have any idea who might be behind the missing funds?”
“Not back then. I had no way of knowing. I could only speculate.”
“What are the possibilities?”
He shrugged. “There were only five signatories on the bank account. Camila Pérez and four staff members.”
“Objection.” He rose. “We’re not trying the campaign finance charges today. This is a homicide trial.”
“It’s relevant,” Jazlyn replied calmly. “One of the victims worked in this office, as did the defendant. Goes to motive.”
The judge nodded. “I’ll allow it. Tie it up as soon as possible.”
“I will, your honor.” Jazlyn continued. “Mr. Esposito, we’ve established your relationship with the defendant. Did you know any of the victims?”
“I knew all three of the victims who have been identified.”
“Let’s take them one at a time. Did you know Nick Mansfield?”
“Of course. He hung around the mayor’s office for a while.”
“What was his position?”
“I’m not sure. He wasn’t full-time staff. Wrong gender for that. I think he was more of an errand runner.” He paused. “And of course, the mayor’s personal boytoy.”
That got a reaction from the jury. “Can you explain what you mean by that?”
“You know. They were a thing.”
“A couple?”
“I don’t if they were officially dating. He didn’t make public appearances with her. Probably wouldn’t have looked right, him being younger and so skeezy. I think it was mostly, you know. Sex.”
He had to shut this down, if at all possible. “Objection. Both to the language and the topic. Does the witness have personal knowledge of any sexual relationship?”
“I don’t know.” The judge looked at Esposito. “Do you?”
“I didn’t watch them, if that’s what you mean. I’m not into that.”
“Did the defendant tell you about a sexual relationship?”
“No. But it was well known about the office.”
“Hearsay. Renew objection. Motion to strike.”
“I think I will have to sustain that,” the judge said. “Proceed.”
Jazlyn continued. “Did you have any reason to suppose the two were seeing each other after hours?”
“Yes. I saw them leave together on more than one occasion. I heard them mention getting dinner once. And I helped her arrange the rehab thing.”
Jazlyn looked surprised, although he knew perfectly well she wasn’t. “Can you explain what you mean by the rehab thing?”
“The kid had a problem. Well, he had a lotta problems, far as that goes. Cheap hustler. Little better than a gigolo, I thought. And he was a junkie.”
“Do you know specifically what his problem was?”
“I think he was into heroin.”
“What did you do for him?”
“At the mayor’s request, I arranged for him to go to a facility upstate. One of my cousins went there, that’s how I knew about it. Mansfield spent a week in house.” He paused. “Wasn’t long enough.”
“And who paid for this?”
“The mayor, of course. He could never have afforded it. I advised her against it. I knew it would show up if she were audited, plus I thought it was money down the drain. But she was stuck on the kid.”
“That is a lie,” he heard Camila whisper. “I was just trying to help.”
He put a finger across his lips. Not now. Later.
“When you say she was stuck on him—”
“Head over heels. Could barely breathe when he was in the room. Guess he was really good, if you know what I mean.”
“Objection,” he said, rising. “Speculation.”
The judge nodded. “Sustained.” Not that it much mattered at this point.
Jazlyn resumed. “Was that why the relationship ended? The drugs?”
“Oh no. She forgave that. But he cheated on her.”
The reaction from the jury box was audible.
“And how do you know this?”
“She told me. She wanted me to bill him for the rehab, to try to get her money back. Which was hopeless. She was just trying to get back at him. She said she’d caught him screwing someone else.”
Camila dug her pen into a legal pad. NOT TRUE! OBJECT!
But he couldn’t. It wasn’t hearsay, since the defendant was allegedly the person who said it and it was obviously against her interest. And making a big futile fuss would only draw more attention to already damaging testimony.
“Did she say who the other woman was?”
“No. And just for the record, she didn’t specify that it was a woman. But she did say it was someone she knew. Which I think made it sting all the worse.”
Jazlyn let that sink in for a few moments, then proceeded. “You mentioned that you knew the other victims. Did you know Sean Callahan?”
“The plumber? Oh yeah. I was there the day she had the big meltdown.”
“The...meltdown?”
“Yeah. The one on the video. I was there. Saw it happen. She really lit into him.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me to explain it. I mean, I think she was unsatisfied with his work, but come on. Most normal people don’t react like that over a mediocre plumbing job. There was something personal going on. I think they were doin’ it too.”
He rose. “Is this going to be more rampant speculation?”
The judge nodded. “Given the prior testimony, I think that’s a fair question. I will instruct the witness to stick to what he has seen and heard.”
Jazlyn resumed. “What is the basis for your suggestion that the defendant and the plumber were having sexual relations?”
“I saw them holding hands.”
Camila threw herself back in her chair.
He gave her a stern look that he hoped spoke volumes. No reactions! The jury is watching you!
Jazlyn continued. “Anything else?”
Esposito shrugged. “The way they looked at each other. The way they acted around each other. I think she saw something she liked when he came to fix her pipes, and then he ended up...really fixing her pipes. And you saw how she behaved in that video. Is that how you treat a worker you barely know? Or is that how you treat someone who fixed your pipes—and then stopped taking your calls?”
“Objection.” He let his mounting anger show. “This is becoming a tabloid tv show, but one with a complete lack of evidence. The witness supposedly saw them holding hands so now they’re hooking up?”
Judge Hayes drew in his breath. “I will repeat my earlier admonition that the witness should restrict his testimony to what he has seen and heard. No speculation, extrapolation, or imagination.”
Esposito nodded. “Yes, your honor. Sorry about that.”
He didn’t look very sorry. And he kept glancing out toward the gallery.
“And what about the third victim? Jonathan Primo. The history professor.”
“He was writing a book about the mayor. Actually, it wasn’t just about her. It was more a history of St. Petersburg, the city and its government. But as the current mayor, obviously, she would play a significant role. And he’d discovered some things she didn’t like. She asked me whether she could prevent him from publishing.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her I’m an accountant, not a lawyer. Last I heard, we had the first amendment in this country.”
“Did she indicate what she didn’t like about the book?”
“This guy, Primo, had been through the financial records. In some cases, even deeper than I had. I cared about how much money there was and where it went. He only cared about where it came from. He discovered that Pérez was still taking money from gangs. Drug money. That’s how she was building her war chest for a second term.”
The response in the courtroom was so loud the judge resorted to banging his gavel twice. “If you can’t maintain proper decorum, the bailiff will escort you out of the courtroom.” Pause. “Please continue.”
Esposito did. “As you know, during the Valdez trial, the mayor admitted taking some gang money before her first run, but said she thought it came from legit businesses and as soon as she learned otherwise, she stopped accepting cash from them. Except she didn’t. It was all on the QT, and it all came through checks that made it look as if it came from honest business enterprises. But she was still taking drug money. Huge contributions from Southside Imports, which is just a front for the Southside drug-running business. And this guy Primo knew it.”
Camila crumbled a yellow sheet of paper in her hands. She looked as if she might explode.
“What did she plan to do about Dr. Primo?”
“I don’t know. We just had the one conversation. But she’s not the type to take things lying down. If you think the plumber got reamed...” He whistled. “I hate to think about what that poor academic got.”
“I think we all know what he got,” Jazlyn said, closing her notebook. “And now we understand why he got it.”