Fatal Conceit (52 page)

Holding up a small jewelry box, Allen said, “You will find this in the safe. I intended it to accompany my proposal, but if I can't be with you, I want you to have it as a small token of the enormous . . . and undying . . . love and respect I have for you.”

The loon cried out again and Allen turned toward it. “I have arranged so that my wife and sons will never want for anything, but I am hoping that Martha will understand when my will is read and she learns that I've left this cabin to you. I hope that someday you will come here with someone who loves you as much as I do, and that your children and grandchildren will play on this porch where once I held you in the moonlight. And sometimes when the loon calls, you will feel me near, because no matter how long it takes, no matter how far, I will find you.”

Allen paused and took a deep breath before smiling. “Just like in the movies.”

A
LOT OF WET EYES
watched Jenna Blair leave the witness stand and walk with her head up out of the hushed courtroom. When she was gone Karp turned to Judge Hart and said, “Your Honor, that concludes the people's case.”

The judge immediately sent the jury home and then listened as Faust made the perfunctory motion to have the case dismissed, saying that the prosecution had not proved the defendants' guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Hart had snorted. “I realize that it's sort of a tradition to make such a motion, Miss Faust, but I'd say you have your work cut out for you. Motion denied. I'll see everybody here and ready to go at nine in the morning sharp.”

Karp rushed from the courtroom to the witness waiting room to speak to Blair before she left. But when he knocked and entered, he was surprised to see Martha Allen standing with her arms around the sobbing younger woman. “It's okay, dear, we all loved him,” Mrs. Allen said as she gave him a nod, and he quietly backed out of the room.

“We can catch up tomorrow,” he said as the door clicked behind him.

In the morning, he found Jenna Blair waiting for him outside his office door. She was leaving for New Mexico at noon. “Lucy
and Ned have offered to let me hang around a little longer until the press moves on to their next scandal,” she said before wistfully adding, “I'd like to go to the cabin on Loon Lake—I hope I can live there someday—but for now there wouldn't be a moment's peace, and to be honest, I'd be a little afraid. Mr. Fulton told me there's been some death threats. I guess some people don't want to hear the truth.” She held out her hand. “So this is good-bye for now, Mr. Karp, and I wanted to thank you.”

Karp took her hand and shook it warmly. “You're welcome, though I'm the one who should be thanking you,” he said. “Without you I don't know that we would have ever been able to get to the bottom of this. You've been very brave.” He hesitated, looking for the right words to say. “I'm so sorry for your loss, but I hope you'll take Sam's words to heart and find someone to love you.”

Tears brimmed in Blair's eyes, but she nodded. “It seems impossible now, but maybe someday,” she said.

“Sure you don't want to stick around and see justice done?” Karp said, already knowing what her answer would be.

“No,” she replied. “I've said what I needed to say. I got a good start on grieving when I was in New Mexico, but the trial was always hanging over my head. Now, I'm looking forward to spending a lot of time remembering what it was like to be loved by such a good man. I'm sure you'll handle the bad guys just fine on your own.”

An hour later, Karp was sitting at the prosecution table watching as Faust opened the defense case by calling Ariel Shimon to the witness stand. He entered the courtroom wearing what appeared to be a fifteen-hundred-dollar Armani suit and equally expensive shoes. He flashed a bright smile, but he couldn't hide a bad case of nerves when he took his seat and tried to pour himself a glass of water but knocked it over.

Also dressed more as she would be going to a dinner party in Washington, D.C., than a New York courtroom, Faust smiled. “That's okay, Mr. Shimon, we realize this is an uncomfortable situation
for you. But could you begin by telling the jurors a little bit about yourself?”

Shimon tried to smile back but was not very convincing. “Yes, I am an Israeli. A former colonel in the Israeli army and am currently a businessman specializing in defense contracts.”

“Are you married? Do you have a family back in Israel?”

Shifting uncomfortably and licking his lips nervously, Shimon nodded. “Yes, I have been married for twenty-two years and have two children in Tel Aviv.”

“Are you in politics? Or have you ever had political aspirations?”

Again, Shimon nodded. “I did . . . until this.”

Faust turned toward the defense table. “Mr. Shimon, do you know our clients, Rod Fauhomme and Tucker Lindsey?”

“I've met Mr. Lindsey once at a White House dinner,” Shimon said. “And I've known Mr. Fauhomme for six or seven years.”

“Would you say you were on friendly terms with Mr. Fauhomme?”

Shimon shrugged slightly. “Friendly enough. During some of that time I was unofficially representing some people in Israel who were interested in American politics, so naturally I became acquainted with the president's campaign manager.”

“Did you ever attend parties hosted by Mr. Fauhomme or his girlfriend at the time, Connie Rae Lee?”

“I did.”

“And did you at one of these parties meet a young woman named Jenna Blair?”

Shimon blushed. “Yes, Miss Blair was introduced to me by Miss Lee.”

“Would you say you initiated the contact with Miss Blair or was it the other way around?”

“Oh, it was definitely the other way around,” Shimon said. “Miss Lee asked me how long I was going to be in town and if I needed female companionship. I said no. But a little later at the party, she brought Miss Blair over and then left her there with me.”

“And how would you have described Miss Blair's reaction to you?”

“Aggressive,” Shimon said. “We're not used to such aggressive women in Israel, so I thought it was just the American way.”

“Was she sexually aggressive?”

Shimon licked his lips again and nodded. “Very. A lot of innuendo and flirting.”

“And how did you respond?”

“Well, I . . . I . . . oh, this is embarrassing,” the Israeli said, acting the part. “But I'd had a few drinks and was a long way from home. The attention of a pretty young woman was very flattering.”

“How did the evening end?”

Shimon heaved a sigh. “She asked if I would give her a ride home. I had a car with a driver and thought, ‘Why not?' I had a lot to drink by that time and was feeling no pain.”

“And?”

“And while we were driving to her apartment, she began kissing me and touching me . . . you know, in a suggestive way. When we reached her apartment, she asked if I wanted to come up for a nightcap.” He sighed again. “I am ashamed to say, we ended up in bed.”

Faust nodded. “So you had sex. Did you ever see Miss Blair again?”

Shimon's face grew hard. “Just once. She called the next day—how she got my number I didn't know—and said that we had to meet. I told her that the night before had been a mistake. My wife and I had been having difficulties, but I loved her and felt great shame. But she insisted. She said it was important to my future. So we met at a coffee shop.”

“Was there anyone there but you and Miss Blair?”

“Yes, Miss Lee and a man she introduced as Ray, just Ray.”

“What was the purpose of this meeting?”

Shimon passed a hand across his tan face. “I was shown a computer,” he said. “There was a video on the computer of myself and
Miss Blair having sex. I said, ‘What is this?' And Miss Lee said, ‘This is what will destroy you if you do not do what we say.' ”

“And what was it that they said you had to do?”

“I had to pay them five thousand dollars in cash every week or they would send the video to an Israeli television station and to my wife.”

“You were blackmailed?”

“Yes. I made a mistake—once—but I felt I had to pay for my family's sake. So I paid.”

“How long did this go on for?”

Shimon shrugged. “About three weeks.”

“So you paid roughly fifteen thousand dollars for a one-night stand?”

Hanging his head, Shimon nodded. “Yes.”

“You said you paid the extortion money for three weeks. What happened after that?”

“I said, ‘No more. I will not pay one cent more. And if you don't stop, I will go to the police!' ”

“Were you bluffing?”

“Yes. I would have continued to pay. I did not want to hurt my wife.”

“What did Miss Lee, Miss Blair, and this man named Ray do?”

“Nothing. They just went away and nothing happened. I felt like such a fool.”

“You mentioned that you had political aspirations until this. Did something happen to those aspirations?”

Shimon nodded sadly. “Yes. I decided I would not run for office. I would have this blackmail hanging over my head forever and I did not want to become a target again.”

After a few more questions, Faust turned the witness over to Karp, who rose and walked over to the jury rail, which he leaned against. “Mr. Shimon, do you have any records of these payments you made?” he asked, knowing he was echoing Faust's questions to Lee.

“No. Everything was in cash.”

“So there are no records of you withdrawing five thousand dollars in cash from your bank, or cashing a check for five thousand dollars?” Karp asked.

“I wrote checks on my account in Israel and cashed them here,” Shimon said.

“At which bank?”

Shimon acted as if he was trying to remember. “Different banks. I don't remember which ones; it's been a long time, several years.”

“Did you bring those canceled checks with you?” Karp asked.

“Uh, no, I wasn't asked to bring them.”

Karp looked surprised. “You mean to tell me that defense counsel didn't ask you to bring the proof that you withdrew fifteen thousand dollars over the course of three weeks to pay for this one-night stand?”

“I probably wouldn't still have them anyway,” Shimon replied, his eyes darting over to the defense table.

“No, but wouldn't your bank have statements going back that far?”

“Possibly, I don't know . . . I . . .”

“But you weren't asked to bring those?”

“No.”

“So in other words, you have no documentation to back up what you just told the jury?”

“They have my word. I am telling the truth,” Shimon said, trying to sound offended.

“And did you tell your wife the truth when you went home?”

“What?”

“Did you tell your wife that you'd had sex with another woman and then paid her and her friends fifteen thousand dollars to keep it a secret?”

“Um, no.”

“So you tell the truth when it's convenient to you, is that right?” Karp asked.

“I am telling the truth now.”

“Yes, when it's convenient to you. And what if I was to tell you that a waiter at Asiate and the doorman at the Plaza remember you and Miss Blair together?”

This time it was Karp who was bluffing. None of the waiters currently at Asiate had been there three years earlier, and none of the doormen at the Plaza had been able to identify a photograph of Blair shown to them by Fulton. The detective had also had no luck finding Blair's roommate from that time.

Shimon's eyes widened and he looked over at Faust, whose face had grown tight. She didn't know Karp was bluffing either. “They would be mistaken. Or maybe they saw me with someone else.”

“More women that you didn't tell your wife about?” Karp said.

“No. I . . . uh . . . I only saw one, Jenna. Just once.”

Karp walked over to the prosecution table, where he picked up a plastic bag containing a diamond tennis bracelet. “Mr. Shimon, Jenna Blair testified that you gave her this tennis bracelet on the night you dumped her, is that true?”

Shimon shook his head. “No. I never bought such a thing.”

“No? You didn't purchase this at Macy's and give it to your mistress, Jenna Blair?”

Looking at the jurors, Shimon tried another smile. “No, why would I buy a diamond bracelet for someone I hardly knew who was trying to blackmail me?”

Karp raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Exactly, Mr. Shimon, why would you?”

Strolling over to stand in front of the witness, Karp looked puzzled. “A couple of things are troubling me about your testifying here today, Mr. Shimon?”

Shimon flashed the nervous smile again. “And what would that be?”

“Well, for one thing, how did the defense know that this had happened to you? Did you tell the defendants three years ago?”

“No. I read about the trouble Mr. Fauhomme was in and then
I thought that maybe it was related to what happened to me. So I called.”

“Did you go to the police all those years ago?”

“No; like I said, I didn't want anyone to know.”

“But it's okay now,” Karp interjected. “And you know, that's another thing that's been bothering me since I realized you were on the defense witness list.”

“Why is that?”

“It's just that I've been trying to figure out what they have on an Israeli businessman to make him come all the way back to the United States and testify at a murder trial about a one-night stand.”

“I don't understand.”

“That's the point, neither do I. Isn't your wife going to find out? Your kids? If you had any political aspirations, I'd imagine this about does them in, wouldn't you agree?”

“I imagine.”

“Then I can only surmise that it must be something big, something worse than a quick fling in New York City three years ago. What is it, Mr. Shimon? What do they have?”