Just Take My Heart (8 page)

Although he had no way of knowing, Jimmy Easton had exactly the same lunch as Emily, a ham and cheese on rye and black coffee. The only difference was that he complained to the guard at the holding cell that he would have liked more mustard.

"We'll remember that tomorrow if you're still here," the guard said, sarcastically. "We wouldn't want you to be unhappy with our cuisine."

"I'm sure you'll speak to the chef," Jimmy grumbled. "And tell him next time to throw in a slice of tomato." The guard did not answer.

Apart from the lack of sufficient mustard, Jimmy was actually feeling pretty good about his performance so far. Reciting all of his past crimes had been sort of like going to confession. "Bless me, Fa-ther, for I have sinned. It's been thirty years, give or take, since my last confession, I've been arrested eighteen times, have been in prison three times for a total of twelve years. Then six months ago I ransacked four houses in one week and was dumb enough to get caught at the last one. But I always knew I had an ace in the hole."

Of course, he hadn't told that story to a priest. Instead, he had spilled the beans about Aldrich to that guy from the prosecutor's of-fice, which is why he was sitting here all dolled up, instead of already serving a term of ten years.

Jimmy finished the last drop of coffee. Maybe he should tell the wise-guy cop who had brought him the sandwich that tomorrow, if he was still here, he'd like a bigger cup. And a pickle, he thought with a grin. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost one. The judge would be back out there in half an hour. "All rise for the court." Why not "All rise for Jimmy Easton?" Later some of the guys from the jail would watch that Courtside program featuring him. He'd do his best to give them a good performance.

Jimmy got up and rattled the bars on the holding cell. "I want to go to the can," he shouted.

Promptly at one thirty he was back on the stand. As he sat down, Jimmy remembered Emily Wallace's instructions. "Sit up straight. Don't cross your knees. Look at me. Don't even think of playing to the jury."

But I bet she didn't mind that I tossed in that line about not ever hurting a hair on anyone's head, Jimmy thought. His expression now serious, he looked at Emily. Sometimes when she interviewed him in jail, she had worn her hair pinned up. Today it was loose on her shoulders, but not sloppy loose, just every strand even, kind of like a waterfall. She was wearing a pants suit in a kind of deep blue color, almost the same shade as her eyes. There was no doubt that she was a good-looking broad. He had heard from some of the guys that she could be one tough cookie if she was out to get you, but she wasn't out to get him, that was for sure.

"Mr. Easton, do you know the defendant, Gregg Aldrich?"

Jimmy closed his lips on the answer he would otherwise have given. "You bet I do." Instead, keeping his tone low but audible, he answered, "Yes, I do."

"When did you meet Mr. Aldrich?"

"Two and a half years ago, on March second."

"Under what circumstances did you meet Mr. Aldrich?"

"I was in Vinnie's-on-Broadway. That's a bar on West Forty-sixth Street, in Manhattan."

"What time were you there?"

"It was about six thirty or so. I was having a drink and the guy on the stool next to me asked me to pass the dish of nuts, so I did. But first I picked out a couple of the salted almonds and he said those were his favorites, too, and we got to talking."

"Did you exchange names?"

"Yeah. I told him I was Jimmy Easton and he said he was Gregg Aldrich."

"Is Mr. Aldrich in this courtroom?" "Sure he is. I mean, yes."

"Will you please point to him and briefly describe what he is wearing?"

Jimmy pointed to the defendant's table. "He's the one in the mid-dle sitting between the other two guys. He's wearing a gray suit and blue tie."

"The record will reflect that Mr. Easton has identified Mr. Aldrich," Judge Stevens said.

Emily resumed her questioning. "Did you strike up a conversation with Gregg Aldrich, Mr. Easton?"

"I think I'd put it this way. Aldrich started talking to me. He had half a bag on -- "

"Objection!" Moore shouted.

"Sustained," Judge Stevens said, then added, "Mr. Easton, please just answer the question that is posed."

Jimmy tried to look repentant. "Okay." He caught Emily's look and hastily added, "Your Honor."

"Mr. Easton, in your own words will you please describe the conversation you had with Mr. Aldrich?" This is it, Emily thought. My case begins and ends here.

"Well, you see," Jimmy began, "we had both had a couple of drinks and we both were kind of down in the dumps. I don't usually talk about being in jail, you know, it's kind of embarrassing, but I'd been looking for a job all day long and been turned down all over the place, so I told Aldrich it was hard for a guy like me to go straight even if I wanted to."

Jimmy shifted in the witness chair. "Which I do," he assured the courtroom.

"How did Gregg Aldrich react to your telling him that?"

"At first he didn't. He took out his cell phone and pushed a num-ber. A woman answered. When she knew it was him, she got mad. I mean she was screaming so loud I could hear her. She yelled, 'Gregg, leave me alone!' Then she must have hung up, because he got flustered-looking and I could tell he was mad as hell. Then he looked at me and said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' "

"Will you repeat that, Mr. Easton?" Emily asked.

"He looked at me and said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' "

"Gregg Aldrich said, 'That was my wife. I could kill her!' " Emily repeated slowly, wanting the words to sink in with the jury.

"Yeah."

"And that conversation took place around six thirty on March second, two and a half years ago."

"Yeah."

Emily stole a look at Gregg Aldrich. He was shaking his head as though he could not believe what he had just heard. She could see the perspiration forming on his forehead. Moore was whispering something to him, obviously trying to calm him down. It won't work, she thought. I've barely scratched the surface.

"Mr. Easton, what was your reaction when Mr. Aldrich made that statement?"

"I knew he was really mad. I mean furious. I mean his face was all red and he slapped his phone down on the bar, but I still thought he was kidding. So just kidding around myself, I said, 'I'm broke. For twenty thousand bucks I'll do it for you.'"

"What happened then?"

"Some guy who just came into the bar spotted Aldrich and made a beeline for him."

"Did Mr. Aldrich introduce you to that man?"

"Naw. The guy stayed just long enough to say that he had seen Natalie in Streetcar Named Desire and she was superb. That's the word he used, 'superb.' "

"What was Mr. Aldrich's reaction?"

"He said in a kind of annoyed tone that Natalie was superb in any part she played, then turned his back on the guy. So the guy just shrugged and went into the dining room and I could see that he joined some people at a table."

"Were you aware that this man was talking about Natalie Raines?"

"I figured that out right away. I like to go to the movies and I saw her in the one where she was nominated for an Oscar. And I'd seen the ads for Streetcar."

Emily took a sip of water. "Mr. Easton, after that brief encounter, what did Mr. Aldrich say to you?"

"I said to him, just kidding, you know, 'Hey, your wife is Natalie Raines. My price to off her just went up.' "

"What was Mr. Aldrich's reaction to that statement?"

"He looked at me and didn't say anything for a minute, then he said, And what is your price, now, Jimmy?' "

"How did you respond to that question?"

"Still kind of kidding, I said, 'Five thousand down and twenty thousand when I deliver'."

"Then what did Mr. Aldrich say?"

"He said, 'Let me think about it. Give me your phone number.' So I wrote it down for him, and then I started to leave, but I figured I'd stop at the can. I guess he thought I was gone because not five minutes later when I was washing my hands, my phone rang. It was Aldrich. He said that he was taking me up on my offer and that I should stop by his apartment the next day and pick up the five thousand in cash."

"Mr. Aldrich asked you to stop by the next day? That would be March third?"

"Yeah, about four o'clock. He said the housekeeper would be gone by then. He told me he'd be standing at the corner outside his building and he would walk me up himself so that the doorman wouldn't have to announce me. He said to wear dark glasses and a hat. So I did, and he met me at the corner. Then he waited till some other people got out of a cab and went into the building and we went up with them in the elevator."

"You went to his apartment and he gave you five thousand dollars to kill Natalie Raines?"

"Yeah, and he gave me the info on where she lived in New Jersey, and her schedule at the theatre."

"Can you describe Mr. Aldrich's apartment, Mr. Easton?"

"It's on the fifteenth floor. Real fancy. You know, only two apart-ments on the floor. Big foyer. The living room was painted a kind of white, and had a big marble fireplace with lots of carving on it in the center. The rug was one of those Orientals, mostly blue and red col-ors. I remember there was a blue couch facing the fireplace and chairs without arms on either side of it. There was another small couch under the window and lots of paintings on the walls."

"How long were you there?"

"Not long. He never even asked me to sit down. I could tell he was real nervous. Then he opened the drawer in a little table by the couch and took out money, and counted out five thousand bucks."

"What did you do next?"

"I asked him how I'd get the rest of the money after I did the job."

"He said that the cops would probably be questioning him after her body was found, being that they were in the middle of a divorce, so a week after the funeral he'd call me from a lobby phone somewhere and arrange to meet me at the movie house on Fiftyseventh Street and Third Avenue."

"That was the arrangement when you left Gregg Aldrich?"

"Yeah. But then I got to thinking. Being Natalie Raines is so fa-mous, when something happened to her it'll be a big deal and the cops will be all over it. I could end up spending the rest of my life in prison. I mean, even when I was taking the five thousand bucks, I knew I probably wouldn't go through with it. I'm not a killer."

"How did you let Mr. Aldrich know that you wouldn't go through with it?"

"I wrote him a letter saying that I didn't think I was the right per-son for the job he had in mind and I was grateful to him for the nonrefundable advance he gave me."

The outright laughter in the courtroom caused an angry reaction from the judge, who once again warned against outbursts of any kind. Then the judge told Emily to continue.

"What did you do with the five thousand dollars, Mr. Easton?"

"The usual. I blew it all gambling."

"When did you mail the letter backing out of your deal to murder Natalie Raines?"

"The morning of March twelfth, I sent it to Gregg Aldrich at his apartment. I mailed it in the post office box near my rooming house in Greenwich Village."

"Why did you write to him?"

" 'Cause he said not to phone him, that he had made a mistake calling me that one time. And I knew he'd get the letter. You know what they say, 'Neither rain, nor storm, nor dark of night will keep the postman from completing his appointed rounds.' And I've got to say he was always there with my bills." Jimmy couldn't help turning and smiling at the jury, hoping they appreciated that little joke. He knew they were eating up everything he said, and it felt good not to be the one on trial for a change.

"That letter backing out of your contract to murder Natalie Raines was mailed on March twelfth," Emily said slowly and turned to look at the jurors. She hoped they were doing their own calcula-tions. Gregg Aldrich would have received that letter on Friday the 13th, or Saturday the 14th.

She hoped they were remembering what she had told them in her opening statement. On Friday evening the 13th, he went to see Natalie's final performance and the witnesses who saw him there stated that he sat stone-faced in the last row, and was the only one who did not participate in the standing ovation for her. On Saturday the 14th of March, he rented a car and followed his estranged wife to Cape Cod.

She waited a long moment then looked at Judge Stevens. "No further questions, Your Honor," she said.

Richard Moore stood up slowly. For the next two hours, after reviewing Jimmy Easton's long criminal record with him, he began to attack his testimony. But the more Jimmy testified, the more he was actually strengthening our case, Emily thought with satisfaction.

Moore kept trying to put a different spin on the facts that Gregg had met Jimmy in Vinnie's-on-Broadway, that Gregg called Natalie in Jimmy's presence, that a chance acquaintance, Walter Robinson, commented to Gregg about Natalie's performance in Streetcar, and that shortly afterwards Gregg called Jimmy on his cell phone.

But skilled attorney that he was, Richard Moore could not rattle Jimmy or catch him contradicting himself. When he asked, "Isn't it a fact that Gregg Aldrich and you had only a casual conversation about sports?" Jimmy replied, "If you call asking me to kill his wife casual conversation, sure."

Moore's question: "Isn't it true that in a noisy bar it would be impossible for you to hear what Natalie Raines said to Gregg?"

Jimmy's answer was: "She was an actress. She knew how to project her voice. It's a wonder the whole bar didn't hear her screaming at him."

Jimmy's loving this, Emily thought. He's eating up being in the limelight. She worried about the fact that he was becoming too loquacious, and an increasingly irritated Judge Stevens kept reminding Jimmy to restrict his answers to the questions posed.

"As to the phone call from Gregg Aldrich's cell phone to yours, isn't it a fact that when you were at the bar you told Gregg you had mislaid your cell phone since you arrived there? Isn't it a fact that you asked him to dial your number so your phone would ring and you could find it? Isn't that what really happened?"

"Absolutely not. I never mislaid my cell phone," Jimmy answered. "I always kept it in a clip on my belt. I told you, he called me while I was washing my hands in the can."

Jimmy's account of his visit to the apartment was what worried Emily as being the weakest part of her case. The doorman had not seen him. The housekeeper had not seen him. It was his word against Gregg's that he had been there, that the money had been handed to him, and that he had backed out of the deal later.

There had been a number of magazine interviews with Natalie in the apartment when she lived there, and some of them had pictures of the living room. Emily was sure that Moore would make the most of those pictures to prove that the knowledge of the layout of the apartment and the way the living room was furnished was readily available.

That was exactly Moore's strategy. He presented to Easton one after another of the pages that showed the living room, then asked him to tell the jury what he was seeing.

Easton's answers were a word-for-word recital of what he claimed to remember from being in the room.

"You met Gregg Aldrich in a chance encounter at the bar. Moore snapped at him. "You knew who his wife was. Then when she was murdered, you put together a story for the next time you were caught stealing and had it ready to trade?"

Scorn in his expression, derision in his voice, Moore continued. "Now read for the jury the underlined sentences in this article about Gregg Aldrich and Natalie Raines." He handed a page from Vanity Fair to Jimmy.

Completely unshaken by Moore's accusations, Easton pulled reading glasses from his pocket. "The old peepers aren't what they used to be," he explained. He cleared his throat before reading aloud. "Neither Gregg nor Natalie has ever wanted live-in help. Their housekeeper arrives at eight a.m. and leaves at three thirty. If they are not going out for the evening, they have dinner in the club in their building, or room service from it."

He put down the page and looked at Moore. "So what?"

"Isn't it a fact that anyone reading that article would know that the housekeeper would be gone at four o'clock, the time you claim you were in the Aldrich apartment?"

"You think I read Vanity Fair?" Jimmy asked incredulously.

Once again the spectators laughed and once again they were admonished by the judge. This time he was obviously very angry and said that if it happened again, he would point out to a sheriff's officer the people who had been laughing and they would be escorted out of the courtroom.

The final blow to Moore's attempts to portray Jimmy as a liar came when he asked him to study the pictures of the living room again and tell him if there was one single thing in the room that he would not have known about if he had seen those pictures before he testified.

Jimmy started to shake his head, then said, "Oh, wait a minute. You see that little table by the couch?" He pointed to it. "That's where Aldrich kept the money he gave me. I don't know if it still creaks but it sure was noisy then when he opened it. I remember thinking he oughta oil it or somethin'."

Emily glanced at Gregg Aldrich.

His complexion had gone so pale that she wondered if he was about to faint.