The 13th Juror Read Online Free PDF Page A

of Freeman moved things up a big notch.  Freeman didn't lose too often.
    Powell motioned downward.  "That her file?"
    Hardy patted it.  "It seems a little thin on motive for Matt's death — the boy's.  I mentioned it to Art and he didn't seem to want to talk about it."
    Powell's grin faded.  " I'll talk to you about it.  The motive was the husband's money.  The boy got in the way.  Period."
    Hardy turned sideways out of the sun's glare.  "You really believe that?"
    "Do I really believe it?  Tell you what, I think it's inherently believable."
    "That's not what I asked you."
    The Assistant DA ran his hand through the flowing hair.  "Do I personally think she shot her boy in cold blood?  To tell you the truth, I don't know.  We've charged women with that particular crime four times in the last two years, so don't tell me it's just too heinous to even imagine a woman could do that."
    Hardy persisted.  "I'm saying she , Jennifer, didn't do it.  I just spent some time with her upstairs."
    "She was sad , was she?"  Powell shook his head.  "Remember Wanda Hayes, Diz?"  He was referring to a highly publicized case from several months earlier.  Hardy nodded, he remembered.  "Well, Wanda was a real wreck, crying all the time.  And she admitted  that she killed two of her kids.  She said she just kind of lost her temper one day, felt real sad about it."
    "Okay, Dean, but—"
    "But nothing, Diz.  I'm not saying that Jennifer's plan was to kill her son.  What she did do, and what we can prove, was that she planned to kill her husband and didn't take the time or whatever else to make sure her son was out of the way.  Maybe she was just careless .  I don't know and I don't care.  The bottom line is the son's dead and she's going down for him, too."
    The flash of anger spent, Powell suddenly exhaled, as though surprised at his show of emotion.  He reined himself in.  "Listen," he said, "I'm just on my way over to Lou's.  You feel like a drink?"
    Lou's was Lou the Greek's, the local watering hole for the cops and the DAs.
    Hardy motioned to the file again, shaking his head.  "Another time."
    The Assistant DA's face tightened.  Powell was said to be considering a run for State Attorney General in this year's special election and he had obviously been working on his public moves — this invitation for a drink had the ring of sincerity, for example — but it put Hardy on guard.  Powell was saying that, as Hardy knew, one of the duties of the prosecutor was to provide full and free disclosure to the defense team.  "You know, you might want to drop by Art's again.  We don't want you to have any surprises."
    Hardy squinted, moved to the side.  This was unusual.  "I just got the file an hour ago."
    "Yes, well, Art and I discussed the case after you stopped by and we decided it would be better to lay it all out at the beginning.  Like I said, we don't want any surprises."
    "What surprises."
    Powell's face took on a serious expression.  "You haven't seen the indictment yet.  We charged Mrs. Witt with a third count of murder."
    "What third murder?"
    "Her first husband died of a suspected drug overdose nine years ago.  Did you know that?  I don't know how the media hasn't come up with this yet but I'm sure they will."
    Hardy stood still as a pole.  He wondered whether his once-upon-a-time friend Art Drysdale had deliberately given him only half of the discovery — there wasn't really any legal advantage in doing so, but Drysdale had been know to mess with defense lawyers just to keep them off balance.  It was a good reminder for Hardy — he really was on the other side.
    "In any event," Powell went on, "Inspector Terrell, the arresting officer?  He's been pushing for exhumation and got it through with Strout."  This, was John Strout, the coroner.  "It seems Mrs. Witt made a small bundle on that death, too.  Something like seventy-five thousand dollars, which back then was a reasonable piece of