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“Well, excuse me,” I answered huffily.
He ignored my testiness. “This is going to be a relatively short trial. I give it two weeks at the most. Champ will walk the husband through what he knows about the morning of the murder, she’ll call the taxi driver who says you were rushed and agitated when he picked you up shortly afterward. She probably doesn’t want to put Sarah Jane on the stand since the press has asked what the victim’s sister was doing for fifteen minutes, but she has no choice. Sarah Jane is the one who found the body. I’ll call character witnesses and a private investigator for you. We’ll pray that the jury believes me and wait for their verdict.”
Keith didn’t have to say the rest. If they didn’t, I would be found guilty and spend the rest of my life in the Bedford Hills Correctional Facility for Women.
35
A FIFTEEN-MINUTE GAP
Sarah Jane Welburn Rizzelli took the stand that afternoon. She didn’t look anything like her sister. Her hair was dirty blond, the face thin, its nose narrow and twitchy. She looked like a dried-up mouse sniffing around for cheese.
Louise Champ smiled warmly at her after the swearing-in. “Mrs. Rizzelli, I’m sorry to add to your troubles by bringing you here today.”
“I understand.” Her voice was thin, a cross between a whisper and a rice paper Japanese fan.
“I will not keep you here a moment longer than necessary.”
“Thank you.”
“Mrs. Rizzelli, have you ever met Jacqueline Blue?”
“No. I only know that my sister, Annabelle, was afraid of her.”
There was a hissing sound from the jury box.
“Did Annabelle tell you that she was afraid of Jacqueline Blue?”
“Yes.”
“When did she tell you that?”
“The night before she died.”
“Please go on.”
“Annabelle said that after she turned down Blue’s request for a promotion, the woman made a fist at her and stalked out of her apartment without even saying good-bye. She called me and asked if she should notify the police. I said no.”
I whispered to Keith, “I never made a fist at my boss and I don’t believe for a second that Annabelle ever said I did. The woman is lying through her goddamned teeth. I feel like pulling her off the witness stand and pummeling her into the floor.”
Keith motioned that I should be quiet.
Sarah Jane sobbed into a handkerchief.
“When was the last time you spoke with Annabelle?” asked Champ.
“The morning she died. I called while she was getting ready for work. We chatted for a few minutes, and then the doorman called from downstairs to say she had a visitor. I told her I was coming over to pick up some photos and hung up.”
“And when you got there?” prodded Champ.
Sarah Jane began to cry loudly. “When I got there, my sister was dead!”
The judge, looking shaken, agreed to a brief recess and gave Keith a look that warned him not to cross-examine the witness too closely.
Keith didn’t even pretend to be sympathetic when the court reconvened.
“What time did you arrive at Mrs. Murray’s apartment on January 27, 1997?”
Sarah Jane looked confused. “About 9:15, I think.”
