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"Sergeant Cuneo, you testified in front of the grand jury before this, did you not?" "Yes, sir."

"And you were under oath?" "Yes, sir."

"And where was that?"

"Upstairs in the grand jury room."

"How long did that testimony last?"

Cuneo was bouncing already, slight but visible tremors erupting through his shoulders every three to five seconds. "I don't know exactly. I'd guess something like three hours."

"Now, Sergeant, in this three-hour testimony, did you talk about your initial visit to Catherine Hanover's house?"

"Yes."

"Did you make any mention of Catherine making it clear to you that she wanted you to stay for dinner?"

"No. I don't believe I did."

"No, you don't believe you did." Hardy went back to the defense table, gave a confident nod to Catherine, and picked up some sheets of paper that had been stapled together. Walking back up to the witness box, he handed the stack to Cuneo. "Do you recognize these documents, Sergeant?"

He flipped quickly through the pages. "These are copies of my reports on this case."

"Of your interviews with Catherine Hanover and others, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"All right. Now, Sergeant, how long have you been a policeman?"

Hardy's change in direction caused Cuneo a moment's pause. His eyes flicked over to Rosen, then back to Hardy. "Sixteen years."

"So you've written reports such as the ones you now hold in your hand many times, yes?"

"Yes, of course."

"And the purpose of these reports is to memorialize evidence, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, when you write up these reports, you try not to leave out important facts, isn't that true?"

Cuneo's shoulders seemed to be closing in around him, his neck sinking down into them. He was closing down defensively. His next answer came as a brusque nod.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant," Hardy said. "Was that a yes? You would never knowingly leave an important fact out of one of your formal police reports?"

Another nod.

This time Braun leaned over from the podium. "Answer the questions with words, Sergeant. Do you need the question read back again?"

"No, Your Honor." He leveled a malevolent glare at Hardy. "Yes, I try to make my reports accurate."

To keep the press on, Hardy ignored the answer. Instead, he repeated his exact question, using the precise same rhythm, tone and level of voice. It highlighted the fact that Cuneo had not answered the question the first time. "You would never knowingly leave an important fact out of one of your formal police reports?"

"No."

"Thank you. Now. Did you know that you were going to testify in this case?" "Of course."

"And did you know that you would be asked about the reports you submitted?"

"Yes."

"And that others would rely upon the accuracy of these reports?"

"Yes."

"So, as you've testified was your habit and inclination, you tried to make your reports both accurate and complete, is that right?" Cuneo continued to wilt. If Hardy wasn't having such a good time, he might have let a little sympathy creep into him and let up a bit. But the thought never occurred to him. "Accurate and complete," he said, "and never more so than in the case of a homicide, correct?"

"Yes."

Pulling a page from Rosen's book, Hardy went to his table and drank some water. Returning to his position in front of Cuneo, he started in again. "Sergeant, when you conducted your interview with my client, did you tape-record it?"

"No, I did not."

"So the only record of your conversation with my client is in these reports? These complete and accurate reports, is that so?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"All right. Then, please point out for the jury where in your report you state that Catherine asked you to dinner, or came on to you in any way."

Cuneo's shoulders twitched. He stretched his neck, flicked his eyes to Rosen's table, cleared his throat. "I did not include it in the report."

"No, sir," Hardy said. "No, you did not."

Hardy went back to his desk, returned to the witness stand with another bunch of papers-Cuneo's grand jury testimony. Same questions, same answers. No, Cuneo hadn't mentioned anything about Catherine Hanover coming on to him, asking him to dinner, making inappropriate small talk. Hardy allowed surprise to play about his face for the jury to see. He hoped that by now that the word had spread to the panel that this witness was the reason that they wouldn't be watching any television for the next few days, why they would be locked up in their hotel rooms. He hoped they were primed to hate him. And he was going to give them more.

"Detective Cuneo," he said, "when Deputy Chief Glitsky conveyed to you my client's complaint about your conduct, you denied that any such exchange ever took place, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. I didn't want to…"

"Thank you. In fact, Sergeant, the very first time you ever claimed that my client made an improper sexual advance to you was after she made her complaint to Glitsky, isn't that a fact?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure of the exact timing."

"All right, then, how about the first time on the record that you mentioned her invitation to dinner? Wasn't it when you were on the stand here just before this cross-examination?"

"It may have been."

"Yes or no, Sergeant."

"I believe so."

"I'll take that as a yes. When you were on the stand under oath. Like you were under oath at the grand jury."

"Your Honor. Objection! Badgering the witness."

Braun nodded. "All right. Sustained. Mr. Hardy, I'm sure Sergeant Cuneo realizes when he is under oath."

"Thank you, Your Honor. I just wanted to make sure."

"Your Honor!" Rosen again.

"Sustained." Braun glared down from the bench. "Don't get cute, Mr. Hardy. I'm warning you."

Hardy, straight-faced. "I apologize, Your Honor." He came back to the witness. "So, Sergeant, did you remember the alleged invitation before you took the stand?"

"Of course I remembered it."

"And yet you did not mention it? Why was that?"

"I didn't think it mattered."

"You didn't think it mattered?"

"I didn't think it would be part of the case. Besides, nobody asked me about it."

"That might explain why it didn't come up in your three-hour testimony. By the way, there was no defense lawyer at the grand jury, was there?"

"No."

"No one to ask you the sort of questions I'm asking now?" Hardy didn't wait for the answer. "No one to challenge your account of what took place?"

"No."

"Would it be fair to say, Sergeant, that you could talk about anything you wanted to the grand jury and no one would hear the other side of the story? Could it be, Sergeant, that you never brought up the incident because Catherine Hanover did not, in fact, extend any such invitation?"

"No. She did."

"She did? Can you recall her exact wording?"

"I don't think so. It was almost a year ago. She asked me if I liked homemade pasta and said her husband wasn't going to be home."

"Ah. Her husband. Since he was the son of the deceased, weren't you interested in his whereabouts?"

"Yes, of course."

"Since you've told the jury that everyone was a suspect at the time, was Will Hanover a potential suspect as well?"

"Yes."

"And did you ask his wife where he was?"

The questions were flying fast now, in a rhythm, and Cuneo answered without any forethought. "Yes."

"And wasn't it this, Sergeant," Hardy continued, "your question about her husband's whereabouts, and not an improper advance, that prompted Catherine's admission that her husband was gone and wouldn't be home for a few more days?"

Suddenly Cuneo straightened up in the witness box. "I took it as an improper advance."