“INSPECTOR CONKLIN,” Davis said, smiling. “You sound like a very smart police officer.”

  Yuki tensed. She could almost see Davis setting the trap, baiting it, tying the trap to a tree. Conklin just looked at Davis until she spoke again.

  “Isn’t it true that from the beginning, the defendant denied that she’d ever met Michael Campion?”

  “Yes, but ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a suspect is going to say they didn’t do it.”

  “You’ve interviewed a hundred homicide suspects?”

  “Figure of speech,” Conklin said. “I don’t know how many homicide suspects I’ve interviewed. Quite a few.”

  “I see,” Davis said. “Is it a figure of speech to say that you and Sergeant Boxer tricked and bullied my client until she confessed?”

  “Objection!” Yuki called out from her seat.

  “Sustained.”

  “I’ll rephrase. As we all know, Ms. Moon’s ‘confession,’ ” Davis said, making the universal symbol for quote marks with the first two fingers of each hand, “wasn’t on tape, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So we don’t know the tenor of that interview, do we?”

  “I guess you just have to trust me,” Conklin said.

  Davis smiled, wound up for the pitch. “Inspector, did you take notes of Ms. Moon’s statement?”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked to see those notes during discovery,” Davis said, “but I was told you no longer had them.”

  Conklin’s cheeks colored. “That’s right.”

  “I want to make sure I understand what you’re telling us, Inspector,” Davis said in the snotty tone she’d perfected over decades and was using now in an attempt to undermine and humiliate Conklin.

  “You were investigating a probable murder. As you told us, Ms. Moon was your primary witness, or maybe a suspect. You had no taped record, so you made a written record. That was so you could tell the court and the jury what the defendant said, right? And then you threw the notes away - can you tell us why?”

  “I used my notes as the basis for my report. Once my report was typed, I didn’t need them anymore.”