Desperate Measures (41 page)

“Objection,” Novak said. “This is not the time or place for a math lesson, and there's no point in wasting our time this way.”

“Oh, I have a point,” Barbara said. “Just a little longer, Your Honor. I'll make my point.”

“I certainly do hope so, Counselor,” Judge Mac said dryly. “You may continue for a very short time. Overruled.”

She had been doing the math on the newsprint pad. She returned to it and said, “You were gone for four minutes and thirty-two seconds, and thirty-nine seconds of that time you were in the house, which means you were running for about two hundred thirty-three seconds altogether, or one hundred sixteen seconds in each direction. I think we can forget half seconds for the purposes of this demonstration and instead allow for a plus-or-minus factor of a second or two either way.” She was adding the figures to her paper as she talked, labeling them all.

“All right,” she said then, “if you covered one thousand three hundred and thirty-five feet in one hundred sixteen seconds, it means you were running about eleven and a half feet per second.”

She looked at Daniel then and asked, “Have you followed the math? Do you agree to the conclusion of about eleven and a half feet per second?”

“I guess that's about right,” he said.

Clearly he had no idea if that was right, but Judge Mac was following along just fine, Barbara noted.

She moved the pad aside. “From the other map we determined that the only place where you could have had a clear line of sight to the blackberries was from in front of the rosebushes. Is that your understanding?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“And not from the entire length of the rose garden, but for about seven or eight feet of it. Is that correct?”

“I… I guess so.”

She turned toward Judge Mac. “I could go over that reasoning again, Your Honor.”

“I don't think it's necessary,” he said. “You covered it quite exhaustively. Just move on, if you will.”

“All right. Mr. Marchand, from the numbers we have just done, it appears that you were in front of the rose bushes, the only place where you could see the back of the property, for less than one second. In that fleeting glance could you make out enough details to say you saw sunglasses and a cap?”

His hands were shaking again; he started to pick up his water glass, but then quickly put his hands in his lap once more. “I don't know,” he said. “I thought later that I did, but I don't know.”

“When later?” Barbara said. “Before or after you gave your statement to the investigators?”

“I don't know,” he said again; he sounded and looked desperate. “They asked me questions a few times before I gave a statement that I had to sign. I kept thinking about it all, and I thought I saw glasses or something. Before I signed anything.”

“Now, thinking of it all again, do you believe you saw sunglasses that day?”

“I don't know,” he said.

“Could it as easily have been sunlight reflecting off leaves?”

“Maybe. I don't know.”

“All right. Turning to another matter. Earlier you testified that you told your mother that Ben Hennessey was waiting for you, and that if your father had asked, you would have told him how you got home that day. In other words you would not have lied about it. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Would he have punished you for disobeying him, accepting a ride with a friend?”

Daniel hesitated. “No.”

“Would he have punished you for lying about it?”

He hesitated longer. “No. I don't know. I didn't lie to him.”

“Never? Most children lie from time to time, I understand.”

“Maybe I did when I was small. I don't remember.”

“Did your father use corporal punishment? Did he spank you and your sister when you misbehaved?”

“When we were small,” he said in a faint voice.

“Did he use his hand?”

“No. A little switch. On our legs. It just stung a little, that's all.”

“Did he ever use a strap or a belt, something like that?”

“Maybe once or twice. A little strap.”

“Objection!” Novak cried. “Your Honor, this is all irrelevant, and not proper cross-examination.”

“I agree. Sustained.

And Judge Mac, Barbara decided, sounded impatient. Maybe he had hated math as a student. Or maybe he thought there was nothing wrong with switching the legs of misbehaving children.

“I have no more questions for this witness at this time,” she said. “However, I request that he be advised to hold himself in readiness to be recalled as a hostile witness for the defense.”

Novak was on his feet instantly; he didn't wait for permission to approach the bench, but was halfway there before his objection was even voiced. Judge Mac peered at him over his glasses, and he halted abruptly, then backed up.

“Your Honor, this witness has been deeply traumatized; he has testified to the best of his ability, and there's no possible reason to recall him, except to intimidate and harass him.”

“I have more questions to ask, but there has been no proper foundation laid for them at this time,” Barbara said coolly.

“Overruled. Mr. Marchand, when the defense presents its case, you will be recalled as a witness. You will be required to return to court at that time, and you will be notified as to the day and time of day your presence will be necessary.”

Daniel Marchand looked terrified.

35

When Daniel was
excused, Judge Mac said, “Ms. Holloway, Mr. Novak, I think we'll call it a day. Recess until nine o'clock tomorrow morning. And I want you both in chambers in ten minutes, if you please.”

“What's that all about?” Frank muttered, after the judge left the bench. Dolly and Arnold Feldman were standing up, apparently waiting for a chance to speak to Alex, or possibly to Barbara. She ignored them.

“Don't know,” Barbara said. “Why don't you take the crew on home. I can get a cab when we're finished.”

“I'll go with them, get my car, and come back for you,” Will Thaxton said.

“Good. Alex, I really do want to talk things over before you go back to Opal Creek. Can you and Dr. Minick wait for me? It shouldn't take too long.”

“I suppose that means we're to be left out altogether,” Dolly said coldly. “We didn't fly all the way from New York to be treated like excess baggage. My son's life is at stake here. I have a right to be included in your consultations.”

Barbara glanced at Will, whose nod was almost imperceptible. She said, “I'm sorry, Mrs. Feldman, I have to go meet with the judge. I can't stop to explain things right now.” Will would take care of it, she thought gratefully. She fled.

The attorneys arrived at the judge's outer office together and were not kept waiting. His secretary opened the door to his chambers and motioned for them to enter.

The judge had decorated his chambers with antiques, including half a dozen Tiffany lamps of various kinds: table lamps, floor lamps, a desk lamp, all beautiful and no doubt very valuable. And again Barbara was struck by the number of family pictures on tables, his desk, the walls.

“Please sit down, make yourselves comfortable,” Judge Mac said. “I want to commend you both for the manner in which this trial is being conducted.” He had taken off his robes and had on a sport shirt open at the throat. His head again looked too big for his neck and shoulders.

Now the whammy, Barbara thought, as Judge Mac turned to her, his expression suddenly grave.

“Ms. Holloway, this afternoon a note was delivered to my office which concerns me a great deal. It was anonymous, I might add. It states that Mr. and Mrs. Feldman have chartered a plane which is being kept at the Eugene airport. Is there any truth to this?”

A rush of fury swept through her. Dolly! She might have to strangle the bitch herself. “I know nothing about it,” she said, trying to keep her anger in check.

“I must warn you, Ms. Holloway, that if Alexander Feldman makes any attempt to board that plane, he will be apprehended and held in custody for the remainder of this trial.”

“I assure you, Judge, that Alex has no intention of fleeing. I didn't know about the airplane, but I will try to find out something about it. Mr. and Mrs. Feldman, of course, are free to charter anything they want and can afford. Neither Alex nor I can speak for their actions or their intentions.”

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. That's what was on my mind. Pass on my warning to your client. Now we can all go home and put our feet up.”

Will was coming up the broad stairs as she headed down; he stopped to wait.

“Bad?” he asked.

“Bad. Wait until we get in the car.” She continued down and he fell into step by her. Without a word they walked through the tunnel under Seventh Street, and to his car in the lot on the other side.

“They chartered a plane that's parked out at the airport,” she said then.

He turned the key in the ignition. “That's my news flash,” he said. “How did you find out?”

“Judge Mac. An anonymous tip. Do they want to see him in jail? Are they crazy? What's the matter with them?”

“Minick says she's harboring the mother of all guilt complexes, for one thing. Could be, I guess. I think she's crazy.”

“Did Alex say anything when she proposed a little trip?”

“He said he's committed to seeing this through. And he suggested that this is too hard on her, that she might suffer too much, and it would be best for her sake to go home and let him get in touch when it's over.” He gave her a quick look and added, “Was he kidding her along? Serious? Sarcastic? I wish I knew. She began to cry. She and Alex went into the other room and stayed for ten or fifteen minutes. I don't have a clue what was said in there.”

In Frank's house she went to wash her hands and cool down before she joined Alex and Dr. Minick. When she entered the living room, Frank put a glass of pinot noir in her hand and she took a drink before she said a word.

“The judge got a note that says your parents have a plane waiting to take off,” she said to Alex. “Judge Mac told me to warn you that if you go near it, you'll be taken into custody and kept in the county jail until the trial is over.”

Alex was petting Thing One; he nodded. “Warning duly delivered. I don't intend to go near it.”

“Good. Now, tomorrow they'll bring in Dr. Wrigley, and then start on motive. They'll bring in their tame psychologist and Rachel eventually. Dr. Minick, we have to discuss what your testimony is likely to be.”

“Before you get into that, there was something else on my mother's mind,” Alex said.

Thing One had stepped up into his lap, filling it, overflowing at both ends, and Thing Two was standing by the side of the chair, his forepaws on the arm, rubbing his face against Alex's hand, marking him: mine. They had accepted him from the start, paying no attention to how he looked; it was only people who put stock in appearance, Barbara was thinking, watching the cats. With the thought there came another one: it had been weeks or longer since she had paid any particular attention to how Alex looked, and when she thought of him if he was not with her, his face never intruded any longer.

“Do you know who Courtney Innes is?” Alex asked, keeping his gaze on the cat he was petting.

“Sure. He's a big-time, high-profile New York attorney. Why?”

“Mother's in touch with him. I think she plans to bring him here.”

In exasperation, Barbara said, “Alex, you have the right to change attorneys at any time, but it's your right, not hers, to make that decision. She can't interfere with whatever decision you reach.”

“She thinks I can be declared incompetent and that she can produce medical documents to back that up. Graham was hired to keep me under close surveillance because I was unstable, and so on.” Now he looked at her. “She thinks I killed Gus Marchand, but if we manage things properly, I can be admitted to an institution where I can receive the kind of treatment I need. Or else get on that plane and take off for some South American country where they can come and visit me every now and then.” His face twisted. He didn't turn away from her. “With a mother like that, who needs a prosecutor?”

He sounded bitter, and also furious. There was a flush on the good side of his face. Barbara darted a glance at Minick, who nodded slightly, as if to say Alex had every right to be both bitter and angry.

Alex was still talking. “She thinks I probably was tormented too much to resist the impulse to kill. But she loves me, you have to understand, and she'll do right by me, if I'll let her.”

“What did your father have to say about all of that?” Barbara asked.

“He didn't say much, but he nodded a lot,” Alex said. “A long time ago, when I was ten or eleven, she was going on about something, and he said, ‘You two work it out, I have an appointment.' He's been keeping that appointment ever since.” He shrugged. “I think a car just pulled in the driveway. Maybe it's Shelley.”

Of course, Barbara thought, as Frank went to open the front door, Alex had that fake ear with a superstrong receiver built in; he could hear better than most people. And from studying his drawings, she felt that he could see better than most people also.

Frank came back with Shelley in tow, and her gaze went instantly to Alex, who had risen, dumping Thing One, who leaped into the vacated chair and batted Thing Two away from the arm. “They have to talk about Graham's testimony,” Alex said. “You want to go to the dinette, get on with your art lessons?”

Shelley looked at Barbara, who waved her away, and then left with Alex. He took his drawing pad, which seemed an extension of him in the same way Barbara's briefcase was an extension of her.

Will Thaxton stood up to leave. “Work to catch up on,” he said. “I might not put in the same kind of hours you're keeping,” he said to Barbara, “but I'm running a close second. See you good people in the morning.”