Hostile Witness (23 page)

Linda’s head whipped around. She pulled Hannah closer.

“Haven’t you done enough today?” Linda sneered.

“Mom, please,” Hannah begged. “I did it. I told her.”

“Shut up, Hannah. Don’t make it worse.” Linda’s eyes blazed as she stepped forward so the judge wouldn’t hear them. “Just stay away from us. You’ve ruined everything. You’ve ruined my marriage. You’ve made my daughter crazy. . .”

 “Mom,” Hannah cried, “please, it isn’t her fault. I only told her about what Fritz did to. . .”

“Shut up, Hannah. Don’t say anything else.” Linda tightened her hold, claiming Hannah. 

“You can’t keep her away from me, Linda,” Josie warned quietly.

“I’ll do what the judge says, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy everything either. I earned this family. It is mine and I’ll figure out a way to keep it together.”  Linda hitched her purse and tightened her grip on Hannah. “Now, I think my daughter has had enough for one day. I know I certainly have.”

“Hannah, are you all right?”  Josie asked, bypassing Linda.

Hannah nodded.

“Okay. I’ll call later.”

“You will not. . .” Linda snapped before remembering the judge’s order. “At least give us a little time.”

Josie stepped away, hands up as she backed off.

“Okay.  Okay. Just listen. The press is set up at the main entrance. It’s a zoo out there. Take Hannah down the freight elevator to the left.”

Josie held Linda’s gaze. Hatred in Linda’s eyes; resolve in Josie’s. Without another word Linda put her hand on the side of her daughter’s head, steered it onto her shoulder, and hustled her out the door.

Josie turned back to retrieve her jacket and briefcase. Kip Rayburn was deep in conversation with Rudy. Judge Norris had returned to chambers and Josie had eleven days to find out exactly what kind of man Fritz Rayburn was, and who else might have wanted him dead.

Linda started drinking at six. She smoked half a pack of cigarettes while she listened to Hannah tear up her room.   Hannah’s rampage lasted forty-five minutes. The silence stretched into two hours as Linda waited for Kip to walk through the door. She was positive he would defy the court order and come to her.

At nine Linda figured she was on her own. Putting aside her drink and her cigarettes, Linda walked to the back of the house. Hannah was sitting on her stool, rocking and counting.  The bedding was in a pile, the pillows tossed toward the bathroom. Hannah’s clothes were ripped from their hangers, grabbed from the drawers and dumped on the floor.  A razor blade was in a small dish at Hannah’s feet. It hadn’t been used, thank God.  Linda closed her eyes, breathed in through her nose and said:

“You don’t have to worry. Kip isn't coming home.”  Hannah kept rocking. Linda tried again. “He’ll come around.  When this is all over, we’ll still be here.”  Linda eased into the room. She stopped with her back against the wall when she was within Hannah’s range of vision.  “Did Fritz do what Josie says he did?”

“Yes,” Hannah whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, baby?”

Linda choked on the words. She sniffled and put her hands to her lips. Just the thought of what Hannah had been through brought back bad memories of Hannah’s father.  His dark eyes and thick lashes, the way his hands felt on her, the way he made love - the way he hit her, twisted arms, broke bones. He had been gorgeous to look at and deadly to live with. Linda hadn’t told anyone about the abuse because there was no one to tell in a country where beating your woman was a sign of manliness. Eventually Linda walked away because she could.  It was different with Hannah.  She was a kid. She had tried to run and Fritz had always brought her back. Still, Hannah could have said something.  If she had, everything would have been different. Everything.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Linda asked again. She swayed against the wall and put out her hands to steady herself.  She had drunk too much, thought too much, and lay awake too many hours over the last weeks trying to figure out what to do.  “Why didn’t you tell me, Hannah?”

“Because you didn’t want me to.”

Slowly Hannah turned to look at Linda. Her hair fell across one side of her face, her green eyes sparkled. The energy it took to destroy her room, the futility of all this, had left her exhausted.

“That’s not true, Hannah. If I had known it would have changed everything. It . . .”

Linda was on the floor, her arms around Hannah before she knew what had happened. Her hands were in Hannah’s hair, holding her face, her tears falling on Hannah’s shoulders.

“You’re drunk, mom. You’re drunk.”  Hannah pushed Linda away but her mother held on tight.

“No. I just feel so sad. If I had known what he was doing I could have bested the old bastard. Everything would have been so simple. So different.”  Linda sobbed and clutched at her daughter but Hannah pushed her hard. Linda fell back, splayed on the floor. “You must have been so scared. If you told me I could have stopped him from hurting either one of us. It would have been so simple.”

Hannah sat on her stool and listened to her mother’s protestations. There had been no comfort in Linda’s embrace. The sound of her mother’s voice didn’t soothe her. The promise that it would have been different didn’t mean shit because Fritz was dead. It was done. All of it.

Kip Rayburn let himself into the Palisades house and did everything he always did when he got home. He walked up stairs to his bedroom and put his wallet and his key on the bureau in the dressing room. He flipped on the bathroom light and the lamp at the bedside. He sat on the bed and took his watch off.

The place was as it always was: spotlessly clean, perfectly appointed. He should have come home weeks ago when the police released the property. He wandered through the house, touching the elegant, traditional furniture, looking at the classic artwork. Fritz had done well with this house. Anyone would have believed he had come from money, grown up with the finest things. He was a master of disguise, that old man.

Kip went down to the kitchen but he wasn’t hungry. He poured himself a drink but didn’t taste it. Finally, he did what he knew he was going to do all along: he opened the front door and walked the grounds.

Kip passed the fountain where the fireman had found Hannah. The little stone peeing boy atop it was dry for the time being; the water cut off while the wreckage was cleared.  Part of the staircase still stood. One of Hannah’s paintings had only been partially destroyed. A workman had propped it near the fountain as if he had found something precious. Kip kicked at it as he walked, resisting the temptation to stomp it into the ground.  This wasn’t the time to lose control. He’d never done it as a kid - he’d only done it once as an adult - and look what happened.

His shoes scraped on the bare foundation. Funny how the smell of fire lingered, clung to nothing but concrete, how it felt hotter the minute he stepped onto the slab, how the tinkle of the ice in his drink seemed to echo off the nonexistent walls.

Sinking onto the bottom step of the staircase Kip Rayburn looked up into the night sky, then out toward the gardens. He looked at the hills and canyons of the Palisades and then he started to laugh.  Anyone listening might have mistaken it for crying. It struck him funny that he was sitting in the ruins of his home, facing the ruin of his life, the loss of his father and the estrangement of his wife.  In the final analysis, Fritz Rayburn was the only thing that had ever, really, truly belonged to Kip Rayburn and Hannah Sheraton had taken that away.

Wouldn’t Fritz get a kick out of this mess?

Wouldn’t he love to see how miserable everyone was?

Kip Rayburn thought about all this as he put his head against the wall and laughed and laughed until he cried.

Rudy Klein got home just before the late news began.  He stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Dinner was a box of crackers and a hunk of cheese, a glass of milk, and a Ding-Dong.  A Rudy dinner; a Mikey dessert. Rudy picked up the Ding-Dong and started taking off the silver wrapper just as a commercial came on.

Keeping an eye on the television he dialed his ex-wife.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s late. I’m sorry. I just wanted to ask a favor. Go in and kiss Mikey once more for me.”

“He’s asleep, Rudy,” Pam grumbled. “And I was almost asleep.”

“I know. But what’s it going to hurt? Come on. . . .

Suddenly, thoughts of Mikey and his ex-wife flew out of his head.  Rudy Klein hung up the phone while Pam was still complaining.  The news had started and the headline was the Rayburn trial.

Josie and Archer sat near the window at Burt’s at the Beach so they could keep an eye on Max who was fast asleep on the still warm sidewalk. The burger platters were on order, a pitcher of beer sweated between them, and Archer’s contact sheets were spread over the table. Before he could hand Josie the loop, before Josie could tell him what had happened in court, Burt called:

“Hey, Josie. They’re talking about you on TV.”

Everyone in the place fell silent. All eyes turned upward as Burt adjusted the sound on the set.

“Oh, my God,” Josie breathed.

Archer tipped back in his chair and whistled softly. Josie looked back at him. He raised an eyebrow.

“Had a tough day, did you, Jo?”

Alex Schaeffer and Cheryl Winston were dressed to the nines. Governor Davidson hadn’t bothered with black-tie, but then he seldom did. In another part of the Bel Air Mansion, two hundred people dined on game hens, heart of palm salad, lobster bisque, and crème fraiche atop apple tartlets. They would raise an easy half a million for the governor’s coffers this evening, as long as no one saw what the three of them were seeing now.

Lead story on the news was Linda Rayburn and her daughter surrounded by a crowd of reporters jostling for position. CBS had done a fabulous job. Their cameraman got a clear shot of Linda’s beautiful, angry face, and their reporter managed to stick a microphone right under her nose to catch every vitriolic word.

“. . .what about my rights as a parent? That’s what I want to know. The judge says that Josie Baylor-Bates has rights, and my daughter has rights, but I have none. I’m disgusted.  My daughter needs help. She doesn’t need to be pulled in six different directions by the court. Where are the people in this world who believe that a parent has the best interest of their child at heart? Where are the people who will stand up for the family? I can’t believe any of this is happening. Josie Baylor-Bates should be shot for what she’s done today.”

Alex turned off the television. The skirt on Cheryl’s dress rustled as she turned toward the governor. The governor stared at the blank screen for a minute then stood up, buttoned his coat and said:

“Find out what happened in court, and why the wife of our Supreme Court nominee is acting out in front of everyone in the whole damn state.”

24

“Who does this lawyer think she is? God?”

“Those parents are financially and morally responsible for their daughter. If that lawyer wants to be responsible for a child, then let her have one of her own and take all the responsibility.”

“This is like a really late term abortion. That girl is being ripped from her mother and somebody should do something about it.”

“Maybe something weird is going on here. Maybe something did happen to that girl. Shouldn’t someone find out about that?” – Callers to KFI Talk Radio

“Come on in.”  Faye opened the door of her home wide and gave Max a pat as she motioned Josie toward the sunroom.

“Thanks. Sorry I didn’t get the message until now. I was at Archer’s last night.” Josie said. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”

Josie veered off to the kitchen, settled Max, and poured herself some coffee. In the sunroom she sank onto a chair, tucked her legs beneath her, and wrapped her hands around her mug. Faye was already settled. A teacup was on the table at her elbow. The weather had cooled and she wore a sweater to keep out the cold but the look of consternation on her face sent that chill right to Josie.

The
Los Angeles Times
was on the table with the tea. The front page carried a picture of Linda Rayburn holding onto Hannah for dear life.  Faye had the Valley paper and the
Daily Breeze.
Each one was opened to that picture of Linda and Hannah outside the courthouse.

“The Times has an old picture of you on the inside page.” Faye tossed it toward Josie. “You looked good with long hair.”

Josie shifted. One foot hit the ground just as the LA Times fluttered to the floor. She reached down, picked it up, and snapped it open. Josie bit her bottom lip as she scanned the story, then looked with disgust at the picture on the front page.

“Linda deliberately put herself in this situation,” Josie muttered. Then to Faye: “I told her to go down the freight elevator. I don’t think she cares about Hannah at all.”

“Did you threaten to file for emancipation?” Faye asked, not bothering to respond to Josie’s observation.

“Yes, I did,” Josie answered. “They were trying to railroad Hannah. They were dismissing her accusations. Linda was ready to give her up.  Everyone in that courtroom had an agenda that didn’t include what was in Hannah’s best interests.”

Faye shook her head in disbelief.

“What you did was drastic and uncalled for, Josie.  Your client had enough problems without alienating her mother and half the people in this city. There is a serious question that you overstepped your bounds as an attorney. Threatening emancipation was emotional blackmail.”

“Oh come on, Faye.” Josie tossed the paper onto the floor. “Everyone in that room was ready to go to bat for a dead judge.  Without me, Hannah wouldn’t have had a voice at all. Linda and Kip Rayburn would have sold her out for an insanity plea just to keep this quiet.”

“Did you ask Hannah what kind of representation she wanted, or whether she wanted to be legally and irrevocably severed from her parent?”

“Since when does a client dictate strategy?”

”Since her life is at stake on so many levels.  I would think her input would be invaluable – at least to an attorney who honestly cares about what is best for her client,” Faye shot back.

“That’s all I care about, and all I think about, Faye. Hannah was in no condition to think about anything, much less make decisions. It’s all there.” Josie indicated the newspapers.  They hadn’t missed a thing, not Hannah’s self mutilation, not Kip’s outburst, Linda’s outrage, or Josie’s accusations

“I think that was the point Linda Rayburn was trying to make,” Faye said. “Hannah is a disturbed kid, and you’ve put yourself in an untenable position. You’re a lawyer, Josie. You can advise. You can suggest. You can’t change legal relationships – especially that of a parent and a child – at your whim. You didn’t confer with your client, or her mother, before you made that threat. Why are you being so bullheaded about this?”

“Because it is unfair. Because if I don’t fight hard, Hannah will end up in a mental facility and she doesn’t belong there. And she sure doesn’t belong in prison.  Not knowing what we know now.”  Josie untucked her other leg. She thought Faye was going to help her, stand by her. Now it felt like Faye was lined up against her.  “Look, I spoke to Doctor McGrath late last night. He’s one of the country’s foremost experts on obsessive/compulsive disorder. He’s sending me a complete report on the ability of a person who suffers from this disorder to affect their chosen environment. For some people it’s wiping up the kitchen, for others it’s locking the doors. They couldn’t do anything to alter that environment. It would be akin to them cutting off their nose to spite their face, literally. When they are threatened by outside influences - like Rayburn’s abuse – they work harder than ever to protect the things and places that make them feel safe and secure.”

“That’s what you’re relying on? Josie, for goodness sake, you’ve lost your perspective,” Faye cried.

“That’s compelling stuff when you add it to the questions about the physical evidence and how the fire started. This will explain Hannah’s DNA on Rayburn, but exonerate her of the act that actually killed him. I know that when I wrap it up in closing and tie it all together, they won’t have any choice but to acquit.”

“I’m sorry Josie, but the prosecution has a leg up.  A girl killing an abusive man is a whole lot easier to swallow than a girl being unable to light a match because she doesn’t like to upset the balance of nature. To argue that Fritz’s abuse made her compulsion worse sounds like hocus-pocus.  It’s dangerous what you’re doing. You say you want to help, and yet you don’t see that you might be solidifying a more acceptable motive.”

“Okay. Fine.” Josie was peeved. She put her hands on her thighs. “Look, Faye. You haven’t been behind this from the beginning. And I don’t want to be rude, but this is a little out of your league. I promise I know what I’m doing. I have options, so let’s drop it.”

Her nerves frayed, Josie started to get out of her chair but Faye stopped her.

“It’s not going to be that simple, Josie.  I hadn’t quite decided what to do, but you just helped me make up my mind.” Faye’s eyes never left Josie’s. There was no hesitation. Indeed, Faye suddenly seemed to harbor a smoldering anger.  “I don’t want this case in-house one more minute.”

There was a beat of silence, a pause in which Josie and Faye squared off. Faye had the advantage of surprise.

“I’ve called Sandra Johns.  She’s sharp, quick on the uptake.  Hannah would do well with her and you’ve got ten days to bring her up to speed. I want you to recuse yourself and pass this along.”

“Don’t you think we should ask Hannah how she feels about new counsel? Or maybe we should just let Sandra show up when court resumes and surprise her?”

Josie’s voice was dry with sarcasm.

“You didn’t ask her about emancipation, did you? What you should do is tell Mrs. Rayburn so she has a chance to meet Sandra... What you should do is show some respect, Josie.”

“I am showing respect to my client by doing my damndest for her.  I won’t let this go because I hurt your feelings by pointing out the obvious. You’ve never been in this arena, and you have no experience with which to judge.”

“Stop treating this like a personal challenge. Hannah is sixteen years old, Josie,” Faye cried. “Do what is best for that girl and get her someone who is more objective. Bring her mother back into the picture or you’re going to destroy Hannah, the relationship with her mother, and yourself.”

Josie shook her head hard. Ruining a mother’s relationship with her daughter was the last thing she wanted.

“You’re wrong.  There are priorities. The first is to win this trial. Once that’s done we can worry about relationships.  Besides, Norris would have to approve new counsel. He’s not going to do that after today. This thing is already too hot to handle.  If you’ve got a problem, let’s talk about it. Don’t go behind my back and talk to Sandra Johns. If you don’t have that respect for Hannah, at least have it for me.”

“Okay, let’s talk about professional respect,” Faye agreed. “Let’s talk about Helen Sterling. You were supposed to talk to her about her property settlement. You never called.  Billy Zuni was released and has been trying to see you for the last three days. Not even a phone call.  Let’s talk about your time sheet. You haven’t done one, and the billing cycle is already over. Let’s talk about Angie who’s been working overtime for you every night and not a word of thanks, just more directions and demands. Where do you want to start, Josie? What do you want to discuss when it comes to your professional behavior?”

Agitated, Josie waved her hands.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve let a few things slip, but now I have some breathing room. I’ll get all that done in the next few days. I’ll have the time sheet on your desk Monday morning. But you’re forgetting that this isn’t just about the next few weeks. This is about an opportunity for this firm,” Josie insisted, hoping Faye would look at the big picture.  “The fee we’re getting for this is big and we can use it to upgrade. We can afford another paralegal. The notoriety will bring in bigger and better clients, Faye. This case could put this firm on the map.”

Faye got up but she didn’t go far.  She turned away from Josie for a second and collected her thoughts.  When she was ready to talk again Faye was a calm, controlled, and committed woman. 

“Charlie and I founded this firm, Josie. I nurtured it.  I kept it small and quiet because the people who need me are small and quiet.  I told you when you started this thing with Hannah that I didn’t want it to impact my business, but that’s what’s happening. I don’t want Angie’s time monopolized. I don’t want reporters on my doorstep. I don’t want my clients to worry that we’re going to take anything away from them the way you have taken Hannah away from Linda Rayburn.”

“That’s unfair,” Josie argued. “This is a unique situation.”

“Josie, you know exactly what I mean and I resent you thinking you can out maneuver or shame me on this. I won’t allow it.”

Josie dropped her chin. She looked at her hands, spread her fingers, and checked out her short nails.  Quickly she pulled those fingers in, making two fists.  Her hands were shaking.

“You said there were options. I only heard one. Referral.”

There was a heartbeat and then another. Faye was rock solid. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt or regret on her face. There wasn’t a tremor of indecision when she said:

“You can take care of this on your own, Josie.”

“Faye,” Josie breathed in disbelief. “You’d cut me loose?”

“I don’t agree with your tactics. I resent the fact that you think I don’t understand them.  The publicity is going to do my firm more harm than good. Tiffany took a phone call late last night threatening us because of what you did to Linda.  Your troubles haven’t begun and already I’ve had enough.” Faye was exasperated.  She moved closer to Josie and sat on the edge of the coffee table.  Her voice was reasonable and sad.  “What am I supposed to do? Spend my day worrying about how Hannah Sheraton is going to affect me, and my business, instead of serving the people I care about?”

Josie could feel that chill starting deep in her gut.  She had that same feeling the morning her mother disappeared, a deserter from the family post. She felt it when she learned Kristin Davis’s children were dead. Josie wrapped her arms around her body but raised her head high. She had learned something during those long ago tests. Fear was one thing, showing it quite another.

“This isn’t just your firm anymore, Faye. We’re partners, or have you forgotten?” Faye’s expression melted into genuine sadness. “You never signed those papers, Josie. You have no legal standing in my firm.”