In Sickness and in Death (13 page)

Vivian nodded, and then whispered, “Yes, I think so.”

When she got to the part where Adrienne suggested that she be permitted to invest the money for her, Adrienne cried out, “That’s a lie! She
gave
me that money!”

Just like I died of ‘natural causes’
, Brian thought as the Judge’s gavel banged over and over.

“Order in the Court! Order in the Court! Mr. Bates, you’d best advise your client that this
is
a court of law and such outbursts will not be tolerated!”

“Yes, Your Honor,” the lawyer mumbled as he shot a harsh glare at Adrienne.

“Mr. District Attorney, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Mrs. Forrester, will you please continue?”

Vivian continued her story of how she and Adrienne had gone to the bank and transferred the CDs, and then she turned to the Judge with a puzzled frown. “Why would I
give
her, or anyone else, that money? That was my life savings, I’m retired and needed that income to help me survive.”

The Defense Attorney leaped to his feet. “Objection!”

“Sustained,” the Judge intoned.

The DA rose. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Does the Defense wish to cross?”

“We do, Your Honor.” Rising, he took a couple of steps toward the witness stand.

“Now, Mrs. Forrester, isn’t it true that, on the morning of September 14, you
actually
called Ms. Porter and invited h
er
to lunch?”

Vivian’s face flushed with anger. “Absolutely not! I haven’t called that house since my son disappeared! Besides, when she called me, she apologized for the short notice and said they had a ‘full staff’ that day.”

“No further questions, Your Honor,” he said, returning to his seat. The Judge looked at the DA. “Re-direct?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Witness is dismissed.” He turned toward Vivian. “You may step down.”

Vivian stood, took a deep breath and followed the bailiff from the courtroom. A few minutes later she returned with Bob Price and they took seats in the back row. Brian moved to Vivian’s side and tried sending her encouraging thoughts.

“The State calls Dr. Benjamin Hoag to the stand.”

The bailiff brought a short, heavyset man with a fringe of gray hair into the room. Carrying a file folder in his hand, he proceeded up to the witness stand. When he had been sworn and was settled into his seat, the DA rose. “Now, Doctor, would you please tell the Court your full name and your occupation.”

“Of course,” he said, looking directly at the jury. “My name is Dr. Benjamin F. Hoag and I am a Family Physician.”

“Now, Dr. Hoag, do you have a patient in your care by the name of Mrs. Vivian Forrester?”

“Yes, sir, Vivian’s been my patient for – oh – nearly thirty years now.”

“And how is her overall health?”

“Objection! Relevance,” the Defense proclaimed.

The Judge looked at the DA who responded, “I think, if you’ll give me a moment, Your Honor, we will show relevance.”

“Granted,” the Judge said.

“Dr. Hoag?” the DA reminded the witness.

“Well, overall, she’s always been in excellent health – for her age, of course – ever since I began attending her.”

“And, now? What is her condition at this moment?”

“Well, she was fine up until a few months ago – when she found out about her son’s death certificate.”

“Objection! Relevance.”

“I’ll allow it,” the Judge responded.

“And what happened then?” asked the DA.

The Doctor shook his head. “She did a total turnaround, suddenly becoming very nervous and chronically depressed.”

“And you treated her for this depression?”

“Yes. We tried several medications before we found the combination that seemed to offer the best results.”

“And she improved?”

“Yes, she had improved considerably – until . . .” he consulted the file folder,

“September fifteenth. Vivian called my office that morning and asked if she could see me right away. My office staff squeezed her into my schedule.”

“And her mental state at that time?”

“Oh, she had regressed to a drastic degree. She told me that she’d had lunch with Brian’s – her son’s – girlfriend the day before and had been told about a traffic accident. She was terribly upset by the fact that her son’s body had been unidentifiable and she hadn’t been notified of his death.”

“Do you have, in your files, a record of that visit?”

“Oh, absolutely.” The doctor opened the folder, extracted a sheet and passed it to the bailiff, who took the sheet and left the room. He reappeared a few minutes later with the original and a copy, which he handed to the DA, before returning the original to the Doctor.

“Your Honor, the State would like to introduce this medical record into evidence.”

The DA handed the paper to the Judge, who perused it for a moment and then returned it. He then handed it to the Defense Attorney who looked it over and then nodded. The DA marked it, placed it on the evidence table and looked up at the Judge. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Cross?” he asked the Defense.

The attorney rose. “Not at this time, but I would like the option to recall.”

“Granted.” He turned to Dr. Hoag, “You may step down.”

When Dr. Hoag had left the courtroom, the DA rose. “The State calls Mr. Henry Morgan.”

The bailiff entered, accompanied by a tall, thin man of middle age. The man was sworn and stepped into the witness stand.

“Mr. Morgan, would you please tell the court your full name and your occupation?”

“My name is Henry Morgan and I’m the Vice-President of Accounts for the Greenwood National Bank.”

“Now, Mr. Morgan, you service the accounts of one Mrs. Vivian Forrester, do you not?”

“Yes, sir, I’ve handled Mrs. Forrester’s banking needs for twenty years or more, ever since I was a junior officer.”

“And you know Mrs. Forrester well?”

The man blushed and shrugged slightly. “As well as a bank officer ever knows a client.”

“Very well. Now, Mr. Morgan, do you remember Mrs. Forrester coming into your establishment on September fourteenth with the defendant, Ms. Porter?”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I don’t remember the exact date, but I do recognize the defendant as the person who came into the bank with Mrs. Forrester sometime in midSeptember.”

“Perhaps this will refresh your memory,” the DA offered, taking a sheet of paper from a folder on the table in front of him and approaching the witness stand to hand it to Mr. Morgan. “Now, Mr. Morgan, will you please tell the court what the date on that sheet is?”

“It says September fourteenth.”

“And what is that document?”

“It’s a form for transfer of ownership.”

“And what does it transfer?”

“It says here it’s for two certificates of deposit.”

“And it transfers ownership from whom?”

“Vivian Forrester.”

“To whom?”

“Adrienne Porter.”

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. Your Honor, I’d like to enter this document into evidence.”

When the copies were made, inspected by all parties and entered, he continued. “Now, Mr. Morgan, do you remember seeing Mrs. Forrester on that day?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“And how was she?”

“Objection. Personal conjecture.”

“Sustained.”

“Did Mrs. Forrester seem like her normal self as you were used to seeing her?”

“Well,” he answered slowly. “No, she didn’t. When she usually came in she was all cheerful-like, you know, with a smile for everyone and asking about everybody’s family and all. That day, she seemed – sort of, down. Distracted, I really don’t know how to describe it, but she wasn’t her normal self.”

“Would you say she seemed under duress?”

“Objection! Conjecture.”

“Sustained.”

The DA responded, “No further questions, Your Honor.”

“Cross?”

“No questions.”

“We will take a recess for lunch,” the Judge announced. “Court will reconvene at one pm.”

Vivian and Price silently left the courthouse with Brian accompanying them. Outside on the street Vivian turned to Price. “So tell me, Bob. How do you think it’s going?”

“I think it’s going very well, but it’s hard to say what a jury will decide. I’ve been watching them and they’re impossible to read.”

“I just hope they’ll get me back my money. I really need that.”

“Well, if they find her guilty, the Judge will probably order restitution of some kind, but who knows how much they’ll be able to get – or even
if
she still has it.”

“I wonder if Adrienne will take the stand.”

She wouldn’t dare put herself under oath,
Brian thought. Price shrugged. “Hard to say, but regardless, the jury’s not supposed to hold it against her if she doesn’t.”

They slipped back into the courtroom a few minutes after one o’clock, just as the Judge was settling in at the bench.

“Mr. District Attorney, are you ready to proceed?”

“We are, Your Honor.” He nodded to the bailiff who moved to the front of the room and opened a pair of cabinet doors, revealing what appeared to be a big-screen television set. “What we want to show at this time, Your Honor, are records subpoenaed from the Three Oaks National Bank.”

He moved to what appeared to be a scanning machine and placed a sheet of paper on the screen. The image of a bank statement appeared on the TV. “You will note that, even though the account number has been blacked out for security reasons, the name that appears at top of the page, is that of the defendant.” He drew an arrow to the name of Adrienne Porter. “I also want you to notice this entry dated September sixteenth in the amount of two-hundred and forty five thousand dollars. Just two days after Vivian Forrester signed over two certificates of deposit to the defendant, nearly the same amount of money was deposited in the defendant’s own account.” His gaze traveled over each of the jurors, who were listening avidly.

He removed that sheet from the machine and replaced it with another. “You will also note that on the following month’s statement the moneys remained
in
that account instead of being transferred to an investment broker as Mrs. Forrester had expected.” He slowly replaced each sheet with one after another for each month thereafter. “Please note that, as of a few days ago the majority of that same money was
still
in Ms. Porter’s account.”

The jurors’ eyes flitted back and forth between the screen and the defendant. After a long moment, the DA removed the sheets from the projector and handed them to the bailiff. “The State would like to enter these records into evidence.” When that had been done, he said, “The State rests its case.”

The Judge looked toward the Defense table where Adrienne and her attorney were engaged in an intense whispered discussion. “Mr. Bates? Is the Defense ready to present its case?”

The lawyer rose. “Yes, Your Honor. Defense would like to call Dr. Rudolph Harris.”

Dr. Harris entered the courtroom in the company of the bailiff and proceeded to the witness stand, after being sworn in.

“Dr. Harris, would you please advise the jury of your full name and occupation?”

“My name is Dr. Rudolph Harris and I am Chief of Internal Medicine at Central Hospital.”

“Dr. Harris, I believe you know Ms Porter?”

“Why, yes, I’ve known Adrienne for several years now, since she came to work at the hospital.”

“Can you tell us a bit about her?”

“Well, she’s bright, diligent about her duties.” He smiled at Adrienne. “In fact, she’s one of the best nurses I’ve ever worked with.”

“Would you say that she is honest and trustworthy?”

“Objection! Calls for speculation.”

“Sustained.”

“In your own experience, can Ms Porter be trusted to perform her assigned duties in a timely manner?”

“Why, yes, in my experience – and I’ve never heard any complaints from the other staff.”

“And you’ve worked with her how long?”

“Oh,” he paused, thoughtfully. “I’d say a good seven years now.”

“Dr. Harris, do you know a Mrs. Vivian Forrester?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “No, I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting the lady.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harris. No further questions.”

“Does the State wish to cross-examine?”

The DA bobbed up. “No cross.”

Dr. Harris was escorted from the room and Defense Council rose. “Defense calls Ms. Adrienne Porter to the stand.”

I’ll be damned,
Brian thought.
I never thought she’d dare!

When she was seated, he continued. “Now, Ms. Porter, would you tell the court your full name and your occupation, please.”

Adrienne’s gaze moved from one jury member to another, perhaps lingering a little longer on the male members, as she said, “My name is Adrienne Porter and I’m a Registered Nurse at Central Hospital.”

“How long have you worked at Central Hospital, Ms Porter?”

“It’ll be eight years next June.”

“All right, that’s quite a while.” She smiled at her lawyer. “Ms. Porter, do you know Mrs. Vivian Forrester?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“Did you have lunch with Mrs. Forrester on September fourteenth?”

“I believe that was the date.”

“Would you tell the court, in your own words, how that luncheon came about?”

“Of course,” she said, looking directly at various members of the jury. “I was just getting ready to leave for work that morning, when she called and suggested that we have lunch together since it had been a long time since we’d done that.”

In the back of the courtroom, Vivian shook her head incredulously. Brian marveled at how easily Adrienne seemed able to lie.
The oath thing doesn’t seem to bother her at all!

“She said she needed to talk to me and suggested that we meet at this little salad bar in her area. I agreed to meet her at eleven o’clock that morning.” Her eyes never wavering from the jurors, she continued. “I went to the restaurant and she was already there. As soon as we had ordered, she apologized for not calling me sooner and offering her assistance with all of Brian’s, her son’s, final hospital bills and the funeral expenses. I told her that I was managing to get by, but she insisted that she give me money to cover everything. When we finished lunch, we went to the bank.”