Sex and Violence in Hollywood (60 page)

“I’ll take the stand and recite Portia’s quality of mercy speech from The Merchant of Venice in Esperanto while standing on my head if it’ll help get this thing over with.”

“Justice cannot be rushed,” Horowitz said.

Max nodded. “It can be obstructed, miscarried, withheld, and bought. But not rushed.”

Alyssa marveled aloud at Horowitz’s ability to eat so gracefully with chopsticks and actually get food into her mouth. Horowitz spent a few minutes trying to teach her, but without success.

“Tastes just as good on a fork,” Max said. “This walnut shrimp is makin’ my mouth awful happy. How come you never brought me here before, Rona?”

“It has been my little secret until now.”

A cellphone chirped, and Max and Horowitz reached for their pockets.

“It’s mine,” Max said. He opened the phone, put it to his ear. “Vantana.”

They continued eating as Max listened, frowned, sucked his teeth. “Okay, be right there,” he said. Scooted his chair back as he returned the cellphone to his pocket. Leaned toward Horowitz, said, “We got ’em,” and stood.

Horowitz pushed away from the table and stood with him. Food still in her mouth, she said, “We have to go. You two finish your dinner, take your time. The bill is taken care of. I am going with Max. Leo will drive you home.”

They rushed out of the restaurant.

“What was that all about?” Alyssa asked.

“Who cares?” Adam said, grinning. “Can you believe it? We’re in a restaurant together, and we’re alone!”

For the rest of their meal, Adam almost felt like a normal person.

* * *

Lazar was to call his final three witnesses on Monday of the trial’s seventh week. He called to the stand first Detective Wyndham of the Marina del Rey Police Department. He had headed the investigation into the murder of Michael Julian and had helped search Adam’s house after his arrest. One of the items found was Adam’s story “Father’s Day.” Lazar introduced it as evidence and instructed Detective Wyndham to read it aloud.

Adam was mortified. It was the story he had written in Mrs. Boam’s class. It was terrible, one of the worst things he had ever written. He was surprised it still existed, regretted not burning it years ago. On top of being such a bad story, it simply did not look good for him.

When Detective Wyndham was finished reading the story, Lazar questioned him about the contents of Adam’s bedroom.

As the detective answered Lazar’s questions. Judge Lester became increasingly restless on the bench. Normally, the old woman hardly moved, and sometimes her magnified eyes closed behind her thick glasses. Horowitz had assured him that Judge Lester was always quite alert, but Adam wondered if she sometimes slept in court. She would rest her chin on her knobby knuckles and her large round eyes would stare at nothing in particular. The already sagging lids would lower gradually, almost imperceptibly, until they were closed. There she would sit, motionless, eyes shut, until someone said, “No further questions,” or objected. Then she would sit up, eyes attentive, as if that had been her posture all along.

But during Detective Wyndham’s testimony, she fidgeted and sniffed, shot repeated glances to the back of the courtroom. Her behavior led Adam to the conclusion that she had to go to the bathroom.

Horowitz looked casually over her shoulder. Only for an instant. When she faced forward again, she appeared quite satisfied. Lazar said he had no further questions, and Horowitz stood, went to the lectern.

As Wyndham droned in response to her questions, Adam looked to the back of the courtroom, disguising the movement as a restless shift of position. Jack Nicholson was ducking into a seat, trying not to draw attention to himself.

While Horowitz questioned Wyndham, Judge Lester continued to squirm and fidget. Adam decided either her bladder was about to burst or she had crabs.

The instant Horowitz said, “No further questions,” Judge Lester’s gavel cracked as she stood and said, “Court will adjourn for a fifteen-minute recess.” Leaned forward and said something quietly to the bailiff, then left the bench and disappeared.

“Go ahead and stretch your legs,” Horowitz said as she sat down at the table. “I think you have a visitor.”

Adam nodded, left the table and met Nicholson. “Hi, Jack. What are you doing here?”

“Just thought I’d come over and see how your gig’s going,” he said with a grin. “Got a call from your attorney a few days ago. She said you were feeling a little down and I oughtta drop in on you. Cheer you up.”

Feeling down? Adam thought. What the hell is she up to?

“Thanks, Jack, I appreciate it.”

“Hey, no problem. I expected to see you before this. You should bring your girl over some night. We could catch a ballgame. Take your mind off all this happy crap.”

The bailiff approached them somewhat reluctantly, an embarrassed smile on his ruddy face. “Uh, ’scuse me, Mr. Nicholson?”

“Yeah.”

“Judge Lester would like to see you in her chambers.”

Nicholson’s devilishly arched eyebrows rose. “She would, huh?” He turned to Adam and smirked. “What do you suppose I did?”

Adam shrugged, wondering himself.

“I’ll be right back. You won’t be goin’ anywhere, will you?” Nicholson laughed as he patted Adam on the back. Followed the bailiff to the front of the courtroom and through the door through which Judge Lester had disappeared so quickly a minute earlier.

Adam went to the table, where Horowitz was scribbling on a legal pad. Sat down beside her and whispered, “Why did you ask him to come here?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I thought you two were friends.”

“We are, but I’m not feeling down. Why’d you tell him that?”

“I thought he might take your mind off things.”

“Yeah. And what the hell does the judge want with him?”

“Oh, Judge Lester is a fan.”

“A fan. What’d she do, ask him back there for an autograph?”

“Most likely. And she will probably want to have her picture taken with him. She will frame it and put it on her office wall. If I am not mistaken, Jack Nicholson is one of her favorites. She has a Chinatown poster on the wall behind her desk. Right next to her M*A *S *H poster.”

“M*A*S*H?”

“The Altman movie. She loves it.”

He remembered something Horowitz had said about Judge Lester before the trial began. “You said she had a weakness. Is that it? Movie stars? Is that why you asked him here?”

She turned to him with an irritated tightness to her lips and said, “Adam, I am busy. Take a walk. Get a drink. Go to the restroom. Something.”

He knew better than to leave the courtroom. Reporters and photographers would be on him in a heartbeat. Instead, he waited at the table.

Fifteen minutes became twenty. The chatter in the courtroom grew louder, more restless. Twenty-six minutes into the fifteen-minute recess, Nicholson came out of the corner door grinning and went to the defense table.

“I’m really sorry about that, Jack,” Adam said, standing.

“Hey, no problem at all.” He leaned close and whispered, “Goofy old bat, huh? But harmless. Just wanted a couple autographs and a picture taken, is all.”

“You don’t have to stick around for this. It’s boring beyond belief.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching at home. It’s a good show.”

“All rise,” the bailiff called.

Nicholson squeezed Adam’s shoulder. “You watch your ass,” he said with a smile before returning to his seat.

When Judge Lester returned to the bench, her cheeks were rosy and she wore lipstick. She smiled at the back of the courtroom as she took her seat.

Adam thought, Unfuckingbelievable, as he dropped into his chair to sit through Raymond Lazar’s last two witnesses.

* * *

Adam awoke to kisses on Tuesday morning. He opened his eyes to see Alyssa smiling at him, her face just a couple inches from his. Her naked body was warm against him.

“I’ve been watching you sleep,” she whispered. “It was nice. But I thought you’d want to get up.”

He looked at the clock and gasped. “Holy shit, it’s late! I set the alarm, why didn’t—”

“I turned it off. You’ve still got time.”

Sitting up, he pushed the covers away and yawned.

Alyssa asked, “How about some quick hot monkey lovin’ before another hard day in court?”

He put his arms around her. “I’d love to. But I don’t even want to think about what Rona would do if I was half a minute late. She calls her first witness today. The trial’s half over.”

Alyssa swung a leg over his lap and straddled him, wrapped her arms and legs around him. “And then we can start our life. Together.”

“Maybe. That’s up to the jury.”

She kissed him. “I’m gonna be optimistic.”

“And I’m gonna be late.” He returned her kiss, slid her off him and went into the bathroom. Turned on the radio on a shelf beside a stack of towels. Opened the shower and reached in to turn it on.

“—currently being held on charges of murder for hire, while Rivers is being questioned.”

Adam pulled out of the shower, turned toward the radio. “Rivers?” he muttered. The news broke for a commercial and he rushed naked to the living room. Grabbed the remote, turned on the television and flipped to CNN. His mouth dropped open.

On the screen were two mug shots. One of Diz, the other of Billy Rivers. A male voice was speaking over the pictures, but it was babble to Adam. The ringing in his ears competed with the pounding of his heart. He dropped onto the sofa as Alyssa came into the room.

“What happened?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”

He barely heard her as he stared at the television. The news reporter droned on. Adam made out only a handful of words: “—turned themselves in late Monday night.”

Even after the story ended and the anchor had moved on to the next, Adam continued to stare slack-jawed at the television.

“What is it, Adam, tell me.” She went to his side. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s, um...well, I guess it’s...” He launched from the sofa, went to the telephone and dialed Horowitz’s office number. When she came on the line, he asked, “Have you seen the news?”

“Yes.”

“So you know?”

“Know what?”

“That Diz and—I mean Nathaniel and Billy have turned themselves in. They’re in jail.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did you know about this?”

“I just told you. Yes, I know.”

“No, I-I mean...well, what does this mean?”

“It means we can put Nathaniel on the stand.”

The thought of Diz on the stand telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth terrified Adam. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, who knows what he’ll say?”

“I would never question a witness on the stand without knowing exactly what he is going to say, Adam. Relax. Everything is under control. I will see you in court.”

“What’s wrong?” Alyssa asked, putting a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

He put down the phone, turned to her, and tried to smile. “Diz and Billy turned themselves in last night.” He nodded toward the television.

“Is that bad? You look worried.”

“No, it’s not bad. I...I don’t think it’s bad. It’s...good, probably. Yeah. It’s good.” He smiled again, but with great effort. Diz knew the truth that Adam had kept from his attorney and everyone else. If he revealed it in court, even Rona Horowitz would not be able to save him.

FIFTY-TWO

"I will not get Nathaniel
on the stand until this afternoon at the earliest,” Horowitz said to Adam. They stood by the drinking fountain outside the courtroom before the trial began for the day. “Why are you fidgeting like that?”

Adam could not hold still. His nerves threatened to spring free of his body and shatter like icicles on the tile floor of the corridor. But he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood straight when Horowitz chided him. “Sorry. I’m nervous.”

“There is no need for you to be nervous, Adam. I am the one who has to do all the work.” She winked at him.

“Are you going to put Billy on the stand, too?”

“No. Billy does not seem very...communicative.”

“That’s because he’s brain-dead.”

“I think Nathaniel will be more than enough.”

Yeah, Adam thought. But more than enough of what? “Why this afternoon?”

“I beg your pardon?” Horowitz asked.

“You just said you won’t get Nathaniel on the stand until this afternoon. I thought you’d get him on the stand first thing.”

“First I have to tell Lester and Lazar. Lazar will object and claim it an unfair surprise, and I will have to remind the court that Nathaniel Cunningham turned himself in just last night. Lester will allow it, but first, an investigator will be brought in to get a statement from Nathaniel. They will check his background, make sure he is who he says he is. He has no identification on him. None of his own, anyway. Lester will want me to call my next witness and continue the trial while this is going on, but I will argue that Nathaniel is my next witness because I want him to testify while Waldo Cunningham’s testimony is still fresh in the minds of the jury before I muddy the waters with other witnesses. Factoring in bureaucracy, incompetence, and the usual unforeseen hold ups, I will be lucky to get him on the stand this afternoon.”