Silent Witness (48 page)

‘When,' Stella asked, ‘was the last time you saw Marcie Calder?'

With what seemed a conscious effort, Ernie unfolded his arms. Softly, he answered, ‘The night she died, when she came to the house. At roughly eight o'clock.'

As one, the jury stared at him. Even Leo Karoly, stepping from behind his bland bureaucratic mask, seemed rapt.

‘Was that unusual?'

‘Yes.' Ernie's voice remained quiet. ‘Except to baby-sit. As soon as I saw her, I knew something was wrong.'

‘Did she tell you what it was?'

Slowly, Ernie turned to Sam. ‘Marcie was pregnant.'

‘Did she tell you who the father was?'

Ernie kept watching Sam. ‘Only that it was the man she'd been seeing. The older one.'

The jury, Tony saw, had begun to follow Ernie's gaze. ‘How did Marcie seem to you?' Stella asked.

‘Upset, and in need of understanding. But not hysterical.'

‘Did she say what she meant to do?'

Now Ernie turned to Stella, his voice cool and clear. ‘Yes. Marcie said she was meeting the father, as soon as she left my house. To
warn
him, she said.'

Stella was quiet for a moment. ‘Did she mention the possibility of marrying this man?'

‘Not at all.' Ernie's tone became soft again. ‘In fact, she said that the father couldn't help her, and that she'd never ask him to come forward.'

It was a devastating answer and, as Tony recalled, an incomplete one. But the jury could not know this. ‘Did you offer to discuss her alternatives?' Stella asked.

Ernie drew himself up. ‘I mentioned abortion. Marcie just sat there on my couch and said, “But it's a baby –
my
baby. How can I kill it for being my mistake?”'

As before, Tony thought, Stella had anticipated him. ‘Did Marcie suggest who would care for the child?' she asked.

Ernie nodded. ‘She would, Marcie told me.'

Stella allowed herself a sad and knowing smile. In a tone of quiet skepticism, she asked, ‘During this entire conversation, Mr. Nixon, did Marcie Calder seem in any way suicidal?'

‘Objection.' Tony stood slowly, taking his time in order to break the damning rhythm of questions and answers. ‘Ms. Marz has not qualified this witness as a psychologist. What Mr. Nixon is, obviously, is someone who was quite attached to Marcie Calder and now wants to place all blame for her death on this defendant. But the answer to whether Marcie Calder was suicidal is not to be found anywhere in this witness's expertise – or in his wishes.'

Assuming a posture of exaggerated patience, Stella Marz waited Tony out. ‘We can surely understand Mr. Lord's sensitivities on this point, Your Honor, seeing how he planted the notion of suicide himself. But Mr. Nixon has spent his entire career among children and young adults. More than almost anyone in this courtroom, I suspect, he has a valid lay opinion to offer.'

Karoly tented his hands in front of him. ‘Perhaps you could ask it another way, Ms. Marz.'

Stella nodded briskly. ‘Gladly,' she said, and turned to Ernie Nixon. ‘Tell me, Mr. Nixon, did Marcie Calder
do
or
say
anything to suggest to you that she was considering suicide?'

‘Absolutely nothing,' Ernie said quickly, his tone firm. ‘To the contrary, the things she said and did all suggested the firm intention of keeping this baby alive.'

Stella put her hands on her hips. ‘And did she ever say she couldn't face her parents?'

‘No. Only that she couldn't tell them who the father was.'

‘She also told you she hadn't eaten for a while, correct?'

‘Yes. So I offered her a tuna sandwich.' Ernie gave a helpless shrug. ‘It was all I could do.'

‘Did she eat it?'

‘She did. She was eating for two now, she said.'

Stella paused for a moment. ‘But she didn't quite finish it, did she?'

‘No. Suddenly Marcie looked at her watch and said she had to meet him. The father.'

As Stella moved closer, the jury followed her. ‘Did you try to stop her?' Stella asked.

‘Not stop her. Talk to her. It felt as if she hadn't thought things through. That she'd come to
me
for that, and now she was running off.' Ernie paused. ‘It didn't feel right, Ms. Marz. And it didn't feel right that this father was older, and a secret. Except for me, the girl was all alone.'

‘But she wouldn't stay with you, would she?'

Ernie studied his folded hands, fingers twisting, his look of pain almost physical now. ‘No. She wouldn't stay.' His voice fell, as though he were speaking to himself. ‘She just got in the car and drove away.'

The sense of loss was palpable now: Tony could hear it in the utter silence; see it in the faces of the jury.

‘After that,' Stella asked softly, ‘did
you
do anything?'

Ernie looked up. ‘I followed her.'

Stella tilted her head. ‘And why was that?'

Ernie seemed to ask the question of himself. ‘I wasn't sure,' he finally answered. ‘Just that I was worried somehow. I thought maybe if I found out who the father was . . .'

‘Did you?'

Slowly, Ernie shook his head. ‘Not then,' he answered quietly. ‘Not then. I followed her about three blocks. Then I realized I wasn't her father. The only way I could help her, I told myself, was to sit back and wait.' He looked up again. ‘So I stopped the car, turned around, and came home. The last I ever saw of Marcie Calder was a pair of red taillights, one blinking like it had a short. I made a mental note to tell her that. . . .'

Pausing, Ernie bit his lip. ‘I meant to do right, Ms. Marz, and did exactly wrong. 'Cause if I'd only followed her, Marcie would still be alive, wouldn't she.'

Stella was still for a moment. Then she turned to Tony and said simply, ‘Your witness, Mr. Lord.'

Rising with reluctance, Tony glanced at Sue.

Sitting between her two children, she gazed at him with sadness, worry, affection. Tony gave her the briefest smile of reassurance and then, lightly touching Sam's shoulder, turned and walked toward Ernie Nixon. Ernie sat back in the witness stand.

‘That night,' Tony asked, ‘did Marcie Calder say
why
she'd come to see you?'

Ernie folded his hands, eyes riveted on Tony's face. ‘To tell me she was pregnant. I guess she needed a friend.'

‘She had one – Janice D'Abruzzi. Can you think of any reason that Marcie told you and not her?'

‘I don't know. Maybe she wanted advice from an adult.'

Tony paused for a moment. ‘Isn't it fair to say, based on what she told you, that Marcie Calder had a troubled relationship with her father?'

‘Objection,' Stella interjected. ‘Hearsay.'

Tony shook his head. ‘This falls under the state-of-mind exception, Your Honor. It's directly relevant to whether Marcie Calder, under the circumstances presented here, might be capable of suicide.'

Karoly turned to Ernie. ‘You may answer, Mr. Nixon.'

‘I don't know if I'd say “troubled.” Ernie hesitated, shifting in his chair. ‘She said that sometimes they had a difficult time communicating. . . .'

‘Because he intimidated her, right?'

‘She said that, yes.'

‘And Marcie Calder had no idea, as far as you could tell, about
what
she was going to do next?'

Ernie's eyes narrowed; as Tony watched him try to understand where this was going, the quarry trying to anticipate the hunter, he felt the terrible impersonality of his role. Softly, Ernie answered, ‘She had an idea, Tony. She was going to see her lover.'

The use of his first name, the pointed response, were clearly meant to disarm him. What they did was to arouse Tony's anger. With equal quiet, he asked, ‘Did she mention any idea beyond that?'

‘No.'

‘So if Marcie Calder imagined a future beyond that night, you don't know what it was.'

Ernie Nixon sat back. ‘That she'd have the baby. That's what she imagined.'

‘Living where?'

‘I don't know.'

Tony moved forward. ‘Based on your experience with kids, Mr. Nixon, would you say that life for an unwed teenage mother in Lake City is difficult?'

‘It depends on the circumstances. . . .'

‘Such as?'

Ernie shrugged. ‘Family support, I guess.'

For the first time, Tony's voice had an edge of irony. ‘And even with family support, scandal is sort of hard to live down in Lake City, Ohio, isn't it?'

Ernie gave a faint smile. ‘I guess some would say that.'

‘What was Marcie's demeanor during this visit?'

‘It's like I said – worried but composed.'

‘Did she cry?'

‘Yes.'

‘Did she want you to hold her?'

Ernie glanced at her parents. Facing Tony, he softly answered, ‘Yes.'

‘She needed comfort and affection, didn't she? That was obvious to you.'

‘Yes.'

‘So the girl you saw wasn't some poised young woman resolved to have a baby, was she? Marcie Calder was tearful, confused, lonely, hungry,
very
much upset, and – as far as you could see – without any clear vision of her life beyond this meeting with her child's father.'

Ernie considered him. ‘She was some of those things you say, yes. As for the rest, I just don't know what she was thinking.'

Tony skipped a beat. ‘Just like you don't
know
whether, under certain circumstances, Marcie Calder would take her own life.'

Ernie's voice turned stubborn. ‘I saw no sign of that.'

‘But you're not a psychologist, are you?'

‘No.'

‘Nor an expert on teen suicide.'

‘Of course not.'

‘Isn't it true, Mr. Nixon, that – when I first asked you about this – you said that Marcie told you she wouldn't expose the father unless, quote, he wanted to come forward, unquote?'

Ernie folded his hands again. ‘I think that's right.'

‘So from what she said to you, Marcie considered it a possibility that he
would
come forward.'

‘I suppose so.'

‘And marry her?'

‘I don't know that. . . .'

‘You don't know one way or the other, do you?'

‘No.'

‘You and I have come a fair distance in a short time, haven't we, Mr. Nixon? Now we have a scared, confused, tearful, pregnant, sixteen-year-old girl who was fearful of her father, who had no idea of how to cope beyond going to the
baby
's father, quite possibly hoping he could somehow make things right, and who – if he didn't or couldn't – might have reacted in any number of ways
you
couldn't anticipate or predict. Including suicide.'

Tony could feel Stella rising before he even finished. ‘Was that a question, Your Honor, or a speech? I have no idea. What I do know is that it's compound, argumentative, speculative, lacking in foundation, and not susceptible to an answer. . . .'

‘And,' Tony said with irony, ‘a lot closer to the truth of Marcie's life than the fictitious person you used Mr. Nixon to invent. But I'll withdraw the question and ask the witness another.'

Frustrated, Stella stared at him. Tony turned and asked Ernie Nixon softly, ‘You weren't much help to Marcie, were you?'

Ernie spread his hands. ‘I couldn't be.'

‘And you don't know who
could
help her, did you?'

‘No.'

‘Did she ask if
you'd
marry her, Mr. Nixon?'

Ernie looked startled for an instant, then aggrieved. ‘It wasn't that kind of relationship, Mr. Lord.'

‘What kind was it, exactly?'

‘I already said. I encouraged her, so she was fond of me –'

‘I meant on your part?'

Ernie sat back, watching Tony with narrowed eyes. With the force of will, Tony tried to shut off any thought but the need to damage the man in front of him, a man whose dignity, or future, Tony as a defense lawyer had no right to consider.

‘I cared about her,' Ernie said simply.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Tony sensed the jury's tension as they watched him. Then he forgot them: it was as if he and Ernie Nixon faced each other in a tunnel.

‘Since you returned to Lake City,' Tony asked, ‘have any other teenage girls talked to you about the intimate details of their sex lives?'

Ernie's eyes were as flat and lifeless as his voice. ‘No.'

‘Or been with you in your home, alone?'

‘No.'

‘When did you and your wife separate, Mr. Nixon?'

Ernie folded his arms. ‘Less than a year ago.'

‘And after that, Marcie Calder started coming to your house, correct?'

‘Sometimes, yes.'

‘How many times?'

‘I didn't count, Mr. Lord.'

‘More than ten?'

With a kind of fascination, Tony saw Ernie Nixon wonder how closely Sarah Croff had watched him. ‘It could have been, yes.'

‘Could it, perhaps, have been more than twenty?'

Ernie's gaze broke. To cover this, he adjusted his tie. ‘Like I say, I didn't keep count.'

‘So you can't rule out the possibility that in the last six months of her life, Marcie Calder came to see you at your home, alone, more than twenty times?'

‘No.' Looking up, Ernie's eyes were cold. ‘I can't rule it out
or
in.'