Desperate Measures (45 page)

No one moved or made a sound as they watched the car attempting to turn, and on the other screen the flashing red dot moving in correlation to the car's movements, back and forth. Daniel's green dot was on a diagonal path toward the house. Barbara stopped the tape at one minute and twelve seconds.

The yellow dot representing Leona Marchand's car was drawn up even to the car at the side of the road; the green dot was in the yard of the Marchand house.

“She left the house before he even started his run,” Barbara said quietly. “He could have seen her car through the trees, but that's all he saw of her that evening.”

She started the tape again, and they watched as Hilde's car appeared, stopped, then drove past the parked car. The green light was streaking back toward the car. At four minutes and thirty-two seconds exactly, the two dots merged.

“Hilde Franz knew that article cleared her of suspicion,” Barbara said then. “There wasn't enough time for her to have gone to Marchand's house, committed murder, returned to her car and still passed the boys on the road before they got turned around. The other fact demonstrated here is that Daniel did not speak to his mother that evening; she was already gone.”

“You're accusing Daniel of killing his father?” Novak asked incredulously.

“I'm accusing him of lying,” Barbara said.

A heavy silence followed. Judge Mac pulled himself from the easy chair and walked around his desk to resume his seat behind it.

As soon as the judge was seated, Barbara said, “The state's two primary witnesses are impeached. I can demonstrate this for the record when I recall Daniel as a defense witness. However, to demonstrate it in the case of Isaac Wrigley, I would be forced to reveal the two things that the investigators are keeping quiet for now: that Hilde Franz's death was murder and that Wrigley is a prime suspect. At this time I am requesting that his testimony be stricken from the record, and I will file a motion to that effect, and request that it be kept under seal until the investigators conclude their work.”

Novak leaped to his feet, pointed a finger at her, and cried, “You can't try your case in chambers! He said what he said. He repeated what he was told! If it hurts your client, tough. If he was having an affair, it doesn't change what she said. The court has a duty to hear all the evidence, not just what you'd like to have it hear.”

Very softly the judge said, “I know the duty of the court, Mr. Novak. Thank you. At this time this meeting is over. I charge all three of you to silence concerning what has been said here, and I want you back at eight-thirty in the morning.”

38

“What do you
think?” Barbara asked Frank when they were in his Buick heading for Will's house.

“Don't know. I've known Mac for thirty years, maybe longer than that. He doesn't get reversed. And he's a stickler for procedure, the letter of the law, including print so fine it can't be detected by the naked eye. His instructions to juries are classic textbook material. And you've opened a can of worms in his court. Do you want to stop somewhere for a drink before we face the folks at Will's?”

“Let's not. I want a drink, which Will can provide, and I want to sit down, put my feet on something, use vulgar language, and stop being nice for the rest of the day. Do you appreciate how hard it is for me to be nice hour after hour?”

Frank laughed. “Next question is, How much are we going to tell them about the session with the judge?”

“Damn all. We had a conference about procedural matters. I don't want to get Alex's hopes too high at this point. Let's hold the rest until after the morning session.”

At Will's house Barbara reported exactly what she had planned to tell them. She accepted a glass of bourbon and water and sank down on the sofa. Frank was properly impressed by the art, by the house itself, and the location. Professional landscaping, but that was okay, he decided. Not everyone liked to grub in the dirt the way he did. Dr. Minick was preparing something in the kitchen, and Frank wandered out to see if he could help. Will put on music, and Shelley insisted on dancing with Alex. When he protested that he didn't know how to dance, she said, “Well, that's what sisters are for. They teach their brothers to dance in the privacy of their homes. On your feet, brother.” Minutes later, laughing and sweating, she cried, “You were kidding that you can't dance! You're a natural. Again!”

Very softly, close to Barbara's ear, Will said, “Swallow it, or you'll choke.”

She started in surprise. “What?”

“That lump in your throat. Swallow it. Ready for a refill?”

She looked at her glass, then shook her head. “Guess not. I'm still working.”

“I'll see if they've found everything they need in the kitchen,” Will said.

She stood up and followed him out. If she stayed in the living room, she would watch Shelley and Alex, and if she kept watching them dance, the lump would surely come back.

Late that night, getting ready for bed, she thought disgustedly that as soon as the trial ended and she had some time, she would go shopping for… Nothing came to mind. Stuff, she told herself. She needed stuff to prove that a real person lived here. And she remembered that she had thought something of the sort before when she had been in Will's house for a while. Her father's house was filled with stuff, and it never had bothered her to come back to her apartment from his place, but that was different. That was stuff she had known for years, all her life in most cases, stuff acquired when she was a child, stuff bought by her mother before Barbara was born. In this apartment, the only things that marked it as Barbara's were books, her briefcase and office furnishings, hairbrush and comb, one really nice chair. That was it. Everything else was generic.

Then she was thinking of Will, who had made one pass at her since the start of this business, and that one had been too tentative to count for much. But he had noticed the lump in her throat, and not exactly the way she had paid attention to the lump in his throat when they were both teenagers. Also, he was not horrified at what she did for a living, she thought then; he had told the Feldmans that she was the best defense attorney west of the Mississippi. She was too tired to carry the thought further.

Judge Mac did not offer them coffee the next morning, and he did not join them in the easy chairs but sat ramrod stiff at his desk. He was already in his robe, and he looked distant and forbidding.

“Ms. Holloway, Mr. Novak, I would like to get this trial back on track. With that in mind, Ms. Holloway, I will not allow questions directed to Dr. Wrigley that have anything to do with the death of Hilde Franz. That matter will be dealt with in due time by others; it is of no concern to the immediate trial at hand.”

He turned his cool gaze to Novak then. “Mr. Novak, I reserved judgment on Ms. Holloway's objection to Dr. Wrigley's testimony on the basis of hearsay. I now sustain that objection. His testimony concerning a possible call from Hilde Franz will not be considered germane to the trial we are hearing.”

He did not invite comment or argument, but went directly to his next point. “Mr. Novak, do you anticipate that the state will rest its case this week?”

“Yes, sir. Your Honor, may I argue the point about Dr. Wrigley's testimony? No matter what the police are investigating, Franz still told him certain things that have a bearing on this trial.”

“Was she prescient, Mr. Novak? Did she foresee her own murder that night?” Judge Mac asked in a withering tone. “Unless you can demonstrate that such was the case, whatever she said will not stand as a deathbed charge, and as hearsay it is stricken. That argument is now closed.”

He focused once more on Barbara. “Ms. Holloway, you are well aware of the limits of cross-examination. As the state calls its next witnesses, I warn you to stay within those limits. Do not edge even minimally across that line. I shall not take a lenient view of any transgression.”

He then dismissed them summarily. In the corridor Novak stalked away without a word, and Frank said, “Well, he warned you, Bobby. Take care.”

Back in the courtroom Barbara told her group that Wrigley's testimony would not be considered when Judge Mac came to a decision. Shelley's eyes were shining, and Will blew Barbara a kiss. Then he said, “Courtney Innes is with the Feldmans out in the corridor.”

Alex made a strange sound, part snort, part laughter. “I'm going to lunch with them,” he said.

“You don't have to,” Barbara said.

“I want to. I'm looking forward to it,” Alex said. “He's beautiful.”

Barbara eyed him doubtfully, and then Judge Mac entered, and the day really began.

Wrigley was recalled to the stand; Barbara stood up and said no further questions, and sat down again. Wrigley looked disbelieving, but when Novak said the same thing, he looked stunned and, for just a moment, triumphant. The expression was fleeting; the face he turned to Judge Mac was grave, pleading. Did he do well? his expression asked.

“You may step down, Dr. Wrigley,” Judge Mac said, without any expression whatsoever on his face.

The next witness was Dr. Carl Jacoby. He was a slightly built man in his fifties, with neatly cut dark brown hair, gray at the temples, and a very precisely trimmed beard. His eyes were melting-chocolate-colored. Horn-rimmed eyeglasses were in his hand when he took the stand.

His credentials went on for a long time: his schooling, where he had practiced, the books he had written, the articles in prestigious journals….

“Have you worked with violent youths in the past?” Novak asked when Jacoby finished.

“Yes. That's one of my specialties.”

Novak asked him if he had read the medical and psychological evaluations of the defendant.

“I have studied them extensively,” Jacoby said.

“Will you describe briefly what those reports consist of?”

He did so, but not briefly. He referred again and again to Dr. Minick's written, official reports.

“From your experience, your clinical work, and your studies, are you familiar with a pattern of behavior that troubled and violent youths follow?” Novak asked when Jacoby concluded.

“Yes.”

“Please, in layman's language, will you describe that pattern to the court?”

“Statistically it is an extremely clear-cut pattern,” he started.

It was no worse than Barbara had expected from an expert witness. He quoted his own works quite often, as well as the work of others in the field. The pattern of childhood tantrums, adolescent violence, suicidal behavior, then adult violence directed toward property, or other persons; domestic violence was very often part of the pattern, and murderous rages most often part of it. Violence was intensified when the subject was physically impaired in any significant way, he said.

“Statistically, if the pattern persists past adolescence into young adulthood, it continues with increasing intensity until the subject is restrained,” he concluded.

“Does Alexander Feldman fit that pattern you have described?”

“Absolutely. He is a classic example.”

“From his medical record, please tell the court about his continuing pattern of violence.”

Dr. Jacoby put on his glasses and referred to the contents of a thick folder and told in detail of the many episodes of violence exhibited by Alexander Feldman from the age of three until eighteen.

“Does his medical record indicate that his violence extended past adolescence?”

“Yes. At least until he was eighteen years old, at which time Dr. Minick's reports ceased to be filed.”

“But his violent outbursts could have continued past that?”

“Objection. Conjecture.”

The objection was sustained.

“From your experience in the field of violent youths, would you predict that if violence had continued to the age of eighteen, it would have persisted beyond that?”

Barbara objected again, but this time she was overruled.

“I would indeed make such a prediction. It is my own experience as well as from statistical analysis that it is inevitable.”

Novak finished with him shortly after that, and Barbara stood up. On her table she had the four books Jacoby had written. She motioned toward them. “Dr. Jacoby, can you recognize your own books from the stand? Would you like to examine them to make certain I have not made a mistake?”

“I can recognize them,” he said.

“The first one is dated nineteen eighty-five, and the most recent one in nineteen ninety-eight. Is that correct?”

“I believe so,” he said. “They are all fairly current.”

She picked up the topmost book. “In this work,
The Adolescent Crisis
, you cite many references in the index, including work done by Dr. Minick. Is that correct?”

“I believe so.”

“In fact, you quote Dr. Minick a total of twenty-three times in this work. Would you like to see the index?”

He put on his glasses and she handed him the book, then watched him purse his lips and read the references. He handed the book back to her.

“So you refer to Dr. Minick twenty-three times, and quote him often. Do you recognize him as an authority in the field of juvenile behavior?”

“In his time he was recognized as a leading authority,” he said.

She nodded, returned to her table, and picked up another of the books. “Is this your work, which you referred to earlier,
The Age of Violence
?”

He said yes, and she opened it to the index. “Here you have Dr. Minick referenced thirty-one times. This book is dated nineteen ninety-eight, your most recent book. Has he outlived his usefulness since then, Dr. Jacoby?”

He turned to Dr. Minick and bowed slightly. “No, of course not. His writings are a valuable resource, but theories evolve as new theories are developed.”

“I see.” She opened the book to a marked page and handed it to him. “Do you recall that passage?”