Desperate Measures (47 page)

39

At one-fifteen
Bailey
pulled to a stop at the back entrance to the Hilton Hotel, but this time Alex and Will were not waiting.

“Two minutes, and I'll go get him,” Barbara said grimly. She was ready to open the door and march in when they appeared, not quite running but coming fast.

They got in and Bailey started to drive.

“Well?” Barbara said, turning to look at Alex and Will in the backseat.

“Mr. Feldman can throw some serious business my way,” Will said gravely.

“And Innes is willing to handle my appeal,” Alex said. “He said you're doing very well for a small-town lawyer.”

“Mrs. Feldman is quite upset that you drew attention to Alex's appearance,” Will said, more gravely than before.

“If you hadn't made a point of drawing attention to me, no one would have noticed anything,” Alex said.

She turned to look straight ahead, and in the front seat Frank's shoulders were shaking with laughter, although he was not making a sound. After a moment she faced Alex again. “Are you okay?”

“Real cool, Barbara. Don't worry about me. I think she's fallen in love with Courtney Innes. You'll have to get in line.”

Will said, “I think Mr. Feldman fell in love with him, too. One more exposure, and I'll nudge you aside for a place in line, by the way.”

Barbara threw up her hands. “You had a ball. Great!”

When court was back in session, Novak called the Reverend Matthew Koenig. He looked well fed, thick through the middle, with a genial, fat-cheeked face, like a freshly shaved Santa.

He had been the minister at the Opal Creek Baptist Church for twenty-one years, he said, and Gus and Leona Marchand had been members of his congregation for most of those years. He had married them and baptized their two children.

“How would you describe Mr. Marchand, Reverend?” Novak asked.

“He was a very religious man, and the most honest man I ever knew. A loving husband and father, and a faithful friend. I don't believe he ever make a promise he didn't keep.”

“Did he ever fib a little, embellish the truth in any way?”

“Never. He considered lying to be a grievous sin.”

“Do you counsel your congregation members in matters other than spiritual?”

“Yes. Much of my work as a minister is to counsel members in various ways. Family problems. Problems with children. Mediate disputes of various sorts.”

“And did you ever counsel Mr. Marchand in a matter that was not strictly speaking spiritual?”

“Yes.”

Novak nodded. “Did you have occasion to have a private conference with Mr. Marchand a short time before his death on June ninth?”

“Yes. On June seventh we had a conference.”

“Will you please tell the court the gist of that meeting?”

Barbara objected. “Whatever was said at such a meeting is hear-say, since it can't be verified.”

“Your Honor, Mr. Koenig was acting in his professional capacity as a minister, and his testimony is equivalent to that of a police officer or a doctor, not subject to hearsay objections.”

Judge Mac overruled the objection. “You may answer the question,” he said.

“Well, Gus was very disturbed that night,” Koenig said. “He was disturbed to the point of agitation. I never had seen him like that, and I took him to my study in order to talk. He said the devil had marked his daughter, had set his sights on her, and he feared the devil would claim her and damn her to hell.” His pink cheeks grew pinker as he talked, and he looked as disturbed as Gus might have looked that night.

“I told him to calm down and tell me about it, and he did. Rachel was being spied on by the devil, he said; the devil was following her, watching her. I said that if there was a predator, a child molester, it was his duty to inform the authorities and let them investigate. He was reluctant to take that step. He didn't believe in psychological counseling; he thought it was brainwashing and would be harmful to Rachel. He said they might not believe her, and I assured him that the word of a child in such cases was always considered truthful unless proved otherwise. I promised that I would go with him, testify, advocate for her; that since I had known her all her life, I could attest to her truthfulness and her honor. I told him we would have her questioned by a Christian psychologist who would do her no harm. I told him he would do evil if he didn't report this to the authorities, file an official complaint, because a predator would not stop unless he was jailed.”

Novak looked very earnest as he followed this, and now he asked in a low voice, “What was his reaction to your discussion?”

“He didn't commit himself to making an official complaint. We prayed together, and then he said he would have to think it over, that Rachel's well-being came first, but he would do whatever was necessary to save her soul. I believe he was committed even if he didn't come to that realization yet. He was a God-fearing man who would not shirk his duty, especially where his child was concerned. We left it at that, and agreed to talk again on Sunday after services.”

“But his death came first. Is that right?”

“Yes. I never talked with him again,” he said sorrowfully.

“Reverend Koenig, did he say the name of the man he called the devil?”

“Yes. He said it was his neighbor, Alexander Feldman.”

Well, Barbara thought, Santa just delivered a load of coal. Novak had a few more questions, then turned to her and inclined his head fractionally.

“Your witness.”

She stood up, nodded to him, and smiled slightly at the preacher, who smiled benignly back at her. “I just want to clear up a few points,” she said. “This meeting you've told the court about happened on June seventh, a Wednesday. Can you be more specific? Was it in the afternoon, or that night; before your regular prayer meeting, or after?”

His eyes narrowed a little. “That night,” he said. “It took place after our regular prayer meeting.”

“You also said that Mr. Marchand was disturbed, agitated even. Was he disruptive during the prayer meeting?”

“No, he wouldn't have been disrespectful that way.”

“Did he do anything unusual to draw attention to himself?”

“No.”

“Was the entire Marchand family present that night?”

“Yes, they were regular attendees of the Wednesday-night prayer meetings.”

“Did he seek you out after the regular proceedings?”

He hesitated and a wrinkle appeared in his smooth forehead, then he shook his head. “I think I asked him if he was troubled.”

She nodded. “Is it a regular event to have a little social time after the prayer meetings? Cookies, juice, things of that sort?”

“Yes.”

“Was he participating in the social after the prayer meeting?”

“Yes.”

“At that time had he done or said anything to indicate a troubled mind?”

“I don't believe so.”

“Was it at that social event that you asked him if he was troubled?”

“Yes.”

“Why, Mr. Koenig? Was he being loud or disruptive at that time?”

“No. Of course not. I told him I had heard rumors about trouble with his daughter, and I asked him if he wanted to talk about it.”

“At that point did he become disturbed and even agitated?”

“Yes. It upset him that I had heard something about it.”

“What had you heard, Mr. Koenig?”

He looked more distressed than before, then looked beyond Barbara, and shook his head. “I'd rather not say.”

She turned to see Rachel sitting by her aunt, with Mrs. Dufault's arm around her shoulders; Rachel looked like a corpse, pale to her lips, and so stiff that it appeared that if her aunt let go, she would fall over like a stick.

Novak objected then. Rumors had no place in the court, he said.

“Your Honor,” Barbara said sharply, “I'm afraid rumors have a lot to do with the conversation Mr. Koenig has related. Apparently Mr. Marchand was not disturbed or agitated until Mr. Koenig mentioned rumors. We should hear what those rumors consisted of.”

“Overruled,” Judge Mac said. “Please answer the question, Mr. Koenig.”

“I heard that Rachel was being stalked by the man they called the devil freak,” he said. “I told him that if there was any truth to the matter, it had to be stopped.”

“Who told you those rumors?”

“I don't know. Several people spoke of it; I forget who they were.”

“All right,” Barbara said. “So you brought up the rumor yourself and initiated the meeting. Did you invite Mrs. Marchand and Rachel to meet with you also?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I thought this was a matter for Rachel's father to handle.”

“Have you spoken to Rachel about this?”

“No. There has not been an opportunity to do so.”

“Have you made an attempt to speak to her about this?”

“I went to their house on several different occasions, but Mrs. Dufault said Rachel was ill, or that she was too upset to want to talk.”

“Mr. Koenig, is it the duty of anyone who is in contact with children in an official capacity—teachers, social workers, preachers, whatever—to report any suspected abuse of those children?”

“I believe it is.”

“Have you reported any suspected sexual abuse, or stalking and endangering of Rachel Marchand?”

“No, I haven't. As I said, I have not had the opportunity to speak with her. I have no basis for making such a report.”

“Did you urge Mr. Marchand to make such a complaint?”

“Yes, I did. I believed it was his duty to his daughter to do so.”

“Did you have any more basis then for the legitimacy of the charge than you do today?”

“I thought he would know more about it than I did. And Gus Marchand did not lie.”

“Mr. Koenig, do you make any distinction between deliberate falsehood and mistaken belief?”

“Objection! Counsel is harassing the witness.”

“Sustained. Move on, Ms. Holloway.”

“No more questions,” she said curtly.

Novak was into his redirect examination when Barbara heard a commotion behind her in the courtroom. She turned to see Rachel walking out like a somnambulist, with Ruth Dufault at her side, trying to hold her back. Dr. Minick watched for a second, then he rose and followed them.

There was a buzz of excitement in the air, whispered words, and over it all from the open microphone before Matthew Koenig came his voice in a prayer: “Lord, have mercy on the child. Deliver her from evil. Protect her from the evil one. She is a good child. Lord, I beseech you, deliver her from evil…”

Like a thunderclap Judge Mac's gavel struck, then again. And the bailiff was crying for order in the court.

When quiet was restored, Judge Mac said coldly, “Mr. Novak, continue.”

He had little more to ask, however, and Koenig was excused.

“The court will be in recess for ten minutes,” Judge Mac said. He stalked out angrily. The second he was gone, Novak hurried out; Rachel was scheduled to be his next and last witness. Barbara hurried out after him, and they both came to a halt in the corridor.

On a bench some feet away from the courtroom, Ruth Dufault was sitting with Rachel, holding the girl in her arms. Daniel was nearby looking helpless and frightened. Dr. Minick was squatting before Ruth Dufault and Rachel, talking, one hand on Rachel's head. Slowly he rose and looked around. He saw Barbara and Novak and came toward them.

“That child can't take the stand today,” he said. “She's ill.”

“She can pull herself together in the next few minutes,” Novak said.

Minick shook his head. “She can't. I want to see the judge.”

“You can't just barge in on him,” Novak said. “We'll have a doctor look at her.”

Ignoring him, Minick said to Barbara. “If I can't see him, you have to. That girl is near the breaking point. Don't let her take the stand until she's had professional help. She needs help now, not tomorrow or next week. Now.”

“Oh, for Christ's sake!” Novak said. “You're trying to derail the trial. You're stalling. What's she got to worry about? A few questions, and she's out of there.”

“Mr. Novak,” Dr. Minick said in a hard voice, “in my years working with adolescents, I saw a lot of kids in the state she's in. We lost some of them. I say she's not fit to take the stand, and that's a professional opinion. If you force her up there, she'll crack wide open and she'll end up in an institution or dead. Do I make myself absolutely clear?” He turned again to Barbara. “I gave her aunt the names of three competent professionals here in town. And I told her that if she calls one of them, to let me speak to him or her and stress that this is an emergency that must be attended to without delay. She's talking to Rachel now, explaining that she has the option of choosing her own doctor or having the state choose one for her. I won't return to the courtroom until this is seen to.”

Barbara realized she had to recategorize Dr. Minick; he had become a formidable figure speaking with authority. Even his stoop seemed to have vanished.

“Come on, Novak,” she said. “You want to go with me or not? I'm going to collect Dad and pay a call on the judge.”

He glared at the girl huddled with her aunt, then at Minick, but he turned and walked at Barbara's side back into the courtroom muttering, “This is a fucking three-ring circus. Complete with freaks.”

40

Minutes later Barbara
, Frank, and Novak were ushered into Judge Mac's chambers. He was at his handsome desk, frowning as they arranged themselves in front of him. “What now?”

“Judge, Rachel Marchand has been taken ill and is on her way to see a doctor,” Novak said. “We ask for a recess until the morning.”

“Will she be with us then?” Judge Mac asked.