Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way (16 page)

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“We need to talk, again.” Max’s tone was too serious when he spoke to Andrew. On the way down the steps from Max’s office, Helen wondered if it was possible Max might quit The Firm. She nervously turned on the message machine.

Sister James Marine sounded urgent. “It’s Marilyn,” she said. “I told her Dr. Handler might get off by claiming she was a prostitute. If you can settle on manslaughter for
Sally Bianco, Marilyn says she left evidence at the convent which will prove she only blackmailed Dr. Handler. She said to ask Sharon Daley about the point. Marilyn says she and Sharon were lovers. Neither one of them have been with a man. I think you told me Sharon was a long-time friend of hers. Call me. I’m back at the convent. Marilyn should be arriving with Officer Creeper at the Ann Arbor jail today or tomorrow. Sister Alice says there are notes in shorthand in the margins of her diet book. Apparently Marilyn’s mother wanted her to be a secretary instead of a nurse, so of course she became a nurse.”

“The diary is there,” Max had followed her down the stairs. “Sister Alice said there w
ere Gregg shorthand notes in the margins.”

“Great,” Helen said. “Do you want to go down with me to retrieve it?”

“No.” Max seemed to lose his excitement about the new evidence. “I need to talk to your dad.”

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Third Wednesday in May
, 2008

Adrian Convent

In Adrian, Sister Alice was paging through the diet book while she waited at the entranceway of St. Anthony’s Convent. Helen was a little disappointed not to be invited in.

“The place is filled with guests,” Sister Alice explained. “We only charge $55 a night
, which includes three meals.

“No wonder you’re mobbed
,” Helen said. “Sister James Marine said the sisters might enjoy my collection of dollhouses. I brought ten with me.”

Sister Alice
started to follow her down the steps, then changed her mind. “Oh, wait right here. I’ll get help.”

Helen didn’t count
, but she was soon surrounded by a bevy of nuns oohing over her dollhouses. “Please,” she said. “Pick whichever ones you want.” Within minutes, the Honda was devoid of Helen’s childhood memories.

Sister Alice cradled her choice, a
twin-gabled bungalow. “Mother Superior said to tell you she will be at Dr. Handler’s trial.”

Helen would have been happier seeing where each of her
dollhouses were positioned in the sisters’ rooms. Letting go of all the hours spent with each of the homes seemed to tug at her heart. ‘Indian giver’ she told herself. She tried to take comfort in the knowledge each of the nuns might be replaying their childhood reminiscences. The world was a better place by giving away her precious clutter. God awarded riches in order to share with others. But the silly grief of loss was real.

Helen raced her father’s
new gas-saving Honda back to Ann Arbor. She did obey the speed limit, not like when she was younger and sped down the roads in Waterloo at a hundred miles an hour. As she placed her briefcase under the desk of the accounting data computer, she wondered why it never occurred to her to make one end of the long back room into an office for herself. She could bring her best dollhouse in to decorate.

A coldness in the pit of her stomach alerted her to the ridiculous immaturity
of the idea. She needed to grow up and stop acting like a dim-witted Barbie doll. She would call the contractor to start work on the new office. Helen didn’t want a second floor place to work like Max’s, even though there was room on the roof. She could afford the outlay. What she wanted was to be close to her dad, close to the front door. She laughed at herself. Helen wanted to be in control of the choice of cases. Her new clients should have a place to meet with her privately.

The reception area
was out, as was her home, where her mother’s weekly mah-jongg group packed every available inch. The game resembled gin rummy using plastic tiles instead of cards. At Helen’s last count, three tables were also crammed into the kitchen. Her mother ought to join the City Club before the ladies wore out the flooring and eventually her mother’s new gift of hospitality.

Helen tried to make sense of her father’s accounting spreadsheets on the computer as he pulled up a chair next to her. “Dad, didn’t you return Mr. Brent’s and Mrs. Clapton’s fees?”

“I tried. They both said they were happy with our services.” Her dad patted her arm to get her attention away from the computer screen. “Max is insisting on another chat with me.”

“Has he decided what he’s going to do about the baby?”

“What baby?”

“His baby. Anita Brent tricked him into father
ing a child for her.”

“I think you let the cat out of the bag. But the child is
something you two should decide.”

Helen felt confused. “What do I have to do with Max’s decision?”

“Probably everything.” Dad scratched his head. “For smart people, you two are emotional midgets.”

“Have you asked Max to leave The Firm?”

Andrew shook his head. “Of course not. Why would you even think that?”

Relief spread through Helen
. She had worried after her father learned about Max’s child he might not trust him to stay at the Firm. “I’d miss his voice.”

“His voice? Child when are you going to wake up and realize you’re in love with the hulk?”
Helen stared at her father.

Max interrupted them. He came into the back room, chose a chair with its back to the computer next to Helen’s and spread out his long legs.
“Did you get the diary?”

“Yes.” After handing Max the diary, Helen
put her hand on Max’s knee. Max brushed her hand away, rose and stalked around the room.

Helen acknowledged the rejection to her father. What good was loving Max, if he wouldn’t accept her touch?

Max coughed. “Helen
, who do you know that reads shorthand?”

Dad
answered, “Julia does. I’ll take it home with me.”

“Helen,
” Max coughed again. “There’s a movie at the Michigan Theatre you might enjoy. Jane Austen?”

Helen turned back to the computer. “George
and his friend Mitzi are going. Do you want to meet us there?”

Dad
threw up his hands. “Youth! I’ll take the diet book over to the DA after Julia types up the notes.”

“Then the congregation shall Judge between the slayer

and
revenger of blood accordingly.” Numbers 35:24

Second
Friday in June, 2008

Washtenaw County Court House

At the end of the courthouse’s second-floor corridor, Helen opened the heavy door into the courtroom’s old-fashioned, glassed-in entranceway. Sister James Marine waltzed in past and settled into a front row seat in the spectators’ gallery behind the D.A.’s table. Helen assumed the nun had attended more than one court case. Along the opposite wall, on the left side of the room, Marilyn Helms and a burly police matron were seated in uncomfortable looking chairs. Marilyn was gnawing at her fingernails.

Sharon
Daley waved at Marilyn, who nodded. Then Sharon scooted into the bench row to sit next to Helen. “I’m still betting Dr. Handler will con his way out of trouble.”

A low wooden
fence separated them from Roger Warner and Captain Tedler, who dwarfed the prosecutor’s table.

At the defense table,
Verne Chapski, Dr. Handler’s attorney, was of slight build but his carrot-red ring of hair drew further attention to his green plaid suit. At perhaps four-foot-eleven, the man resembled a Trappist monk with a shaved bald spot to acknowledge God’s austerity.

Dr. Handler wore an expensive blue suit the
same color as his suede shoes. His crop-haired wife leaned forward to touch him, once. He dismissed her presence with a perfunctory shrug.

Se
veral well-dressed women sat a few rows behind Helen. She drew Captain Tedler’s attention to the group and he nodded. The group of various ages was undoubtedly the collection of Dr. Handler’s ex-wives.

Andrew
and Julia Costello had slipped into the courtroom without Helen noticing.Her mother whispered to her, “We rented a truck for you for Saturday.”

Helen appreciated her
parents’ assistance. However, their eagerness triggered a certain nervousness. “Max and George will help carry out my bed and dresser.”

“Take the furniture in your sitting room, too
,” her father said. “We ordered tread mills and a digital TV screen for the wall. We plan to exercise in rainy weather.”

Helen want
ed to ask how long her parents had planned for her to leave home, but she knew enough about courtroom tactics not to ask a question to which she might not like the answer. She had scheduled to arrange her things in the condo while Dr. Handler’s trial progressed. Her mother had shown her a catalog with pans, silverware, dishes – linens. Helen dutifully pointed out the ones she liked, but didn’t order anything. Apparently, she was going to be living alone a lot sooner than she had anticipated.

The entire
courtroom noticed when Max Hunt arrived. He banged his shoulder into the entranceway door and the glass panels rattled in response. Nothing broke. Max rubbed his arm.

A
fter her mother and father made room for him, Max sat behind Helen. “The ox has landed,” he whispered.

Helen only had time to pat
Max’s hand as it rested on her shoulder before the bailiff requested everyone to stand for Judge Joe Wilcox’s entrance.

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When Helen touched Max’s hand, his senses came alive. His awareness telescoped to the back of her fragile neck where her curls attempted to create ringlets. Max glared at Marilyn
Helms who was trying to read Sandra Daley’s lips-sync. He wished he could throw Marilyn out of the wooden chair she was sprawled on and pummel her with it the way she had beaten his Helen. Marilyn was lucky Helen didn’t let her get her wish for ‘suicide by cop.’

The jury
members seated themselves in the tiered rows along the right side of the room, which was as far away from Dr. Handler’s persuasive tricks as possible.

Helen, Max
, and Andrew had participated behind the scenes. Their careful background profiles contributed to the selection process of the six women and six men. Four of the men were churchgoers. Two were divorced more than once. Five of the women were married to their original husbands. One older woman was unmarried and an atheist. The moral persuasions of each sounded conservative. However, their leanings for or against Dr. Handler’s mismanagement of Larry Schneider’s case were unknown.

Then
Max recognized Maybell’s long blonde hair in the crowd behind Dr. Handler’s present wife. He touched his nose with his left hand to stop a sneeze. Had he suddenly developed an allergic reaction to his old lover? When he included Mr. Brent in his survey, Max grabbed his onyx belt buckle. He relaxed recalling his Iraq PTSD mantra ‘Stay at peace in a safe place.’ Here was the mother of his embryonic child…in the same room with him…and Helen. Max’s temptation to touch Helen’s neck was quelled by the bailiff’s call for attention.

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Marilyn Helms was the prosecutor
’s first witness. Prison food seemed to agree with her. Helen was not surprised when Sister J. M. whispered, “She’s lost weight.”

Sharon agreed. “Maybe her five-year sentence will
break her drug habit.”

Helen
knew enforced abstinence would not alter Marilyn’s addictive personality. Once people were free to follow their own wills, only God could intervene. “Is she in a twelve-step program in prison?” Neither Sister J. M. nor Sharon seemed to know.

Roger Warner ask
ed Marilyn his first question. “Dr. Handler says he possesses video tapes of you when you first became involved with him. Is that true?”

“Have you seen them?”

“Do they exist?”

“Of course not. He’s going to say anything to get off.”

Roger Warner walked to where Dr. Handler was seated. “So Dr. Handler is not going to produce tapes to prove his association and payments to you were for sexual favors?”

“In his dreams,” Marilyn shouted.

“Keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady.” Judge Wilcox chided Marilyn.

“
Explain your relationship to Dr. Handler, in your own words.” Roger Warner hinted that Marilyn had not been well-rehearsed.

“He was one of three doctors who paid me to keep quiet about their three patients.” Marilyn sat up straighter. “The patients died in St. Anthony’s Hospital in 1990.”

Roger Warner faced the jury. “How much money have the doctors paid you in the last eighteen years?”

“I only kept trac
k of Dr. Handler’s.” Marilyn started eating her fingernails.

“Why was that?”

“Because the other two, one I’m not supposed to name, and Dr. Whidbey were easier to handle. I always suspected Handler would cover his tracks. But I never thought he would claim to have had sex with me, paid me for sex. Geez! Sometimes when he wasn’t flush, I accepted a stack of prescriptions from him. But usually he just paid cash. That’s why I kept records. You typed up my notes.”

“Yes, we did,
your Honor.” Roger placed Marilyn’s journal and a stack of blue sheets of paper on the clerk’s desk. “The defense attorney was given copies. I would like Marilyn to read a few excerpts to the jury.”

Judge Wilcox motione
d for the clerk to hand him the pile of papers. He read quietly for a minute or two. “Any objections, Mr. Chapski?”

Chapski
shook his head. “No, Sir.” Dr. Handler whispered urgently to him, but Chapski ignored his protest.

Marilyn was given the file. “Begin anywhere?”

“Yes,” the D. A. said, “and mention the date.”

Marilyn cleared her throat and started reading. “
September 8, 1991: Handler showed me his winter cap from Scotland. He wrote me prescriptions for a year’s supply of diet pills. March 15, 1992: Handler says he’s not going to write any more prescriptions for me. He was wearing a white sweater fresh from his trip to Ireland. I called Mrs. Mary Alice Handler and said we needed to talk. Handler called back and said my prescriptions would be at the pharmacy. He also said his wife was divorcing him.”

“Judge,” Ro
ger Warner held up his hand. “Could I excuse this witness temporarily to corroborate her evidence with Mrs. Mary Alice Handler’s testimony?”

“Any objections, Mr.
Chapski?”

“No, your
Honor.” More arm tugging and angry whispers occurred at the defense table.

The clerk called the first Mrs. Handler to the stand.
A dignified gray-haired lady disengaged herself from the gaggle of Handler’s ex-wives. She opened the gate between the audience and the court proper with a white-gloved hand. When the gate had the audacity to creak, the first Mrs. Handler allowed the D.A. to hold it open so that she could pass through.

“You were married how long to Dr. Handler?” Roger Warner backed away from the stand so the jury could witness the interchange between ex-wife and ex-husband.

“Thirteen terrible years.” Mrs. Handler glared for a second at her ex-husband and then turned to the jury. “When Marilyn Helms called me, Benjamin claimed she was a prostitute. The marriage was essentially over years before I learned of Marilyn.”

“Do you believe they were lovers?”
Roger Warner motioned for her to answer in the jury’s general direction.

“If I were you
…,” Mrs. Handler touched her perfectly arranged white hair. “I would believe her. My analyst told me Benjamin was probably gay.”

“Your honor?” Verne
Chapski found a reason to object.

“The jury is to disregard the
hearsay evidence presented by Mrs. Handler’s therapist.” Judge Wilcox glared at the jury. “Is that understood?”

Each member of the jury nodded.
The unmarried lady even smiled.

“Could you tell us why your therapist would conclude such a thing?” The D.A. asked.

The first Mrs. Handler shook her head no. “I told him how excited Benjamin became before his hunting trips south of Adrian. The deer are fed there. Ben hunted from ground blinds or raised platforms. They were heated, too, the enclosures. He killed them and brought home a mounted head as a trophy every year we were married. The heads range from eight to thirty points – that’s the number of antler points. I insisted he take the horrific things with him when I asked him to move out.”

“You
’re excused,” the D.A. stated.

“That’s my job,” Judge Wilcox said. “Any questions, Mr.
Chapski?”

“No, your
Honor.”

The rest of Marilyn’s evidence followed the same pattern. Notes were read and the
relevant wife gave confirmation Dr. Handler consistently claimed he was paying a prostitute, Marilyn, for sexual favors. Each wife handled the news slightly differently.

A jolly
woman who had only been married a year to the doctor laughed. “Actually, Marilyn did me a favor. I was looking for a good excuse to back out of the sexless marriage.”

A
delicate looking woman with a German accent said after four years in their unhappy, expensive relationship, she, too, was delighted to end the marriage. She said, “Ben kept dragging home those horrible heads.”

“Heads?” The D.A. asked.

“I went along on all four trips. First to Alaska. Healey was the town’s name. I did enjoy seeing the Aurora Borealis. He went on a horseback hunt on the Central Alaskan Range. The next day he brought back a dead Dall sheep, the one of those long-horned ones with the inward curved horns.” The lady gestured to make sure the jury understood the type of mountain goat she was referring too. “He had it mounted and sent home. He always let the tour guides send the trophies to him here in Ann Arbor. Quite expensive: fleshed, salted, mounted and packaged for shipment. I can tell you!” The D. A. was not required to prompt her lengthy testimony. “He didn’t kill anything at Seal Bay. However, in Manitoba he killed a black bear at Dorothy Lake. I love bears and wouldn’t let him bring the mounted head into my house. I think he kept it in the storage unit I paid rent on.”

“We went to
Africa on a safari the next year, Southern Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe. We stayed sixteen days so he could bring home an elephant head. He also bagged, that’s what they call the dead beasts, a Cape Buffalo, a horned Rhino, and a zebra skin. I don’t think he killed the zebra.” The third Mrs. Handler dapped at her forehead with a wad of tissue. “I stayed in the hotels and shopped while he went off with the male guides. What makes a man commit violence against innocent animals?” Her lawyer made sure the divorce decree included a statement, “Benjamin Handler considers the act of sexual contact too packed with the chance of infection to participate.”

“Your Honor?” Mr.
Chapski objected.

Judge Wilcox banged his gavel
several times when the audience decided to enjoy themselves over the third Mrs. Handler’s remarks. “The statement is in the public record; therefore, the jury is allowed to consider it as evidence.”

Helen noticed even Sister James Marine giggled slightly.