Sleight of Hand (26 page)

She stood up and started to walk. The pain in her heel was excruciating. She returned to the bench, then eyed the grass between herself and her car at the far end of the park. She would destroy her panty hose, she thought as she took off her shoes.
Good! Destroy them all and be done with it
.

"You made the decision and you have to live with it," she repeated as she started to walk across the grass. It was cold and wet.

"But what if you can't?" she said under her breath. "What if you can't?"

Chapter 35

After all his guests had gone on Sunday night, Frank didn't even pretend to work the crossword puzzle. He sat brooding about Barbara, who looked too tired, and about the coming week. He was very much afraid that the entire trial now depended on how well Wally did on the stand, and the strength of her closing statement.

He was picturing the expression on Meg's face when she said, "I didn't realize how good it was to get your hands in the dirt."

"Mud," Wally had said, showing every tooth he had. "She was like a kid with a brand-new mud puddle."

"It was good," Meg said softly. "I planted tulips, too, and daffodils, crocuses, hyacinths. Wally doesn't even know what a hyacinth is."

"I held the umbrella," Wally said. "We made a deal. I'll dig or till, whatever, and even help with weeding, and I'll hold the umbrella, and let her play in the mud."

For a brief moment, they had both looked very happy.

"He'll be great on the stand," Frank said to Thing One, the cat on his lap. Thing Two tried to climb aboard with him.

"And damned if I could see any other case she could have tried to make," he told them. They listened attentively the way they always did.

Wally was as good as Frank had expected. He told his story simply. He was one of four children, father worked in a mill, after-school job, his first and only girlfriend, who had been his wife for forty-two years.

Barbara stopped him to ask, "When you worked at the dealership did Jay Wilkins also work there?"

"Yes, he did."

"Were you friends?"

Wally shook his head. "He was the boss's son, learning the business from the ground up, and I was the flunky who cleaned the bathroom and kept the cars clean.

We knew each other, that's all. He had a car and raced the gut on Saturday night, ran with a different crowd."

Barbara smiled. "I think some of the jury members might not know exactly what you mean when you say he raced the gut. Can you tell us what that means?"

Some of the older jurors were smiling. They remembered.

"Kids with cars would drive up and down Willamette for three, four hours every Saturday night. I don't think they're allowed to do that these days. People complained a lot even then." In answer to her question he said that he had not owned a car.

In the same simple, direct way he told about his first arrest when he was seventeen, his probation and community service afterward until he was twenty-one.

They had the morning recess then, and Barbara couldn't tell how the jury was reacting. Sympathetic, suspicious, impassive perhaps. But they no longer looked inattentive or restless.

After the recess Barbara asked, "Did you continue to work at the dealership?"

"No. I was fired. Jay's father gathered everyone and told them to check their wallets because they had been rubbing elbows with a common thief, and he told me to get out. That was that."

"When was the last time until this past spring that you saw Jay Wilkins?"

"At our graduation. I never saw him again until last April."

She let him talk about the next few years without interrupting him.

"All right," she said. "So you and Meg were married and you moved to San Francisco. Then what happened?"

"I was standing by the jewelry counter in a department store..." He continued on to the arrest.

Barbara stopped him. "Why were you in the store?"

"That's where Meg worked and I was waiting for her to get off. I worked in the Sears loading dock on the other side of the mall and got off about a half hour before she did."

"Mr. Lederer, did it occur to you then, or at any time, that that might have been a case of entrapment? Having the purse so conveniently left open, and the store detective right there?"

"Not at the time," he said. "Later, I thought it might have been. I guess I looked pretty suspicious, dressed in work clothes, beat-up sneakers, jeans. Whether it was a setup or not, I shouldn't have done it and I knew that. I deserved to be punished."

"What was your punishment?"

"Five years in prison."

"Do you believe that serving that prison term rehabilitated you?"

"Two things straightened me out," he said. He told the jury about Meg's promise to wait for him, and her threat to leave him if he ever crossed that line again.

"And the other thing that straightened you out?" Barbara asked when he paused.

He talked at some length about his cell mate, Joey. He did not mention learning to play cards.

"So, when I was released," he continued, "I worked on an act. I did my first big performance two years after getting out."

'Your Honor," Barbara said, "at this time I would like to show the court a video of Mr. Lederer's performance."

Since it had already been decided that it would be permitted, Dodgson did not object.

A television was set up and the bailiff loaded the cassette. Several attendees in the courtroom moved to more favorable viewing positions, the reporter among them, and the video started.

Barbara watched the jury as the tape played. Stony-faced at first, slight bewilderment followed. They didn't know why they were viewing it, what it had to do with the trial.

Then, when Wally began to unload the various items he had lifted on his way to the stage, a few smiles appeared. The foreman chuckled and someone else laughed discreetly. Several of them laughed when Wally handed the M.C.'s wallet back to him at the end. After the television was wheeled out again, they were studying Wally with renewed interest.

Judge Wells called the luncheon recess. He was not smiling, but he had watched the video with interest as keen as that of the jury, and Barbara could see the glint of amusement was back in his eyes.

When they left the courtroom, the reporter who had approached Barbara the day before grinned and gave a thumb's-up sign, as he spoke on his cell phone.

The temperature had dropped overnight after the rain front passed. It was very cold outside. In the car Wally said, "Honey, there goes your garlic."

"It's exactly where it should be," Meg said, and Frank, said "Amen."

That day Maria spread the table with luncheon meats and cheese, three kinds of bread, and all the condiments anyone could think of. There was also an assortment of do-it-yourself salad makings.

"Are you all right?" Meg asked Wally "It must be hard, up there so long on the witness stand."

"Honey," he said, "this is the first time ever that I got top billing. Star of the show.

The one they came to see. It's okay." Then he laughed. "Let's eat."

After lunch, with Wally back on the stand, Barbara asked, "Have you continued to perform through the years, Mr. Lederer?"

"About thirty years," he said.

"Did you keep in touch with your old cell mate, Joey Washington?"

"Up until he died, about eight years after I got out. I sent him cards, notes, clippings, things like that. He didn't write back, but he had crippling arthritis, and I never expected him to. And, although he wouldn't admit it, he was illiterate."

"Mr. Lederer, did you also provide some financial support to Mr. Washington?"

He shifted a bit, then said yes. "I figured he was responsible for my getting my act together. I thought I owed him something for that. He was old and sick and he didn't have any family to give him anything."

"Exactly how much money did you send him over the years?"

"Ten percent of what I made, same as an agent's fee. He had earned it."

She nodded, and walked to her table where Shelley handed her the letter from the prison chaplain. After Wally identified it, she showed it to the judge and then to Dodgson.

"At this time," she said, "I would like my colleague to read that letter to the court."

She waited for Dodgson's objection. It came swiftly.

"I object. This is highly irregular. It's prejudicial, an unprecedented attempt to influence the jury." He would have continued, but Judge Wells held up his hand to stop him.

"Your objection has been noted," he said.

"I have cites to reference such a request," Barbara said. Shelley was unloading books from a large bag and stacking them on the defense table.

"We'll discuss this in chambers," Judge Wells said. He called for a recess and minutes later Barbara walked into his chamber with her pile of books. There were nine of them.

That day Judge Wells asked his secretary to bring coffee, and he settled behind his desk without another word and began to read the cites. The secretary, a bald man of middle age, brought in a coffee tray and left, also without a word.

"Help yourselves," Judge Wells said, without looking up. "I take it black, half a spoon of sugar. If you will, please." Barbara glanced at Dodgson, who was slouched in his chair, scowling. She poured the coffee and took Judge Wells his the way he liked it, then poured for herself, and glanced at Dodgson again. For a moment he looked as if he might snarl at her, but he shrugged, then nodded. She poured a cup for him and sat down.

The judge read each cite carefully, made a few notes of his own, then sipped his coffee.

"Do you have a list of the cites for Mr. Dodgson?" he asked Barbara.

"Yes, Your Honor. The letter was included in discovery, of course. The letter is not without precedent. Usually outside documents are introduced only to refute a witness, to impeach a statement, but at times they are also used to substantiate a statement, which is the case here."

Dodgson objected again, this time in a louder voice, "And I say it's too prejudicial."

Judge Wells gave him a warning look. Evidently it was enough. Dodgson subsided.

"As you say, Ms. Holloway, there are precedents. I will allow you to go forward.

Overruled, Mr. Dodgson."

Quickly Barbara said, "Thank you, Your Honor. After Mr. Lederer s second video has been shown, I will ask for the same ruling in order to present additional affidavits about the effect of his training film. I believe the same cites apply to them. May we discuss that now, instead of when it arises in court?"

"Let me see them," Judge Wells said. He finished his coffee and held out his cup for her to refill. She did so, added the half spoon of sugar and returned it, then she brought out the letters from her briefcase.

"I provided Mr. Dodgson with copies of the letters," she said when she handed them to the judge.

He thanked her absently for the coffee, then started to read the letters. There were a lot of letters and they added up to nothing less than a glowing endorsement.

Dodgson knew this as well as she did, and he was seething, red-faced.

Her coffee had grown cold, but she did not get up to replenish it. She watched the judge read.

When he finished, he regarded her thoughtfully for what seemed a very long time.

"Every one of those letters has been authenticated, certified by the signatories. If I can have Mr. Lederer identify five or six of them and have them read, I would be willing to refer to the others, have them admitted as exhibits, and move on, since they tend to get repetitive. Otherwise, as a separate issue, I will enter each one of at least twelve such letters to substitute for character witnesses."

"My God!" Dodgson roared. "If that isn't a threat to lengthen this trial, I don't know what it is."

"You took two days with character witnesses," she said hotly. "I have every right to take as long as I need to do the same thing for my client."

"Peace, both of you," Judge Wells said mildly. "Ms. Holloway, I won't decide that issue until it arises in court, presumably sometime this afternoon after our recess. I imagine Mr. Dodgson will object then, and I will have a decision." He turned to Dodgson. "If I rule in her favor, are you willing to stipulate that the other letters be admitted as exhibits for the jurors to examine later?"

Grudgingly Dodgson agreed to stipulate and they were dismissed. On the way back to the courtroom Dodgson said furiously, "Next you'll want to give him the Medal of Honor while's he on the stand."

She laughed. "That's an idea. I'll take it under advisement."

When everyone was back in place, Barbara reminded the jury of the letter that Wally had identified, then asked Frank to read it. He would read all the letters written by males. As he read, she recalled sitting in the back of the courtroom observing him when he argued cases at a time that seemed so remote now. How impressed she had been then, how proud. He had a fine voice, and his timing was perfect.

"Dear Mr. Lederer," he read, "it is my unhappy duty to inform you that Joseph Washington passed away at three-thirty this morning. He died quietly in his sleep. I was with him during his last hours and he asked me to tell you how grateful he was for your generosity, and that he regretted not writing to tell you that personally. You made a difference in the last years of his life. Your gifts provided him with a few comforts as his illness progressed, and I want to add that he shared those gifts with others as unfortunate as he was...."

Frank read the signature, then said, "There is a handwritten note added at the bottom of the letter."

"Mr. Lederer, I want to add my thanks to that of our chaplain. Joey was a good influence on many of our inmates, including you yourself, and your gifts to him were very important in the last years of his life." It was signed by the warden.

After the letter was added as an exhibit, Barbara said to Wally, "When you received that letter did you consider your debt to society paid in full?"

He shook his head. "I worried about it. I got the idea of an exhibition for law enforcement officers to help them spot pickpockets and nip it in the bud. I made a training film."

"At this time, Your Honor," Barbara said, "I would like to show the jury the video Mr. Lederer prepared to introduce his training film."

As before, the television was wheeled in and attendees jostled for a better place to view it. The reporter managed a front row position this time. Again Barbara watched the jury as the video played. In many ways it was more impressive than the entertaining one had been, if only because Wally was picking the pockets of police officers, some in uniform, some in plainclothes. When the motion was slowed, some of the jurors were leaning forward with intent looks. She suspected that they, like the group in Frank's house months earlier, had been trying to catch Wally in the act, and failed.