Clifford Irving's Legal Novels - 01 - TRIAL - a Legal Thriller (43 page)

"Whatever wrong I did, I never quit," he said. "You threw the marriage away, Charm."

"I almost did, and it would have been the worst mistake of my life."

He considered that she had her tenses mixed up but decided not to comment on it. He had no urge to argue, only to clarify. "Anyway," he said, "Maria doesn't enter into it."

"Of course she does." Charm spoke rapidly, with certainty. "I know what a relationship is like in the early stages. It's new, it's exciting, it's captivating. Best foot forward, all that stuff. You're a catch, Warren — you're a man of some substance. She'll work hard to land you, even if she's not aware what she's doing. Later it becomes real. Real is different." She clenched her fists. "We had real. And real is what matters."

Was that true, or were words and concepts just obedient servants to intent? He would have to think about what she said. He nodded, admiring her verve, liking her but still wary.

Charm flew on: "She must know you just can't excise a marriage the way you do a tumor. And she won't want you on the rebound. That never works, or it works for a time, and then it crumbles apart. I've been there. Our marriage wasn't perfect and it will never be perfect. Marriages never are. Don't think of the bad times, the craziness — that's the trap I fell into. Think of the good things we had. We can still help each other to grow up. Let me back into your life, Warren."

He realized she was something more than sincere. She knew what she wanted and she was fighting for it; but she was also trying to shed light into his life. She was an adult woman, complex, loving, fallible. And there was a tenderness underlying her words, a tenderness that he remembered, but suffused with a new emotion born of loss.

"Why me, Charm? What's so special? Aren't all men pretty much alike in the end?" He was not fishing for compliments. He needed to know.

"I'm not qualified on that score," she said. "I haven't known that many. But I know you, and you do the best you can with people and things, and I have a feeling your best is getting better all the time. I love you for having achieved that. What's special is
us.
Not unique, but special. Because we have a history. We created something. I know we can put it back together again if we're kind to each other. We were partners, and we can be partners again."

Those had been his thoughts, the thoughts that he had been unable to speak. That she echoed him moved him. Her words and the way she looked at him, sorrowfully, holding back the tears, a child asking for a forbidden sweet, grazed his heart and then forced an entry. He felt a change take place in him. He had mourned her going, he had been bitter. That was ending.

"I want children with you, Warren. I'm ready. I don't want anyone else's children but yours."

"That's a new tune," he said. He remembered his pain of more than a year ago.

"I know," she said, flushing. "But you were floundering, and I was an idiot. I didn't know how to help you and that made me feel a failure too. Please forgive me for that."

"I do," Warren said. "Charm, I need time. I can't be rushed. And I can't promise you a damn thing."

"The more time you spend with her," Charm said, "the less chance I have. That's the equation. I'll give you time, you know I will. But I can't hang around forever. I think I have a job in Boston with PBS."

"Oh?" He saw how the thought energized her. "Do you want to take it?"

"If we're not back together, yes. If we can be together, probably not. Your life is here."

"I have to go now," Warren said, after he had looked at his watch. "I'm in trial in the 299th, and I have to meet someone in front of the courthouse. I can't be late."

"Do you love me at all, Warren?"

"Yes. I can't help that."

Color flowed into her cheeks that had been so pale. She looked grateful and, for a moment, happy. Her eyes glistened. "Call me," she said.

===OO=OOO=OO===

He stood in front of the courthouse, sweating even in the shade, tie unknotted, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. He counted on their showing up, but a part of him knew that anything was possible. The management at Ravendale had already complained, one of the assistant managers knocking on his door to inform him that this was not a flophouse for homeless bums. Warren had gone to Janice at the front desk to explain: "These are witnesses in a capital murder case. They're being sequestered here. Please help me if you can." Janice said, "Leave it to me," and he heard no more complaints.

Warren had put Jim Dandy in Pedro's hands. "Whatever happens, don't let him drink tomorrow morning. Not even a beer. You and Armando sit on him if you have to. Get him under a shower. I want him wearing a shirt and pants, no army jacket. And be there at one o'clock sharp — American time, not Mexican time. If you don't show up, you could kill your friend Hector."

"Trust me, amigo," Pedro said.

Warren had called Ravendale twice this morning, once from his office and once from Rick's.

"It's fine," Pedro said, both times. "We be there. One o'clock sharp, gringo time."

At twenty past one a taxi drew up with Pedro and Jim Dandy in it. Grinning, Pedro raised his fist with one thumb up. Twenty minutes late, Warren thought. Not bad. He had allowed for half an hour.

===OO=OOO=OO===

He drew Nancy Goodpaster with him into her office and shut the door.

"Nancy, what you did that day at the bench, when you backed me up about what the judge said in chambers — that was brave. I think you're a terrific lawyer. I don't think you want to prosecute an innocent man."

Goodpaster said, "I promise you, that's the last thing on earth I want to do."

"I've got a witness who'll testify that he took Dan Ho Trunh's wallet. That's only part of what he'll say, but he won't even take the stand if he doesn't get immunity on the theft charge. I'm going to make a motion for that immunity. Go along with it. You won't regret it."

Nancy Goodpaster considered. "All right," she said. "I trust you."

Those were among the sweetest words that Warren had ever heard. He wanted to kiss her on the cheek, but he thought that might be unprofessional, and women lawyers these days tended to resent such gestures. Instead he said, "Thank you, Nancy. You ever quit this job and want to go into private practice, give me a ring."

"I might just take you up on that," Nancy Goodpaster said, "one of these days."

===OO=OOO=OO===

With the jury in place and Hector Quintana by his side at the defense table, Warren stood. "The defense is ready, your honor, and calls James Thurgood Dandy."

Jim Dandy slouched in the witness chair. He kept running a callused hand through his dark hair. He was almost as nervous as Warren. "Your honor," Warren said, "before testimony, the defense will make a motion
in limine."

He was already on his way to the bench, with Nancy Goodpaster following close behind.
In limine
meant "on the threshold." Warren said quietly, "Judge, this witness will testify, among other things, to having approached the car of the victim, Dan Ho Trunh, and taking a wallet and its contents from the dead man's hand. But this witness won't testify if his sworn statements prejudice his liberty. I request immunity for the witness on all felony charges of theft, on the grounds of an overriding need to have the facts clarified in a case of capital murder, which takes precedence."

Judge Parker said, "Counselor, a proper motion
in limine
is meant to keep facts out of evidence so that the jury won't be prejudiced against the witness. You want to put them
into
evidence. You sure you know what you're doing?"

"Yes, your honor."

Judge Parker looked to Nancy Goodpaster. "State has no objection," Goodpaster said.

For the benefit of the hovering court reporter, the judge intoned: "Immunity is granted the witness James Thurgood Dandy, limited to the felony charge of theft."

Jim Dandy was sworn in by the deputy clerk.

Warren could barely wait; he felt the surge of blood from heart to brain. He went through the customary business of asking name, address, age, and profession.

"Jim Dandy is what they call me." — "DeKalb Street, Beeville. Down south a ways." — "About thirty-eight."— "Don't have no profession."

"Sir, what do you do for a living?"

No one had ever called Jim Dandy "sir" before. He looked pleased. Warren could see his nervousness begin to ebb.

"I do whatever I can to make a dollar or two. Stuff like that."

Warren let it go and plunged in like a swimmer from a high board. "Do you recall where you were on May 19 of this year, at about 8 P.M.?"

"Well, I don't know that it was exactly May 19, but it was about then, and I know what you're talkin' about. I was sittin' against a wall, drunk."

"Where, sir?"

"Here in town. Some shoppin' center, guess you'd call it. I bought a pint of Thunderbird there. Set me down to enjoy it."

"Did anything unusual happen while you were sitting against the wall in that shopping center?"

"Well, I had this natural need to relieve myself, you could say. So I did it, then and there. Couldn't wait. And while I was doin' that, I heard a yell and then a shot. Scared the dickens out of me."

"How do you know it was a shot, Mr. Dandy?"

"I'm comin' to that. Let me tell it my way, okay, hoss?"

"Okay," Warren said.

"It was a shot 'cause that's what it was. Couldn't a been nothin' else. I know what a shot is. I may be a drunk, but I ain't stupid."

"And so what did you do?"

"I turned my head around — I was still scared, but I was worried someone might be aimin' to shoot
me
— and there was these two cars there. A wagon, and the other was a nice big car. Can't tell if they're foreign or not anymore. But it was kinda new. Engine was runnin'. They was parked side by side. They was sorta facin' me."

"How far away from you?"

"Can't say. Not far, not close. Close enough to see."

"And what did you see, sir?"

"Didn't see anyone in the wagon. Saw a woman in the car."

Warren didn't bother looking at the jury: they were not the object of this exercise. He glanced at Nancy Goodpaster. She was hunched at the prosecutor's table, one hand grasping her chin, listening intently. That was how Warren had listened on the drive up from Beeville.

"Mr. Dandy, you saw a woman in the car that was parked next to the station wagon? A
woman?
You're positive?"

"That's right. Besides, I told you I heard a yell before I heard the shot? That was a woman's yell, what y'all might call a scream."

"Was there anyone else in the parking lot, either on foot or in a car?"

"Not that I noticed."

"The woman in the car was alone?"

"Didn't see no one else with her. Didn't get much of a chance to look, 'cause she sure tore outa there."

"Can you describe the woman in the car?"

"Sure can't. I saw long woman's hair and some red lipstick, and that's about all. Then she was gone."

"Did she give you any indication that she had seen you?"

"No, sir."

"Can you describe the car? The make? The model?"

"Not really, 'cept it was big and looked new."

"Before the woman in the car tore out of there, Mr. Dandy, did you notice if she had anything in her hand?"

"Looked to me like a gun."

"Can you describe the gun?"

"Can't do that. Was just a gun."

"Big or small?"

"It wasn't nothin' gigantic."

A great witness, Warren thought. He never speculated, never embroidered, and he told the truth. Warren looked again at Nancy Goodpaster. He saw in her face an intense concentration masking a growing amazement. But he also saw belief.

"What did you do then, Mr. Dandy?"

"Walked over to the wagon and looked inside. Man was dead in there." Jim Dandy sighed. "I took his wallet. He wasn't gonna need it no more."

Warren nodded. "Did you hang around to see what was in the wallet?"

"No, I skedaddled. I already seen there was money in it. Looked to see how much when I got round the corner."

"Besides money, was there anything else in the wallet?"

"A laundry ticket."

"Did you take that out of the wallet?"

"Put it in my pocket."

"What did you do with the wallet?"

"Threw it in a sewer."

"What did you do with the laundry ticket?"

"Well, a few days later, I figured, heck, dead fella don't need the clothes either. I still had some of the money left, so I went back there to the laundry and got 'em. Paid for 'em and took 'em away."

"Do you remember who waited on you in the laundry and gave you the clothes?"

"Indian lady."

"Can you describe the clothes you got from her at the laundry?"

"Nice gray suit. White shirts. Nice green sweater. Didn't fit too good — little tight. So I sold 'em down at the mission."

Warren elected not to pursue that now; that would come later, and not in this court. His voice rising, he said, "Mr. Dandy, have you ever in your life seen the man sitting beside me?" He put a hand — a hand that almost trembled — on Hector Quintana's shoulder.

Jim Dandy peered across the courtroom at Hector. "Not that I can recollect. Looks like a Messkin. I ain't got nothin' against 'em, but I can't always tell 'em apart."

"You didn't see this man in the parking lot outside the laundry that night, or in the car that the woman with the gun was driving, or anywhere around the vicinity of the shopping mall?"

"Nope."

"Did you see anyone that night who might have even looked like this man?"

"Nope."

"Thank you, sir," Warren said. "Pass the witness."

Nancy Goodpaster took Jim Dandy on cross for only fifteen minutes. She made him repeat most of his story; she focused mostly on the time frame, to make sure it was the night of May 19, and his certainty that it was a woman in the car. Warren never raised an objection. But Jim Dandy was certain. A person with long hair and lipstick was not a man. "I was drunk," he said, "and times have changed, but, ma'am, I ain't never
that
drunk I can't tell a man from a woman."