Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 45

He sat her down across the saloon and told her to get comfortable. "Comfort is the first thing," he said. "I don't want you squirming on the stand. No, don't cross your legs, cross your ankles, and fold your hands together. Comfortable?"

"Fairly."

"Find a position early on and be still. If you have to change, do it slowly and deliberately, and remember not to cross your legs."

"I think I got that part about the legs."

"Good. Now, your attitude is going to be important. When I question you I want you to think hard and tell me exactly the way things happened. I want the jury to see that you're trying to be honest."

"All right."

"When Sir Winston's turn comes, I want you to keep exactly the same demeanor; don't use defensive body language like crossing your arms. Don't be petulant; don't show anger; above all, don't raise your voice. Take his questions very seriously, and try to answer them honestly, unless it appears that he's asking a question merely for effect, a rhetorical question, then you can look disappointed."

"Disappointed, not angry," she repeated.

"All right, are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Mrs.Manning, what was your motive for killing your husband?"

She stared at him, and her eyes grew hard.

"Sorry, I didn't tell you I was going to be Sir Winston, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"You have to be ready for surprises. He may come right out of left field with something, but you can answer it immediately, because you're relying on the truth, not subterfuge."

She shook her shoulders and tried to relax her body. "Okay, who are you this time?"

"I'm your attorney. Mrs.Manning, did you love your husband?"

Allison looked as if she might weep. "Oh, yes, I loved him."

"Don't overdo it; this isn't a soap opera."

"Isn't it?" she asked archly.

"Mrs.Manning, what reason might you have had to kill your husband?"

"I had no reason whatever," she replied firmly.

"Now you're getting it right," he said.

"Mrs.Manning, how much life insurance did your husband have?"

She frowned and began thinking.

"Don't hesitate, tell the truth. If he asks you such a question, it's because he already knows the answer."

"Aren't you going to have some sort of structure to this questioning?"

"In court, yes; but not now. I'm deliberately throwing curves at you, because I want you to be ready for anything. Don't worry about structure right now, or even if I'm Sir Winston or me; just answer each question truthfully."

"All right, all right," she said irritably.

"If you think this is hard, wait until the trial starts. I'll tell you again, rely on the truth, because it really can set you free. If you start striking poses the jury will know it immediately. Try to think of these people as your friends, friends you wouldn't lie to, friends on whom you're, depending to do right by you, friends you trust."

"Who are these people likely to be?"

"They could be this island's aristocrats, or they could be cab-drivers and shopkeepers; we won't know until they're there, facing you. Don't look at me or Sir Winston all the time when you're being questioned; look at the jury, not as a group, but as individuals. Share your answers with them, one at a time; suck them into your story, each man of them."

She nodded. "All right."

"Mrs.Manning, what is the net worth of your husband's estate?"

"I believe it will be around fifteen million dollars, but I won't know for sure until all the debts are paid."

"Good! Mrs.Manning, why would your husband have twelve million dollars in life insurance?"

"Paul had never saved much money, although he earned a lot from the sale of his books. He knew he was a candidate for a heart attack, because his doctor had told him so, and he wanted me to be secure if he should die suddenly. Buying so much insurance was sort of a way of saving, of forcing himself to save, so there would be support for me if he died."

"Good! Answer that way-fully and completely always."

"Of course," Allison replied with assurance.

"Mrs.Manning, have you ever fired a scuba diver's spear gun?"

She reacted as if struck. "Ah, I…no."

"That's a lie. If I can spot it, so can the jury. Answer the question."

She took a deep breath and exhaled it. "Yes, of course. Paul and I went diving whenever we were near a good reef."

"Have you ever struck anything with a harpoon fired from a gun?"

She smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid not. Paul was a good shot, but I would always miss."

"Good, get a laugh out of them. How far were you standing from Paul when you fired the spear gun at him?"

Her face collapsed into disbelief. "What?"

"Where did the spear strike him?"

"Are you crazy?"

"In the chest? In the neck? Did he fall overboard immediately, or did you have to help him?"

"Stone, goddammit!"

"Did he bleed a lot? Did sharks come when they smelled the blood?"

"Stop this!"

"Answer the questions!!!"

"I never fired a spear gun at my husband, never!" she cried, furious now. "I would never have done anything to harm him!"

"Now that's better," Stone said. "That's a good time to get angry, when he does that to you." "You said not to get angry."

"I misled you."

"You son of a bitch."

"No, I'm the sweetest guy in the world; Sir Winston Sutherland is the son of a bitch, and he'll do anything he possibly can to get you to come apart on the stand. He already knows about the spear gun."

"How do you know that?"

"Because the police searched the yacht, remember? You think they wouldn't notice a lethal weapon hanging on a bulkhead in plain sight?"

"Oh," she said.

"What about the other weapons?"

"What other weapons?"

"What did they take from the, boat A pistol? A shotgun?"

"We didn't have any weapons on board; Paul was very antigun."

"What about the spear gun? That was a weapon."

"It was a tool; it was used for fishing," she said calmly.

"What didn't they find? A nine-millimeter automatic? A riot gun? What?"

"There were no weapons aboard!" she cried.

"How many knives were aboard the yacht?"

"I don't know how many…"

"Think! Count them in your head!"

She thought for a moment. "Maybe eight or ten, maybe a dozen."

"Enumerate them."

"Let's see, in the galley, there was a chef's knife, a bread knife, a boning knife, and two paring knives."

"How long was the chef's knife?"

"About eight inches. I could never handle the big ones."

"Is that what you used on your husband? An eight-inch chef's knife? That would do the job."

"I never harmed my husband," she said quietly.

"What other knives were aboard?"

"There were a couple of rigging knives; we kept one by the main hatch and one strapped to the mast, for deck work. Paul wore another one in a scabbard, along with a marlin spike."

"Did you take the knife from his belt and stab him with it?"

"No! I never harmed him."

"So you just gave him a shove when he was pissing overboard, huh?"

"I did not!"

"Was he wearing the scabbard with the knife and marlin spike when you rolled his body overboard?"

"No, I removed the belt first."

"So, you did roll him overboard!"

"Yes, I did; some hours after his death."

"Did you search his pockets, Mrs.Manning, for money or spare change? Was there anything you wouldn't take from him?"

She locked her eyes onto Stone's, and when she spoke she was begging him to believe her. "Please, I never, ever harmed Paul. He was dead when I buried his body at sea." Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Stone went and took her in his arms. "All right," he said. "That's my girl; that's my star witness; that's my innocent victim of perverted justice."

She looked up at him and laughed. "Gotcha, didn't I?"

Stone buried his face in his hands.