Falls The Shadow

64

I liked the image, Mia Dalton swaying on a hammock in a soft breeze, eyes closed, an umbrella drink in her hand and a rumba playing softly on the radio.

“The prosecution rests,” she said.

“I could use a little rest myself,” I mumbled to Beth.

“Did you say something, Mr. Carl?” said the judge.

Why did I feel like I was back in fifth grade? “No, sir.”

“Do you have witnesses to present?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Let’s have the jury take a break while we go over some legal matters, and then you can begin your case.”

“All rise,” shouted the bailiff. We all rose. The key for a defense attorney as jurors file out of the courtroom is to maintain your air of benign confidence until the door closes behind them. Then all bets are off, and you can sink back into your seat with a despondent expression of utter defeat.

Beth made the usual motions to dismiss, raised the usual arguments, accepted stoically the usual denials.

“Anything else I can reject?” said the judge.

“My credit card was refused last week,” said Beth, “so I suppose that’s about it.”

“Fine,” said the judge. “Twenty minutes, folks,” and we rose once again when he made his way off the bench.

“That went well,” said Beth.

“About as well as could be expected,” I said as I stood at the table. “Dalton’s case was pretty thorough.”

“Are we ready for our defense?”

“I think so,” I said, but just as I said it, Beth’s eyes grew large and I felt a lurking presence behind me. I winced even before I turned around.

Torricelli.

“His name’s Pfeffer,” said Torricelli. “Robert Pfeffer.”

“How’d you find him?”

“One of the victim’s friends told us. A Mrs. Winterhurst. Turns out she was the one who recommended him to Leesa in the first place. So after we got the name, we swung by his office. Nice little guy. And he seems to know what he’s doing. I had a dental question that he answered quite thoroughly.”

“You make an appointment?”

“As a matter of fact. He seems quite competent, and I heard he has gentle hands. Of course, it turns out he also has an alibi for the night of the murder.”

“Of course he does,” I said. “You check it out?”

“It holds,” he said. “He was with someone the entire night.”

“Dr. Bob, that dog,” I said, shaking my head. “Who would have figured? You mind telling me whom he was with?”

“Confidentiality prohibits it, but let’s just say he had his hands full.”

“Got you.” Tilda. Oof.

“So that’s that, right?” said Torricelli.

“I suppose.”

“And we can forgo all the dental crap in this trial?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Carl, you know what you are? Vexing. You are one vexing son of a bitch.”

“Thank you, Detective. Can I make one suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

“Before you sit in Dr. Pfeffer’s chair, you might want to check out his diploma. There’s a little smudge where his name is. Turns out he wasn’t born a Pfeffer. Before you let him reach into your mouth, I suggest you find out why he changed his name.”

I might beweep a bit too much my outcast state, but there are admitted joys in this job. Chief among them is cashing a retainer check. I also like cross-examining fools, reading deposition transcripts – that’s a little sick, I know, but there it is – and instructing my secretary to hold all calls. I especially like the way people recoil when I tell them I’m a lawyer. Try it sometime at a party or on the street, tell someone you’re a lawyer and watch as they dance away. It almost makes me want to sign up to work for the IRS. And it was a joy just then, let me tell you, when I told Detective Torricelli that his new dentist, Dr. Pfeffer, had doctored his diploma and changed his name for some unknown reason, and then watched as Torricelli’s eyes boggled and he nervously rubbed his tongue across his teeth.

“Call your first witness, Mr. Carl,” said the judge.

“Your Honor, the defense calls Arthur Gullicksen.”

Arthur Gullicksen approached the stand wearing an expensive gray suit, black loafers with tassels, and a fine head of gray hair sleeked neatly back. In fact, sleek was exactly the word for him, his trim figure, his polished nails and sharp teeth, the way his face came to a razor’s edge at the front. You might remember the name Gullicksen, he was Leesa Dubé’s divorce attorney, whom we had tried to keep off the stand during the prosecution’s case. Now he was our first witness. Funny how things change. To see Gullicksen in the flesh was to open once again the eternal debate of nature versus nurture. Are lawyers that look like Gullicksen attracted to matrimonial law, or is it the job itself that turns them into such repulsive specimens?

As Gullicksen sat on the witness stand, he pulled out his cuffs, smoothed his jacket sleeves, adjusted his tie so it sat neatly between the points of his collar. His yellow tie. The very same tie I now was wearing. Would the humiliation over my neckwear never cease?

“Thank you for coming back, Mr. Gullicksen. I have only a few questions. You testified before that you were Mrs. Dubé’s divorce attorney, is that right?”

“That’s correct,” he said while examining his manicure.

“How was it going?”

“Excuse me?”

“The case. From the pleadings you put into evidence in your prior testimony, it is apparent that you and Mrs. Dubé were fighting for custody of the daughter, you were fighting for a lion’s share of the matrimonial assets, including a piece of François Dubé’s restaurant, and you were fighting for a substantial amount in child support and alimony.”

“We were only seeking what she was entitled to.”

“Fine, we’re not going to dispute any of that here. But what I want to know, Mr. Gullicksen, is how was your case proceeding? Did it look like you were going to be successful on all those requests?”

“It is hard to say.”

“Try, Mr. Gullicksen. Let’s take the child-custody issue. You alleged physical abuse of Mrs. Dubé and Amber Dubé at the hands of the defendant. What kind of evidence did you have for that?”

“Leesa Dubé was prepared to testify.”

“But you had no other witness, did you?”

“Leesa had told her friends of the abuse.”

“That was hearsay, and so not admissible. And the pediatrician, as we’ve heard already from Detective Torricelli, saw no indications of abuse. Did you have any other witnesses or admissible evidence on the abuse issue?”

“Not at that point, but I was looking for others.”

“Now, in his responsive pleadings, Mr. Dubé alleged that his wife was addicted to painkillers, often dumped her daughter at her mother’s house while she went on unexplained trips out of town, and was in many ways an unfit mother, isn’t that right?”

“Those were his allegations.”

“Did he have witnesses to back up those allegations?”

“He claimed he did.”

“You depose them?”

“Some of them, yes.”

“How’d the depositions go?”

“There were avenues to discredit the testimony.”

“I’ve been a lawyer long enough to interpret that. The testimony was pretty strong, wasn’t it?”

“It had some strength to it, yes.”

“Mr. Gullicksen, in your opinion was there a chance that Leesa would lose custody?”

“Objection as to relevance of the witness’s opinion,” said Mia Dalton.

“Mr. Carl? Is this whole line of questioning relevant?”

“Yes, Your Honor. I ask for some leeway here. I am not attempting to try the divorce case in this courtroom. But I do think it extremely relevant what Leesa Dubé’s lawyer thought of the case and what Mrs. Dubé thought of her chances in turn. Her fear of losing her child is at the heart of our defense.”

“Go ahead, then, but be careful.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. Gullicksen, was there a chance that Leesa would lose custody?”

“Yes.”

“A pretty good chance?”

“A more-than-negligible chance.”

“And as per the ethical requirements of the Bar Association, you relayed that to your client?”

“I did.”

“How did she take it?”

“I can’t disclose anything she told me.”

“Of course not, but you can tell us her state of mind. How did she take the very real possibility of losing custody of her daughter, Amber, to the defendant?”

“Not well.”

“How about the money stuff? How was that looking?”

“There was going to be some alimony, absolutely. I was convinced we could get a significant amount of Mr. Dubé’s income, but, unfortunately, that income was limited. Child support depended on the custody issue, so that, too, was in doubt. And our investigation showed that there was really no equity in the restaurant, due to the financial structure of the business. So there was a chance that Leesa might have ended up with very little.”

“And you told her that, too?”

“Of course.”

“How’d she take that?”

Gullicksen smoothed back his hair. “Divorce is a very difficult time for all the parties.”

“She was upset?”

“You could say that.”

“Distraught at the possibilities?”

“If you choose to be dramatic about it, yes.”

“What would have helped, Mr. Gullicksen? How could she have improved the outlook of her case?”

“A divorce case is like every other type of trial. The quality of the lawyers is important, that’s why I get paid, but by and large it depends on the evidence.”

“So what she needed was more and better evidence, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And you told that to Mrs. Dubé?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Did you tell her what kind of evidence might be most helpful?”

“I told her evidence that cast doubt on her husband’s ability to care for the child would be most valuable.”

“Evidence of drug use?”

“Absolutely.”

“Evidence of multiple sex partners?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Evidence of bizarre sexual perversions?”

He smiled and bared his teeth as if he were being offered a plump swimmer’s leg. “Such evidence is always helpful in these cases.”

“Did you suggest to Mrs. Dubé that she hire an investigator to see if such evidence existed?”

“I did, but she claimed she didn’t have sufficient funds after paying my retainer.”

“How much did you get up front, by the way?”

“Objection,” said Dalton.

“What’s the purpose of that question, Mr. Carl?” said the judge.

“Professional curiosity. I might be in the wrong branch of the business.”

“Objection sustained.”

“Thank you, Judge,” I said. “And thank you, Mr. Gullicksen. I have no further questions.”