Shock Treatment

I

The next morning I went down to Los Angeles and saw George Macklin.

He listened in silence to my story about finding the glass by Delaney’s side.

When I was through, I said, “This should put her in the clear, Mr Macklin, shouldn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that,” Macklin said. “It will help. It was a great pity you didn’t remember it sooner. It would have carried a lot more weight if you had told Boos as soon as he knew Delaney had been poisoned. I want you to go over to police headquarters right away and tell him what you’ve told me. It’s important you get it in first before you are asked.”

“I’ll go now,” I said and started to get to my feet.

“Just a moment, Mr Regan.” His alert, shrewd eyes looked fixedly at me. “I must warn you that evidence of this kind has value only if it is given by a disinterested witness. Are you disinterested?”

I found my eyes shifting away from his.

“If you mean do I want Mrs Delaney to go free, then of course I’m interested,” I said.

“I don’t mean that at all.” His voice was sharp. “When you tell Boos about finding the glass, you’ll put yourself under a spotlight. This is evidence that could upset the case they have against Mrs Delaney. It’s belated evidence and you have no proof to support your evidence. Boos will immediately wonder if you are lying to get her off. He’ll wonder if there has been an association between Mrs Delaney and yourself. It would suit him very well if he could discover there was such an association. He’ll check. Is there any chance at all that he may find evidence that you are an interested party?”

I thought bleakly of the Italian restaurant. What a fool I had been to have taken her there!

“I have been friendly with Mrs Delaney,” I said. “Her husband knew it, of course. I took her to a restaurant one evening, but that was the only occasion we have been out together.”

“Did you meet anyone you knew?”

“No. It was an out-of-the-way place. I’m sure no one saw us who knew us.”

He thought for a long moment, then shrugged his shoulders.

“We’ll have to take the risk. If he asks you if you have been friendly with Mrs Delaney, you had better tell him that.you once met her out and you had dinner with her. It would be quite fatal for her if he found out you two had been to this restaurant and you had already told him you hadn’t ever taken her out. You see, Mr Regan, Mrs Delaney’s position is very uncertain. I am relying on the fact that there’s not the slightest suspicion of scandal in her life. I intend to present her to the jury as a loyal, faithful wife who, in spite of the treatment she received from her husband, stuck to him for four years, and even when she was assaulted and had left him, she hadn’t the heart to make a final break, and she returned to him. That is a picture that will make an impression on the jury. On the other hand, if the District Attorney can prove that she was unfaithful to Delaney during his lifetime, then I very much doubt if anything can save her.”

“Do you think you’ll get her off?” I asked anxiously.

“I don’t know. If she had some money, I would get Lowson Hunt to defend her. I think this case needs a man like Hunt.”

“What would it cost?”

Macklin shrugged his shoulders.

“I’d say around five thousand.”

“You think he could get her off?”

“If he can’t, then no one can.”

I didn’t hesitate.

“Okay: go ahead and hire him.”

Macklin laid down the letter opener and stared at me.

“What do you mean?”

“I said go ahead and hire him. I’ll foot the bill.”

“Am I to understand you are offering to pay for Mrs Delaney’s defence?” The words had a cold, clipped ring.

“That’s right,” I said. “I can go up to five thousand, but no more.”

I would have to sell pretty well everything to meet the bill, but I didn’t care. I had got Gilda into this mess, and I was determined to get her out of it.

“You realize of course that it would be fatal to Mrs Delaney’s interests if it was known you were financing her defence?”

“I’m not so stupid as to talk about it. You get Hunt; and I’ll pay.”

“I’ll see him. How can I get into touch with you?”

I gave him my telephone number.

After he had written it down, he said, “Now if you’ll go over to police headquarters...”

“Sure.”

I was aware he was looking oddly at me, but I didn’t care. I left him and drove over to police headquarters.

I was feeling pretty nervous when I asked for Lieutenant Boos, and I was still more nervous when I was taken to his office.

Boos was smoking his pipe and standing by the window, staring down at the traffic. He turned when I came in.

“Hello, Regan. What can I do for you?”

“It’s about Delaney’s death,” I said. “There’s something I forgot to tell you. When I found him, there was an empty glass lying by his side. I washed it out and put it in the kitchen cupboard.”

Boos stood stock-still, staring at me; his small eyes flinty.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“I don’t know. I was badly shocked. I did it while I was waiting for Jefferson. I kicked against the glass and picked it up. It gave me something to do: took my mind off finding Delaney. I’d forgotten about it, then this morning I remembered.”

Boos’ face went a deep purple.

“Are you kidding me?” he snarled.

“No. I’m telling you: there was an empty drinking glass lying by his side. I wouldn’t kid about a thing like that.”

“You mean to tell me you’ve just remembered it?”

“That’s right.”

He blew out his cheeks.

“Pretty damned convenient for Mrs Delaney, isn’t it?”

“Is it? I remembered it, and I came down here right away to tell you.”

“Yeah?” He moved around his desk. “Listen, Regan, if you’re lying, you could go down on an accessory rap! And I’m telling you, I think you are lying!”

I kept control of myself with an effort.

“Why should I lie?” I said. “I found the glass by his side! If you don’t believe me, then it’s your look out!”

He stood for a moment glaring at me, then he said, “Okay.” He went to the door, opened it and bawled for Hopkins, his sergeant. “We’ll go out there right away, and you’ll show me where you found the glass and where you put it.”

Hopkins, a thin, tall man with a stoop, came in.

“We’re going out to Delaney’s place,” Boos said to him. “This joker here has suddenly remembered finding an empty drinking glass beside Delaney’s body which he picked up, washed out and put away. Can you imagine?”

“Is that a fact?” Hopkins said, gaping at me.

“Let’s go and find out,” Boos said grimly.

We drove in silence all the way up to Glyn Camp and to Delaney’s place. I sat at the back of the police car: Boos and Hopkins in the front.

It was a nervy, uncomfortable drive for me. I could feel the hostility of the two men in their rigid silence.

When we got to the cabin, I showed them where I had found the glass, then I showed them the glass in the kitchen cupboard.

Boos wouldn’t let me touch it. He carefully put a handkerchief around it, lifted it and sniffed at it.

“I washed it out,” I said.

“Yeah: I heard you the first time.”

He gave the glass to Hopkins who put it in a cellophane bag and then into his pocket.

“Okay, Regan,” Boos said, suddenly the very tough cop, “what’s this woman to you?”

I was expecting this and I was ready braced for it.

“She was nothing to me,” I said before I could stop myself or think of Macklin’s warning. “She was just the wife of a client.”

“Yeah?” Boos sneered. “With a body like that? Listen: you came up here to sell a TV set and you fell for her, didn’t you? I would have done the same. That woman’s got everything, and you knew she wasn’t getting any loving. So you picked on her. That’s it, isn’t it?”

I wanted to plant my fist in his sneering face, but I controlled myself. I knew he was needling me to make me blurt out a damaging admission.

“You’re wrong. She was nothing to me.”

“I say yes.” His small eyes glittered. “Will you swear you never took her out? Never lusted after her? Never had her alone to yourself?”

Then I remembered Macklin’s warning. He had said it would be fatal to Gilda if I lied about taking her to the Italian restaurant and Boos found out. But I couldn’t tell him now. I knew, if I did, he would get the truth out of me. I knew too he would jump it on Gilda and she might deny it.

I had to take the risk of him finding out.

“I swear to that,” I said. “She was nothing to me!”

He stared at me for a long moment, then turned away.

“For your sake, Regan, I hope you’re not lying. I’m going to check. If I find out you are lying, you’re going down for an accessory rap, and if I don’t get you fifteen years, I’ll turn my badge in.”

I felt I was over the danger now — anyway for the time being.

“To hell with you, Lieutenant,” I said. “You can do what you damn well like.”

He suddenly grinned.

“Okay, Regan. Maybe she wasn’t such a dope as to remove the glass. I always thought it was crummy the glass wasn’t there. Well, we’ll see. Come on: I’ll drive you back.”

II

Two days later I had a telephone call from Macklin.

“Hunt is taking the case,” he said. “He wants to talk to you. Will you be at his office at eleven this morning?”

I said I would.

Macklin sounded curt and unfriendly, and after he had given me Hunt’s address, he hung up.

Lowson Hunt had a set of offices in the fashionable quarter of Los Angeles. I knew him by reputation as did anyone who read the murder cases in the papers over the past ten years.

I had never seen him, and I was surprised to find that he was small, thin and frail looking. He could have been anything from fifty to sixty years of age. His thin pale face was nondescript: it was only his eyes that gave a hint of the man behind the mask. They were remarkable eyes: small and washed out and blue, but they gave me the impression of being able to look through a wall and see well beyond it: the most disconcerting eyes I have ever had to meet.

“Sit down, Mr Regan,” he said, waving to a chair. He made no attempt to get up or to shake hands. “I’ve been through the case against Mrs Delaney. I understand you are offering to finance her defence.”

“That’s right.”

I then got the full blast from his eyes, and the searching stare made me move uneasily.

“Why?”

“That’s my business,” I Said curtly. “What’s it going to cost?”

He leaned back in his chair, resting his small white hands on the desk, and continued to stare at me.

“It happens to be my business if you want me to get Mrs Delaney off,” he said. “Let me explain: when I started to try to make a reputation for myself as a defending attorney, I had the bad luck to run up against Maddox of the National Fidelity. I was defending a man who was charged with the murder of his wife. She was insured, and the money came to him. There wasn’t much of a case against him, and I felt confident that I’d get an acquittal, but I was wrong. When Maddox got on the stand and began sounding off about his instincts for spotting a phoney claim I could see the jury sliding away from me. Simply by stating facts and figures over the period he had been investigating claims, Maddox put so much suspicion into the minds of the jury that my client went to the gas chamber. During my career I have come up against Maddox three times, and each time he has licked me. I’ve accepted the fact now that he is an expert witness; he can sway juries and he is a deadly danger to anyone standing trial for murder. Maddox has been able to lick me because in every case he has been right. He has this odd instinct that tells him long before he even digs up the evidence that a claim is a phoney, and that the man or woman insured by his company has been murdered. He has sent eleven men and five women to the gas chamber during the past ten years. He now has a reputation that is almost impossible to shake. The jury and the press know that when he is connected with a prosecution the man or the woman on trial is a goner.” He drummed on the desk while he continued to stare at me. “He has never been proved wrong for the simple reason he isn’t ever wrong. Maddox says Delaney was murdered, and that means Delaney was murdered. It’s my job when defending a client to get him off whether he is guilty or not. I don’t give a damn how guilty he is. When he hires me, I’m his, body and soul, until he either walks out of a court a free man or goes to the gas chamber. I’m telling you this because, if I am going to lick Maddox, I must have the whole truth and all the facts. Whatever you tell me won’t go beyond this room. It’s up to you. It’s your money. If you want to save her, you’ll have to give me the facts.” He pointed a finger at me. “But remember this: even if I get all the facts, I’m still not guaranteeing that I’ll save her. I have had three failures against Maddox. I’m determined to lick him before I quit this racket, and this case may be my chance. I don’t give a damn if Mrs Delaney did murder her husband. All I care about is pricking Maddox’s ego. Once I show that he can be wrong, I’ve got him where I want him. No jury will be impressed with him as they have been in the past. It’s going to make my other cases in which Maddox is involved a lot’ easier for me.” He paused, then went on, “So if you have anything to tell me that I should know, now’s the time.”

I hesitated for about three seconds, then I told him. I gave him the whole story from the moment I first met Gilda to the last time I saw her. I held nothing back, and it was a relief to get the whole thing off my mind.

He sat listening, not moving, his eyes fixed on the paperweight on his desk.

When I was through, he got abruptly to his feet and began to prowl around his big office, his hands in his trousers pockets, his face looking leaner than ever.

“That guy’s instinct for smelling murder!” he said. “It’s fantastic!”

“But she didn’t kill him,” I said. “He killed himself.”

He turned to look at me.

“That was your luck. The setup was for murder, and Maddox spotted it. I’m not so sure that what you’ve told me couldn’t make it tougher for her. The DA is going to prove that Delaney was a drunk. He’s got the maid who worked there who’ll tell the court Delaney began to hit the bottle as soon as he got up in the morning and went on hitting it. He’s going to show that Mrs Delaney could have put the cyanide in his whisky which killed him instantly. Now that you’ve claimed to have found the glass, the DA is going to say she washed the glass out, then rinsed it in whisky and put it by his side. You spoilt that planted clue of hers by absent-mindedly picking up the glass and putting it away. He is going to show that it was Mrs Delaney who arranged the TV set so that it looked as if he had electrocuted himself. If it gets out that you two were lovers, there’s not a thing I can do for her. I’ve got to make the jury believe she was loyal and faithful to him and because he had no more money, he took his life.”

“That’s how it did happen!” I said. “They’ve got to believe it!”

“Well, we’ll see. You can leave it to me now. Everything depends on whether the police find out you two were lovers. If they do, both of you are sunk. If they don’t, then she has a chance. Now remember this, if she is found guilty, they won’t send her to the gas chamber. She’ll get maybe ten years. So don’t do anything crazy like confessing, because it won’t help her. She’ll get a longer sentence, and you’ll be in trouble too.”

“Well, okay,” I said uneasily. “How about paying you? Do you want money now?”

“No. When it’s over and the excitement’s died down, I’ll want five thousand bucks from you. But right now I’m going to put out the story that I am so sure Maddox has made a mistake this time that I’m going to defend her for nothing just for the satisfaction of proving Maddox is wrong. The press know all about the fights I’ve had with Maddox. They’ll lap up a story like that. It’ll also make an impact on the jury. You leave all that to me. I’ll go and talk to her this afternoon.”

I went back to my cabin.

Soon after the trial, I would have to find five thousand dollars to pay Hunt. To raise the money I would have to part with practically every dime I had saved. I would be cleaned out.

I would have to leave Glyn Camp after the trial and it wouldn’t be possible now for me to start again on my own. I would have to find a job, and there and then I wrote to a firm in Miami I had had dealings with, asking them if they could make use of my services.

There was nothing for me to do now but to wait the outcome of the trial and to hope Boos wouldn’t find out about the Italian restaurant.

I wanted badly to write to Gilda, but I didn’t dare.

She was in my mind, night and day, day and night, and I wondered continually if she was thinking of me.

Not knowing now how she felt about me tormented me.

III

Five weeks after Gilda’s arrest, on a hot September morning, the trial opened in an atmosphere of tension and excitement.

Those five weeks had been anxious ones for me, but as the days passed and I heard nothing from the police, I began to feel more confident that they hadn’t found out about us nor had anyone apparently recognized Gilda at the Italian restaurant — and they would have done I felt sure, for, by now, every newspaper carried photographs of her.

As one of the principal witnesses for the prosecution I was kept in the witness room away from the court during the opening proceedings.

The other witnesses waiting with me were Delaney’s Mexican maid, Maria, Sheriff Jefferson, Doc Mallard, the pharmacist who had sold Gilda the cyanide and a fat, important looking man I hadn’t seen before who kept to himself.

There was a police officer in the room and he didn’t allow us to talk. I could see poor old Doc looked pretty shaky and unhappy and he had lost all his arrogance.

Jefferson was grim-faced, and he just nodded to me and then studiously avoided looking at me. I didn’t blame him. I knew he had guessed I had had something to do with Delaney’s death, and it was through me to a large extent that he had been forced to resign.

It wasn’t until half-past two in the afternoon that I got my call, and that was after Doc Mallard, Jefferson and the pharmacist had been called.

I braced myself.

I hadn’t seen Gilda now for six weeks and I remembered Hunt’s warning.

As I walked down the corridor towards the courtroom I asked the police officer escorting me how the trial was going.

“That guy Maddox!” he said. “This is the fourth time he’s tangled with Lowson Hunt and from the look of it, he’s scored again. You should have heard him sound off. By the time he was through with his figures and his hunches, the jury was looking away from her, and that’s always a bad sign.”

As I walked into the courtroom, I didn’t look at Gilda. It wasn’t until I had taken the oath that I glanced in her direction.

My heart gave a lurch when I saw how strained and pale she was. But she looked beautiful. I had never seen her look more beautiful, and I longed to go to her and take her in my arms.

She didn’t look at me and that hurt. She sat motionless beside Hunt, staring down at her hands.

I glanced over at the jury. They were a dead-looking lot: three of them women, the rest men. They stared at me, their eyes bored.

The DA got up and began questioning me about the TV set.

I went through the story of how I had found Delaney and why I had assumed he had died from an electric shock.

The DA took me over the story about finding the glass.

The jury now lost their bored expressions and I could see they were listening intently.

“I believe there was an experiment carried out by you and Mr Harmas,” the DA said, “to do with the removing of the back of the set. Would you tell the jury just what this experiment was, Mr Regan?”

“Mr Harmas seemed to be under the impression that Delaney, paralysed as he was, couldn’t have reached the bottom fixing screws that held the back of the set in place,” I said. “I tried to remove the screws from Delaney’s wheel chair and had great difficulty in reaching the screws.”

“Is it not a fact,” the DA said, “that when you were tied into the chair you couldn’t get anywhere near these screws? Nor could you pick up the screwdriver that was lying on the floor?”

“That’s right,” I said, and I had to make an effort not to look at Gilda.

The DA wasn’t satisfied with that. He took me over the experiment again in different words, asking questions, enlarging, and generally hammering into the minds of the jury that Delaney could not have taken off the back of the set nor could he have picked up the screwdriver.

At last he seemed satisfied he had made his point and he stepped back.

“Okay, Mr Regan, that’s all,” he said, and glanced at Hunt.

Without even bothering to get out of his chair, Hunt said he had no questions to ask me, but he would call me later.

I was taken out to spend another hour in the stuffy little witness room; this time on my own.

I heard from my police escort that the DA called Harmas after I had gone and took him through the story of the experiment.

It was on this business of taking the back off the set that the case against Gilda rested, and the DA hammered it home.

Around four o’clock I was called into the courtroom. There was an atmosphere in the room you could lean against.

The fat, important looking man who had been in the witness room was on the stand. He told Hunt that his name was Henry Studdley, and he was a specialist in the diseases of the spine. He said Delaney had been his patient.

He explained that there was nothing unusual about Delaney’s disability. His spine had been injured resulting in total paralysis from the waist down. Hundreds of people had been disabled in car accidents as Delaney had been disabled.

“Much has been made by the District Attorney,” Hunt said, “of the fact that Delaney could not have reached the two lower screws on the set. It is on this point that my client is being tried. I want to get this clear, doctor. Tell me, in your opinion, would it have been possible for Delaney, seated in his chair, to have removed those two bottom screws?”

“It would have been quite impossible for him to have reached the screws,” Studdley said emphatically.

This caused a major sensation, and the DA, thinking that Hunt had walked into a trap of his own making, was scarcely able to suppress a guffaw.

Hunt seemed quite unperturbed. He thanked Studdley, and asked him to step down, but not to leave the courtroom. Then he turned to the jury.

He said he was satisfied that Delaney had committed suicide.

Delaney was a drunkard and unstable. He and his wife had quarrelled the night before he died. He had assaulted her. Although she had put up with his evil temper and his drinking habits for the past four years, loyally doing her duty as his wife, this was the final straw. She decided to leave him. Delaney knew his money was exhausted. When he was on his own, realizing he now had no wife nor money, he decided to kill himself. He knew that if he arranged things to look as if he had died accidentally his wife would come in for the insurance money, and she would be able to clear his debts. That was what he had done.

I could see the jury wasn’t impressed by this theory. The DA’s constant reminder that Delaney couldn’t have taken off the back of the TV set made Hunt’s suggestion a waste of time.

“I am in the position to demonstrate to you how Delaney got hold of the screwdriver and how he did in fact take off the back of the set,” Hunt went on. “I would like to put Dr Studdley on the stand again.”

While Studdley walked to the stand, I saw the jury were showing interest and the DA was scowling at Hunt.

“Three days ago, doctor,” Hunt said to Studdley, “I telephoned you and asked you to arrange something for me. Would you tell the court what it was I asked you to do?”

“You asked me to find a patient who had the exact symptoms that Delaney had,” Studdley said.

“And did you find such a patient?”

“Certainly. It wasn’t difficult. I have at least six patients under my care who have exactly the same symptoms as Delaney had.”

Hunt turned to the judge and asked permission for the patient to take part in a demonstration.

The DA got to his feet, roaring objections.

There was a legal huddle between the judge, Hunt and the DA. Finally, it was decided that the DA should have the opportunity of examining the case papers of Delaney and the patient from Studdley’s clinic and to call his own medical expert to watch the demonstration which was to be held at Blue Jay cabin.

On that note the court adjourned for the day.

IV

The following morning there was a big gathering in the lounge of Blue Jay cabin. Besides the judge and jury, there were the two medical experts, Boos, Maddox, Hunt, the DA and myself.

Seated in Delaney’s wheel chair was a thin, delicate looking man whose name was Holman.

Hunt asked him to go to the storeroom and see if he could get a screwdriver from the toolbox.

Holman trundled himself down the passage, followed by the jury and anyone else who could squeeze into the crowded passage.

As a witness for the prosecution, I got a front row view.

We all watched Holman manoeuvre the chair into the storeroom and hook the stick over the side of the toolbox. He took a little time judging the distance and moved the chair slightly closer to the shelf. Then he tipped the box over.

The box fell slap in his lap. Several of the tools spilled out onto the floor, but both screwdrivers remained in his lap.

“You see,” Hunt said mildly. “It was really very simple. The screwdriver never reached the floor.”

He got Holman to do the trick five times, and each time the screwdrivers dropped into Holman’s lap.

I could see the DA was looking uneasy by now and the jury were glancing at each other significantly.

“Now we’ll see about taking the back off the set,” Hunt said. “Let’s return to the lounge.”

We all followed Holman as he trundled the chair along the passage.

Hunt said to him, “See if you can reach those two screws, Mr Holman.”

Holman wheeled the chair up to the set.

“It can’t be done,” he said as he put out his arm. He was at least eighteen inches from the screws.

“Okay,” Hunt said quietly. “Now I want you to imagine you are a desperate man and no matter how much it hurts, no matter how great the effort, it is essential for you to get at those two screws. I want you to imagine that, after you have taken the screws out, then you are going to commit suicide.”

A glass of water was put on an occasional table by Holman’s side.

“Now go ahead,” Hunt said. “Try to get at those screws.”

There was a sudden tension in the room that you could feel. Sweat trickled down my face as I leaned forward, my eyes, like everyone’s eyes, glued on the man in Delaney’s chair.

Holman manoeuvred his chair close to the TV set. Then he put his hands on the arms of the chair and raised his helpless body a few inches off the seat of the chair. He remained like that for several seconds. He then dipped his head forward and at the same time gave the chair a little push back. The chair slid away from him as he let go of the arms.

Before anyone could move, he had pitched forward, coming to the floor with a sickening crash.

A police officer started forward, but Hunt stopped him.

The fall had obviously badly shaken Holman, who lay motionless, face down before the TV set.

Hunt went to him and squatted down beside him.

“Are you all right, Mr Holman?” he asked, an anxious note in his voice.

“Yes, I’m all right.”

The thin, shaky voice was a whisper in the room.

Then the paralysed man began to move slightly. He pushed himself over on his side. By him was the screwdriver. He picked it up, then undid the two fixing screws and pulled off the back of the set. From where he lay he had no trouble in reaching the two screws.

While everyone in the room watched him in tense and utter silence, he rolled onto his other side, reached out and picked up the glass of water. He drank a little of the water, then dropped the glass as he sank face down on the floor.

“Hold it!” Hunt said. He looked around the lounge until he spotted me. “Mr Regan! Come here, please.”

I joined him beside Holman’s motionless body.

“Look at this man. Was that how you found Delaney? Look at him carefully. Was that how you found him?”

“Yes,” I said. “That was just the way he was lying.”

And that was the turning point of the trial.

Back in the courtroom that afternoon, the DA put up a fight, but he knew he was licked. Hunt had created too much doubt in the minds of the jury. His closing speech was powerful and stirring. He said that no man nor woman with any sense of responsibility could convict Gilda on such flimsy evidence and he demanded an immediate acquittal.

The jury were out for two hours.

They were the longest two hours I have ever lived through. When they came back, they all looked at Gilda, and I knew that she was free.

The foreman said they found her not guilty, and there was quite a demonstration in court.

Gilda stood beside Hunt. She was very white, and I could see she was breathing quickly by the rise and fall of her breasts.

When she left the courtroom, she didn’t look in my direction and I hurried after her, but I lost her in the crowd.

As I was pushing my way to the exit, I bumped into Maddox, who grimed at me, his expression wolfish.

“That was a neat trick,” he said. “She was lucky. Well, she didn’t get my money, and that’s what I care most about.”

Lowson Hunt joined him.

“This time you were wrong,” he said, his thin face showing his triumph. “I knew I’d get her off.”

“Wrong?” Maddox said. “She was saved by a trick. I’ll say I wasn’t wrong! She’s as guilty as hell!”

Leaving Hunt staring after him, Maddox walked down the steps to where his car was waiting.