Superposition

^{CHAPTER 16}

“The People call Sheila Singer to the stand,” Haviland announced.

Terry cursed and started rummaging through his papers in a way that did not inspire confidence. “Your Honor,” he said, still rummaging. “I have no knowledge of this witness.”

Haviland’s smile grew brighter. “Her name was provided to the defense weeks ago, in the discovery process. She works at the New Jersey Super Collider.”

Probably twenty percent of the NJSC’s three thousand employees had been on the prosecution’s list of possible witnesses. Terry had made me go through them all and identify all those I knew, had ever worked with, or had seen during the events of last December third. It was a standard lawyer trick, apparently, to drown the opposition with irrelevant entries in order to hide the ones that really mattered.

“What is her relevance to this case?” Terry snapped.

“I hope her testimony will make that plain.” Haviland was positively beaming now.

“There’s nothing irregular here, Mr. Sheppard,” Judge Roswell said. “The name is on the list. You may proceed, Mr. Haviland.”

Terry glared at me, but I shrugged. I had no idea who Sheila Singer was, and when she took the stand, I was even more confused. She was twenty-something, slender, with a low-cut, turquoise blouse and a short, black skirt that revealed legs a half mile long. If I’d seen her before, I would have remembered. She flashed a brilliant smile at the jury.

“Ms. Singer, please state your name for the record.” She did so, and he asked her to tell the court what her job was with the NJSC.

“I’m a receptionist and tour guide,” she said. “I meet visitors who come to the center, and I sometimes take groups through the parts that are open for tourists.”

“Do you get a lot of tourists?”

“Of course. It’s the biggest scientific instrument ever created.” A sly smile at the jury. “Some people think the bigger the better.”

I coughed. Haviland looked a little annoyed. “Were you working on December third?”

“Yes,” Singer said. “I was stationed at the reception desk in the Feynman Center. That’s where I work when I don’t have a tour, so I can answer questions, give out maps, that kind of thing.”

“So, your desk is the first thing a visitor sees when they enter? The first place they would go to ask a question?”

“Yes.”

I could tell Terry was dying to object and ask what the point of this line of questioning was, but he held back. It was probably just what Haviland was waiting for.

“Do you know Jacob Kelley, the accused?” Haviland asked.

“No. I don’t think we ever met,” Singer said.

“But on December third, you heard his name, didn’t you?”

“Yes. There was a woman who asked for him. She seemed quite upset.”

“Did the woman say who she was?”

“No. She had three children with her, two girls and a boy, and she said she was looking for her husband and asked if I knew how to contact him,” Singer said.

I stood up slowly, staring at her.

“What time was this?” Haviland asked.

“Just before five o’clock.”

“How can you be sure of the time, Ms. Singer?”

“Visiting hours end at five o’clock. It was the end of my working day.”

Haviland pushed a button on a remote control, and a picture of my beloved Elena appeared on a large screen. “Is this the woman?”

I felt a lump in my throat, just seeing her picture. It had been so long since I’d seen her. It seemed like another life. I felt like I was choking, like I was going to cry right there in the courtroom. They had been there, right there at the NJSC. They had split when the varcolac came to the house, and here was the proof.

I realized everyone was looking at me, and Terry was frantically tugging at my sleeve. Judge Roswell glared at me. “Mr. Kelley, sit down.”

I sat. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

Haviland gave me a predatory smile and turned back to the witness. “Ms. Singer, let’s be clear. Mr. Kelley claims that he saw his wife and children dead in his house in Pennsylvania more than an hour before you claim to have seen them in New Jersey. Were they dead when you saw them?”

“No, sir.”

“Ms. Singer, how long have you been working at the NJSC?”

She blinked at the sudden change of direction. “A little more than a year.”

“And in that time, how many visitors have you seen?”

“Oh, hundreds. Gosh, I don’t know, maybe thousands.”

“And the woman who was looking for Mr. Kelley, had you ever seen her before December third?”

“No, just that once.”

“Can you be absolutely sure she was Jacob Kelley’s wife?”

Her mouth pouted prettily. “I’m very sure.”

“I remind you that you are under oath, Ms. Singer.”

“She didn’t tell me who she was, but she looked just like the picture,” Singer said. “If it wasn’t her, then she had a twin sister.”

With shaking hands, I snatched one of Terry’s legal pads and scribbled a note on it.

Terry read it, looked at me, and wrote, “Why?”

I wrote, “Please, just ask.”

He shook his head, but he tucked the legal pad under his arm.

“And what did you tell Mrs. Kelley?” Haviland asked.

“Well, I felt sorry for her, you know?” Singer said. “She said he might be with Mr. Vanderhall, so I looked up the building and told her.” She put a hand to her cheek. “I had no idea that her husband had killed the man. The poor woman.”

“Objection,” Terry said, but the judge was already nodding.

“Ms. Singer,” she said. “Whether or not Mr. Kelley killed Mr. Vanderhall has not yet been established. Please limit your answers to the questions being asked.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” Singer said.

“Your witness,” Haviland said, and sat down.

Terry stood and took the lectern. He flipped through his legal pad for a moment as if marshalling his thoughts. He obviously hadn’t planned to interview this woman, which meant he wasn’t prepared. The old adage that you shouldn’t ask a question to which you don’t already know the answer meant that he should just sit down again. He frowned and stared at his pad. I knew he was deciding whether to ask my questions or not.

“Mr. Sheppard?” the judge said.

He seemed to shake himself. “Just a few questions, Your Honor. Ms. Singer, did you happen to notice if the woman you saw was wearing a wedding ring?”

Singer brightened again. “Yes, she was. I always notice that sort of thing. It was a sweet ring, small, you know, but sometimes that means more than some enormous diamond. Maybe the guy doesn’t have a lot of money, but then it’s really for love, you know what I mean?”

“Did you happen to notice…” Terry paused. “Did you happen to notice which hand the ring was on?”

“Well, of course,” Singer said. “It was on her left hand. I told you it was a wedding ring; where else would it be?”

I knew the jury wouldn’t understand why I was smiling, but I couldn’t help it. At least an hour after I had seen them dead, my family had been alive. Singer had seen my Elena, not the backward version of her I had found in the house. It meant my theory about them splitting had been correct after all. It meant my family was really alive out there, or had been two months ago. But if that was the case, what had happened to them? Why had no one seen them since?

“Mr. Kelley,” Judge Roswell said in her stern voice. Her face was too pleasant to pull it off effectively, and she looked more like a scolding grandmother than a fierce authority figure, but I knew her affable appearance wouldn’t stop her from holding me in contempt of court, so I sat down quickly.

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” I said.

“Mr. Sheppard, is there a point to this line of questioning?”

Terry glared at me. “I apologize, Your Honor. I have no further questions.”