Parnell Hall - The Innocent Woman

“Not in so many words,” Cunningham said. “You asked me for a reason why she went down there at ten o’clock. So I gave you one. It is my reason, but it’s based on things she told me. One, that she didn’t want to meet Frank Fletcher and, two, that she wanted to clean out her desk.”

Dirkson’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me you never asked her why she went down there at ten o’clock?”

“Of course I did. She told me she went down there to clean out her desk. Just like I said.”

“No, no,” Dirkson said. “Didn’t you ask her why she waited until ten o’clock to go down there?”

“Certainly not.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends. I didn’t cross-examine her the way you’re cross-examining me. I merely asked her what happened. And when she told me, I believed her.”

Dirkson took a breath. “What about the petty cash drawer?”

“What about it?”

“Did she tell you whether it was open or shut when she found it?”

“Yes, of course,” Cunningham said. “She found it open, and the police found it shut. She can’t understand how that happened, unless one of the officers was careless and closed it.”

Dirkson stopped, glared at the witness in exasperation. He knew Cunningham was lying, but he couldn’t seem to faze him. And with every answer, Cunningham was just making things worse. Dirkson hated to let him go, but it occurred to him Cunningham was his witness, and if he came up with anything he could recall him later on.

“All right,” Dirkson said. “No further questions.”

Steve Winslow stood up. “Mr. Cunningham, you testified the defendant got home from her dinner with you sometime after eight o’clock?”

Dirkson, who had just sat down, lunged to his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor.”

Judge Wylie sighed, pointed to the sidebar.

When they had gathered there, Judge Wylie said, “Yes, Mr. Dirkson?”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “This is the very situation I had anticipated. This witness is friendly to the defense and hostile to me. You will notice at what great pains he went to sneak in the time element, when Your Honor had already ruled it inadmissible. Now that he has, the defense attorney is going to build on that by cross-examining him on it, at which point the witness will cheerfully lie and commit perjury in order to build up an alibi for the defendant.”

“As you can bring out on redirect,” Judge Wylie said.

“How can I establish that with a witness who continually lies?” Dirkson cried in exasperation.

“I will thank you to lower your voice,” Judge Wylie said. “We are at the sidebar, not in chambers. Now, I am going to take you last remark as being uttered in frustration. Since you are the district attorney, I am going to assume you don’t really want to be lectured by me on how to cross-examine a witness who may not be telling the truth. As to the objection, it is overruled. The defense may certainly cross-examine on any matter that came out on direct. Now, let’s get on with it.”

When they had resumed their positions, Judge Wylie said, “The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

In the back of the courtroom, Mark Taylor nudged Tracy Garvin. “Got him.”

Tracy nodded. Taylor was right. Steve Winslow had virtually guaranteed a not guilty verdict. He had manipulated Dirkson into a position where Larry Cunningham would sink his case for him. Amy Dearborn would be off the hook, and so would they.

So why didn’t she feel good about it?

Tracy sat, listened, while Steve Winslow repeated the question.

“So, Mr. Cunningham, the question was, that as I understand your testimony, the defendant got back to her apartment sometime after eight o’clock. Is that right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I’d like to pin this down, get it straight in the minds of the jurors. You took Amy Dearborn out to dinner, is that right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“You ate at the Abbey Pub on 105th Street?”

“Yes, we did.”

“What time did you pick her up?”

“Sometime between six-thirty and seven.”

“You picked her up at her apartment?”

“That’s right.”

“Her apartment is how close to the restaurant?”

“Two blocks.”

“So it took you no time at all to walk there?”

“That’s right. Just a few minutes.”

“You sat in the restaurant and had dinner?”

“Yes, we did.”

“And I believe you testified that over dinner you discussed the trial that Amy had been through that afternoon-the one where she was found innocent of petty theft?”

“That’s right. We did.”

“What was her reaction to the trial?”

“She was elated, of course. She had been found innocent in record time. There was no question in the mind of the jurors that she was innocent. She felt totally vindicated. Oh, and she did mention, she felt you had done an excellent job.”

Steve Winslow smiled and bowed. “Thank you very much. Now, as I understand it, after dinner you were going to take the defendant to a movie. Is that right?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And what time did the movie start?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock?”

“That’s right.”

“But you say you didn’t leave the restaurant until after eight o’clock.”

Cunningham smiled. “But we didn’t see the movie.”

“Yes, but you intended to. If you intended to go to an eight o’clock movie, how come you didn’t leave the restaurant until after eight o’clock?”

“I can explain that,” Cunningham said.

“Please do.”

Cunningham turned to the jury. “The Olympia Theater is on Broadway and 106th Street, which is only a block away. It would take at the most five minutes for us to leave the restaurant, purchase tickets and go in. Plus there’s always five to ten minutes of previews of coming attractions. As if happens, it was nearly eight when we were preparing to leave the restaurant. Which would have given us ample time. However, before we left the restaurant, I made a phone call and checked my answering machine. I found I had a message from a client, summoning me to a business meeting. Unfortunately, I had to go. I happen to be a consultant in the stock market, and when a client has a tip he wants to act on, tomorrow will not do. So we couldn’t go to the movies because I had to go to work.” Cunningham shrugged. “Once we weren’t going to the movies, there was no longer any rush to get out of the restaurant. We finished our coffee, settled up the bill. Amy went home and I went to work, and we didn’t get out of there until after eight.”

“I see,” Steve Winslow said. “So you can personally give the defendant an alibi until sometime after eight o’clock?”

“Yes, I can.”

Steve Winslow nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Cunningham.” He turned to the bench. “Your Honor, I think I have a few more questions, if I could have your indulgence for a moment, please.”

Steve turned, walked back to the defense table, leaned over to Amy Dearborn. In a low voice, he said, “How’m I doin’?”

That startled her. “Fine I guess,” she said. “What do you need to know?”

“Nothing, really,” Steve said. “I’m just stalling for time.”

“Huh?”

“Just taking a break before the big push. But I suppose I really should ask you something.”

“What?”

“You ever go to bed with this guy?”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Damn it,” she said.

“Can I take that for a no?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Steve shrugged. “Like I said, I had to ask you something. Now nod your head like we just conferred over a very important matter.” When Amy just stared at him, he said, “That’s fine. And away we go.”