Маргарет Миллар - Spider Webs

“There is still another addition to the list of questions that haven’t been answered and actions that haven’t been explained. Cully King cleaned and tidied the cabin so no signs remained that it had been occupied. Why? Having sex with a woman was not a crime he had to hide but something for a man like Cully to boast about. After all, this was no ordinary dock hooker. Mrs. Pherson had class and money. But he didn’t boast of his conquest. Instead, he removed every single trace of her presence as if he were erasing her very existence. Why?”

“We’ll find out when he takes the stand.”

“Donnelly will never put him on the stand. He can’t afford to. Cully King would tie himself in knots trying to answer all the questions and explain all his actions. I hope I’m right about this. I’d like to be out of here by Christmas. And I mean Christmas this year, not next year.”

He stared at his hands on the steering wheel, the knuckles swollen as if he’d hit someone with his fist.

“I feel time is passing like a train,” he said. “And everybody in the courtroom is being left behind, that all our lives have come to a stop at the station. Eventually another train will come along, and we’ll get on it and resume our lives.”

“Perhaps there won’t be another train,” Eva said.

“There always is.”

“Not for me. I’ve been waiting a long time for this one.”

“This one isn’t a train for you, Foster; it’s a carousel. Jump off before you get hurt.”

“I’m already hurt.”

“Then don’t make it worse. I’ll do my part by arranging a leave of absence for you or a transfer to another courtroom.”

“No, thanks. I must stay where I am.”

“Why?”

“In case he needs me.”

The judge’s sigh this time was the longest and deepest yet. “Isn’t there anyone you can discuss this with, a family member, a minister, someone who is older and wiser?”

“I don’t want to discuss it with anybody.”

“Well, dammit, you must have wanted to discuss it with me or you wouldn’t have followed me all the way down here. Dammit, I can’t afford to lose a good clerk in a morass of mush. You’ve got to talk to someone about the situation.”

“I’ve already talked to the only one who counts. You want to know what he said?” She tugged at the red scarf around her neck to loosen it. “He said, ‘Holy shit.’ ”

The judge’s face was caught in a grimace between a smile and a frown. “Are you sure you understood him correctly?”

“I m sure.”

“Well, at least you were left without any doubt.”

“I was left without any anything. But don’t feel sorry for me. I’m going to fight. If he’s found innocent, I’m going to fight for him. And if he’s found guilty, I’m going to fight alongside him all the way to the Supreme Court.”

“Holy shit,” the judge said under his breath.

Before the first witness of the afternoon session was called, District Attorney Owen addressed the bench.

“Your Honor, I would like the following information included in the transcript. Lieutenant Sommerville, who will now be taking the stand, was supposed to be my first witness. A postponement was necessary because Lieutenant Sommerville is in charge of the locally based Coast Guard cutter Priscilla , which was scheduled to go on a two-week training cruise. Because of the length of time required to pick this jury, his appearance conflicted with the training cruise schedule. So I am calling him now instead of as originally planned.”

Lieutenant Sommerville was in uniform, a ruddy-faced, serious-looking man in his early thirties. He stated that his permanent residence was in Los Alamitos. He had been in the Coast Guard for twelve years, ever since he graduated from the University of California at San Diego with a degree in marine biology. He was in command of the Coast Guard cutter Priscilla when a member of the crew spotted the body of a woman entangled in a kelp bed. Two crewmen were sent in a rubber raft to retrieve the body and bring it on board the Priscilla.

The body was tested for vital signs to determine the fact of death. Death had apparently occurred some hours before. Since the body had been found within the three-mile limit, jurisdiction belonged to the sheriff’s department, which sent a patrol boat to take the body to the police morgue.

Sommerville identified the pictures offered previously in evidence by the prosecution as being those of the dead woman taken on board the Priscilla.

“How much time elapsed before the woman’s body was transferred from the Priscilla to the sheriff’s patrol boat?”

“Roughly about an hour and a half.”

“During that period did you form an opinion as to the cause of death?”

“That’s not my job. Anyway, I covered her with a blanket as soon as I determined that she was dead. Then I called the sheriff’s office and told them we had a floater.”

“Is that police jargon for a body found in the water?”

“Yes.”

“After the body was transferred to the patrol boat, what did you do?”

“I asked the deputy to be sure and return the blanket.”

The audience laughed, and the lieutenant added hastily, “That may seem like a trivial thing to you, but I’m held accountable for every single item on board my ship, and it is my duty to see that items removed are brought back.”

“Was it?”

“No.”

“I have no more questions. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

The judge looked at Donnelly. “Are you ready to cross-examine, Mr. Donnelly?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Donnelly replaced Owen at the lectern. “Lieutenant Sommerville, you stated that you had a degree in marine biology?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Would you tell us what you meant when you referred to a bed of kelp?”

“It is called by biologists a forest of kelp. We see only the top of this forest on the water surface. The stalks, or stipes, go all the way down to sea bottom, where they are anchored by holdfasts which keep the plant in place.”

“Are there several kinds of kelp found in this area?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Referring to the bed or forest where Mrs. Pherson’s body was found, can you identify the species?”

“It’s one of the larger varieties, Macrocystis. Boatmen hate the stuff since it can foul up propellers, anchors, keels, but it’s an important part of the food chain.”

Donnelly went over and spoke to the bailiff, who then left the courtroom and returned with Bill Gunther. Gunther was carrying a large plastic bag and a folding table.

He wore a dirty gray warm-up suit, wet at the seat, wrists and ankles. He was in his bare feet and looked cold and disgruntled. He had filed a protest over the assignment: “I can’t think of a single reason why I should row out to the kelp beds when I could pick up a hunk of the stuff from the beach.”

“I can,” Donnelly told him. “I’m ordering you to.”

“I hate the water. What if I drown?”

“I’ll send flowers.”

Gunther set up the table in the area between the witness stand and the jury box. He emptied the contents of the plastic bag on the tabletop, and the unmistakable odor of the sea drifted across the room. The kelp was a long single strand, light brown and slimy-looking.

“Would you step down here a minute, Lieutenant, and identify this seaweed which my assistant has just gathered?”

“I can tell from here it’s Macrocystis .”

“Commonly found around here?”

“Yes, sir. At a certain water depth there are dense forests of it parallel to the shoreline.”

“You stated that Mrs. Pherson’s body was entangled in the kelp. Would you explain this more fully?”