Mary Clark - I 've Heard That Song Before

He’s doing a good job, I thought. Please God, let the judge believe him.

“Your Honor,” Banks said, his voice rising, “we do not dispute that Peter Carrington got up and attempted to leave the room. However, given the substantial security measures that were in place, of which Peter Carrington was not only aware, but was paying for, it is abundantly clear that this episode was the result of his being afflicted with this terrible disorder. Your Honor, as per your previous order, he spent the night at the center, and now has been returned to jail. It would be a terrible injustice to forfeit the twenty-five-million-dollar bail as a result of actions over which he had no control.”

Judge Smith had listened intently to both sides. He looked up, and our eyes locked for just a second before he addressed the courtroom. What did he see when he looked at me? I wondered. Did he see the way I am pleading with him to understand? I felt my heart pounding as he began to speak.

“I can candidly state that this is the most unusual set of circumstances that I have ever encountered with respect to a bail hearing,” he said. “I am fully aware that sleepwalking may be an issue in Mr. Carrington’s upcoming trial. I, of course, am taking no position at this time regarding the merits of the state’s case, or the validity of any sleepwalking defense. The sole issue today is whether Mr. Carrington deliberately attempted to violate the conditions of his bail, and whether he should forfeit the twenty-five million dollars he posted. Defense counsel does not dispute that Mr. Carrington attempted to leave the hospital room in which he was confined.”

I looked at the prosecutor. An angry frown was forming on her face. Dear God, let that mean that the judge isn’t going to make Peter forfeit that bail. Because if he does make him forfeit it, it will mean he believes Peter was putting on an act.

The judge continued: “The defense counsel has proffered substantial indication that the medical testing has revealed a serious sleepwalking disorder. It is also a fair argument that Peter Carrington was fully aware of the intense security surrounding him, which would have made any attempt to escape a virtual impossibility. It is also true, as defense counsel notes, that Mr. Carrington had both agreed to and paid for this intense security. Under all of these circumstances, and again recognizing that the entire purpose of the hospital’s evaluation was focused on whether there was or was not a sleepwalking disorder, this court is not convinced that Mr. Carrington consciously tried to escape, or otherwise deliberately violated conditions of his bail. The state’s concern about flight is legitimate, and the defendant will remain in jail pending his trial. But given the information before me, I will not order the forfeiture of the twenty-five million dollars bail.”

At last we had a sort of victory. I felt myself slump in my seat. Vincent Slater patted my shoulder, an unusual gesture for him to make. “Kay, this is really important,” he said, his voice full of relief and concern.

Slater so seldom showed any emotion that I was both surprised and touched. I had always thought of him as someone who was efficient and devoted to Peter’s interests, but otherwise was basically cold and unresponsive. His reaction offered an unexpected glimpse into the interior Vincent Slater. Of course, I reminded myself, he was undoubtedly thrilled about the return of the twenty-five-million-dollar bail.

I was allowed a few minutes with Peter while he was in the holding cell. “Kay,” he said, “last night I was dreaming of kneeling on the Althorps’ lawn, the way I was when the cops arrested me. When I was trying to open the door, it was because, in my dream, I had to go there again.” His voice dropped to a whisper so that the guard standing nearby could not hear him. “But last night was different.” He paused. “I thought that Gary Barr was sitting in the room watching me.”

Nicholas Greco heard on his car radio that Peter Carrington might have tried to break out of the sleep center. Knowing there would be a bail hearing, he called Barbara Krause’s office and learned what time it would be held.

That was why he was in the courtroom during the hearing, and why he waited outside in the hall after it was over, hoping to speak to Carrington’s wife, Kay.

When she came out, she was accompanied by Vincent Slater. When Slater saw Greco, he tried to rush Kay Carrington past him, but Greco blocked his way. “Mrs. Carrington,” he said, “I would very much like to speak with you. There is a possibility I might be of assistance to you.”

“Assistance!” Slater snapped. “Kay, this is the investigator who located the maid and got her to change her testimony.”

“Mrs. Carrington, I am seeking the truth.” Greco handed her his card. “Please take this. Please call me.” Satisfied that she had slipped it in her pocket, he turned and walked in the opposite direction from the elevators.

He knew by now that he had become something of a familiar figure in the prosecutor’s office. Barbara Krause’s door was closed, but Tom Moran was standing in the hall outside, talking to a police officer. Greco managed to catch Moran’s eye, then waited until Moran came over to speak to him.

Moran waved aside Greco’s apologies for dropping in without an appointment. “Come in my office,” he suggested. “The boss is not a happy camper after losing the motion for bail forfeiture.”

“I understand,” Greco said, with a silent prayer of thanks that he had not intruded on Barbara Krause. He knew there was a thin line between her considering him helpful and deciding he was a pest. He also knew that he should not take up much of Moran’s time.

Once inside Moran’s office, Greco got to the point. “I have been speaking with Susan Althorp’s closest friend, Sarah Kennedy North. As you know, Gary Barr used to chauffeur Susan and her friends to parties. But according to Sarah North, it seems he had an unusually close relationship with Susan.”

Moran raised an eyebrow. “I’m listening.”

“Susan apparently referred to Barr as ‘her pal.’ Rather unusual, don’t you think, for an eighteen-year-old and a servant who was then in his early forties? Also, the atmosphere in the Althorp home does not suggest familiarity ever existed between the family and the employees. If anything, I would say quite the opposite.”

“Mr. Greco, we have always suspected that Peter Carrington had help in both hiding and later in burying Susan Althorp’s body. We knew, of course, about the chauffeuring Gary Barr did. The police also spoke to Susan’s friends at the time of her disappearance. None of them mentioned Barr as having an unusual relationship with Susan. Perhaps it’s time for us to talk to him again. Maybe his memory has improved over the years as well.”

Greco got up. “I won’t take any more of your time. May I also suggest that you thoroughly investigate Gary Barr’s background to see if there may have ever been any problem with the law. A possibility has occurred to me which I am not yet ready to share. Good day, Mr. Moran. It is always a pleasure to see you.”

I despised Elaine for her trickery, but in an odd way, it was also a relief that I was not in possession of the infamous shirt. Even though she was blackmailing us, she also was postponing a moral dilemma for me. As Peter’s wife, by law, I did not have to testify against him. To actively withhold or destroy evidence was, however, something else again. But now, I told myself, I was not withholding evidence because I did not possess it.

The media had a field day after the bail hearing. The cover of one of the tabloids had a picture of Peter standing before the judge, his back to the camera. The judge was looking down. The headline was, ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. IS THE JUDGE ASLEEP, TOO? A cartoon in another newspaper depicted Peter with electrodes hanging from his forehead, a breathing tube over his shoulder, and a hatchet in his hand that he was aiming at a door.