Sidney Sheldon - Tell me your dreams

At ten o'clock Wednesday morning, David Singer was ushered into the chambers of Judge Tessa Williams, in the room with her was Mickey Brennan. The leading prosecutor from the district attorney's office was in his fifties, a short, burly man with a slight brogue. Tessa Williams was in her late forties, a slim, attractive African-American woman with a crisp, authoritative manner.

"Good morning, Mr. Singer. I'm Judge Williams. This is Mr. Brennan."

The two men shook hands.

"Sit down, Mr. Singer. I want to talk about the Patterson case. According to the records, you've filed a plea of not guilty and not guilty by reason of insanity?"

"Yes, Your Honor."

Judge Williams said, "I brought you two together because think we can save a lot of time and save the state a great deal of expense. I'm usually against plea bargaining, but in this case, think it's justified."

David was listening, puzzled.

The judge turned to Brennan. "I've read the preliminary hearing transcript, and see no reason for this case to go to trial. I'd like the state to waive the death penalty and accept a guilty plea with no chance of parole."

David said, "Wait a minute. That's out of the question!"

They both turned to look at him. "Mr. Singer—"

"My client is not guilty. Ashley Patterson passed a lie detector test that proves—"

"That doesn't prove anything, and as you well know it's not admissible in court. Because of all the publicity, this is going to be a long and messy trial."

"I'm sure that—"

"I've been practicing law a long time, Mr. Singer. I've heard the whole basket of legal pleas. I've heard pleas of self-defense—that's an acceptable plea; murder by reason of temporary insanity—that's a reasonable plea; diminished capacity.... But I'll tell you what don't believe in, Counselor. 'Not guilty because didn't commit the crime, my alter ego did it.' To use a term you might not find in Blackstone, that's 'bullshit.' Your client either committed the crimes or she didn't. If you change your plea to guilty, we can save a lot of—"

"No, Your Honor, won't."

Judge Williams studied David a moment. "You're very stubborn. A lot of people find that an admirable quality." She leaned forward in her chair. "I don't."

"Your Honor—"

"You're forcing us into a trial that's going to last at least three months—maybe longer."

Brennan nodded. "I agree."

"I'm sorry that you feel—"

"Mr. Singer, I'm here to do you a favor. If we try your client, she's going to die."

"Hold on! You're prejudging this case without—"

"Prejudging it? Have you seen the evidence?"

"Yes, I—"

"For God's sake. Counselor, Ashley Patterson's DNA and fingerprints are at every crime scene. I've never seen a more clear-cut case of guilt. If you insist on going ahead with this, it could turn into a circus. Well, I'm not going to let that happen. I don't like circuses in my court. Let's dispose of this case here and now. I'm going to ask you once more, will you plead your client to life without parole?"

David said stubbornly, "No."

She was glaring at him. "Right. I'll see you next week."

He had made an enemy.

SAN Jose had quickly taken on the atmosphere of a carnival town. Media from all over the world were pouring in. Every hotel was booked, and some of the members of the press were forced to take rooms in the outlying towns of Santa Clara, Sunnyvale and Palo Alto. David was besieged by reporters.

"Mr. Singer, tell us about the case. Are you pleading your client not guilty...?"

"Are you going to put Ashley Patterson on the stand...?"

"Is it true that the district attorney was willing to plea-bargain?"

"Is Dr. Patterson going to testify for his daughter...?"

"My magazine will pay fifty thousand dollars for an interview with your client..."

* * *

Mickey Brennan was also pursued by the media.

"Mr. Brennan, would you say a few words about the trial?"

Brennan turned and smiled at the television cameras. "Yes. I can sum up the trial in five words. 'We're going to win it.' No further comment."

"Wait! Do you think she's insane...?"

"Is the state going to ask for the death penalty...?"

"Did you call it an open-and-shut case...?"

David rented an office in San Jose close to the court-house, where he could interview his witnesses and prepare them for the trial. He had decided that Sandra would work out of Quiller's office in San Francisco until the trial started. Dr. Salem had arrived in San Jose.

"I want you to hypnotize Ashley again," David said. "Let's get all the information we can from her and the alters before the trial starts."

They met Ashley in a holding room at the county detention center. She was trying hard to conceal her nervousness. To David, she looked like a deer trapped in the headlights of a Juggernaut.

"Morning, Ashley. You remember Dr. Salem?" Ashley nodded.

"He's going to hypnotize you again. Will that be all right?"

Ashley said, "He's going to talk to the... the others?"

"Yes. Do you mind?"

"No. But I—I don't want to talk to them."

"That's all right. You don't have to."

"I hate this!" Ashley burst out angrily.

"I know," David said soothingly. "Don't worry. It's going to be over soon." He nodded to Dr. Salem.

"Make yourself comfortable, Ashley. Remember how easy this was. Close your eyes and relax. Just try to clear your mind. Feel your body relaxing. Listen to the sound of my voice. Let everything else go. You're getting very sleepy. Your eyes are getting very heavy. You want to go to sleep.... Go to sleep...."

In ten minutes, she was under. Dr. Salem signaled to David. David walked over to Ashley.

"I'd like to talk to Alette. Are you in there, Alette?"

And they watched Ashley's face soften and go through the same transformation they had seen earlier. And then, that soft, mellifluous Italian accent.

"Buon giorno."

"Good morning, Alette. How do you feel?"

"Male. This is a very difficult time."

"It's difficult for all of us," David assured her, "but everything's going to be all right."

"I hope so."

"Alette, I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Si..."

"Did you know Jim Cleary?"

"No."

"Did you know Richard Melton?"

"Yes." There was a deep sadness in her voice. "It was... it was terrible what happened to him."

David looked over at Dr. Salem. "Yes, it was terrible. When was the last time you saw him?"

"I visited him in San Francisco. We went to a museum and then had dinner. Before I left, he asked me to go to his apartment with him."

"And did you go?"

"No. I wish I had," Alette said regretfully. "I might have saved his life." There was a short silence. "We said good-bye, and drove back to Cupertino."

"And that was the last time you saw him?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Alette."

David moved closer to Ashley and said, "Toni? Are you there, Toni? I'd like to talk to you."

As they watched, Ashley's face went through another remarkable transformation. Her persona changed before their eyes. There was a new assurance, a sexual awareness. She began to sing in that clear, throaty voice:

"Up and down the city road,

In and out of the Eagle.

That's the way the money goes,

Pop! goes the weasel. "

She looked at David. "Do you know why I like to sing that song, luv?"

"No."

"Because my mother hated it. She hated me."

"Why did she hate you?"

"Well, we can't ask her now, can we?" Toni laughed.

"Not where she is. I couldn't do anything right for her. What kind of mother did you have, David?"

"My mother was a wonderful person."

"You're lucky then, aren't you? It's really the luck of the draw, I suppose. God plays games with us, doesn't he?"