Уильям Макгиверн - Summitt

“Yes.”

“But you nonetheless permitted your daughter to go to Longwood Gardens and accuse Earl Thomson of raping her? Isn’t that true, Mr. Selby?”

“She went on her own, but—”

“Do you seriously expect the court to believe that?”

“Objection. The question implies a contemplation of perjury.”

“Sustained.”

Davic shrugged. “Mr. Selby, after Vinegar Hill burned down, after the house had been gutted by flames, soaked with tons of water by county firemen — then, and only then, did you take your daughter there. Correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“What did you expect her-to find in that soaking heap of charred rubble?”

“I wasn’t sure. Something to jar her memory...”

“You weren’t sure? May I suggest a reason? You went there after the house had been gutted by fire because then you could claim that all evidence against any alleged rapist had been lost in the flames. If your suspicions were anything but delusions, I suggest you would have taken your daughter there before the fire. Isn’t that true, Mr. Selby?”

“Your Honor, may I instruct Mr. Selby not to answer that question?”

“Yes, Miss Brett. The word ‘delusions’ will be struck from the transcript.”

Ignoring these exchanges, Davic abruptly directed his examination to the statement from the security officer at Longwood Gardens.

“In Officer Summerall’s words,” Davic said, “you shoved Earl Thomson’s friends so violently that they fell backward over their motorcycles. Is that a fair statement, Mr. Selby?”

“Yes, I’d say it is.”

“You’re aware that both of these young men were treated for abrasions and contusions at Chester General Hospital?”

“I heard something about that.”

“Were you concerned for their welfare?”

“No, not particularly.”

“I trust the jury will note your casual attitude toward the young men’s injuries. You are also aware then, that Earl Thomson, trying to get away from you, crashed into the glass of a greenhouse and as a result very nearly lost the sight of an eye?”

“I was told that by his father, and by you, Mr. Davic, just before the warrant was served on Earl Thomson for raping my daughter.”

“Your Honor, I ask that you warn the witness about these gratuitous responses.”

“Mr. Selby, when a yes or a no is sufficient, you will spare us embellishments.”

Davic said, “You admit you are aware that Earl Thomson suffered an injury to his eye? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“And isn’t it a fact, Mr. Selby, that these attacks on Earl Thomson and his friends occurred many hours after you had been informed by Captain Slocum that Earl Thomson could not possibly have been responsible for the harm done to your daughter? Aren’t those the indisputable facts, Mr. Selby?”

“Yes... after he said those things...”

“Then let me ask you this, Mr. Selby. And my question goes to the heart of the matter. Outside the issues at trial in this court, do you have a personal or emotional bias against the defendant?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Against his father, George Thomson?”

“No.”

“Prior to the issues at trial, did you have any reason to believe either of them had wronged you or your family?”

“No.”

“You had no information about them whatsoever?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Davic asked the court’s permission to confer with his associates. As he spoke to the other attorneys, Earl Thomson leaned close to follow the exchanges.

Earlier Selby had told Brett what he’d learned the night before, without mentioning Mooney’s name. But she had explained that Earl Thomson’s prior sexual assault convictions, however violent or numerous, couldn’t be introduced at this trial. “Priors,” as they were known, could only be admitted if the defendant were found guilty, and then only as an aid to the jury in determining sentence.

Judge Flood glanced up. “Mr. Davic, would this be a convenient place to recess for lunch?”

“Whatever is the pleasure of the court,” Davic said.

“We will recess until two o’clock then.”

Flood retired to chambers, the stenographer covered her machine and the spectators filed out past the marshals. It hadn’t gone well, Selby knew. Davic seemed too confident. His manner suggested he’d got hold of something damaging, but Selby didn’t have a clue what it could be.

The defense team went down the aisle, a TV crew following them to the corridor, where reporters and photographers waited. The media pack scenting the winner, Selby thought.

Collecting her papers, Brett said, “We’ve got some things to talk about, Harry. Could you stop by my office after lunch?”

“Sure.” He smiled at Shana. “What’re you in the mood for?”

“Anything, a Coke and hamburger, it doesn’t matter.”

Allan Davic and George Thomson lunched at a country club outside of Wilmington. Their corner table faced a duck pond and rows of forsythia and workmen repairing greens and fairways. Thomson ordered a double martini; the lawyer a glass of white wine. They both decided on the mixed grill.

Thomson said abruptly, “I was pretty goddamn uptight the night that warrant was served on my son.”

“That’s understandable. You were angry, which is natural.”

“But it’s not always the best time to make a decision. You’ve read the transcript?”

“Yes, of course. I laid the groundwork for Selby’s motive this morning. This afternoon I’ll introduce the transcript of his father’s court-martial, and develop your relation to it. It won’t be difficult to convince the jury that Selby lied under oath.”

“Then the lady DA, she can cross-examine, right?”

“Yes, I’ve explained that. The People can move into any area I open up.”

Thomson nodded and sipped his martini. The gin released softly and gently in his stomach. He hadn’t eaten breakfast, just a cup of coffee, and he could feel the icy gin spreading pleasurably through him, dissolving his anxiety and warming his hands and face.

A young woman stood on the practice tee hitting orange-striped range balls. Thomson watched her through the window and bit into his olive. It tasted of the juniper. The woman was a small figure at this distance, but he could see the swell of her breasts against her sweater as she completed her swing, hands high, and her slender body uncoiling strongly. He ordered another drink.

Davic said, “Is something worrying you, Mr. Thomson? Something you’d like to discuss?”

“I’ll answer that with another question. How’s our case going so far? How does it look to you?”

“It will depend a great deal on the Selby girl’s impression on the jury and how your son handles himself. Miss Brett will try her best to impeach his testimony.”

Thomson continued to stare at the woman hitting golf balls. “Earl doesn’t take criticism too well. You’d better know that. Particularly from women. I’m not talking about girl friends, I’m talking about women . There’s only been one in his life, and she idolizes him. That’s his mother. And those honchos at Rockland taught those young studs the best defense was a good offense.”

Davic sipped his wine. “That’s may be good advice in a bar fight, but not in a courtroom. Tell me frankly, do you think your son can handle a direct and hostile attack from the People’s attorney? Because if she can make him blow his cool, she might blow him right out of court.”

Thomson said, “What do we know about her? Have your people checked her background?”

“Let me make a general comment first, Mr. Thomson. A man I respect but don’t particularly admire told me something interesting the other night. He said nobody is clean. You can dismiss that as street cynicism or remember that it’s a sentiment held by a good many respectable philosophers. If one believes in original sin, we’re all evil and it’s logical that we should start in prison and earn our way to freedom. Jonas Selby’s court-martial can be used to strike a damaging blow against Harry Selby. About his self-interested vindictive motives against you in behalf of his father. But in reading that transcript, it’s evident Jonas Selby made no defense against the charges. Neither did his military attorneys. Conclusion: he had no defense or he was too ignorant or confused to demand his rights.” Davic sipped his wine. “If we introduce the court-martial, we will be going back three decades to a time of conflicting motives and relationships and guilts.” He shrugged. “As to People’s counsel, Miss Brett, I won’t involve you in our investigation. I’ll insist, in fact, that you know nothing about it. She’s my responsibility and I’ll handle that. But Jonas Selby’s court-martial — that’s up to you, Mr. Thomson. But as your lawyer, I strongly urge you not to open up ambiguous issues that go back in time to areas I may not be able to control.”