Courthouse (15 page)

“He's a long-time friend of friends. If you know what I mean.”

“No, but that's okay, don't tell me,” said Marc. “However, Mrs. Wainwright will still have to be arraigned, brought before a judge in the Criminal Court and have the charges read on the record, and have an adjourned date set.”

“Oh? I thought that if we set bail here …”

“Mrs. Wainwright would be free?” Marc finished.

Cahill nodded.

“No. She might be bailed and free of custody, but she still has to go to court.”

Cahill raised his eyebrows in dismay.

“But having bail set here will save her a great deal of discomfort,” Marc assured him.

“Well, that's something then,” said Cahill.

They walked back into the room where Toni Wainwright was sitting. O'Connor was stirring a cup of coffee.

“I understand Judge Crawford is on his way here to entertain a bail application and set bail for Mrs. Wainwright,” Marc said to O'Connor.

“Crawford? Here?”

“That's right, Liam,” replied Marc.

“We don't even have a fingerprint record on Mrs. Wainwright,” protested O'Connor. “How can bail be set?”

“Do you really think Mrs. Wainwright has a record?” asked Marc.

“Who knows?” said O'Connor.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Toni protested from behind Marc.

“Please, Mrs. Wainwright,” said Marc, “there's no need to defend yourself from pointless remarks.”

“You bet they are,” she added.

“Crawford better get here before we're finished. Otherwise we're going to court with or without him. What the hell are you trying to pull, Marc?” O'Connor was red in his neck and under the chin now.

“Just protecting my client's rights.”

O'Connor regained himself, shrugging with affected boredom. “I want to talk to your client, take a Q. and A. statement,” he said to Marc. That merely meant questions and answers recorded by a D.A.'s stenographer.

“Mrs. Wainwright refuses to make any statements about anything at this time,” said Marc. He watched O'Connor's face harden with annoyance. “Of course,” Marc continued, “if you let me have a chance to speak to my client alone—your men can stay right outside the door—I'll be better able to ascertain if Mrs. Wainwright can give you a statement.”

O'Connor's face streaked with disgust. “Let them have their little chit-chat,” he said as he turned. He and the detectives started from the room.

The Black detective who had been giving Toni coffee winked at Marc as he left the room. “Nice going, Counselor,” he whispered.

Marc walked to the door and began to shut it.

“Leave it open,” said O'Connor.

“You think we'll try a daring escape?” asked Marc.

“Just following procedures,” replied O'Connor.

Marc moved closer to Toni and the other lawyers. “Let's stand over here,” he said, moving toward the far wall away from the door.

“What the hell is going on?” Toni demanded. “He said he's not going to wait for the Judge?”

“Mrs. Wainwright, the first thing is not to let O'Connor frighten you,” said Marc.

“Too late,” she said.

“I know you already are, but try. He wants you to be frightened so you'll panic. And please speak softly,” he cautioned, gazing toward the doorway. O'Connor was leaning against the door frame, staring.

“I really only want to get the hell out of here,” she replied, closing her eyes, biting her bottom lip. “And I am
really
frightened.”

“Listen. The reason O'Connor wants to scare you, shake you up by saying it's an open and shut case,” said Marc, “is to cause you to get frightened and confess to the crime. It's a bluff. He doesn't know what happened any more than I do. From what I understand so far, no one was with you at the time. Is that correct, Mrs. Wainwright?”

“I was alone, all alone, except for Bob.” Her voice trailed off, her eyes closing tightly.

“I'm not asking questions to cause you discomfort,” said Marc. “I just have to know something about the case.”

“I'm okay,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “It was just pretty awful. Horrible. Pounding, pounding, and then Bob came stumbling into, no, fell into the room like some wild beast. I don't remember what happened too clearly. It was worse than the worst night mare I ever had.”

“The only difference is that it was real,” Marc added.

“Thanks a lot,” she said.

“I have to work with facts,” said Marc. “We don't have too much time right now. Just what did you tell the police so far?”

“Nothing at all, Mister Conte,” replied Cahill. “We arrived here just as Mrs. Wainwright was brought from her apartment about noon. And I informed the police that no statement was to be made. The police have been extremely co-operative so far. Until O'Connor arrived, that is.”

“Fine. However, Mrs. Wainwright, you were brought here a very long time after the police arrived at your home. What did you say to them during the time they were at your home?”

“They were in my house for hours,” she said. “Searched every goddamn thing.”

“What did you tell them?” Marc pursued.

“Just the truth. Just what happened. I was hysterical. How do I know?” she said impatiently.

“Mrs. Wainwright had to be placed under doctor's care a couple of hours this morning for hysteria and exhaustion,” said Cahill. “Does that mean anything or help in any way?”

“Perhaps,” said Marc. “Did the doctor come to the apartment?”

“Yes.”

“What exactly did you tell the police?” Marc asked Mrs. Wainwright again.

“The same as I told you,” Toni said flatly, impatient now. Cahill bent forward listening. “Bob was pounding on the door. I didn't know it was Bob though. I didn't know what it was. Then I picked up the phone and started to call the police, you know, I dialed 911.”

“Did you get them?” Marc asked.

“Yes. Well, they answered. I was screaming, trying to explain what was happening.”

“I'll have to subpoena their records, to see what the police wrote down when you called,” said Marc. “Go ahead.”

“Then the door came in with a sound like, like well, I don't know like what,” Toni answered. “I never heard anything like it in my life. It scared the bejesus out of me. I dropped the phone and reached into the night table and took out the pistol that was there. I have a permit for it,” she added.

“I was just going to ask that,” said Marc.

“Then this person, breathing, stinking of alcohol—I should have known it was Bob just by that stink—came closer, closer. And that's really the last thing I remember. Oh, I remember, just vaguely, a flash of light and an explosion.”

“That would be after the pistol fired,” said Marc. “Did you recognize your husband up to that point?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Thinking about it now, I think I must have. But I'm not sure I really did.”

Marc studied Toni's face. “We'll go into more detail later. Right now let's talk about this arraignment that's coming up.”

“What's that?” Toni asked.

“That means you have to go to court, and be formally charged—the charges will be read to you,” said Marc.

“I thought we weren't going to court,” she said, turning to Cahill.

Cahill looked sheepish. “Mister Conte says we must.”

She gazed annoyedly at Cahill, then back to Marc. “And then?”

“Then you'll be given a date to return and then you'll go home,” said Marc.

Toni frowned. “This is surely a pain in the ass.”

“Is that little coffee klatsch over with yet?” intruded O'Connor. “Because I'd like to take a statement from your client now.”

“Let me commune aloud for a moment, Mister O'Connor …”

“Commune? That's a cute word, Conte.”

“We don't all have to be monosyllabic, O'Connor,” replied Marc. “And since you're just fishing for evidence now,” Marc continued, “and haven't any real evidence to go on, I can't, in good conscience, permit my client to make a statement which may afterward be used in court to nail down a case you don't have now. After all, Mister O'Connor, Mrs. Wainwright was the only person at the scene besides the deceased.”

“You see, Mrs. Wainwright, how smart-ass attorneys can …”

“Mister O'Connor, talk to the detectives like that if you don't know any better, but not to my client,” said Marc sharply.

“Excuse
me
,” O'Connor said brusquely, staring at Marc. “I guess you never heard it before,” he said to Toni. “As I was saying, how some lawyers can create for their clients more trouble than they had in the first place.”

Toni looked at Marc questioningly.

O'Connor saw an opening. “If you have nothing to hide, you should make a statement,” O'Connor said directly to Mrs. Wainwright. “After all, you don't think that me or my office, or the police would try to pull something over your eyes, try to frame you. Mrs. Wainwright, let me assure you, I'm only looking to help you.” He smiled.

“He's looking to help you sink yourself,” said Marc. “He's the prosecutor, and he's here to get evidence to help him do his job. My client is not making any statements.”

“All right, look, that's her privilege;” said O'Connor. “The Fifth Amendment gives that right. But only criminals hide behind it. It looks funny, you know,” continued O'Connor, looking at Toni Wainwright. “What I mean is when someone with nothing to hide dodges behind the Fifth Amendment for no reason, it makes the District. Attorney start to think maybe there
is
something she's hiding.”

“My client is still not going to make a statement.”

“You know, Counselor, if your client wants to make a statement, no matter what
you
say, she can make one. She doesn't have to be bulldozed by you.” O'Connor looked to make sure Mrs. Wainwright got his message.

“That's quite correct,” agreed Marc. “I'm advising my client not to make any statement. She's neither going to make your case nor any publicity for you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” flashed O'Connor angrily.

“Which? That Mrs. Wainwright is not making the case, or not making the publicity?”

“The publicity. You don't think for one moment that Mister Francis X. Byrnes's office is involved in or interested in publicity? Do you?”

“No, not the office itself,” replied Marc.

“What are you implying, Counselor?” asked O'Connor.

“I'm not implying anything. I've said exactly what I wanted to say.” Marc turned to Toni. “I guess they're going to keep us here, chit-chatting all day.”

“Did you also advise Mrs. Wainwright that I'll put her in front of a grand jury under oath if she doesn't make a statement now?” threatened O'Connor.

“And Mrs. Wainwright, as a prospective defendant, will take the Fifth Amendment in that event too,” countered Marc. “You know that's her privilege under the law.”

Cahill was carefully following the verbal exchange.

“Well, if you want to embarrass your client like that, you can,” O'Connor said, looking at Toni. “I can't understand why someone with nothing to hide has to use the same dodge as the most notorious criminals.”

Toni turned to Marc. “Can I speak to you for a moment, alone?”

“Of course,” O'Connor said, now smiling again. He looked at Marc, then turned, waving the policemen out of the room.

Toni watched the men leave. Cahill and Rutley stood next to Marc. Cahill had his arms folded, looking very serious.

“Doesn't what the D.A. says make sense?” Toni asked. “I haven't anything to hide. Why should I make it seem like I'm hiding something? Like a criminal. I mean, that's the thing all those gangsters you read about in the papers do.”

“The fact is, that people accused of a crime need not testify or be witnesses against themselves, according to the Constitution,” said Marc. “I don't want to give a course on legal procedings, but the law purposely intended to make the Government, the prosecutor, prove a case, if he can. If he can't, the person who's accused doesn't have to prove anything. Let me just say as an aside that despite a Puritan ethic, it's just as lawful and right to benefit from the provisions of law as it is to be punished by the law. Now O'Connor's case is as thin as tissue paper. If you give him a statement, any kind of statement, indicating you did in fact shoot a pistol at your husband, you may give him just the evidence he needs to prove a case; if not a murder case, manslaughter. Without you, who does he have to testify as to anything that happened there?”

“There's just me,” Toni admitted.

“I have a tendency to agree with Mrs. Wainwright,” said Rutley. “If that's the case, all she need do is tell it the way it actually happened. I don't believe Mister O'Connor would try to concoct a false case against Mrs. Wainwright. I mean, he is obviously a vulgarian, but concocting a case against an innocent person, I don't think even he'd do that. If you don't mind my saying so, you're making this thing out far too dramatically.”

Cahill said nothing. He wanted to hear Marc's explanation.

Marc looked at Rutley. “Mister Rutley, how many homicide cases have you handled?”

“Your logic escapes me. I' don't see what that has to do with it.”

“How about you, Mister Cahill?” Marc asked.

Cahill shook his head.

“How would either of you like to try this one by yourselves?”

“I don't think this is the time or the place to have this sort of professional squabble, Mister Conte,” Rutley protested. “Particularly in front of our client.”

“Oh, yes it is,” said Marc. “First of all, the squabble
you
started isn't professional. Next, you had your say in front of our client. And so will I. Those are the police. O'Connor is the Chief Assistant District Attorney. He is also dying to become the District Attorney and later move up even higher politically. He loves publicity. I'm telling you from my past experience that the man has blood poisoning, the poison being printer's ink. And if you think he's not going to prosecute this case under any and all circumstances—for publicity, if not for a conviction—you're out of your wonderful Ivy League mind.”