"No, sir."
"Does that indicate that Mrs. Wilkins had access to the entire computer, but Mr.
Wilkins could not access her private drive?" Jarrell said yes. "So it was like having her own private computer that he could never see. Is that right?"
"Yes, sir. They were the only two to use that computer and there wouldn't be any point in having a password and telling him what it was. It was her private drive."
When Barbara cross-examined, she asked, "Detective Jarrell, did Mr. Wilkins have voluminous e-mail, from friends as well as business associates?"
"No. It was all business."
"Was he signed in for any chat rooms or forums?"
"An automotive forum, and a financial forum, that's all. No chat rooms."
When he was dismissed, Dodgson asked the judge if he could approach, and they both went to the bench.
"I have another witness to call," Dodgson said. "Unfortunately his name got dropped from our list. I apologize," he said to Barbara.
His contrition was as phony as a snake oil salesman's guarantee. Barbara made a rude sound and drew a reproving glance from Judge Wells.
"Who is it?" the judge asked Dodgson, evidently as annoyed as Barbara.
"Howard Steinman," Dodgson said. "His statement was included in discovery," he added.
"Your Honor," Barbara said, "I am unprepared to cross-examine Mr. Steinman without the opportunity to review his statement. I'm not even sure we have it with us.
May we have a recess at this time?"
"We'll recess," he said. "Tell the bailiff if you have to send for the statement.
Otherwise, half an hour."
As Barbara returned to her table she saw Adele Wykoph in the back of the courtroom. She nodded, then said to those at the defense table, "Recess. They're calling Howie Steinman. Do we have his statement? I don't think we do."
The judge tapped his gavel, made his announcement, repeated his admonition to the jurors not to discuss the case and walked out. After the bailiff led the jury out, Barbara and Shelley started going through the various thick binders.
"I don't understand what's happening," Meg said plaintively.
"Why do they keep bringing up Connie Wilkins? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Let's go to the coffee shop downstairs, and I'll explain Barbara's strategy," Frank said. Wally and Meg left with him.
After a few minutes, Shelley said, "I'll go get it."
"Don't break the speed limit or anything," Barbara said. "We'll have at least half an hour after we get our hands on it. I'll go have a chat with Adele."
Shelley put on a shocking pink raincoat. "I can't believe they're actually calling him,"
she said. "He's such a flake."
"Maybe we'll get our chance to demonstrate that," Barbara said.
She went to speak to Adele as Shelley walked out.
"What's going on?" Adele asked. "They can't be serious using that fake suicide memo. She didn't write it."
"They say she did. Now they're calling Howie Steinman without prior notice. They're really trying to show that Jay was concerned about Connie, believed she was suicidal. Anyway, we weren't prepared for Steinman. So they're giving us a little time. I doubt that I'll be able to call you today."
Adele's look was incredulous. "Howie Steinman? Good God! Barbara, you have to give me an opening to blow him out of the water. You have to."
"Let's go out and have a little talk," Barbara said.
They left the courtroom and walked to the end of the corridor, out of hearing range of those coming and going. Then, standing before a tall window, Barbara said, "The prosecution's case rests on two major premises. One is that Jay had no real enemies, no one with enough motive to resort to murder except Wally. And the other one is that Jay honestly believed that Connie was suicidal. If they can convince the jury of just those two points, they probably will get a conviction. I have to work with that scenario, otherwise, Wally Lederer is going to be found guilty, and I know he didn't do it."
Adele was watching her intently, listening. "You
know
?"
"Yes."
"You know who did, don't you?" Adele asked in a near whisper.
"I didn't say that. I said Wally didn't do it, and that's all I said."
"You know," Adele repeated, almost as if to herself. "Why didn't you tell me in the first place?"
"I couldn't. But since they're bringing Steinman into it, I can ask you about him. But, for God's sake, don't perjure yourself, or leave yourself open to a defamation of character charge."
Adele gave a snort of laughter. "Honey chile, I've testified before. I know the ropes, how far I can go, when to draw the line. Trust me."
Barbara wished she could. She felt as if she had drawn a wild card and had to play it.
Chapter 32
With dark blond hair down past his ears, pale blue eyes, dressed in a tan sport jacket over a forest-green turtleneck sweater and blue jeans, and wearing a gold medallion on a chain around his neck, Howie Steinman was thirty-six years old and unmarried.
He had an intense way of watching Dodgson, almost a hypnotic, fixed stare as he detailed his background. He wrote a monthly computer column, he was a Beta tester of many computer programs, both company sponsored and freelance work, and he taught several classes a week in various martial arts.
"During the past spring did you conduct a martial arts class at the Women's Support Center in Eugene?" Dodgson asked.
"Yes, an eight week self-defense class that incorporated some tai chi and aikido along with a few other techniques."
"How many participated in your class?"
"Usually there are between ten and fifteen. I believe it was twelve women last spring."
"Was Connie Wilkins a member of that class?"
"She was."
"Will you please describe the relationship that developed between you and Mrs.
Wilkins?"
"Complete trust and honesty," Steinman said without hesitation. "I asked all of them to say what they expected out of the class, and she said she had let her muscles become lax following a long illness. She hoped to regain good muscle tone and self-confidence. We became friends, or more than friends, more like spiritual intimates. A deep mutual attraction was there from the start, and it grew and strengthened as the weeks went by, but, of course, we both understood that it was a doomed attraction, destined never to be fulfilled. I admired her spirituality, her resolve, her valiant efforts to overcome a deep-seated death wish, and I struggled to find a way to alleviate her pain."
It was eerie the way he kept his gaze focused so intently on Dodgson as he spoke, and the prosecutor was starting to look uncomfortable. He held up his hand to stem the flow of words. "Mr. Steinman," he said, "please tell the jury about the last time you saw Mrs. Wilkins."
"We agreed to have one last intimate meeting," he said. "Just the two of us. Over a cup of tea. She said it was our final farewell, that I would never see her again. She was fearless, but gentle and caring, unafraid for herself, but concerned about me.
She pleaded with me to put her out of mind, to think of her as a passing dream that had eased my own path, and she said it was time for me to get on with life and live it to the fullest, with every day a blessing to be savored. She said we would never meet again in this realm, but perhaps in another one day. Her eyes were awash with unshed tears."
Dodgson stopped him again, then asked, "What was your understanding of her words that day?"
"She was preparing me to learn of her coming demise. She wished to spare me the agony of hearing it from another, to tell me she would face her own transition with a calm spirit, that she was ready and unafraid."
"You thought she was telling you that she would die? Is that correct?"
"Yes. She had a complete grasp of our relationship, and she knew the torment I would suffer afterward. It was her last gift to me, her affirmation of her own spirituality and her desire to elevate me to the same level of revelatory acceptance."
Dodgson was walking back and forth before the prosecution table, as if trying to escape that unwavering stare. His voice was brusque when he asked, "What was the date of that meeting, Mr. Steinman?"
"The last full day of her life, late in the afternoon, with the sun setting over the distant hills, and the air fresh—"
"I just want you to tell the jury the date of that meeting," Dodgson said in a grating voice.
"April 18."
"Thank you. Your witness," he said to Barbara, and he took his seat frowning.
"Mr. Steinman, do you usually wear glasses?" Barbara asked easily when she stood up and he fixed that same steady gaze on her.
For the first time he looked surprised at the question. "No."
"Objection," Dodgson said belatedly. "Irrelevant."
"Withdraw the question," Barbara said. "I just wondered." She smiled at Dodgson and then at Steinman. "Mr. Steinman, please tell the jury the titles of several of the computer programs you tested in the past two years."
"The White Prince and the Monster from Nowhere, The White Prince Returns, The
Kingdom of Fear, The Sword of Prodis."
She held up her hand and he stopped. "Are those what they call heroic adventure games, fantasy games?" He said yes. "Are those the same kind of programs you write a monthly column about?"
"Yes, but you have to understand that they all require the same meticulous vetting that the most intricate financial program demands. It is not a frivolous endeavor."
"I understand. Moving on, how many times did you and Mrs. Wilkins meet over a cup of tea, or anywhere else outside class?"
"Just the one time. It was a very special occasion, and—"
"That's enough. You answered the question," she said. "That's all that's required."
She smiled at him. "You said that meeting was her last gift to you. What other gifts had she given you?"
"Her presence in the class, her cooperation and striving to achieve, her concentration, her existence."
Barbara nodded gravely. "I see. Did she ever give you a material gift of any sort?"
"She understood that materiality was the least significant thing one can give to another."
"Do you mean she never gave you a material object of any kind? Just a yes or no, if you will."
"No, of course not. It wasn't necessary."
"All right. When you asked the class as a whole what they expected to get out of it, exactly what did Mrs. Wilkins say? Just her words, please, Mr. Steinman."
"She said she had let her muscles get lax and she wanted to regain muscle tone. And that she wanted to regain self-confidence."
"Are those her exact words, that she wanted to regain self-confidence? Did others hear her make that statement?"
"She didn't use exactly those words, but that's what she meant."
"Was that the first time you had met her, that day in class?"
"Yes, but sometimes you don't need—"
"Thank you. The answer is yes. How could you tell exactly what she meant if she didn't say the words, if you had never met her before, had no idea of her history, or anything else about her?"
"I have learned to listen with more than just my ears," he said.
He was still staring, and now he was leaning forward a little bit, as if to draw closer to an object he had to observe closely.
Barbara nodded gravely. "Just what other sense do you use for listening?"
"I have learned to sense, to feel the currents issuing from another person. They are like magnetic waves, or radiations, and with discipline one can master the art of tuning in to them and interpreting them. I could read her radiations clearly."
"And put into words what those currents signify? Is that what you mean?" Barbara asked.
"Exactly that."
"You said a mutual attraction developed. Was Mrs. Wilkins also adept at reading radiations?"
"No, she lacked the training that is required."
"If you didn't meet with her outside of class, how did she become aware of your growing attraction to her? Did you tell her in front of the class?"
"No. I sent her little tokens, white roses once, a box of chocolates, a book of poetry. She understood what they meant."
"Did she keep the items?"
"She took them to the center, to share with others and to declare in public what was happening between us. It was her subtle way to let others know."
"Did you make other efforts to signal your interest? Call her, or write notes?"
"Objection!" Dodgson called out. "Your Honor, may I approach?"
Judge Wells beckoned them forward. "Well?" he asked. He sounded peevish.
"She's making a mockery of this witness, taunting him, ridiculing him. This is an unfair cross-examination and she knows it."
"He's a romantic, narcissistic fool, the hero of his own fantasy," Barbara said calmly. "Furthermore, he's your witness. I wouldn't have touched him with a ten-foot pole, but since you called him, I have the right to reexamine every single statement he made in his direct, as you well know."
"Peace, both of you," Judge Wells said. "You're overruled, Mr. Dodgson. She's within her rights, as she says." Then he said to Barbara, "But, Ms. Holloway, do finish it soon. You've made your point, I think, and it's getting late."
She nodded. "I'll try, Your Honor. He doesn't make it easy." She did not miss the glint of amusement in the judge's eyes when he waved them both away.
"Mr. Steinman," Barbara said, when they resumed, "would you like to have the question repeated?"
"I heard what you asked," he said. "I called her a time or two, and I sent her a note or two."
"And how did she respond?"
"She asked me not to do that again. I understood very well what she meant. It was not necessary any longer. She recognized what was happening."
Barbara looked from him to the jury where several of the women were smiling, although the youngest one, Mariann Matthews, age twenty-two, looked intrigued and fascinated. But Barbara knew she would be safe even if she contrived a meeting, simply because she likely was attainable, and Howie Steinman fixated on the unattainable. Barbara turned once more to meet Steinman s penetrating gaze.
"You said that Mrs. Wilkins had a deep-seated death wish. Please tell the jury if she ever said that in words, or if you interpreted that from her radiations."
"Every living organism has its own distinguishable band of radiations. The higher the organism, the more complex the harmonic mixture becomes. There are the simple rhythmic ones that are easily interpreted, such as happiness, anger, the readily visible emotions, but there are also deep underlying pulsing rhythms that set the pace for all the rest. I could sense in her the deepest of them, the unyielding death wish."
Barbara nodded. "I see. In the class of twelve women, you could single out her radiations clearly enough to interpret them and translate them into language. Is that correct?"
"Yes. With sufficient training and discipline that art can be mastered. I mastered it."
She nodded again, returning his steady gaze with one just as unwavering. "Now, on the day you shared a cup of tea with Mrs. Wilkins, you said she told you to put her out of mind, that you would not meet again, and so on. You also said she told you to get on with your life. Mr. Steinman, is it possible that what she actually said in spoken words was for you to get a life?"
There was a ripple of laughter in the courtroom and Judge Wells tapped his gavel lightly. At the same time Dodgson objected in a very loud voice that it was a leading question. It was sustained.
Steinman s gaze did not flicker for a second. He looked at Barbara almost pityingly, and before she could ask another question he said, "No matter how she actually communicated with me, I know what she meant."
This time Dodgson bellowed an objection. "Move that the comment be stricken," he yelled. It was stricken.
Barbara shrugged. "No more questions." When she turned to resume her seat, she glanced over the courtroom and was startled to see Stephanie Breaux in the back row of spectators.
Dodgson made a heroic effort to salvage his witness. "Mr. Steinman, was it your sincere belief on that afternoon of April 18 or any other time that Mrs. Wilkins was suicidal?"
"She knew she was doomed, and whether by murder or suicide, she was prepared for the coming transition."
"Objection, move that the answer be stricken as not responsive to the question,"
Dodgson cried out, enraged.
Barbara stood up also. "The witness answered the question to the best of his ability."
"The answer will be stricken," Judge Wells said. "Mr. Stein-man, just answer the question."
"I believed she was suicidal," Howie Steinman said clearly, to everyone's amazement.
The next witness was Mrs. Elizabeth Ogden, a stout, broad-faced woman, forty-three years old. Her hair was graying and thin, and her makeup looked as if it had been applied by someone unused to using lipstick or eyeshadow. She had on too much of each.
While she was being sworn in, Barbara glanced again at the spectators. Stephanie was gone. The newspaper had reported that the defense would start its case that day; possibly that had drawn her. And she might be back, Barbara thought then. She might sit through the entire defense. What difference could it make, she demanded silently. But it mattered even if she couldn't understand why. She forced her attention to the witness who was answering a question.
"...not really on the corner, you know. But there's nothing between our house and Owl Creek Road except an empty lot that used to be an orchard, but it's not been tended for twenty, or maybe that should be more like twenty-five, years, and it looks like we're on the corner."
Dodgson held up his hand. "I'd like to introduce a schematic of the area, just to locate the properties we're talking about here." He showed it to the judge, and then to Barbara.
"Objection," she said, getting to her feet. "May I approach?" she asked. The judge waved them both forward. Barbara picked up her own two maps of the area and followed Dodgson to the bench.
"Now what?" the judge asked. He glanced at his watch.
"His schematic is so simplified that it is meaningless," Barbara said. "It gives no idea of the growth in that area or the distances involved. I have here two USGS
topographical maps, one is of the entire area, and one is an enlargement of that particular area. If you will compare them, you'll see that his schematic misrepresents the neighborhood."
Judge Wells looked resigned as he said, "Let's have all three." He spread them on his desk and peered first at one, then another. When he finished he said to Dodgson,
"I'll allow you to use your schematic, with the understanding that when she cross-examines, I'll also permit her to introduce the government maps. Or you could agree to use them in your direct, if you choose." He rolled Barbara's maps and handed them back to her.