The Innocent Woman

“Oh? What are you doing about bail?”

“I’m considering my options.”

Cunningham frowned. “You are going to push for bail?”

“Frankly, I’m not sure.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“In a case like this, there’s two ways to go. Either get the defendant out on bail and stall like crazy, or leave her in and push for a speedy trial.”

“I want her out,” Cunningham said.

“Of course you do. We all do. The question now is how best to achieve that.”

Cunningham put up his hand. “No, no,” he said. “Don’t give me that. I don’t want to hear any theories. The point is, get her out, then figure out what to do. Don’t give me this I’m-not-going-to- make-any-move-until-I-know-what’s-best bullshit.”

Steve took a breath. “All right, look,” he said. “Maybe I’m not your type. Maybe you’d like some guy in a three piece suit who’d make a big fight about a bail reduction. Well, it ain’t me, babe. It’s not how I operate. I assume Amy told you about the petty theft?”

“Yes, of course.”

“There you are. We disposed of that in one day.”

“She wasn’t in jail.”

“No, she wasn’t. Murder is a little more serious than petty theft. Bail is not easily granted. But that’s my job.”

“Exactly.”

Steve took a breath. Forced a smile. “So, help me do my job. Help me get her out.”

“How?”

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“But I don’t know anything,” Cunningham said. “That’s the problem. I had dinner with her and I went home. I don’t know anything that’s going to help.”

“I understand you’re willing to help in other ways.”

Cunningham looked at him. “What do you mean?”

“With regard to the time you left the restaurant.”

“Exactly,” Cunningham said. “The only ones who know that are Amy and me. If I say it was eight o’clock, who’s gonna say it wasn’t?”

“What about the waiter, the cashier and maitre d’?”

“It’s a small restaurant. They don’t have a maitre d’.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “I shouldn’t have even said that. It’s totally beside the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“I don’t build cases on perjured testimony.”

“Perjured?” Cunningham said. “What do you mean, perjured? How accurate can you be? You think we left the restaurant at seven-thirty on the dot? Of course not. No more than we left it at eight. The truth is somewhere between the two. Who’s to say which is more accurate?”

“I am,” Steve said.

Cunningham looked at him. “What?”

“Seven-thirty’s more accurate than eight. You know it and I know it. You left the restaurant around seven- thirty. That’s a fact. If you wanna say it was around eight, you can equivocate all you want, but it happens to be a lie. You ever been cross-examined?”

“No. Of course not.”

“There you are. Ask me who’s gonna say different, well, the D.A. is. He’s gonna say you’re lying, and then he’s gonna ask questions to try to prove it. If you’ve never been cross-examined before, you’re gonna be duck soup. He may not get you to admit you’re lying, true. But everyone on the jury’s gonna know you are. You know what that’ll do for Amy’s case?”

Cunningham shoved his glasses back on his nose, thrust out his chin defiantly. “I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t believe what?”

“I don’t believe he could rattle me.”

“Oh, no?” Steve said. “You wanna bet?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’ll be the D.A. You give me the eight o’clock bullshit. I’ll cross-examine.”

“Fine,” Cunningham said. “Fire away.”

“You have dinner with Amy Dearborn?”

“Yes, I did.”

“What time was it when you left the restaurant?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“Are you aware that Amy Dearborn, in her initial statement to the police, put the time at closer to seven- thirty?”

“Yes, I am.” Cunningham smiled. “Amy’s a nice girl, but she’s rather poor with time.”

“Is that so?” Steve said. “Are you saying she got the time wrong?”

“Yes, she did. I know when we left the restaurant, and it was right around eight o’clock.”

“When you left the restaurant, where did you go?”

“I went home.”

“Why?”

“I had a business appointment.”

“At that time of night?”

“I’m an investment counselor. Client’s get tips. Things that have to be acted on immediately. I often have business appointments late at night.”

“If you knew you had a business appointment, why did you take Miss Dearborn out to dinner?”

“I didn’t know I had a business appointment. After dinner, I called my answering machine and got a message. That’s when I found out I had to have a meeting.”

“With who?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Who was the person you met with?”

“Oh? Philip Eckstein. He’s a client of mine. He got a tip a particular stock was going to crash. He panicked, he wanted to act on it right away.”

“So you met him in your apartment?”

“That’s right.”

“Which is also your office?”

“Of course.”

“And what time did you meet him?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“Eight-thirty?” Steve said.

“That’s right.”

“You left the restaurant at eight o’clock, took a cab home to meet your client at eight-thirty?”

“Yes, I did.”

“It’s a half hour cab ride over to the east side?”

“No. More like ten or fifteen minutes.”

“What time was it when you got home?”

“Between eight-fifteen and eight-thirty.”

“Why so late?”

Cunningham shrugged. “Well, by the time I paid the bill and Amy and I left the restaurant and I flagged a cab, it was after eight o’clock.”

“What time did your client get there?”

“Right away. He was actually waiting out front when I drove up.”