The Innocent Woman

“This was between eight-fifteen and eight-thirty.”

“That’s right.”

“And what time did you tell him to get there?”

“Eight-thirty.”

Steve shook his head. “You see, it’s no go. You’re relying on the testimony of a third party. This Philip Eckstein will know what time your appointment was for.”

“Sure, he will. He’ll say it was for eight-thirty. He’ll say he was standing on the sidewalk when I drove up.”

“That doesn’t happen to be true,” Steve said.

Cunningham looked at him. “Whoa. Is that your ferocious cross-examination? Or have you stopped playing D.A.? Anyway, the point is, who gives a shit? Eckstein will say anything I want him to. You have no idea how much money I’ve made for that man. He’d swear the earth was flat if I told him to.”

“That’s nice,” Steve said dryly. “You gonna let me finish my cross-examination?”

“I thought we were done.”

“No,” Steve said. “Things got sticky for you, so you came out of character and admitted you and Eckstein were lying. Assuming that doesn’t happen when you’re actually on the stand, let’s press on.”

“Hey,” Cunningham said. “I didn’t do that cause you got me rattled. You’re the one who dropped out of character, claiming the witness wouldn’t back me up.”

Tracy Garvin held up her hand. “Time out, guys. You’ll pardon me, but this is becoming slightly high-schoolish. Whaddya say you get on with it?”

Larry Cunningham looked at her a moment. His smile was somewhat tight-lipped. “Fine,” he said. “Go on. What else you got?”

“You now say it was after eight o’clock when you left the restaurant?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I thought you previously stated it was a little before eight o’clock?”

“When I called,” Cunningham said. “It was a little bit before eight when I called. I came back, told Amy I had to work, settled up the check and we left. It took a little time, so it was after eight when we actually got out on the street.”

“I see,” Steve said. “And you had no idea you were going to have this business appointment when you took her out to dinner?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You only learned of it when you made this phone call?”

“That’s right.”

“Which was a little before eight?”

“Yes, it was.”

“Prior to that, you had intended to spend the evening with Miss Dearborn.”

“Yes, I was.”

“I believe she stated you were going to the movies. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“No, that’s right. We were going to the movies.”

“What movie?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“What movie were you going to see?”

“Oh. I don’t recall the title. It’s a movie at the Olympia Theater. That’s at Broadway and a hundred and sixth.”

“Uh huh,” Steve said. “And when did it start?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“When did the movie start?”

“I don’t recall.”

“Well, let’s check.”

“What?”

“Let’s check the times. There are two pictures playing at the Olympia. One is a rap music picture. The other is a light romantic comedy. The rap movie was playing at seven and nine, and the romantic comedy, eight and ten. I’m wondering which one you were planning on going to.”

Larry Cunningham opened his mouth. He blinked twice.

“Come, come. That’s a simple question, Mr. Cunningham. Which movie were you and the defendant planning on seeing?” When Cunningham didn’t answer, Steve smiled and said, “See, it’s tough question. You have to take the position that you were way early for a rap movie starting at nine o’clock, or late for the comedy starting at eight. A jury’s not going to buy the fact you were still in a restaurant on the phone picking up your messages at eight o’clock, if you were going to a movie starting at eight. But that’s the best you can argue. No, what they’re going to buy the minute the D.A. flops the New York Post with the movie start time at eight o’clock in front of your face, is that you were planning to go to an eight o’clock show all along, and you’re lying about the time to help your girlfriend out. What makes it so much easier for the jury to believe that,” Steve said, “is the fact it happens to be the truth.”

Cunningham frowned. “Shit.”

“See how easy it was to trip you up?” Steve said.

“No fair,” Cunningham said. “You only got me because you happened to know the times of those movies.”

“Are you kidding?” Steve said. “I have no idea what’s playing at the Olympia. Or when. But, obviously, neither do you. From which I gather going to the movies is not a big priority in your life. I would say more than likely, after dinner you were planning on maneuvering Amy back to her apartment and trying to get her in the sack.”

Cunningham came up from the couch, fists raised. “Son of a bitch!” he said.

Steve never blinked. “Oh, spare me,” he said. “I’m just giving you a taste of what you’re in for on the stand. If the D.A. starts making insinuations, you’d better work on keeping your cool.

“Anyway, I hope I made my point. You can get a paper and find out when those movies started and patch up your story and the whole bit. But it doesn’t matter. Because if you’re telling a lie, you’re telling a lie. And there’s gonna be holes. Just because you patch that one, doesn’t mean the D.A. isn’t going to find another. So get it out of your head.”

The phone rang. Cunningham stood glaring at Steve Winslow for a moment, then walked over and picked it up. “Hello.” He listen for a moment, then turned, said, “It’s for you.”

Steve walked over, took the phone. “What’s up, Mark?”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Some detective. You’re the only one knows I’m here. What’s up?”

“My source finally called. Got the word on the warrant.”

“You find out what they got?”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“Tape recording.”

“Tape recording?”

“Yeah. The micro-cassette from her answering machine.”

“You mean her messages?”

“Right.”

“Oh, shit. How bad is it?”

“The worst,” Taylor said. “It’s a message from Frank Fletcher, asking her to meet him at the office.”

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