The Innocent Woman

don’t want that. I want the case to go to the jury. There’s no evidence against her, they’re going to acquit, so why should I interfere with that?”

Judge Wylie looked at him. “You’re withdrawing your objection?”

“That’s right.”

“And your assignment of misconduct?”

“Certainly. If the district attorney has any evidence against me, let’s hear it now.”

“One moment,” Judge Wylie said. “Mr. Winslow, it would seem almost as if you had been dared into this. I would be very unhappy if it turned out you had waived any of the defendant’s rights in order to settle a personal grudge.”

“I assure you that is not the case, Your Honor.”

“I should also point out that if any of the prosecutor’s allegations turn out to be true, you could expect to find yourself disbarred.”

Steve smiled. “You’ll never eat lunch in this town again?”

Judge Wylie’s face darkened. “This is no laughing matter.”

“I understand, Your Honor,” Steve said. “I’m an attorney at law. If I violate the law, I risk disbarment. Naturally, I know that. However, I will consider myself warned.”

Judge Wylie frowned. He found Steve Winslow’s attitude insolent, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. It also bothered him that he couldn’t figure out what Winslow was up to. But there wasn’t anything he could do about that either. He took a breath. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s proceed.”

47

When Judge Wylie resumed the bench he said, “The objection and the assignment of misconduct have been withdrawn. Mr. Dirkson, you may proceed.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “Mr. Cunningham, is it or is it not a fact that the defendant, Amy Dearborn, admitted to you that on the evening of the murder she met with her attorney, Steve Winslow, prior to her meeting with the police, and that he sent her uptown so that she could take a cab to the office in order to build up an alibi?”

“No, that is not a fact,” Cunningham said.

“I put it to you that it is. I put it to you that you are lying and committing perjury in order to protect the defendant from a charge of murder.”

“I’m doing nothing of the sort.”

“Do you deny that Amy Dearborn got a message from Frank Fletcher on her answering machine?”

“No, she says she did.”

“And when did she say she got that message?”

“When she got back from the restaurant.” Cunningham looked at Dirkson triumphantly and said, “Which would be sometime after eight o’clock.”

Dirkson exhaled noisily. “Thank you, Mr. Cunningham, for that impartial estimate of the time. But even if that were true, even if the defendant didn’t hear Frank Fletcher’s message until sometime after eight o’clock, why would she sit around her apartment all evening long and not go down to meet him until ten o’clock.”

Cunningham smiled. “The answer is simple,” he said. “Amy didn’t go down to meet him. Amy had no intention of ever meeting him. She went down there, as she said, merely to clean out her desk. And the reason she waited till ten o’clock to do so, was because she didn’t want to go down there until after Frank Fletcher had left.” Cunningham shrugged. “You have to understand, this was the man who had fired her and tried to have her convicted of theft. She didn’t want to see him at all.”

Dirkson blinked. He stared at the witness. It hadn’t occurred to him Cunningham might have an answer ready. “Well, that’s ridiculous,” Dirkson sputtered. “If she didn’t want to meet Fletcher, why would she go down there?”

“To clean out her desk.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes sense to me. I can’t help it if it doesn’t make sense to you.”

Dirkson cocked his head. “The defendant told you this?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“This theory you’ve just given me for why she went down there at ten o’clock-did she tell you this?”

“Not in so many words,” Cunningham said. “You asked me for a reason why she went down there at ten o’clock. So I gave you one. It is my reason, but it’s based on things she told me. One, that she didn’t want to meet Frank Fletcher and, two, that she wanted to clean out her desk.”

Dirkson’s eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to tell me you never asked her why she went down there at ten o’clock?”

“Of course I did. She told me she went down there to clean out her desk. Just like I said.”

“No, no,” Dirkson said. “Didn’t you ask her why she waited until ten o’clock to go down there?”

“Certainly not.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends. I didn’t cross-examine her the way you’re cross-examining me. I merely asked her what happened. And when she told me, I believed her.”

Dirkson took a breath. “What about the petty cash drawer?”

“What about it?”

“Did she tell you whether it was open or shut when she found it?”

“Yes, of course,” Cunningham said. “She found it open, and the police found it shut. She can’t understand how that happened, unless one of the officers was careless and closed it.”

Dirkson stopped, glared at the witness in exasperation. He knew Cunningham was lying, but he couldn’t seem to faze him. And with every answer, Cunningham was just making things worse. Dirkson hated to let him go, but it occurred to him Cunningham was his witness, and if he came up with anything he could recall him later on.

“All right,” Dirkson said. “No further questions.”

Steve Winslow stood up. “Mr. Cunningham, you testified the defendant got home from her dinner with you sometime after eight o’clock?”

Dirkson, who had just sat down, lunged to his feet again. “Objection, Your Honor.”

Judge Wylie sighed, pointed to the sidebar.

When they had gathered there, Judge Wylie said, “Yes, Mr. Dirkson?”

“Your Honor,” Dirkson said. “This is the very situation I had anticipated. This witness is friendly to the defense and hostile to me. You will notice at what great pains he went to sneak in the time element, when Your Honor had already ruled it inadmissible. Now that he has, the defense attorney is going to build on that by cross- examining him on it, at which point the witness will cheerfully lie and commit perjury in order to build up an alibi for the defendant.”

“As you can bring out on redirect,” Judge Wylie said.

“How can I establish that with a witness who continually lies?” Dirkson cried in exasperation.

“I will thank you to lower your voice,” Judge Wylie said. “We are at the sidebar, not in chambers. Now, I am going to take you last remark as being uttered in frustration. Since you are the district attorney, I am going to assume you don’t really want to be lectured by me on how to cross-examine a witness who may not be telling the truth. As to the objection, it is overruled. The defense may certainly cross-examine on any matter that came out on direct. Now, let’s get on with it.”

When they had resumed their positions, Judge Wylie said, “The objection is overruled. The witness will answer the question.”

In the back of the courtroom, Mark Taylor nudged Tracy Garvin. “Got him.”

Tracy nodded. Taylor was right. Steve Winslow had virtually guaranteed a not guilty verdict. He had manipulated Dirkson into a position where Larry Cunningham would sink his case for him. Amy Dearborn would be