“Yes. We got up together and ate breakfast. Then Larry went to work.”
“Was he acting unusual in any way?”
“No.”
“When did you next see him?”
“Around eight o’clock, when he came home from work.”
“Was it unusual for Larry to work so late?”
“No. His job was…is very demanding. He would often keep late hours.”
“Tell the jury what happened after Larry came home.”
“We just watched some television. I can’t even remember what. Then we had a snack and went to bed.”
“You and Larry sleep together?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said, blushing and looking at her lap.
“Where was Larry when you woke up the next morning?”
“In bed.”
“Do you have any reason to believe that he left your bed at any time that evening?”
“No. I’m a light sleeper, and I would have heard him if he got up.”
David paused. He had established Larry’s alibi. There was no reason to ask any more questions, and he wanted to make Jenny’s ordeal as easy as possible. He turned toward Monica.
Monica acknowledged David’s nod. Jennifer Stafford had been very believable, and her alibi would be difficult to break down. She did not know what to do to attack it, and she was beginning to feel helpless. She had put an investigator on the Staffords and had come up with nothing. She risked a look at David. He was chatting with the defendant, looking very sure of himself. Monica felt herself tighten with anger. She could not lose this case. She had to do something. But what?
“Mrs. Stafford, you are a wealthy woman, are you not?”
“Objection,” David said, standing.
“This goes to motive, Your Honor,” Monica replied.
“We went through this before, Mr. Nash, in chambers. You may have your objection.”
“Thank you, Your Honor,” Monica said. “Are you a wealthy woman, Mrs. Stafford?”
“I don’t know what you mean by that. I am well-off financially.”
“If neither you nor the defendant were working, could you get by?”
“Larry wouldn’t accept my money. He-”
“That doesn’t answer my question, Mrs. Stafford.”
“I don’t need to work,” Jennifer said stiffly.
“But your husband does?”
“He has saved money from his job. He works very hard and-”
“Your Honor,” Monica interrupted, “would you please instruct the witness to confine her answers to the questions?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stafford. Answer only the question put to you.”
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer answered nervously. Monica was pleased with the course of the questioning. Stafford’s wife was becoming defensive, and that would help cast doubt on her credibility.
“You purchased your house for four hundred seventy-five thousand dollars, did you not?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Stafford could not have purchased the house without your money, could he?”
“No,” Jennifer answered. She was angry and David began to worry.
“In fact, if you and he were divorced, it would seriously alter his lifestyle, wouldn’t it?”
“Objection,” David said.
“Sustained. That is highly speculative, Ms. Powers.”
“I withdraw the question,” Monica said, satisfied that the jury had got the point.
“Mrs. Stafford, do you love your husband?”
David looked up. He knew that her answer would mean nothing, but he tried to read something in her eyes: a message he hoped he would see there.
Jennifer hesitated a second and Monica noticed. She wondered if the jury had, and she turned in its direction.
“Yes,” Jennifer answered softly.
“Would you lie to help him?”
“Yes,” she answered, “but I did not lie, because I did not have to. Larry was with me, Miss Powers. He couldn’t have murdered that poor woman.”
David selected the Georgetown for lunch because it was dark and the individual wine-red booths provided privacy.
“I was so frightened,” Jenny said.
It was the first time they had met during the day someplace other than his office. David reached across the narrow table and touched Jenny’s hand.
“You were fine.”
“And Larry?” she asked.
“He was fine, too. The trial is going very well.”
Judge Rosenthal had called a recess for lunch as soon as Larry had finished testifying. Stafford had been nervous but had handled himself well. On direct, David had limited himself to asking the defendant where he had been on the evening of the murder and filling in items of his biography that had not been provided by other witnesses. On cross, predictably, Monica had delved into Larry’s feelings about not making partner and asked about his relationship with his wife. Stafford was well prepared to handle this line, as David, playing the role of district attorney, had grilled him far worse in the jail than Monica did on the stand. David enjoyed Monica’s frustration as it became clear that she was making little headway. Her final questions concerned Stafford’s sex life, and David felt they were sufficiently embarrassing so that the overall effect was to create sympathy for his client. When Monica asked her final question, “Have you been with a prostitute in the past two years?” Larry’s answer-“Why would I do that, when I have a wife like Jenny, who loves me?”-had caused several of the jurors to nod their heads in approval.
“Do you…will you win, David?” Jenny asked.
“It’s impossible to say, but I feel good about the case. I believe in Larry. I could see his sincerity when he testified. I’m a pretty good judge of people, and if I’m getting these impressions, I’m sure the jurors are, too.”
Jenny looked down at the table for a moment. She seemed troubled.
“What’s the matter?” David asked.
“I’ve decided, David,” Jenny answered in a hushed voice. David felt his heart leap. Was she saying good-bye? Was this the end of his dream?
“No matter what happens, I’m going to ask Larry for a divorce. Then, if you want me…”
“Want you? God, Jenny, you don’t know what this means to me. I love you so much… Don’t cry.”
Jenny’s head was lowered, but even in the dim light he could see tears coursing down her cheeks.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” a voice from behind David said. Jennifer looked up, startled, and David turned rapidly. Thomas Gault was standing over the table, a sly grin looking diabolical in the frame of his Chinese mustache.
“I saw you two over here and thought maybe I’d get me a scoop.”
“Gault,” David barked angrily, “this is a private meeting.”
“But you and the lady are public people. I have my duty as an agent of the press to seek headlines wherever.”
Gault stopped suddenly when he noticed Jenny’s tears. The smile disappeared.
“Say, I am sorry. I didn’t realize…It’s so dark in here.”
He whipped out a handkerchief and held it toward Jenny. She looked at David, puzzled.
“It’s okay,” Gault said. “I’ve been there. Had my own trial. For murder, too,” he said with a trace of pride. “But Dave got me off and he’ll clear your husband. Don’t you worry.”
