dark blue shirt of a guard. He had intense blue eyes with blondish hair trimmed just above the ears, was clean shaven, and smelled of bay rum aftershave lotion. There was just the trace of a smile on his full lips. He stood with his arms bent at the elbows, his fists under his chin, his fingers intertwined except for the two forefingers that formed a triangle that pressed against his mouth. His attention was pure, focused intently on the chopper. He watched it veer off and disappear beyond the trees. Finally he said, in a voice just above a whisper:
'Welcome, Mr Vail.'
And his smile broadened.
'You say something, Ray?' a voice said from the hall.
'No, Ralph, just hummin' to myself,' he answered. His voice was like silk. He sat down at the worktable and went back to work.
As the chopper fluttered down on a large practice football field near the institution, a black, four-door Cadillac pulled down the service road and parked. The chopper settled lightly on the ground, its blade churning up dust devils that swirled around it.
'You could land on eggs, Sidney,' Vail said, flipping off his safety belt and opening the door.
'You say that every time,' the pilot answered.
The driver of the sedan was a trim man in his late thirties with an easy smile. He wore khaki pants and a dark blue shirt and did not look like a guard, which it turned out he was.
'I'm Tony,' he said, opening the rear door. I'm here to run you over to the Daisy.'
'The Daisy? They call it the Daisy?'
'Yeah,' Tony answered, holding the door for him. 'Daisyland wasn't stupid enough.'
Vail slid in and Tony slammed the door. The drive took five minutes. As they approached the sprawling complex, the large iron gates rolled back and Tony drove through and headed up a gravel road bordered on either side by knee-high winter shrubs. Vail felt vaguely uncomfortable. Perhaps subconsciously, he thought, he was afraid they would keep him there. Or, more likely, he did not look forward to seeing the unfortunate patients locked away from the world in the place cruelly known as the Daisy.
For Shana Parver, the objective of the deposition was to get as much information on the record as possible, enabling her to stand tough on a plea bargain. She was certain that Stoddard would never go to court and Venable would be manoeuvring to get in the best position for a deal. She was partly right.
Jane Venable had to defend a client who did not want to be defended and manoeuvre into position for the best plea bargain she could get. Venable had to, at the very least, convince Edith Stoddard to let her continue to whittle away at and weaken Parver's case. Getting Stoddard to recant the confession was a big step. Now, hopefully, she could prevent Stoddard from incriminating herself during the Q and A with Parver.
They had a few minutes together before Shana Parver arrived. Edith Stoddard was brought to the interrogation room in the annex by a female guard who stood outside the door. Stoddard looked wan, almost grey, her mouth turned down at the corners, her eyes deeply circled. She was wearing a formless blue dress without a belt and white, low-cut tennis shoes. Her hair was haphazardly combed. Wisps of grey and black dangled from the sides and back.
'How are you this morning?' Venable asked.
I'm not sure,' was Stoddard's faint, enigmatic answer.
'This won't take long,' said Venable. 'Just a formality.'
'When is it going to be over? When are you going to make whatever deal you're going to make?'
'This is part of it, Edith. I'd like to make a good, solid showing here today. It will help when we discuss your plea.'
Stoddard shook her head in a helpless gesture.
'She's going to go big on the gun, Edith. I'm not going to ask you where you lost it or even
'Why can't you just tell her… why can't you do whatever it is you want to do? What do you call it?'
'Plea bargain.'
'Just do it today. Get it
'Please trust me. Let me set things up right.'
