Today, however, I was on my best behavior. But I couldn’t find a way to bring up the subject of Mark with Daisy present, and had resigned myself to discussing him later in smaller groups.
Then Sandra said, “Burt, I’m glad that you’re defending Mark. I feel a whole lot better now that you’re on the case.”
“Thank you,” Burt said, bowing his head slightly in the Sandra’s direction. “I’ll do my best.”
I think they would have made a good match. But Mark was a good substitute for Burt, if we could get him out of jail. From Daisy’s expression at this exchange, I gathered that she hadn’t been clued in about Mark. Fortunately, Mark’s arrest had been buried in the Raleigh News and Observer. Albert gave her a quick overview of why Mark was in jail, skipping very lightly over the details and hinting broadly that Mark had been framed. He didn’t mention sexual harassment.
There didn’t seem to be anything else we could say about Mark so the talk turned to other topics, including, somehow, global warming. Daisy apparently accepted global warming as an established fact. And it was obvious from what she said that she blamed men for it.
“Yes,” I said, casually, “global warming is a possibility. The earth has been getting warmer and cooler for billions of years without the help of any men. It would be very surprising if it weren’t doing one of those right now.”
The group ignored this remark as the ramblings of an old lady, except for Albert who gave me another hard look, but then Daisy started documenting all of the horrible results that would undoubtedly accrue from global warming and again implied that the male members of the human race were responsible for the forthcoming catastrophe.
Sometimes the devil makes me do things. I said, “Chaos theory suggests that the effects of global warming are completely unpredictable.”
This time Albert glared at me, but this too might have gone unnoticed by Daisy, as I suspect they don’t spend a lot of time on chaos theory in women’s studies. However, Sandra took up the ball and said, “With all the obvious problems in the world, does it make sense to pour billions of dollars into something that may not be a problem?”
“You’re asking for a lot if you expect government policy to make sense,” Burt said, with a smile, apparently not taking the attack on his sex too seriously.
“Mother,” Albert said, firmly, “could we serve the pies now?” And turning to Daisy, “Mother makes the best apple pie you ever ate.”
That effectively cut off the discussion before Daisy could answer us and we got into a real brouhaha. I could picture Albert saying to us later, “Can’t you children behave yourselves when I bring somebody home?” Maybe not those exact words, but he sometimes lectured me as if he were the parent and I were the child.
I managed to get Albert’s attention, briefly, while we were washing the dishes and Burt was talking to Daisy in the family room. She was actually quite charming and I could see why Burt would be attracted to her. I told Albert that Mark had a bail hearing tomorrow and that, if possible, I planned to put up his bail.
This got his attention since he was the executor of my estate and my principal heir. I also said, “You’re welcome to come along. I always welcome your advice on financial matters. Besides, Burt and I are going to try to talk to Detective Johnson and you could help us with that.” I briefly outlined what I had in mind.
Albert was clearly uncomfortable telling me not to guarantee Mark’s bail because it would make him sound disloyal to Mark. I had counted on that. We called Sandra over and I told her what I had told Albert. She was all for getting Mark out of jail and wasn’t concerned that he might skip town. It appeared to me that she still loved him. Neither of them could get off work to go with me.
“Well, you’ll just have to trust Burt and me to do the best we can,” I said, somewhat relieved that they weren’t coming. We would have a free hand.
When Albert went to join Burt and Daisy, Sandra said, “Gogi, do you still believe Mark is innocent?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you?”
“Yes. Things were going so well between Mark and me. I wish all this had never happened.”
She had tears in her eyes. I gave her a hug and said, “Don’t worry, Honey. Everything’s going to be all right.” I hoped that was a true statement.
Chapter 22
The chief impression I have of courtrooms is dark wood: wooden benches for the spectators, a wooden wall separating the spectators from the participants, a wooden barrier around the jury box, wooden tables where the attorneys and defendants sit, a large wooden desk for the judge and smaller wooden desks and tables for the other court employees, including the bailiff and the court reporter. And wooden walls. I wondered what would happen if somebody threw a match into the middle of the courtroom.
Fortunately, Mark didn’t look like a defendant as he sat beside Burt at the defense table. Since he had been kept in the holding cell over the weekend, instead of being transferred to the county jail, he still wore his own clothes. Burt had taken him a suit from my apartment and the two of them, dressed alike and sitting side by side, could have been fellow attorneys.
The prosecuting attorney was a pretty young lady. I felt initial relief when I saw her, I suppose because she didn’t look like someone who would throw the book at Mark, but then she got up and proposed a bail amount so high that I couldn’t possibly afford it. My feelings about her changed abruptly and I wished that a California-style earthquake would send the ceiling crashing down on her.
Burt argued in a logical manner that Mark wasn’t dangerous, nor was he a threat to skip town. His family resided here. At least his surrogate family, I thought. Burt said that Mark had no prior criminal record and he had always been a model citizen. Well, except for the harassment charge. However, Burt was able to get the bail amount reduced to a figure that I could handle, but high enough so that if Mark did decide to take off Albert would probably become a bounty hunter and go after him.
“Stay in the car, Mark. Your presence might prejudice the results we hope to get.”
Mark reluctantly acquiesced to Burt’s request, acknowledging that he would be more of a hindrance than a help.
Burt had parked a few doors from Donna’s apartment because he didn’t want her to be able to look out her window and see Mark. Detective Johnson, on the other hand, parked right in front of her door and he was waiting for us when Burt and I walked up.
“Donna’s car is here, so she must be home,” I said, pointing the old Chevy out to the two of them.
“I called her and made sure she would be home,” Detective Johnson said, the coldness in his voice indicating what he thought of my reservations about his competence. “You just better not be wasting my time.”
He rang the bell and as we waited I noted that the broken front window had been replaced. Donna opened the door; she seemed surprised to see me and even more surprised to have Burt introduced to her as Mark’s attorney. However, she shook hands with Burt and led us into the main room of the apartment.
When she offered us seats, Detective Johnson said, “We’re not going to stay long. We want to talk to you briefly about your role as the Shooting Star.”
“Is that going to be brought out at the trial?” Donna asked, looking from one of us to another.
“Your own testimony will bring it up,” Detective Johnson said. “That’s where you were the night of Elise’s murder. Right?”
“But if you answer our questions now,” Burt said, smoothly, “maybe we can downplay it. Do your parents know you were the Shooting Star?”
Donna shook her head.
“How long did you dance as the Shooting Star?” Detective Johnson asked.
“About…three months. I started in December.”
“How did you get to and from Club Cavalier?”
