“You hoped he would kill Presley and Marston?”
Stone’s face remains impassive. “The thought entered my mind.”
“Mr. Stone, when you described these events to me two days ago, you didn’t mention Ike Ransom. Why?”
He looks at the rail, his eyes filled with something like grief. “I felt some sympathy for Ike Ransom, despite what he’d done.”
“Sympathy for a murderer?”
“Ransom was a combat veteran. I was one myself. Del Payton too. Ransom had a bad time in Vietnam, I could tell that right off. When Presley caught him with that heroin, his choices narrowed down to nothing. Parchman prison or commit murder. That may not mitigate his act, but when I interviewed the man, he was paralyzed by remorse. He was the only one of the three who ever showed any, and to this day, I’m surprised he lived through those weeks.” Stone rubs his free hand over the one holding the head of the cane, then expels a lungful of air. “Presley and Marston were arrogant about what they’d done. And why not? The system rewarded Marston for it.”
I ask Stone to briefly explain the Presley angle of the Marston-Hoover deal (Marston’s betrayal of Presley to the FBI), my goal being to show the jury that even last night’s attempt by Presley to kill Marston had its roots in the Payton murder. When Stone finishes, Judge Franklin looks overwhelmed by the implications of the case.
“One last question, Mr. Stone. Why, knowing all that you did, did you wait so long to come forward with the truth?”
He looks past me, but I doubt he sees anything of the courtroom. “Cowardice,” he says. “Plain and simple. Hoover used John Portman to threaten my family if I caused a scandal. After my ex-wife died, I thought about coming forward. But by then my daughter had graduated law school and against my advice joined the FBI. She was subject to the will of the Justice Department, of which John Portman was a major part. The murder had happened so long ago. I just tried to put it behind me.”
“Did you succeed?”
“No. It’s haunted me my whole life.”
“Thank you, Mr. Stone. I tender the witness, subject to redirect.”
Judge Franklin lays both hands on her desk and sighs. “I’m going to take a recess here. I’d like to think for a bit, and I’m sure Mr. Stone would like to rest his legs.”
Livy stands abruptly. “I’d prefer to cross-examine now, Your Honor.”
Franklin frowns and looks at me. “Mr. Cage?”
I should probably opt for the recess, to give Stone time to decompress. But something pushes me in the opposite direction. Something in me is driven to witness Livy’s performance. How far is she willing to go to protect her father? How far, now that Stone’s testimony has destroyed any remaining illusions she might have had about Leo’s innocence?
“No objection, Your Honor.”
“Proceed, Ms. Sutter.”
Livy squeezes Leo’s shoulder in a gesture that looks genuine. Then she approaches Stone at an oblique angle, walking slowly with a burgundy Montblanc pen in her hand, not looking at him but at the jury. Every man and woman in the box watches her with fascination.
“Mr. Stone, what year were you dismissed from the FBI?”
“1972.”
“Were you summarily dismissed, or were efforts made to help you stop drinking?”
“I wasn’t fired for drinking.”
“Your record states that you were. But I’m interested. Why do you think you were fired?”
“For drawing my service weapon on Leo Marston in the lobby of the Watergate office complex.”
Livy doesn’t bat an eye. “There’s no mention of such an incident in your record. Were there any witnesses to it?”
“My partner, Henry Bookbinder.”
“Will he corroborate your story?”
“He would if he were alive.”
“Any other witnesses?”
“Not that I know by name. Only Marston himself.”
Leo actually smirks from his table. He loves seeing Livy perform this way. This is what he fantasized about before she ran off to Virginia and then Atlanta.
“Let’s return to your dismissal,” she says. “I admired the candor of your earlier testimony. Being honest about things like losing your wife and child must be very hard. I know, because I’m going through a divorce myself.”
Livy wins instant points with the jury for this personal revelation, one with stratospheric value in the Natchez gossip market. Stone stands with a resigned frown on his face, like a soldier being court-martialed, one who knows something bad is coming and that he has no choice but to endure it.
“I wonder,” Livy says with false spontaneity, “were you completely honest about your dismissal?”
Stone just waits.
“Do you know a woman named Catherine Neumaier?”
His face sags.
“Would you like some water?”
Stone’s jaw clenches. He is clearly offended by Livy’s feigned concern. “I did know Catherine Neumaier. She’s dead now. Dead twenty-five years.”
“Did Miss Neumaier have a profession?”
“She was a dancer.”
“A dancer. She had no other profession?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“FBI records indicate that Miss Neumaier was a prostitute.”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
“How did you meet Miss Neumaier?”
“I was working an organized crime task force. I was assigned to try to compromise her as an informant.”
“Because she had ties to organized crime?”
“She danced in a club owned by Sam Giancana.”
“The Mafia boss of Chicago?”
“Yes.”
“Did Miss Neumaier become your informant?”
“Yes.”
“Was she an alcoholic?”
“No.”
“FBI records indicate that she was. Also that she took drugs.”
Stone sighs. “She had a severe health problem. Lupus. She took pills to help her stay awake for work. Pills to help her sleep.”
“Did you have a sexual relationship with Miss Neumaier?”
His eyes don’t waver. “Yes.”
“Wasn’t it this relationship that caused the breakup of your marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Were you reprimanded for unprofessional conduct because of this sexual relationship with Miss Neumaier?”
“Officially. And only after the fact. Unofficially, Hoover encouraged it from the start.”
“You were encouraged by the director of the FBI to have an affair with a Mob prostitute? I find that difficult to believe.”
Stone’s eyes are burning now, all patience gone from his face. “Lady, the total tonnage of what you don’t know about federal law enforcement would sink a damned oil tanker.”
Livy is already smiling in triumph when Judge Franklin reprimands Stone for his language.
