But When She Was Bad

by Peddicord, Lou;

  “There will be no further warnings, Mr. Applebee. Is that clear, sir?”

  “Perfectly clear, your Honor,” Mormon said, choosing that moment to extend a hand in the direction of his four assistants. All four jumped instantly to their feet and one of them shot to his side. There was a momentary, whispered conference, and the young lady sped back to the table, retrieved something from a briefcase, and vaulted back to Mormon Applebee.

  He had not moved. She placed the retrieved object in his outstretched hand and retreated back to the table.

  It was Wolfie’s journal. The marbleized cover was engulfed in the wide spread of Applebee’s hand but a hint of the hugely scrawled word JURNUL showed on its cover. Applebee now resumed his circuitous pacing, heading away from the witness box. “So, Miss White,” he called over his shoulder, “we have clearly established that you are promiscuous, is that correct?”

  Al Redding was on his feet in a flash. “Your Honor! Counsel is again imputing salacious behavior on the part of my—”

  Judge Biers cut him off. “Mr. Applebee, I am not going to warn you—”

  Mormon in turn cut him off. “Judge,” he said, “Miss White has previously testified that she and Mr. Wexler were intimate well before she was divorced from her former husband. I believe that is called adultery, your Honor. I believe that the state defines adultery as promiscuous behavior between two persons, at least one of whom is married, your Honor.” He stared wordlessly at Judge Biers. “Now may I proceed, your Honor?”

  The judge grimaced, not at all pleased with Applebee’s tone. But he had little choice. “Objection overruled,” he said grudgingly.

  “Thank you,” said Mormon Applebee. “Now, Miss White, we have established that you are a promiscuous woman. The next logical question is to define the degree of that—”

  “Objection, your Honor,” called Albert Redding, again coming quickly to his feet. “Counsel is denigrating the witness in a most unprofessional and unsavory—”

  “Overruled. Sit down.”

  Mr. Applebee, barely missing a beat, was coming around the perigee of his orbit and approaching Annie White.

  “—The degree of that promiscuity and to what extent it invalidates any moral foundation whatsoever for your claim as the fit custodial parent of a sweet, innocent four-year-old boy.” He docked at the witness stand. “How promiscuous are you, young lady?”

  “Objection, your Honor,” yelled Mr. Redding. “Question is non-specific as well as hostile and demeaning.”

  “Sustained. Move on, Mr. Applebee.”

  Mormon Applebee stared hard at Annie. She was good, though. She stared right back at him, not giving an inch.

  “Did you cheat on Gil Wexler, Miss White?”

  “No,” Annie bit off. “Never.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Objection,” called the bouncing Mr. Redding. “Question has been asked and answered.”

  “Sustained. Move on, Mr. Applebee.”

  “Do you keep your vows, Miss White?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a moral person, Miss White?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you a truthful person, Miss White?”

  “Yes, I am.” She raised a haughty eyebrow. “Absolutely,” she added.

  Albert Redding was on his feet again. “Your Honor, this line of questioning is irrelevant and immaterial to the issues at hand. It is—”

  “Im-ma-ter-i-al?” thundered Mormon Applebee. “We are here to help Judge Biers determine who is the fit custodial parent of a sweet, innocent, impressionable young child and you, sir, are saying that morality and truth-telling and keeping one’s sacred pledges are im-ma-ter-i-al? Are you daft, man? Are you entirely out of your—?

  “Enough, Mr. Applebee!” Judge Biers said loudly. “This is not your courtroom and you will neither define the issues before me, nor will you address opposing counsel directly. Is that clear, sir?”

  “Yes, your Honor,” said a seemingly contrite Mormon Applebee.

  The judge continued, “Mr. Redding, the objection is sustained. Move on, Mr. Applebee and get somewhere.”

  The crowd of spectators was enjoying it all immensely. There was barely a sound to be heard from them.

  Mormon stared for a moment longer at Annie, then said, “Faithful, eh? Even after you abandoned the family that had taken you in? Even after you moved into your own lavish condominium provided you at absolutely no expense by Mr. Wexler, you didn’t entertain a stream of virile, priapic male visitors, Miss White?”

  “Objection, your Honor!”

  “Sustained. Move on, Mr. Applebee.”

  “I didn’t abandon them. He kicked me out!”

  “The men, Miss White. The question on the table is this: Did you screw other men while still married to Mr. Wexler?”

  Objection, your Honor! He is—”

  “Mr. Applebee, I have warned you about such language. You are hereby fined $250 to be paid by end of day to the court clerk, and if there are any further such vulgarities in my courtroom, you shall be further fined or simply jailed. Do you understand me, sir?”

  Mormon Applebee gave the judge a flick of a hand. “I do so understand, your Honor. And again, I most sincerely apologize. I do not know what has come over me. Perhaps it is the sheer, unmitigated audacity of those who demand $150,000 condominiums and then screw other men in them while—”

  “Objection, your Honor. Now he is imputing and assuming behavior which he has not proven while he is still using that word which—” Mr. Redding suddenly ran out of words. He was red-faced. He had his fist curled and he banged it on his desk.

  “Applebee!” Judge Biers yelled. He fully sympathized with Redding. “Make it $1,000! And if you so much as—”

  “Your Honor?” Applebee inquired, interrupting. He had swiveled his head toward the judge and he waited, his hands stilled.

  “What?”

  “If you were to ask the court reporter to read back the last, abruptly interrupted sentence of my questioning of this witness, you would hear that I did not infer for you that Miss White in particular was screwing other men in her condominium while still married to Mr. Wexler; rather, I was referring to the universe of all such women whose husbands willingly buy them $150,000 condominiums, and citing their audacity in doing such—that is, screwing other men while in accommodations furnished by their spouses.”

  Mr. Applebee, finished, waited. He held his gaze on Judge Biers.

  The judge snarled, “$2,000! Would you like to try for more?”

  Mormon Applebee turned on his heel, flicked a hand, flowed across the floor in my direction, and murmured to me: “Your $2,000, sir. You are welcome.” Then he went back to his splat! splat! orbiting.

  It was all I could do to stifle a cheer for the obese son of a bitch. It was as if he had suddenly remembered my miserly pledge of $2,000 in expense money, win or lose. He wanted me to get something real for it and he’d decided to have some fun at the same time. I smiled widely and, glancing over at Annie, got an added dividend on my money when I saw her silently form the word, “Bastard!”

  “Now, Miss White,” called out Mormon Applebee from his orbit, “Let us for the moment put that question aside and take up other matters that relate to your fitness as the custodial parent of young Todd.” He had meantime splat! splatted! his way to Annie’s side and he abruptly handed her Wolfie’s journal.

  “Do you recognize this notebook, young lady?”

  Mr. Redding stood instantly and spoke. “Objection to the introduction of any such notebook, your Honor. We have had full discovery process in this case and there has been no mention whatsoever of this notebook. Counsel cannot introduce new evidence at this point.”

  Judge Biers, giving a slight nod at so obvious a point, looked back to Applebee. “Well, sir? What exactly are you doing here?”

  Mormon, his hand still extended in Annie’s direction, whisked the JURNUL back from her and lodged it safely against his chest, as if protecting it f
rom unseemly assault. Then, using his free hand, he flicked a command to his four assistants. One of them bounded up and delivered a side-stitched ream of photocopies to his waiting hand; another vaulted over to Albert Redding and gave an identical bundle to him.

  Applebee handed the bound document up to the judge. “We are not at all introducing new evidence, your Honor,” he said. “The journal is not being offered for determination of its truth or falsity, and therefore it is not to be construed as evidence.”

  “We object, your Honor,” called Albert Redding. “If it’s an exhibit, it’s evidence. A horse by any other color is still a horse.”

  “And a rose is a rose, sir,” rejoined Mormon Applebee, “but we are discussing neither equine science nor horticulture here. His Honor may indeed wish to mark a copy of this journal for identification and so introduce it into the record. However, that is not our intent.”

  The judge cut in. “Then what exactly is your intent, Mr. Applebee?”

  “We are simply offering a memory aid to the witness—a device, shall we say, to jog her recollection and perhaps refresh her memory.” He paused, then added. “Plus, it is an act of compassion, your Honor.”

  The judge gave Mormon Applebee a dubious look. “Oh really?” he said.

  “Indeed,” said Applebee. “In lieu of calling to the stand young Gaynor Wexler, a child of tender, impressionable years—and subjecting this innocent child to the court’s intimidating ambience—we are instead offering his own words, as captured by his own hand.”

  Albert Redding spoke. “You can’t cross-examine a journal, your Honor. I renew my objection.”

  Mormon Applebee, addressing the judge, responded, “That is why we are not introducing the journal as evidence, your Honor. The witness herself will, in the course of her testimony, affirm the validity of young Gaynor’s jottings, but it will be her testimony which will ultimately—”

  “Enough!” cried Judge Biers in exasperation. “Knowing you, Mr. Applebee, you could go on for days about this, coming at the same point from a dozen different directions. Rather than endure that, sir, I will allow this so-called journal for the moment. We will accept it, as you suggest, simply as a memory device, rather than as an exhibit or as evidence. The clerk need not mark it.” The judge put aside the bound photocopy with obvious relief.

  Al Redding stood but before he could speak, the judge said, “Overruled, Mr. Redding. We will bear with counsel for the time being. Frankly, I’d rather have that, than a child up here testifying.”

  Mormon Applebee gave a slight bow to the bench, then handed the JURNUL back to Annie. He repeated, “So, Miss White, do you in fact recognize this notebook?” Annie took the book in her hands and was turning it over. “I think it was Wolfie’s. Gaynor’s. I haven’t see it for a long time, though.” Haughtily, she held it out for the lawyer to take back. “It may or may not be.”

  He, however, had resumed his orbit, heading away from the witness box. “Well, let’s find out, shall we, Miss White? There are a series of paper clips atop selected pages in this journal, young lady. Would you be so kind as to open Wolfie’s journal at the first such paper clip and read aloud the highlighted passage?”

  Annie reluctantly brought the notebook back to her lap and opened it. After a long pause, she began, “It says—and it’s not that easy to make out, you know—but I think it says, FEBRUARY 22: LADY IS NICE TO ME TODAY AND GIVES HUG. PLAY IN SNOW THAT FELL THIS … uh …, I guess that’s afternoon. LADY SAYS DAD WILL BE MAD AT ME UNLESS I DO HOMEWORK BY DINNER. WATCH TELEVISION WITH JACK. FIGHT OVER—I don’t know what this last word says.”

  “Controller?” suggested Mr. Applebee.

  “Controller,” agrees Annie. “The remote controller for the TV.”

  “Who is this ‘Lady,’ Miss White, that young Wolfie refers to?”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Seven-year-old Gaynor apparently felt it rare enough to get a hug from this Lady as to note it, Miss White. Why is that?”

  Annie shot an accusing look at her attorney, then back at Applebee. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  Mr. Redding stood again. “I renew my objection to this whole line of questioning and to the introduction of this notebook, your Honor, and any relevance whatsoever it may have to this case.”

  Judge Biers looked up, waiting for Mr. Applebee to counter the objection.

  “It’s essential background, your Honor,” Applebee said, “to the emotional dynamics that informed the Wexler household during the time of the marriage. I promise you, the relevance will become extraordinarily clear.”

  “It better,” said Judge Biers sourly. “And quickly. Mr. Redding, I still find it harmless. I’ll allow it a few moments longer.”

  Applebee turned back to Annie. “Miss White, the next paper clip, if you please.”

  “It’s Ms. White, not Miss.”

  “I beg your forgiveness, Miss White. Please read for us.”

  Annie heaved a beleaguered sigh and thumbed to the next marked page. “It says, MARCH 11: SATURDAY. GO TO AQUARIUM WITH DAD AND JACK AND ALLEGRA.” She looked over at the pacing attorney. “There’s another passage marked on this page. Do you want that too?”

  “Please.”

  Annie deciphers it and makes an angry face. “This isn’t true. He says here I—”

  “Read it.”

  Annie glares at Mormon Applebee, then glares at her attorney. Al Redding gives a barely perceptible shrug and looks down at his yellow legal pad. Annie sighs and begins reading. “MARCH 13: LADY HITS ME ON BUTT BECAUSE I SPILL KOOL AID ON KITCHEN FLOOR AND YELLS AND SENDS ME TO MY ROOM.” She looks up, waiting and glaring.

  “Read the rest of it, Miss White.”

  Annie drops her eyes back to the page and mutters, “LADY COMES TO MY ROOM AFTER AND SMACKS ME ON HEAD.” She looks up, angry. “He’s lying. None of this is true.”

  “The next paper clip, Miss White.”

  “Your Honor?” calls Albert Redding, standing again. “We are hearing unsubstantiated hearsay here which has absolutely no relev—”

  “Overruled. Sit down.” The judge is alert, enjoying this. He’s taking his entertainment here, peeking into private lives. Like most in his profession, Judge Malcolm Biers has a bit of the voyeur in him.

  Annie waits a few beats, glaring at Mormon Applebee’s orbiting back, then goes to the next marked page. She reads, “MAY 14: PLAY IN BASEMENT BECAUSE OF RAIN AND LADY HELPS ME DRAW BEAR AND KANGAROO. LADY HUGS ME AND TELLS ME SHE LOVES ME.”

  Mormon Applebee stops his pacing. “Another lie, Miss White? Another fabrication by young Gaynor?”

  Annie is silent, glaring.

  “Your Honor,” says Mormon, “would you please direct the witness to answer the question?”

  “Answer, Ms. White.”

  “No. It’s accurate. At least as far as I recall.”

  “It is the truth, then?”

  “Yes.”

  “The next passage, please.”

  “Your Honor—” a standing Albert Redding begins.

  “Overruled,” says Judge Biers.

  Annie grudgingly thumbs to the next paper-clipped page and reads, “JUNE 25: REARRANGE BASEBALL CARDS IN SHOE BOXES. LADY HELPS ME PUT IN TEAMS AND STACK BOXES IN MY CLOSET SO I CAN—”

  “What does young Wolfie mean, Miss White, ‘put in teams’?”

  “He means arrange the cards by player, according to which teams they’re on.”

  “Ah,” said Mr. Applebee. “So this, too, is an accurate entry.”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “You only think so? Is it or is it not true?”

  “Yes, then. It’s true.”

  “Skip to the next one, Miss White.”

  Annie is annoyed but at the same time she’s aware that this is scoring no major points against her. She’s relaxing somewhat. She reads, “JULY 28: DAD SAYS LADY IS HAVING A BABY IN A WHILE. LADY HUGS US ALL AND SAYS SHE LOVES US AND WILL ALWAYS BE WITH—”

  “A true passage, Mi
ss White?”

  “Yes.”

  “Accurate in every regard?”

  “Yes.”

  “The next one, please, Miss White.”

  “You don’t want me to finish this one?”

  “No, Miss White. It says, ‘I TRACK LADY TO STORE AND LADY BUYS BREAD AND MILK AND ICE CREAM TOO FOR ALL OF US. WATCH TELEVISION AND SEE SIMPSONS. LADY GIVES ALL OF US HUGS AGAIN AND CHOCOLATE CAKE, TOO.’ No, Miss White, we don’t need you to read it. It shows you can be very sweet. And it is accurate reportage, isn’t it, Miss White? For that particular day?”

  “Yes,” Annie snarls. You can hear that she wants to add a “dammit” after that “Yes.”

  “The next one, Miss White.” Mormon Applebee is again at the apogee of his courtroom orbit. But before Annie can begin reading, he calls out over his shoulder, “By the way, young lady, what is a ‘niggle’?”

  “I don’t have any idea what a niggle is.”

  “Your young stepson, Wolfie. What did he call his penis?”

  “Your Honor, I object—”

  “Overruled.”

  Annie rolls her eyes and glares at both her attorney and mine. “A niggle, I suppose. I remember now.”

  “Good. Please read.”

  “OCTOBER 7: TRACK LADY TO LIBRARY THEN TRACK LADY OVER TO—”

  “What is all this tracking, Miss White?”

  “It’s what Wolfie did. He was always sneaking around, following somebody or other. We all called it tracking. He’d watch us. He skulked.” Annie gave a shrug. “I don’t have the slightest idea why.”

  “I see. He seemed to track you a lot, didn’t he, Miss White?”

  “Yes.” She bites it off like it has an unpleasant taste.

  “The next one, Miss White. October 24th.”

  Annie thumbs to the next marked page but before she can begin to decipher Wolfie’s words, Mormon Applebee asks her, “Can you place this time for us, Miss White? This is the year before your young son Todd was born, was it not?”

  She looks up. “Yes.”

  “Now, Todd was born in September of the following year, so by October of this year which we are now considering, the same October in which you held a part-time job at a nearby sculpture gallery—by the way, a gallery dealing in the abstract, the contemporary, wasn’t it?”