Degree of Guilt

by Unknown

In the silence, Masters glanced at him. Paget saw that she instantly understood the implication: whether Paget knew about Mary’s complicity and, more damaging, whether he, too, had lied to the Senate.

  ‘Know what?’ Mary answered.

  The tape ended.

  Without speaking, Masters went to the door and motioned in the stenographer. A round woman in her forties, she set up her machine in a far corner of the office, trying to be unobtrusive. As she did that, Masters settled back in her chair, still silent.

  Sharpe broke the quiet. ‘This tape reveals Ms Carelli’s motives,’ she said. ‘And it suggests, regrettably, that Mr Paget has a serious problem of ethics stemming from his own involvement in the Lasko matter and in the Senate hearings. Obviously, there is a second tape, which discloses much more regarding Ms Carelli and Mr Paget.’ She turned to Paget. ‘But we don’t know where it is.’

  Paget said nothing. Masters waited until Sharpe looked back at her. ‘There’s only one thing I want to know,’ she answered. ‘And that’s what this tape is doing in a court of law.’

  Sharpe stared at her. ‘To listen to this tape,’ she rejoined, ‘is to know why Mary Carelli killed Mark Ransom. No one can say this tape isn’t relevant to motive.’

  ‘Oh, it’s relevant, all right. And if some court lets this into evidence, your chances of convicting Ms Carelli go up about a thousand percent.’ Masters paused, stressing each syllable. ‘But there’s just no way that I will. No way at all.’

  Sharpe sat straighter. ‘Without this tape, the court’s proceedings are the shadow of truth. And determining truth is, or should be, our ultimate purpose. If courts become preoccupied with the means of justice, no one will believe that any court can serve the ends of justice.’

  Masters leaned forward. ‘Skip the pieties about “justice,” Counselor. There’s a psychiatrist-patient privilege in this state, and this tape falls as squarely within that as anything I can imagine.’ Her voice rose. ‘You’ve had me sit here listening to this woman’s secrets, protected by law, without an argument worth making for getting this tape in. Your obvious and only purpose was to poison the court against Ms Carelli and, it seems quite clear, against your opposing counsel. That is grossly unjust to both of them and contemptuous of me. Now do you fathom how this courts feels about “justice,” or should I spell it out for you?’

  Sharpe looked pale. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘But I would just remind the court that, in a jury trial, I could ask a trial judge to rule without prejudicing the finder of fact.’

  ‘I understand.’ Masters’s voice became more level. ‘But in my opinion, any judge who lets this in buys you two things: a guilty verdict at trial and a reversal on appeal. I suggest you try your case without it. As for me, I’ll do my best to put this tape out of my mind.’

  There was momentary silence, the reticence of lawyers in the presence of an angry judge. The stenographer finished tapping her machine and sat staring into space. ‘Your Honor,’ Paget ventured, ‘I assume this concludes the prosecutor’s evidence.’

  Masters looked to Sharpe. ‘Does it?’

  Sharpe paused. ‘Subject to rebuttal witnesses.’

  ‘In that case,’ Paget said, ‘I intend to move for the dismissal of all charges against Ms Carelli.’

  Masters’s expression said that this trial balloon, floated to test the judge’s early sentiments, would get very short shrift. ‘On what ground?’

  ‘That the prosecutor’s case, standing alone, does not support probable cause.’

  ‘You must be dreaming, Counselor. As People v. Souza put it so succinctly, probable cause means simply “more evidence for than against.” Don’t embarrass yourself by filing a motion.’

  How much of Masters’s vehemence, Paget wondered, was the residue of the tape. ‘I’ll certainly forgo the motion,’ he answered politely, ‘though I’m tantalized by the specter of victory.’

  For the first time, Masters seemed to consider smiling. ‘Don’t let it keep you up,’ she said. ‘Anything else, anyone?’

  ‘There is,’ Sharpe cut in. ‘I’d like to ask Mr Paget if he intends to put Ms Carelli on the stand.’

  Paget hesitated. With each day of trial, the risk of exposing Mary to cross-examination seemed to grow exponentially; the night before, he and Terri had debated for an hour the merits of keeping Mary silent. But now that the prosecution had carried its burden on direct, Mary’s only hope was to build an affirmative defense, close to impossible without Mary herself. ‘My current intention,’ he said, ‘is to have Ms Carelli testify.’

  ‘In that case,’ Sharpe rejoined, ‘there’s some unfinished business with respect to this tape.’

  Masters looked curious. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as whether we can ask Ms Carelli if she visited Dr Steinhardt; or if a tape existed; or if Mr Ransom had it; or why she didn’t tell the police about any of this. None of which topics, it seems to us, are privileged in the least.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ Paget replied. ‘But Ms Sharpe is attempting to evade the privilege by tricking Ms Carelli into saying something about the tape – and thereby waiving the privilege against its disclosure – or by creating the aura of an undisclosed tape whose contents are unspeakably damaging.’

  ‘As the court has already suggested,’ Sharpe said mildly, ‘it’s hard to imagine anything more damaging than the actual contents of Ms Carelli’s tape – unless it’s her missing tape. And the law is clear: only the communications themselves are confidential, not the fact of the communications or the existence of the tape.’

  Once more, Paget was forced to admire Sharpe’s preparation: for every point she lost ground, Sharpe had a second and third approach, and now had added a softer tone to mute the judge’s anger. If Judge Masters ruled in her favor now, Mary’s cross-examination would be even more brutal and dangerous, with the disclosure of the tape itself at risk with every answer.

  ‘You can explore those areas,’ Masters replied. ‘But questions like, “Did you perjure yourself before the United States Senate,” or any question derived from the contents of the tape, simply will not do.’ She paused, looking from Sharpe to Paget. ‘If this tape gets into evidence, it will be because Ms Carelli waived the privilege by blundering on the witness stand. Understand?’

  ‘In other words,’ Sharpe pursued, ‘if Ms Carelli testifies regarding the contents of the tape, or misrepresents them in any way, the People can play her tape in open court.’ She shot a glance at Paget. ‘Or the next tape – if we find it.’

  Paget’s voice was clipped. ‘I’m sick of Ms Sharpe’s insinuations. As for her suggestion, it’s impossible to make a ruling in advance. Whether there’s a waiver depends wholly on what’s said.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ Masters responded. ‘But if I think any statement by Ms Carelli fits the formula that Ms Sharpe has just proposed, there’s a waiver. Because – and I must stress this before Ms Carelli takes the stand – the law protects privileged communications, not the fact of perjury.’

  ‘Forgive me, Your Honor,’ Paget said. ‘But it seems that Ms Sharpe has accomplished precisely what she set out to do: to plant the tape in this court’s mind and to put Ms Carelli at maximum risk.’

  Masters shrugged. ‘I’ve already reprimanded the prosecutor. But you did ask for this hearing, Mr Paget.’ She turned to Sharpe. ‘What I will do is take this tape into the custody of the court. For everyone’s sake.’

  ‘That’s virtually unprecedented,’ Sharpe protested. ‘Our office can take precautions to protect this tape.’

  ‘So can I. Anything else?’

  Sharpe hesitated. ‘No, Your Honor.’

  ‘Mr Paget?’

  ‘No, Your Honor. Thank you.’

  ‘Then we’ll adjourn until tomorrow.’ Masters paused. ‘I don’t know about all of you, but I’ve had quite enough.’

  The stenographer left. Masters stood, and then, as if in an afterthought, turned to Paget. ‘There is one thing I should say to you, Mr Paget. It’s this: You�
�re as welcome in this courtroom now as you were before Ms Sharpe played that tape. I don’t care what you did or didn’t know fifteen years ago, and I’m sorry Ms Sharpe does.’ She glanced at Sharpe, and then faced Paget again. ‘Personal lives are a complex matter, and it will be a pity if what’s private between you and Ms Carelli doesn’t get to stay there. I know your son’s here watching, and appreciate the pressure you’re under.’

  For a moment, Paget was speechless. He had been prepared for anything from Caroline Masters but compassion.

  ‘I appreciate that, Your Honor. Truly.’

  Masters considered him. ‘There is, perhaps, one other thing I should say. In simple fairness, so that you can assess your alternatives.’ She paused again, then finished softly. ‘You’ve done a very nice job. And you’re losing this case.’

  Paget stared into the martini glass. Straight up, no ice. His first in weeks.

  ‘“You’re losing this case,”’ he said to Terri, ‘does not require extensive analysis.’

  They sat at the Top of the Mark Hopkins, looking at the city as dusk fell. ‘Semantically speaking, no,’ Terri answered. ‘But it can mean either “Your witnesses better be damned good” or “Better cut a deal with Marnie while you’ve got the chance.” Or maybe “Don’t put Mary on the stand – you’ll lose anyhow, and you’ll just screw yourself up for trial.’

  Paget nodded. ‘I think it’s one of the latter two. Maybe both.’

  ‘So do I. Unfortunately.’

  He smiled faintly. ‘It’s one of the many things I like about you, Terri. You’re honest.’

  She put down her wineglass, seeming to assess its contents. He could look at her then; the delicate face, crescent green eyes, the ridged nose that, Paget was sure, only she disliked. The woman he saw was smart and self-reliant, clear-sighted about everyone but herself.

  ‘One problem,’ he told her, ‘is that Mary still won’t take that deal. Even if they offered it.’

  Terri still gazed at her wine. ‘You kept the tape out,’ she said softly. ‘There was nothing more you could do.’

  ‘Caroline kept the tape out. At least for now.’

  She gave him a veiled look of worry; Paget watched her choose between sympathy and encouragement. ‘Tomorrow’s our turn. We didn’t expect to win now, remember? And Caroline did treat you well.’

  ‘She did, to my surprise.’ He paused, reflecting. ‘I find Caroline Masters completely inscrutable. I have the sense that something drives her besides sheer intellect, but I’ve no idea what it is. Or, really, who she is. It makes her impossible to predict.’

  ‘Then don’t try, Chris. I don’t think Caroline’s your problem here, and you’ve got far too much to think about.’

  ‘I know.’ Terri’s concern for him reminded Paget that she had worries of her own. ‘So how are things at home? And how’s Elena?’

  ‘Elena’s great.’ Terri paused. ‘As for home, it’s okay. Richie doesn’t really understand the demands of this hearing – he takes it sort of personally.’

  Was there anything, Paget began to wonder, that Richie didn’t think was about Richie? ‘That can be hard,’ he said.

  Terri shrugged. ‘I just try to shut it off. Two weeks, and we’re back to normal.’

  Her voice was flat. As if she heard herself, Terri asked, ‘How’s Carlo?’

  ‘Too quiet. I’m sure it’s the implications about his mother and Ransom.’ Paget stared out the window. ‘More and more, I dread the day she takes the stand. Every time I drill her with questions, I find a new hole. Not to mention that Sharpe keeps coming up with new facts. It worries me, for Carlo most of all.’

  Nodding, Terri sipped her wine, said nothing.

  ‘Sorry,’ Paget said after a time. ‘But if I don’t say this stuff to you, it seems I don’t say it to anyone.’

  Terri looked at him. ‘That seems to be our arrangement, Chris. In addition to doing trials, of course.’

  ‘Lucky for me. Not only do you listen to me brood without visible boredom, but you come up with terrific lines of questioning.’ He smiled. ‘You may have struck a death blow to the panty hose industry.’

  He watched her smile back. It lightened his depression for a moment, and then he thought of the tape again, and Carlo.

  Terri glanced at her watch. ‘Melissa Rappaport should have checked in by now. I keep wondering if Caroline will let her testify in open court.’

  ‘Probably not.’ Paget finished his drink. ‘I just hope that Caroline remembers her whenever she remembers Mary’s voice on tape.’

  PART FIVE

  The Defense

  FEBRUARY 13 – FEBRUARY 19

  Chapter 1

  ‘He told me to undress for them,’ Laura murmured.

  Her smoky voice sounded plaintive, more bewildered than angry. Caroline Masters looked from the tape to Terri.

  ‘What is this?’ she said quietly.

  Terri paused, torn from her image of Laura Chase lying on a white couch in a white room, Steinhardt an unseen voice behind her. ‘Please listen, Your Honor. I think we can show relevance.’

  ‘And did you undress?’ Steinhardt asked.

  ‘Piece by piece.’ A long pause. ‘Jamie told me what to take off and how to move.’

  ‘How to move?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice fell. ‘While they watched me, I danced for them.’

  ‘Danced?’

  ‘Jamie told me how to move,’ she repeated. Laura did not seem to answer questions; it was more that she was talking to herself, or what was left of herself. Her voice sounded dead. ‘When to turn around for them. What parts of me to uncover.’

  Masters looked at Terri. ‘James Colt?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Slowly, Masters shook her head.

  ‘What did you think about,’ Steinhardt was asking, ‘while you were doing this for him.’

  ‘That I wanted to keep drinking.’ Her voice stayed flat. ‘We were in the recreation room of his friend’s house. There was a bar there. They had everything they needed.’

  ‘So you drank more.’

  ‘Gin. Every time I took off something new. It helped me float away.’ Her tone became distant. ‘When I slid my panties down, and turned around for them, I imagined that I was about to go swimming. With her.’

  Masters’s gaze seemed to turn inward; the effect was of someone who had removed herself. Terri’s palms were damp.

  ‘Then,’ Laura whispered, ‘he asked me to touch myself.’

  Paget and Sharpe’s assistant looked at the floor. Marnie Sharpe sat with her arms folded. No one spoke.

  ‘Touch yourself?’ Steinhardt asked Laura Chase.

  ‘At first just my nipples. Then moving my hands, like I was discovering new parts.’ Another pause. ‘After a while, he asked me to slide to the floor, and lean back against the bar.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I masturbated. While they watched me.’

  The tape was silent.

  ‘While I did it,’ Laura murmured, ‘I closed my eyes. Under my breath, so they couldn’t hear, I whispered her name to myself.’

  Caroline Masters’s eyes shut.

  ‘Then someone put his penis in my mouth.’ Laura’s voice became wispy. ‘I kept my eyes closed. I didn’t want to know who it was.

  ‘When he was through, and I opened my eyes, Senator James Colt handed me another drink.’

  Her tone was suddenly angry. The future leader of the free world, Terri remembered; that was what Laura Chase had called him, talking to Lindsay Caldwell. Lindsay had said it was the humor of a slave. But it was more than that: the phrase had a bitter irony. Terri’s revulsion turned to anger.

  It was all right, James Colt was saying. It was all right for Mark Ransom to treat Marcy Linton as his friends had treated Laura Chase.

  Chr stopher Paget glanced over at Terri.

  Don’t get sidetracked, she told herself. You’ve got an argument to make. You asked to argue this yourself, and Chris agreed.


  Laura Chase kept speaking.

  ‘The second one stretched me out on the rug, and opened my legs again.’ Her voice became distant. ‘It made me think of that movie I made. Letting two men fuck me so other men could watch. I try never to think about that.’

  ‘You bought up all the copies, didn’t you?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Pain deadened her voice again. ‘But now it doesn’t really matter, does it?’

  There was silence, and then Laura’s tone went cold. ‘It stopped mattering a long time ago.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Steinhardt asked softly. ‘Did anything else happen?’

  ‘The other one rolled me over.’ There was a long pause. ‘He was hard again.’

  ‘Rolled you over?’

  ‘Yes.’ Laura’s voice held a faint note of anger. ‘They wanted to have me every way.’

  Steinhardt’s voice was quiet. ‘That must have hurt you.’

  ‘Not really. My father used to do that.’ Her voice became flat again. ‘While it was happening, I looked up. Jamie was sipping his martini, watching.’

  Caroline Masters seemed to inhale, and then she opened her eyes.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ Steinhardt said, ‘that our time is up.’

  Slowly, Masters shook her head. From the tape recorder, Laura said in matter-of-fact tones, ‘I may not be here next week.’

  ‘That’s all right, Laura. Just call my secretary, and we can reschedule. We’ll certainly need to talk about this more.’

  There was a faint sound of movement: Laura rising from the couch. ‘You know what’s so funny about it?’ she asked. ‘I can never come. Except with her.’

  Her voice broke. There was one sob, then the convulsive sound of Laura Chase, breaking down.

  The tape clicked off.

  For a long time, no one spoke.

  Caroline Masters touched her eyes. ‘Just what,’ she said to no one, ‘am I supposed to do with that?’

  ‘Let us play it,’ Terri answered quietly, ‘in open court.’

  Masters thought for a moment. Then slowly, she got up from her chair and summoned the stenographer.

  As before, the woman settled in an unobtrusive corner. ‘All right.’ Masters looked to Sharpe. ‘What do the People say?’