Rohn Federbush - Sally Bianco 03 - The Recorder's Way

by Rohn Federbush

  Roger Warner asked Marilyn his first question. “Dr. Handler says he possesses video tapes of you when you first became involved with him. Is that true?”

  “Have you seen them?”

  “Do they exist?”

  “Of course not. He’s going to say anything to get off.”

  Roger Warner walked to where Dr. Handler was seated. “So Dr. Handler is not going to produce tapes to prove his association and payments to you were for sexual favors?”

  “In his dreams,” Marilyn shouted.

  “Keep a civil tongue in your head, young lady.” Judge Wilcox chided Marilyn.

  “Explain your relationship to Dr. Handler, in your own words.” Roger Warner hinted that Marilyn had not been well-rehearsed.

  “He was one of three doctors who paid me to keep quiet about their three patients.” Marilyn sat up straighter. “The patients died in St. Anthony’s Hospital in 1990.”

  Roger Warner faced the jury. “How much money have the doctors paid you in the last eighteen years?”

  “I only kept track of Dr. Handler’s.” Marilyn started eating her fingernails.

  “Why was that?”

  “Because the other two, one I’m not supposed to name, and Dr. Whidbey were easier to handle. I always suspected Handler would cover his tracks. But I never thought he would claim to have had sex with me, paid me for sex. Geez! Sometimes when he wasn’t flush, I accepted a stack of prescriptions from him. But usually he just paid cash. That’s why I kept records. You typed up my notes.”

  “Yes, we did, your Honor.” Roger placed Marilyn’s journal and a stack of blue sheets of paper on the clerk’s desk. “The defense attorney was given copies. I would like Marilyn to read a few excerpts to the jury.”

  Judge Wilcox motioned for the clerk to hand him the pile of papers. He read quietly for a minute or two. “Any objections, Mr. Chapski?”

  Chapski shook his head. “No, Sir.” Dr. Handler whispered urgently to him, but Chapski ignored his protest.

  Marilyn was given the file. “Begin anywhere?”

  “Yes,” the D. A. said, “and mention the date.”

  Marilyn cleared her throat and started reading. “September 8, 1991: Handler showed me his winter cap from Scotland. He wrote me prescriptions for a year’s supply of diet pills. March 15, 1992: Handler says he’s not going to write any more prescriptions for me. He was wearing a white sweater fresh from his trip to Ireland. I called Mrs. Mary Alice Handler and said we needed to talk. Handler called back and said my prescriptions would be at the pharmacy. He also said his wife was divorcing him.”

  “Judge,” Roger Warner held up his hand. “Could I excuse this witness temporarily to corroborate her evidence with Mrs. Mary Alice Handler’s testimony?”

  “Any objections, Mr. Chapski?”

  “No, your Honor.” More arm tugging and angry whispers occurred at the defense table.

  The clerk called the first Mrs. Handler to the stand. A dignified gray-haired lady disengaged herself from the gaggle of Handler’s ex-wives. She opened the gate between the audience and the court proper with a white-gloved hand. When the gate had the audacity to creak, the first Mrs. Handler allowed the D.A. to hold it open so that she could pass through.

  “You were married how long to Dr. Handler?” Roger Warner backed away from the stand so the jury could witness the interchange between ex-wife and ex-husband.

  “Thirteen terrible years.” Mrs. Handler glared for a second at her ex-husband and then turned to the jury. “When Marilyn Helms called me, Benjamin claimed she was a prostitute. The marriage was essentially over years before I learned of Marilyn.”

  “Do you believe they were lovers?” Roger Warner motioned for her to answer in the jury’s general direction.

  “If I were you …,” Mrs. Handler touched her perfectly arranged white hair. “I would believe her. My analyst told me Benjamin was probably gay.”

  “Your honor?” Verne Chapski found a reason to object.

  “The jury is to disregard the hearsay evidence presented by Mrs. Handler’s therapist.” Judge Wilcox glared at the jury. “Is that understood?”

  Each member of the jury nodded. The unmarried lady even smiled.

  “Could you tell us why your therapist would conclude such a thing?” The D.A. asked.

  The first Mrs. Handler shook her head no. “I told him how excited Benjamin became before his hunting trips south of Adrian. The deer are fed there. Ben hunted from ground blinds or raised platforms. They were heated, too, the enclosures. He killed them and brought home a mounted head as a trophy every year we were married. The heads range from eight to thirty points – that’s the number of antler points. I insisted he take the horrific things with him when I asked him to move out.”

  “You’re excused,” the D.A. stated.

  “That’s my job,” Judge Wilcox said. “Any questions, Mr. Chapski?”

  “No, your Honor.”

  The rest of Marilyn’s evidence followed the same pattern. Notes were read and the relevant wife gave confirmation Dr. Handler consistently claimed he was paying a prostitute, Marilyn, for sexual favors. Each wife handled the news slightly differently.

  A jolly woman who had only been married a year to the doctor laughed. “Actually, Marilyn did me a favor. I was looking for a good excuse to back out of the sexless marriage.”

  A delicate looking woman with a German accent said after four years in their unhappy, expensive relationship, she, too, was delighted to end the marriage. She said, “Ben kept dragging home those horrible heads.”

  “Heads?” The D.A. asked.

  “I went along on all four trips. First to Alaska. Healey was the town’s name. I did enjoy seeing the Aurora Borealis. He went on a horseback hunt on the Central Alaskan Range. The next day he brought back a dead Dall sheep, the one of those long-horned ones with the inward curved horns.” The lady gestured to make sure the jury understood the type of mountain goat she was referring too. “He had it mounted and sent home. He always let the tour guides send the trophies to him here in Ann Arbor. Quite expensive: fleshed, salted, mounted and packaged for shipment. I can tell you!” The D. A. was not required to prompt her lengthy testimony. “He didn’t kill anything at Seal Bay. However, in Manitoba he killed a black bear at Dorothy Lake. I love bears and wouldn’t let him bring the mounted head into my house. I think he kept it in the storage unit I paid rent on.”

  “We went to Africa on a safari the next year, Southern Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe. We stayed sixteen days so he could bring home an elephant head. He also bagged, that’s what they call the dead beasts, a Cape Buffalo, a horned Rhino, and a zebra skin. I don’t think he killed the zebra.” The third Mrs. Handler dapped at her forehead with a wad of tissue. “I stayed in the hotels and shopped while he went off with the male guides. What makes a man commit violence against innocent animals?” Her lawyer made sure the divorce decree included a statement, “Benjamin Handler considers the act of sexual contact too packed with the chance of infection to participate.”

  “Your Honor?” Mr. Chapski objected.

  Judge Wilcox banged his gavel several times when the audience decided to enjoy themselves over the third Mrs. Handler’s remarks. “The statement is in the public record; therefore, the jury is allowed to consider it as evidence.”

  Helen noticed even Sister James Marine giggled slightly.

  Judge Wilcox called the lawyers into his chambers. When Roger Warner came out, Helen overheard him tell Captain Tedler, “Dr. Handler is unable to find the video tapes of Marilyn, but he insists they exist.”

  Sharon Daley reached for the D.A.’s arm. “You should let me testify.”

  Roger Warner nodded. “Shortly.”

  The jury heard again from Marilyn and thereafter from a slip of a girl under twenty, Kathy Handler, who described a sailing trip with Dr. Handler. After an uneventful vacation, she found women’s under wear in her husband’s suitcase. He claimed they were Marilyn’s. Kathy’s divorce lawyer claimed
in the decree Dr. Handler was a cross-dresser.

  Next a bug-eyed woman and an intense, sharp-jawed woman, both ex-wives, testified to Marilyn’s timely interruptions of platonic but expensive alliances with Dr. Handler, who continued to bring home the mounted heads of deer.

  Marilyn Helms was recalled to the stand by Verne Chapski. “Where did you meet your doctors for the prescriptions?”

  Marilyn looked at the district attorney, before she answered. “What do you mean?”

  Mr. Chapski moved to block Marilyn’s view of Roger Warner. “In a bookstore, a laundry, your apartment, where?”

  “It varied.” Marilyn crossed her arms. “Dr. Whidbey only needed a phone call. The unnamed doctor was nice. He was a widower, and I usually took donuts to his house.”

  “How nice was he?” Mr. Chapski voice implied an assignation.

  Marilyn came to attention in the witness stand. “He once touched my face and told me God thought I was a beautiful woman.”

  “Was that the only touching?” Marilyn refused to answer. Mr. Chapski appealed to the judge.

  “Young lady, answer the question.”

  “That was the only time he touched me. And no other man ever laid a hand on me!”

  Judge Wilcox warned Marilyn again. “There is no reason to shout. Do you want to be held in contempt of court?”

  “No, your Honor. He’s making me mad.”

  “Sorry.” Mr. Chapski walked back to his table. Marilyn stood as if dismissed, but Judge Wilcox waved for her to sit back down. Mr. Chapski picked up the stack of blue notes. He turned slowly to Marilyn as he paged through the notes. “You mentioned quite a few dates in your testimony: September 8, 1991.” Chapski turned a page. “March 15, 1992. Should I go on?”

  “What’s your point?” Judge Wilcox asked.

  Mr. Chapski handed his list to the judge. “Dr. Handler has attached his motel receipts for all of the dates mentioned, your Honor.”

  The audience hushed a common gasp.

  Judge Wilcox returned the evidence. “The clerk will accept these.”

  Mr. Chapski motioned to Marilyn and then swung his arm to include the jury. “You’re angry because you’ve been caught in a lie. Isn’t that the truth?”

  “He never touched me.”

  Mr. Chapski walked over to Marilyn, standing dangerously close.

  Helen Costello sucked in her breath. Her sore ribs reminded her to relax into the pain.

  Chapski stuck his face within an inch of Marilyn’s chubby cheeks. “So you touched him?”

  Bam! Marilyn punched his face.

  Mr. Chapski screamed like a woman.

  Judge Wilcox stood and pounded the gavel. The court came to its feet when the judge stood, only they were shouting and laughing. Finally, the policewoman, who had accompanied Marilyn into the courtroom and the officer of the court handcuffed a resistant Marilyn to the witness stand. “He had it coming.” Marilyn said, once she calmed down.

  “And your sentence gained six months for contempt of court.” Judge Wilcox sat back down. “This seems like a good time for a lunch break. The jury is cautioned not to talk about the case. We will resume at 1:30 for a more peaceful session. Will you be all right by then, Mr. Chapski?”

  Chapski held a reddening handkerchief to his nose. He nodded.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  Max had taken Helen’s hand, drawing her into a conference with Andrew, Captain Tedler and the district attorney. “Do the receipts negate all the other testimony?”

  Roger Warner shook his head. “The jury will have a lot to consider. I’ll call Sharon to the stand if Chapski thinks he’s finished with Marilyn.” He couldn’t suppress a laugh.

  “Well, let’s go over to Angelo’s and grab a bite.” Andrew held out his hand for Julia.

  “That will take forever, Dad.” Helen still held Max’s hand.

  Max didn’t want to let go either. “You go ahead. Helen and I need to talk about Saturday’s move.”

  When they were alone in the hall, Helen looked up at him. “We could get a sandwich downstairs.”

  They still held hands in the elevator. Max thought the crowd, which included the Brents, would not appreciate their embracing. However, once they were in the hall leading to the cafeteria, Max couldn’t wait any longer. He stopped and drew her to him. Placed a hand under her chin and kissed her. He felt as if he’d never kissed a woman before. This innocent friend was so trusting, so open to his advances. Max stopped, releasing her mouth, letting her step away, but keeping Helen’s hand. “You move me,” was all he could say.

  “You know I love you, Max.”

  “And I love you … more than I should.” Max rubbed his curls with his free hand. He still hadn’t explained about his child to her father.

  “Living alone for a year will put me on a better footing. I’ll appreciate another person more, don’t you think?” Helen tugged her hand away to secure a lunchroom tray.

  Max’s predominant thought was his child would be born before Helen’s year of innocence was completed.

  ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

  The afternoon sun poured into the paneled courtroom. Helen smiled at Sister James Marine. Tiny translucent hairs on the nun’s upper lip were highlighted by the brightness. Helen tried to concentrate on the court proceedings once they were underway again. Nothing seemed important anymore because Max said he loved her! More than he should? Nevertheless, she found herself looking forward to living alone. Max now sat next to Helen, a mountain of steadiness in her changing world.

  Mr. Chapski continued his cross-examination of Marilyn. “You received a manslaughter sentence for killing Mrs. Sally Bianco?”

  “I didn’t kill her.” Marilyn looked at her handcuffs.

  “Your attack dog ripped her throat out before knocking her over a cliff?”

  The jury drew in shocked breaths, shifting positions on their rigid pews.

  Marilyn whispered her answer, “He was trained by the National Guard.”

  “The jury didn’t hear the witness, your Honor.”

  “Speak up.”

  Marilyn glared at him and shouted. “Make up your mind.”

  Judge Wilcox refused to take offense.

  However, Mr. Chapski stepped back as if expecting another attack. “Why did you let your dog attack Mrs. Bianco?”

  Marilyn pointed at Sister James Marine. “It’s her fault!” All eyes turned toward the Mother Superior.

  Sister James Marine smiled ruefully. “It’s true.” She nudged Helen. Tears were running down the nun’s usually placid face.

  Helen took her hand. “You know you’re not to blame.”

  Judge Wilcox sighed. “Explain yourself.”

  “She wanted me to tell that old hag ….”

  The room became ominously silent. Captain Tedler, Andrew and Julie had risen from their seats. Their anguish was palpable. Helen, Max, and Sister J. M. joined the tribute to a lady’s passing. Judge Wilcox maintained the silence for five minutes. Captain Tedler was the first to take his chair, the others followed.

  “If I were allowed to strike you,” Judge Wilcox said to Marilyn in a stage whisper loud enough for everyone to hear, “I would.”

  Properly chastised, Marilyn continued, “Mother Superior told me Sally Bianco was a detective who might be interested in my story about the three deaths at St. Anthony’s Hospital in 1990.”

  Mr. Chapski stayed out of reach, standing close to the defendant’s table. “Were you surprised at Sally Bianco’s reaction to your claim?”

  “She said they could go to jail.” Marilyn looked directly at the jury as if to ask for understanding. “I told her patients die all the time. Doctors get away with murder.”

  “Your honor?” Chapski took a step toward the bench, but changed his mind.

  “You asked her what happened.” Judge Wilcox gave a nod to Marilyn. “Continue.”

  “Sally said they were culpable. I had to ask her what that meant. She said they would go to jail. Well,” Marilyn
made a gesture to the jury as if her reasoning was obvious. “How were they going to provide me with diet pills if they were in jail?”

  “Paying you for sexual services rendered with diet pills?” Chapski asked, keeping his distance.

  “No.” Marilyn acted as if the lawyer had turned stupid. “Paying me to keep my mouth shut.”

  The D.A. asked for permission to re-examine Marilyn. “Weren’t you suspicious when Dr. Handler invited you to a motel – to receive your payments?”

  “I knew I could handle the good Doctor Handler.” Marilyn glared at Roger Warner.

  “Did you tell his wives you provided sex?”

  “No.” Marilyn again petitioned the jury. “All I said was I wanted to talk to them privately about Dr. Handler. I can’t help it if they all assumed I meant I was his lover. I was prepared to tell them about the death of Larry Schneider, if they had the nerve to ask.”

  “But you knew they would assume you were involved sexually?” Roger Warner rubbed his palms together.

  “I never denied it,” Marilyn said, “because they never asked me.”

  “Did Sally Bianco know you were blackmailing the doctors?”

  Marilyn became very quiet. She looked up at the judge, then the jury, then back at the district attorney. “I told you in the deposition to receive the manslaughter sentence.”

  “Repeat your words,” Roger Warner motioned, “to the jury.”

  “I told Sally, if the doctors went to jail they wouldn’t be able to pay me.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “I’m sure she knew what I meant. Sally took out her keys and started back down the path. When I first saw her keys, I only intended to take her car and run. But, she had way too much information. She would have stopped them.” Marilyn pounded her stomach. “I never would have gotten rid of this. No diet pills.” She hung her head, as if she knew there was no sympathy forthcoming from anyone in the room. “I wanted Rufus to scare her, but Sally struck him on the nose with her keys. Then he attacked her. She dropped her keys before she went over the cliff. I cleaned up Rufus and set him free. Then I drove to my grandmother’s in Cape May.”