Against the Law

by Jay Brandon

Edward remained on his feet for a second, staring at his sister. She finally glanced at him and understood from his slight frown what he was trying to convey. She didn’t nod, but she inhaled a little raggedly and let out a long breath.

  ‘As you stood there on your estranged husband’s porch, did you hear raised voices?’

  Amy sniffed again as she shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Any sounds at all from within the house?’

  ‘Nothing I can recall.’

  ‘You said you might have heard the back door banging shut as you ran in. You know no other witness we’ve heard from heard that?’

  ‘I don’t know that any of them were in a position to hear it.’

  ‘Did you hear a car engine start in the alley?’

  ‘No. By that time I was so busy with Paul all I could hear was my own pulse in my—’

  ‘I’m sure. But a car starting is a pretty noticeable sound, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. David waited, making her speak. The prosecutor was hoping, Edward knew from experience, to make Amy glare at him. Nothing a prosecutor likes better than a murder defendant looking mad. It’s almost as good as putting the gun in her hand. Amy didn’t, though. She looked down at her own hands, then up again as if surprised David was still waiting. ‘I suppose,’ she said quietly.

  ‘So you just happened to be standing on the porch at the exact time a fatal argument going on between your husband and someone else reached its climax. Is that your version of events, Dr Shilling?’

  Still quiet, Amy said, ‘No. I don’t have a version. I’m just relating what I saw and heard.’

  ‘Uh huh. OK, let’s go over a few other things, ma’am.’

  For half an hour he took her back through the facts of her marriage breaking up, her half-hearted dating of two or three other men (showing she was still emotionally attached to her husband), her knowledge of Paul’s active social life (demonstrating the strong possibility of growing jealousy), the fact that she was the only person who’d heard that she and Paul might be reconciling.

  Finally David turned to his assistant, whispered to her, and she handed him a large shopping bag. ‘May I, Your Honor?’

  The judge nodded to him. Her expression was completely neutral. She wouldn’t look at Edward.

  As David stood up with the bag, he said, ‘This was identified by an earlier detective as items found hanging in your husband’s spare bedroom closet. State’s Exhibit 36. Would you step down, please, Dr Shilling?’

  Amy did so, bringing her closer to the jury. David stood a couple of steps in front of her. The prosecutor was also much taller than Amy, Edward was glad to see, making her look small and harmless. As Amy looked up at him, David rummaged in the large bag and drew out a blue dress.

  ‘Do you recognize this, Dr Shilling?’

  Edward did. It was the evening dress from Paul’s closet that Amy had claimed was hers.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Amy said. ‘It looks familiar.’

  ‘As I said, it was in your husband’s closet. Would you mind slipping it on, please? Just over what you’re wearing.’

  Amy looked at Edward for rescue, but there was no objection he could make that would be upheld. The prosecution was entitled to such a demonstration. Edward just sat there helplessly.

  ‘Your Honor?’ David said.

  ‘Please put on the dress, Dr Shilling,’ Cynthia told her.

  So Amy did. The dress was made to be tight, but it did fit over the dress she was wearing. When the dress fell into place, it was obvious it was too big for Amy in the bust and thighs. It hung on her. And it hung to the ground.

  ‘I guess you weren’t the only woman to keep clothes at your husband’s house, were you, Dr Shilling?’ David said, turning and walking back to his table. Amy had no answer. ‘Had you seen that dress, hanging in the closet with your own clothes?’

  Amy struggled for moments, then said, ‘Not that I remember.’

  ‘Uh huh,’ David said, resuming his seat, leaving Amy standing there in, what was for her, the hopelessly misshapen dress.

  ‘Pass the witness.’

  SEVENTEEN

  The defense’s second best witness was probably Laura Martinelli. Although as it turned out, not so good as Edward hoped.

  As she took the stand, she was not nearly the femme fatale she had been playing with Edward in her office. But she didn’t try to downplay her sexuality either. She wore a business suit, grey pinstripe, very conservative, but with a thin, sheer blouse underneath. Maybe this was the most conservative outfit she had, who knew?

  As she took the stand, Laura knew the score. Edward was going to present her as an alternate suspect. Laura understood that. She stared back at him from the witness stand, neither hostile nor intimidated. Her dark hair was luxurious, spilling down her neck. Her tongue flicked out, wetting her lips, which didn’t need it. After a summer in Houston, her skin was pale, but lustrous. There was blood pulsing under the white skin.

  ‘Please state your name.’

  ‘Laura Martinelli.’

  ‘Please tell us what you do, ma’am. And also your marital status, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘I am the executive director of a charitable foundation that raises money for abused children. And I am happily single.’

  ‘Do you know my sister here next to me, Ms Martinelli?’

  ‘No. I’ve never had the pleasure. I’ve heard of her, of course. Much of my work is done with the medical community in Houston.’ Laura turned her eyes on Amy, then trained them back on Edward.

  ‘But you knew her husband, Dr Paul Shilling, correct?’

  ‘Yes, I knew Paul. In a casual way for years, because of my work, then a little more personally for a brief period before he died.’

  ‘How shortly before he died?’

  She leaned back, remembering. Even her neck was lovely. Edward glanced over at the jury, saw women looking at her enviously, men with another emotion. ‘I’m not sure. When was that? When he died, I mean.’

  ‘Last March. Almost a year ago.’

  ‘I’m really not sure, then. Paul and I dated briefly, a handful of times, early in the spring. I remember it was always hot when we were together.’

  There was nothing Edward could do with that answer except let it stand. He looked down at his notes, giving that answer a few seconds to breathe on its own.

  ‘Did you break up?’

  ‘You know, I’ve been trying to remember, knowing I’d probably be called as a witness in this trial. And the truth is, I just really can’t remember. We didn’t have a fight, I know that. It just seems like the relationship ran its course in a fairly short time.’

  ‘No acrimony, no bitterness?’

  She crossed her legs and folded her hands on top of her knees. ‘No.’

  ‘Didn’t you tell me it became clear to you he was still in love with his wife?’

  ‘I may have. I really don’t remember now.’

  Edward raised his voice. ‘Laura. Ms Martinelli. Was there any emotion at all involved in this affair for you?’

  She frowned, mildly. ‘I wouldn’t even call it an affair. A few dates. A handful, really. We realized pretty quickly we weren’t meant for each other. I’m in a wonderful relationship now, with a man who—’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he’s a lucky man. Let me ask you this, Ms Martinelli. Were you supposed to go to the awards dinner with Paul?’

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember something incredibly trivial. ‘At some point we may have talked about it …?’ she said vaguely.

  Edward stood up abruptly. ‘Your Honor, may I approach the witness?’ he asked, while doing so. He didn’t even hear Cynthia’s answer.

  He rummaged through the exhibits at the front of the courtroom, and pulled out the long blue evening dress David had used earlier. Edward held it up in all its beauty. It shimmered, hanging from his hand, as if he was spewing blue flame like a sorcerer.

  ‘Do you recognize this, Ms Martinelli?’

&nb
sp; She stared at it in a disinterested way, as if she were shopping and Edward was the inept clerk. Then she looked up.

  ‘No.’

  Edward turned to his longtime acquaintance and former (very briefly) lover. ‘Your Honor, may the witness please be ordered to try on this dress?’

  Cynthia stared back at him unimpressed. ‘Why, Mr Hall?’

  Edward was taken aback. ‘Because it was found in the deceased’s home and obviously any woman it would fit would be a suspect, Your Honor.’

  Edward held out the dress to Laura Martinelli. She sighed, looked at it, stood up.

  ‘You can just put it on over the clothes you’re wearing.’

  Laura held the dress up next to her. It looked very slim next to her voluptuous curves. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

  This was good. The dress would fit her well, tightly but well, unlike Amy. It would prove another woman was intimately involved in Paul’s life, who would be offended – fatally, maybe – by his returning to his wife.

  Edward looked up at the judge. ‘Your Honor?’

  Cynthia looked at Edward, looked at the blue dress, the witness, finally at the prosecutor, hoping he would save her by objection. But David sat there blandly, looking back at her with a slight smile. Everybody likes a drama.

  Cynthia turned to the side. ‘Bailiff. Open the door to the holding cell. The witness can change in there.’

  ‘Cell?’ Laura Martinelli said rather loudly. ‘I don’t think so.’

  The judge looked at her. Laura looked back. A judge can make witnesses do many things: speak, give blood samples, have their fingerprints taken, even partially undress in court. It would be very difficult to order a woman to go into a room and change clothes if she didn’t want to do so.

  Cynthia sighed. ‘Very well. You can use the court’s chambers. We will take a brief recess.’

  She stood. The judge walked out and Laura followed her, carrying the dress. They jostled each other briefly in the doorway to the back.

  Laura Martinelli returned to court after the recess with a blank-faced female bailiff walking closely in front of her. Laura was indeed wearing the blue dress, but over it she wore the bailiff’s jacket. She didn’t resume her seat but stood near it.

  ‘The witness will take the witness stand,’ Judge Miles said.

  ‘I can’t,’ Laura said tightly.

  ‘Ms Martinelli, the court is ordering you—’

  ‘She actually can’t, Your Honor,’ the bailiff interjected.

  ‘I can’t sit in this dress,’ Laura said stiffly.

  The judge looked to the bailiff, who nodded affirmation.

  ‘But it fits,’ Edward pointed out. ‘Your Honor, please let the record reflect that the witness is wearing the dress.’

  He turned to the prosecutor, who shrugged. ‘Acknowledged,’ he said.

  ‘Now, Ms Martinelli,’ Edward resumed his questioning and his seat, ‘would you please take off the jacket so the jurors can see the full dress?’

  ‘I’d rather not.’ Laura held her head so high she was looking over everyone’s heads.

  ‘Ma’am,’ the judge interrupted. Laura looked at her. ‘Please?’ Cynthia said calmly.

  Laura sighed, then shrugged out of the jacket itself. Then they could see the problem. The dress fit her, all right, the way an aging beauty’s skin fits her face after too many cosmetic surgeries; so she can no longer express human emotion. The zipper in back wasn’t all the way to the top and it seemed to be straining to retreat downward.

  The dress fit very tight and low across Laura’s bosom, and equally tightly across her hips. In the back, it looked sprayed on her naked body. The faint clicks of cell phone cameras could be heard in the courtroom.

  She could walk in the dress, maybe dance in it. No one could make her try to sit if she said she couldn’t. It would have been possible for her to go out for the evening in this dress. It would draw stares and comments, but that was what some women wanted at a big event, wasn’t it? And there were men who would want that woman on their arms.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Would you like to change back before you continue your testimony?’

  ‘If you want me to be able to talk in a normal tone of voice, yes.’

  ‘Judge?’

  ‘Go ahead, ma’am.’

  As Laura left, observed by all observers, the bailiff hurriedly followed. Cynthia looked at the jurors. ‘This time let’s just all stay here. Jurors, if you want to stand and stretch, please do.’

  Edward whispered to Amy. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think, if that’s her dress, Paul was letting himself have quite a bachelor life.’

  ‘You don’t think that’s to his taste?’

  ‘Are you talking about the dress or the woman in it?’

  Edward nodded. Amy shrugged. ‘Not when we were together. At least he’d never suggest I wear anything like that.’

  Edward looked questioningly at his sister.

  She blushed.

  ‘Shut up,’ she whispered.

  ‘I’m sorry for putting you through that demonstration, Ms Martinelli,’ Edward said. ‘I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I only have a few more questions. You said you went on several dates with the late Paul Shilling?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Was drinking involved?’

  ‘I assume you mean alcohol. Yes, sometimes.’

  The slight facetiousness or edge Laura Martinelli had displayed during the first part of her testimony was gone now. She was all business.

  ‘Did you ever see him intoxicated?’

  ‘Yes. I suppose. I didn’t pause and try to estimate how drunk he was at the time.’

  ‘Did you notice any change in his behavior at those times?’

  ‘Of course. That’s why we drink, isn’t it? He’d loosen up. He’d be fun.’

  ‘Ms Martinelli, I’d like to show you a recording and ask your opinion of Dr Shilling’s state of sobriety at the time he made it. David?’

  As the television was being pushed back into place, Amy tugged at Edward’s elbow. ‘You’re going to show that damned thing again?’

  ‘Yes. Shh.’

  As the recording played again, Edward watched the jurors and the witness. This time he could see the jurors appeared less affected by the recording. A few looked at it closely, perhaps for the clues Edward and Amy had suggested. A couple didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. Repeated viewings had dulled the video’s edge.

  Laura Martinelli, on the other hand, seeing it for the first time, leaned forward and didn’t appear to blink, studying her late lover’s face.

  When it was over Edward turned off the television. ‘Well?’

  Laura frowned, looking down. ‘I can’t be sure. He had been drinking when he recorded that, yes.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  ‘I’m trying to think. Honestly, Paul and I didn’t spend that much time together. What are the signs?’ she asked herself.

  ‘Did you hear him grope for a word there at the end? Did he ever do that sober?’

  ‘Not that I recall. No, generally Paul was very glib. And now that I think about it, what’s telling in that video is how – clipped? Is that the word I want? – how tight his voice became.’

  ‘Precise?’

  ‘Maybe that’s the word.’ She shrugged and looked at Edward, wearing an expression as if she really wanted to help. ‘Like I said, I didn’t study him for how he behaved at various levels of intoxication.’

  ‘I understand.’

  She volunteered, ‘But as controlled as he looked in that video, he seemed nervous to me.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Paul always had this easy confidence about him, drunk or sober. It was one of the things that made him attractive. He always seemed to be in control of whatever was going to happen. On that recording, though, he seemed—’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know how to describe it, but he didn’t appear to me to have that self-assurance I always saw in him. His sh
oulders, the way his hands were clenching each other. I never saw him act like that.’

  Edward didn’t know what to make of that. It made him silent for a moment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister nodding.

  ‘No more questions,’ he finally said.

  David huddled with his second chair, then stood to say he had nothing more to ask the witness.

  Laura Martinelli walked out between the counsel tables without glancing to either side.

  ‘Call your next witness, defense.’

  ‘Your Honor, my next witness is standing by nearby, but not in the building. Given the difficulty of this building’s elevators, it might take a while for him to get up here.’

  Cynthia pondered, looking up at the clock on the courtroom wall. It was after four o’clock on a Friday. Trial clearly wasn’t going to finish today.

  ‘All right. We will resume Monday morning at nine thirty. Jurors, please remember the court’s instructions. Do not talk to anyone about this case, do not …’

  Edward slumped in his chair, glad to have the weekend to think.

  David Galindo leaned across the aisle and said to him, ‘We have to talk. But I have to clear it with my administration first. Come to my office in about half an hour, OK?’

  ‘Sure. Talk about what?’

  David, gathering up files, didn’t look at him or answer.

  EIGHTEEN

  So Edward had half an hour to kill. Downstairs in the district clerk’s office he filled out a request form for a piece of evidence from an old case. He handed it to the clerk, who frowned at being asked to do her job this late before the weekend. She brought the case up on her computer screen.

  ‘This case name is your name,’ she said accusingly.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I thought you were a lawyer.’

  ‘That’s right too. Inconceivable, isn’t it?’

  ‘If we’ve still got it, it will be archived,’ the clerk said, all business now. ‘Check back here Tuesday.’

  ‘I will, thank you.’

  David beckoned him inside the DA’s offices.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Edward asked, but David just shook his head until they came to his private office and David shut the door behind him. This looked like the office of someone in the middle of a big trial. There were three boxes against the wall under the windows, other files on David’s desk.