Light from a Distant Star

by Morris, Mary Mcgarry

  “Like thumping, bumping kind of sounds. Then, like, kind of, maybe a voice, I don’t know.”

  “And whose voice was it?”

  Her eyes locked on Mr. Cowie’s. She didn’t dare look anywhere else, and it seemed by his fierce gaze back that he understood and wanted to help. This was her chance, both their chances. She needed him to peel back the layers and let the truth shine through. Her heart was pounding. “I’m not sure.” Which was true. She hadn’t been sure. Not then, not until she saw Mr. Cooper out by the bushes.

  “Was it a woman’s voice?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes, magnets to his.

  “So, could it have been a man’s voice?”

  “Maybe.” Ask me, she silently urged. Ask me the rest. Ask if there was anyone else there that day. Ask who was trying to disappear into the lilacs, because I can’t just say it on my own.

  As if with a sudden thought, Mr. Cowie frowned and walked back to the table.

  Max sat up and folded his arms. This had to be the first he knew she’d heard noises in the apartment earlier that day. She wanted him to be encouraged but couldn’t tell if he was or not. He did seem more attentive, though, watching Mr. Cowie turning page after page in his note book, then watching him return with his next question.

  “So, then, Nellie, after you heard those disturbing noises and what might have been a man’s voice in the apartment, how much time would you say passed before you saw Max Devaney come out—”

  “Objection,” Attorney Wright called out. “That’s not at all what—”

  “Rephrase the question, please.” The judge stared over her glasses at him.

  “Of course,” Mr. Cowie said with a respectful nod. “All right now, Nellie, when you next saw the defendant at the crime scene, what—”

  “Objection!” Attorney Wright said, and the judge called both men to confer with her.

  She’d been trying not to look at the jury but now was intensely aware of their scrutiny. One, an older lady with dull black hair and dangly turquoise earrings, was smiling at her. When she smiled back, the woman glanced away, and Nellie realized it was the conference at the bench everyone was so focused on. Judge Vasquez was reprimanding Mr. Cowie. Nellie could only make out snatches of the conversation, but Mr. Cowie was clearly annoying her.

  Attorney Eggleston returned to his seat with a fair bit of swagger. Mr. Cowie resumed his questions. He asked Nellie if she’d noticed the cut on Max’s hand when he arrived with the hot-water tank. No, she answered, explaining that there hadn’t been a cut then because he got it while he was working on the pipes. She glanced at Max, but couldn’t tell if he was looking at her or at the judge.

  “Oh, okay,” Mr. Cowie allowed. “And how do you know this? Did you actually see it happen? Did you see him cut himself?” He was standing in front of her, arms folded, a wall between her and her parents.

  “I saw the cut. It was from, like, a jagged pipe or something, I think he said.”

  “Oh. So, he told you, he explained how he got the cut. You didn’t actually see it happen, did you?”

  “Well, not the actual pipe.” She crossed her ankles to lock her tapping foot in place. He had her cornered. “The cellar, it was kind of dark down there,” she said so weakly she hated herself.

  “Were you down there the whole time with the defendant, while he was there?”

  “Pretty much.” She was surprised he’d ask this. He already knew what she’d say, knew it wouldn’t help his case against Max.

  “Pretty much? Hm, I’m not sure what you mean, Nellie. Did you leave? Were there times when Max Devaney was alone down in the cellar?”

  “Sometimes I was on the stairs. Like, looking down. Watching.” She hung over the railing to show what she meant.

  For a moment, Mr. Cowie continued staring at her. “Now, I know you come from a fine family, Nellie. And you’ve been raised to tell the truth, haven’t you?”

  She nodded with a dry swallow. “Yes, sir.”

  “But there’s a discrepancy here. According to Max Devaney’s own statement to the police, there were times down in that cellar when he was alone. Once, you went outside to check on his dog, he said, and the other, he wasn’t sure where you went, just that you were gone, that he was alone down there. So which is it?” he asked, his back to her, walking now to stand at the corner of the jury box. “Did you leave the cellar while he was there?”

  He looked at her. Everyone did. It was them against her. Even Max. The rushing noise in her head was like wind.

  “I was on the stairs.” She barely heard her own words. Less than the truth, less than a lie.

  “So were you in the cellar the whole time Max Devaney was there?”

  “Well, I guess … I mean, if I was on the stairs.” Shriveling inside and getting confused, but she couldn’t show it.

  “What is it? Why can’t you answer yes or no? Maybe it’s because you’re so young. Maybe you don’t understand the seriousness of this.”

  “I understand.” She wished he’d come closer. His standing over by the jurors now and close to the spectators had left her feeling stranded. It was all of them, and her here, alone, the only kid.

  “Are you afraid of Max Devaney?”

  “No.”

  “Do you want to protect him?”

  “No.” She wished she hadn’t shrugged.

  “But you have feelings for him, I mean, you care what happens to him. You do, don’t you?”

  “I guess.”

  “Is that a yes or a no?”

  “Yes.”

  Nodding, he was quiet for a moment. “Nellie, did something happen in the cellar that day? Something that Max Devaney said or did to you that you’re afraid to tell us. Did it?”

  “No!” she said, sickened by what he was suggesting.

  Across the way Max stirred angrily. His feet shuffled under the table. Both bailiffs turned as his chair scraped back. He muttered something and Eggleston patted his arm.

  “Then why did he say he was alone down there for part of the time?”

  “Because … because …” She took a deep breath, and even the court stenographer looked up. “Because—”

  “Just tell him the truth, girl. It’s okay!” Max called out. The judge was tapping her gavel. “I can handle this.”

  As the judge admonished him, he held out his hands in exasperation, whether with Nellie or the judge, or both. Wilting in the chair, she closed her eyes. The judge asked if she was all right and she nodded. “Are you sure?” Not a sound in the courtroom, silence before the avalanche. Nellie covered her face, and the judge called a brief recess.

  Miss Chapley escorted her into the ladies’ room. She waited by the door. A woman left the stall next to Nellie’s and turned on the water in the sink. The hand dryer blasted on. Nellie sat there crying as the enormity of her foolishness became clear. She kept flushing the toilet. If she could have, she would have stayed in there forever. What had she done? What had just happened? She’d never seen her mother look so distraught or her father so sad. She’d ruined everything for everyone. Miss Chapley knocked on the door and said they’d better go back in. Crying had made her even more congested and her glasses were filmy.

  When she was back on the witness stand, Judge Vasquez asked if she was okay. Nellie said she was. She recognized the loyalty in her mother and father’s strained smiles. Disappointment she might be, but she was theirs. Mr. Cowie’s approach was as hesitant as his voice. He began by saying how difficult it must be, being so young with all this pressure on her to recall so many details. Especially under the burden of perjury. “Even adults get mixed up sometimes. It happens,” he added.

  “I’m not mixed up.” He couldn’t hear her, so she had to repeat it.

  “All right then, Nellie. So, did you leave the defendant alone in the cellar?”

  She nodded. “But not for long. Just two times.” A male juror smirked so she looked right at him as she spoke. “Max didn’t do anything wrong and I’m the only
one that knows that. The only one that can help him.” She could tell by all the lowered eyes that people felt bad. Embarrassed as they were, her parents continued to smile.

  “Nellie,” Judge Vasquez urged, the wide sleeve of her robe grazing her shoulder as she leaned close. “You’re not here to help anyone. You’re here to tell the truth, and that’s all you have to do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” She’d really messed up. Now her every word would sound like a lie. That she’d admitted to perjury meant nothing then. She didn’t even know it was a punishable offense. Later she would realize how kind everyone was trying to be. For her parents’ sake.

  Testimony resumed with Mr. Cowie’s checking his notes, particularly when it came to the discovery of Dolly’s body.

  “So Max Devaney asked you to open Miss Bedelia’s door, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did he ask you to?”

  “Because he thought it was locked. I did, too.”

  “And was it? Was it locked?”

  “No.”

  “And when the door opened, what did you see?”

  “Dolly.” A shiver of memory tore through her. “She was on the floor, and things were all tipped over. Chairs and things.”

  “And did you know she was dead?”

  She nodded sadly. “Yes,” she whispered with a sharp metallic taste in her mouth.

  “How did you know?”

  “Because … because you could just tell.”

  She’s dead. That’s what he’d said from behind. Just like Boone, he already knew. He’d known before she even got there, waiting for her, for his witness, for her hand on the knob. But she couldn’t tell anyone that. They wouldn’t understand how things aren’t always what they seem. That just like the best holds, words can be used against you, and once you’re down, they can kill you.

  Mr. Cowie asked a few more questions, the call to her father, the police arrival, and where was Max Devaney during that time?

  “In the truck with Boone.”

  “His dog?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was he doing?”

  “Nothing. Just sitting there.” Waiting. Same as then, staring, looking out at nothing. Looking empty.

  “That’ll be all, Nellie. Thank you. I know this hasn’t been easy,” Mr. Cowie said quietly as if it were just the two of them in this huge courtroom. He started to turn then looked back at her. He knew. There was something she wasn’t telling him. But it’s not what you think! she was silently screaming.

  Attorney Eggleston Jay Wright came next. His thin, nasal voice was a relief after the pressure of Mr. Cowie’s low, slogging intensity. The first few questions he asked she had already answered. Some he kept rephrasing, like a cloudy glass he was trying to get clean, rubbing, then holding it up to see, rubbing some more, checking again. He brought up the two times she’d left Max alone in the cellar. For how long? Not long, she said. A couple minutes, that was all. And what was he doing when she got back? Same thing, still working on the pipes.

  “And to your knowledge, Mr. Devaney never once went into Dolly Bedelia’s apartment the whole time he was there?”

  She wasn’t sure whether to answer yes, he never once did, or no, he didn’t. “He never went into her apartment.” Couldn’t be clearer than that.

  “Now, earlier you said you heard a commotion coming from that apartment. Was Mr. Devaney there when you heard it?”

  “No.”

  “How do you know, how can you be certain he wasn’t there?”

  “Because he hadn’t come yet, I mean, his truck, it wasn’t there.”

  “Not in the driveway, you mean.”

  “It wasn’t in the driveway, or the street either. And I know because I kept looking. Henry, my brother and me, we were supposed to go to the mall, but we couldn’t leave until Max came. Which is when I was supposed to call my father. For him to come, so we could leave.” There! She was getting back on track.

  “So the first time you saw Mr. Devaney, the very first time you heard him or knew he was there, was when his truck pulled into the driveway. At three-fifty-five. Five of four in the afternoon, is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re a very observant girl,” he said with a cocky nod.

  “Thank you.” She liked Wright. She’d been wrong. He was as tough as she was. Together they’d set Max free. She frowned, anticipating the next key question, the lethal blow.

  “So at five of four you actually saw the truck pull into the driveway, is that correct?”

  “Yes, but first I heard it. The truck—it’s loud,” she said, not that she really remembered, but to make her point.

  “So if the truck had come at any time before that, would you have heard it?”

  “Oh yeah. It’s really loud, like rattling, shaking-all-over kind of loud.”

  “Pretty loud then.” He looked amused.

  “Yeah, even with the fans so loud, I would’ve heard, it’s so loud.”

  “I see.” Wright gave a stiff nod.

  Her mind raced, needing to make this work, to put the fans in logical context. “And then right after that Max turned the fans off so I would’ve heard. I mean …” She stared at him. “I mean when I went upstairs. Those two times. I would’ve heard. If anything happened, I mean.”

  Seeing Wright start to turn, she panicked. “Oh, and there’s something else!” she called out. “I just thought of it, Max’s cut, the one on his hand. When I came back down, the first time, that’s when I saw it. And the reason I know he got it in the cellar’s because the cloth he wrapped around, it was from the ragbag next to the dryer.” Her lightning bolt, proof he hadn’t cut himself in an earlier struggle with Dolly, but as he’d said, on one of the pipes. “Green-and-white striped, from my mother’s old nightgown,” she added and saw her mother’s fingers twisting in her lap.

  Wright’s eyes flickered in wild assessment, struggling for some way to turn this to his client’s advantage. Instead, he thanked her, then told the judge he had no further questions of the witness.

  No further questions? she thought, stunned by the brevity of his effort. Was that it? His best defense of an innocent man? As she left the witness stand, she paused, looked right at Max and smiled. His hand covered his mouth, but his eyes told her he knew she’d tried.

  Chapter 24

  THE CAR DOORS WEREN’T EVEN CLOSED AND SHE WAS COMPLAINING about Max’s lawyer. “Why’d he quit like that?” she sputtered from the backseat. “It’s not like he ran out of time or anything. He’s just lazy, that’s why.” Seat belts clicked. No one answered. Her father started the car and her mother stared out the side window. Did she want to be dropped off at the salon, he asked. No, she was way too drained, she said. All she wanted was to climb into bed and pull the covers over her head, she sighed, which should have been Nellie’s cue, but indignation and frustration had far surpassed shame. “I mean, look at all the questions Mr. Cowie had,” she said. “The other guy, he just wanted to finish. Like, that’s it! Don’t wanna hear any more!”

  “I think we’ve had enough legalities for one day,” her father said. “Let’s not talk about it.”

  “But the rag proves it,” she persisted. “He—”

  “That’s enough!” Her mother’s first words to her since they’d left. She looked back at her.

  “Sandy,” her father warned.

  “Well, he’s not a very good lawyer,” Nellie muttered, when she turned away. “Hardly even tried.”

  Her mother spun around on the seat.

  “But it’s true!” Nellie cried.

  “True?! Excuse me, young lady, you want to talk about what’s true? I mean, why did you do that? How could you? How could you get up there in front of all those people and lie? With us sitting right there! And under oath, no less. Nellie, I don’t even know what to say to you. I don’t think you know the difference anymore between the truth and a lie. That wasn’t some game you were playing back there, some scho
ol play. That man’s on trial for murder. Murder, Nellie! And you look right straight out at people and tell one lie after another? Oh, my God!” She kept shaking her head.

  “One, that’s all I told,” she said quietly, sliding low onto the seat. “And I’m sorry.”

  “One? You kept saying it!” She gripped the top of her head with both hands. “So of course he didn’t want to ask you too many questions. He was afraid!”

  “Now, Sandy, that’s a little too—”

  “What? What, Ben? A little too honest?” she cried.

  The car swerved a little as her father pulled out of traffic, and into a parking space. With the engine running, he sat with one arm over the back of the seat. He reached for Nellie’s hand, but her arms stayed folded. They’d been going to wait for this discussion until they got home, he said, but some things were just too important to be put on hold.

  “You see, Nell, that’s the trouble with a lie,” he said. “It taints everything. You should’ve told the truth right from the start and let the chips fall where they may.”

  “I did, but you wouldn’t listen!” She began to cry with the futility of it all. “You didn’t believe me! I told you about Mr. Cooper! You know I did!”

  “Stop it, Nellie!” her mother demanded, and now she was crying, too. “Stop it right now! What’re you trying to do, destroy us? And besides, who on earth would believe you now? About anything?”

  Nellie curled up on the seat.

  Her father pulled back into traffic and delivered his weeping family safely home.

  THE TRIAL CONTINUED without her. She wasn’t called back for any more testimony so, apparently, her mother had been right. In a way it was a relief, though at least, she could have seen Max again. She thought of him often in the next few days, how depressed he must be, how helpless. She’d only made things worse for him, and for that, she hated herself, her indecision and weakness, her fear. She had to believe he’d be found not guilty, but there was no one she could talk to, no one. Her lie under oath had not only fortified her position in the family as a habitual liar, but now there was talk of her emotional problems. She’d sneezed suddenly the other night and everyone had jumped. Even Henry was treating her differently. Her mother wanted her to see someone. Her father agreed. As long as it was the right person, he said. Of course, her mother said. A search had been launched, and Ruth was deeply involved. Or so she had Nellie believing.