[Barbara Holloway 02] - The Best Defense

by Kate Wilhelm

  “Is he a paid intern?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, do you give him an allowance?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re tracking seven employees, three family members here, and the allowance of another son. Does your husband handle any of the financial affairs of the company?”

  “No. I told you, he does the editorial end; I do the business.”

  “Yes, so you did. But he handles the donations, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does he draw from company funds to do that?”

  “No. That’s his personal account.” She had become more and more wary as this line of questioning continued. Now her gaze flicked from Barbara to the jury, back to Barbara.

  “Does Mr. Dodgson draw a monthly salary?”

  “No, not really. He just has some personal money that he can use any way he wants.”

  “Is that in a separate checking account?”

  “No. It’s just his money. I don’t question what he does with it.”

  “But you balance the account monthly? You process the checks?”

  “Yes,” she almost cried. “I keep the books. I told you that.”

  “Do you write the checks for the taxes on your property?”

  “Yes.”

  “And for insurance, on the company property and your personal property?”

  “Yes. That’s all part of doing business,” she said with a more pronounced edge in her voice.

  “Do you publish material other than the newspaper?”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of material do you print?”

  “Objection,” Fierst said. “This line of questioning is leading into matters that are entirely irrelevant to the case at hand.”

  “I agree,” Judge Paltz said. “Sustained.” The gaze he turned on Barbara was not angry, or even cold, simply formal and distant.

  Barbara nodded, and said to Kay Dodgson, “The kind of work you do takes a concentrated focus, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “And are you accustomed to estimating the cost of a job? So many work hours, plus material, plus overhead, and so on? Is that part of what you do?”

  “Yes, I make the estimates.”

  “So you are used to dealing with numbers. You notice details. Would you say that’s correct?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “According to the overlay on the aerial map, the total distance from your house to the private road, up to the woods, down to the juncture with Farleigh Road, and back to your house is a mile and a half.” Barbara traced the route with her finger as she described it. “Would you say that’s about right?”

  “I don’t know. I never tried to measure it.”

  “How often do you take that walk?”

  “Several times a week usually, unless it’s raining.”

  “That’s your exercise program, to walk a mile and a half?”

  “I like to take a walk and that seems a good distance.”

  “Do you wear your regular clothes, the clothes you wear to the office, for instance?”

  “No. The driveway is gravel. It would ruin my shoes. I dress for the walk.”

  “In what, Mrs. Dodgson? Running shoes, sweatpants?”

  She hesitated briefly. “I wear walking shoes, Nikes, and an appropriate outfit.”

  “Blue jeans?”

  “Of course not. Walking outfits, I suppose you could call them sweatpants.”

  “Do you always walk in the morning?”

  “Yes. Right after breakfast.”

  “All right. Do you make it a real workout? Walk briskly?”

  “Not always,” she said cautiously. “Sometimes.”

  “How long does it usually take you to walk a mile and a half?”

  “I don’t know,” Kay Dodgson said almost triumphantly.

  Barbara permitted herself a small smile and shook her head. “You mean, you never noticed what time you left and what time you returned? Never?”

  “No, I didn’t.” She raised her chin slightly and glared at Barbara. “I don’t have to be bound by the clock, and I’m not.”

  “That’s very fortunate,” Barbara murmured. “What time do you usually arrive at the office?”

  “At ten o’clock. Weekdays, that is. Saturday we go in at one or two to get the paper out for Monday morning.”

  “So, ten o’clock. And you said earlier that you get up at eight or eight-thirty. Is that correct?”

  Barbara could almost see her doing the numbers in her head.

  “Closer to eight,” Kay Dodgson said.

  “You misspoke when you said eight or eight-thirty?”

  “It’s closer to eight, that’s what I meant before.”

  “All right. Do you make breakfast?”

  “No. Just coffee.”

  “Do you read the paper, chat with your family?

  “No. I just make coffee and get dressed and go for a walk.”

  “So if you were out of the house by eight-thirty at the latest, you would allow yourself an hour and a half for the walk, for a shower, and then to get dressed in time to get to the office by ten. Is that about what your schedule would be?”

  “I don’t know. Something like that. It only takes five minutes to get to the office.” She appeared to have forgotten there was a jury and a courtroom full of spectators. She kept a narrow-eyed gaze on Barbara, as if waiting for the trap she suspected was there and had not yet identified.

  “Do you go to the office approximately dressed and made up the way you are now, Mrs. Dodgson?” Barbara looked her over appraisingly.

  Kay Dodgson flushed slightly. “Yes, I do.”

  “So it must take you at least half an hour to shower and dress and put on makeup, make yourself presentable?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Barbara nodded and glanced at the jury. One of the women was nodding slightly also. She knew, Barbara thought. She went to the defense table and picked up a slim volume, which she introduced. “This is a standard exercise manual published by the United States Department of Health for adult fitness,” she said after it was labeled. “According to the manual, a city block is approximately one-fifth of a mile. The mile and a half we are talking about here would be like starting outside at the corner of Seventh Street and walking south to the middle of the block between Twelfth and Thirteenth Streets. Mrs. Dodgson, I ask you, would it take you an hour to walk from here to Thirteenth Street?”

  Kay Dodgson’s mouth tightened and her eyes narrowed even more. “It might. I don’t know.”

  “Again, according to the manual, the average person simply walking—not running, not hurrying—walks a city block in five minutes or less. That means the average walker covers a mile and a half in about thirty-five minutes. Mrs. Dodgson, does it really take you twice as long as the average person to walk that distance? Is that your exercise program?” She made no attempt to disguise her disbelief.

  “I don’t know how long it takes! I told you I don’t go by the clock.”

  “Your Honor,” Fierst said, “I really have to object to this long and drawn-out go-nowhere line of questioning. Mrs. Dodgson has said repeatedly that she doesn’t know how long her walks take. And the whole matter is irrelevant.”

  “It is highly relevant,” Barbara said. “It is vital to my client to know how long Mrs. Dodgson was on that private road the morning her child was killed.”

  Judge Paltz allowed her to continue.

  “Mrs. Dodgson,” she said, “you stated earlier that you left your house that morning no later than ten, and possibly earlier than that. Is that correct?”

  “I keep telling you—”

  “Mrs. Dodgson, just yes or no. Is that what you said?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose—”

  “Is that what you testified earlier, Mrs. Dodgson? We can have the court recorder find the question and answer if you are not certain.”

  “Yes. I said that. It’s
the truth. I don’t know—”

  “The answer is yes,” Barbara said. “You stated that your son Craig went in for a swim before you left the house. Is that correct?”

  “Yes. He did!”

  “Did you see him enter the pool?”

  “Yes. No. I heard him splash when he dived in, and the music was on.”

  “Was the door open?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t close the door to the pool room?”

  “No. I was on my way out.”

  “You stated that you left by the back door at ten, with the view of the private road before you, and you turned toward Farleigh Road, where you met Angela Everts. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I did. I don’t know what time—”

  “Mrs. Dodgson, will you please just answer yes or no,” Barbara snapped. “I’m not asking for explanations or excuses.”

  “Objection.”

  “Sustained. But, Mrs. Dodgson, you must simply answer the questions put to you. Do you understand?”

  She moistened her lips and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Mrs. Dodgson,” Barbara asked, “didn’t you, in fact, head in the opposite direction on the private road, and weren’t you, in fact, nearing the end of the walk when you met Angela Everts?”

  “No! No! I wasn’t!”

  “You claim that you took half an hour to walk from your door to this point?” She pointed at the circle. “A distance of slightly over a quarter of a mile? A seven- or eight-minute walk for an average walker?”

  “Yes!”

  “What were you doing all that time?”

  “Just walking. Taking my time.”

  “Or is it possible that you left your house at twenty-two minutes past ten, that you walked at a normal pace to the point where you met Angela Everts at ten-thirty?”

  “No. It was ten. Or before, even.”

  Barbara went to the map once more. “From your door to the private road is thirteen hundred fifty feet. In this direction, facing the Canby property and westward,” she said, pointing, “it is heavily forested, isn’t it?”

  “Not that thick,” Kay Dodgson said through tight lips.

  “The map shows that it is heavily forested,” Barbara said scathingly. “Didn’t you leave those trees standing in order to insure privacy?”

  “We left a few.”

  “You have to get nearly to the end of your driveway before you can see the entrance to the Canby property,” Barbara continued, moving her finger along the driveway. “For two-thirds of that time you could see only the lower end of the private road, is that not true?”

  “No. I could see more than that.”

  “The map indicates otherwise,” Barbara snapped. “Then, when you reached the private road, you had your back turned on the upper section. Didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but you can sense if someone—”

  “Your Honor, I ask that everything after ‘yes’ be stricken from the record.”

  Judge Paltz ordered it done.

  “Then, after ten-thirty until you returned to your house at eleven-ten or thereabouts, you were facing the upper road no more than half the time. Is that right?”

  “I was looking more than that!”

  “How?” Barbara demanded. “You stated that when you reached Farleigh Road, you turned and walked back to the end of the private road; then you turned and went the other way, with your back to the woods, and then you turned again into your own driveway, which put your back to the Canby prdperty, and you went home. Did you walk backward part of the time?” She traced the route as she spoke, and was not at all surprised when Fierst objected to her sarcasm. “Withdraw the question,” she said, satisfied.

  She crossed to stand by the jury box, facing Kay Dodgson, who had made a mess of her lipstick. “You stated that you had the private road in view for an hour, Mrs. Dodgson, but the fact is that even if you were walking for an hour, you couldn’t have seen the upper section for more than twenty-five minutes. Ten minutes from your own driveway—and then only by turning your head to look that way deliberately—and another fifteen minutes during which you walked toward the woods. Isn’t that true?”

  “No! That’s a lie! I would have seen anyone on that road! I was looking around all the time.”

  Barbara ignored her and went to the table. Recess time, she thought. Paltz took care of his court; he knew as well as she did that Kay Dodgson was losing it. He called for a ten-minute recess, and she smiled to herself. When she looked up, beyond her father, beyond Paula, the little bit of pleasure vanished as she registered a sea of faces, some of them twisted in hatred. They were keeping the faith.

  As soon as they were in the little room she was beginning to think of as hers, Frank hugged her. “Doing good,” he murmured. Then he drew back with a troubled expression. “We might have a problem,” he said, and pulled a paper from his pocket, handed it to her.

  She read: Dodgson wont be called. As soon as they're through with C. all three will take off on a long trip. She read it again, and turned it over, looking for a clue. There wasn’t any.

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Messenger left it at the office, addressed to both of us. I think it’s some kind of a trap. Something to rattle you.”

  She shook her head. It didn’t make any sense, she thought, and absently accepted the cup of coffee he had poured for her. She read the message once more. “We can’t risk it,” she said finally. “I can’t let them go. Subpoena Dodgson as a hostile witness for the defense, and I’ll have her put on hold for recall.”

  Frank shook his head. “I think that’s what they think you’ll do. You simply don’t have cause to haul in Dodgson, and if you try a fishing expedition, Lewis Paltz will shoot you out of the water. I think they don’t want you to cut Dodgson in little pieces the way you’re doing her, and they’re baiting you.”

  “What can Judge Paltz do?” she demanded.

  “Contempt of court, reprimand. But worse, if Fierst makes a case that you’re on a private vendetta, Kay Dodgson’s testimony might begin to look pretty good again. You’ve cut her to ribbons; this might be a way to piece her back together again.”

  “Damn Doneally,” she muttered.

  “That, too,” he agreed. “He’s a smart lawyer.”

  Her thoughts tumbled. Under cross-examination she could have nailed Dodgson a dozen ways to Friday, but under direct, even as a hostile witness, she would have to link him to the murder and fire. Rousing the rabble after the fact wasn’t enough, she knew. She could keep Kay Dodgson on ice, but would he leave then without her? She suspected that he might.

  Finally she said, “If they get away, they’ll wait until it’s all over, months maybe, and come back and pick up where they left off. Gallead might decide to take a vacation now. If they leave, it’s over. You know that.”

  “I know that,” he agreed soberly. “But, Bobby, you can’t connect Dodgson, and you know that.”

  “I can’t let him get away,” she said. “Dad, I can’t just let it go on, whatever it is. Subpoena him.”

  “Mrs. Dodgson,” Barbara began, “you stated in your direct testimony that you had been in your house only a minute or two before Angela Everts arrived. Is that correct?”

  “I ... I think it was longer than that.”

  “You misspoke? Is that what you are saying?”

  “I think so. It was longer than a minute or two.”

  “How long was it, Mrs. Dodgson?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look at the clock.”

  “Did you hear the explosion?”

  “No.”

  “Yet others who were far more distant, with many trees between them and the house, heard it. Do you believe you were already inside your house by then?”

  “I must have been.” She had repaired her makeup, but already she was moistening her lips; the lipstick wouldn’t last long.

  “According to the fire marshal, the explosion occurred at about five minutes after eleven. An
d you were already inside your house. What did you do when you returned from your stroll, Mrs. Dodgson?”

  “I was in my room, laying out clothes to put on.”

  “Did you enter by the back door?”

  “No. No. I went in through the front and straight to my room.”

  “Did you see Mrs. Melrose?”

  “No.”

  “Where were you when Angela Everts arrived to use the telephone?”

  “In my room.”

  “It took you ten or eleven minutes to pick out clothes?”

  “Yes, if it was that long!”

  “Were you surprised to see her at the front door?”

  “No! I mean, yes. She never came to the front door.”

  “How did you know your son was still swimming?”

  “When I came out, I saw the door open and heard the music, and when I called him, he was in the pool.”

  “When did you pick up his robe, Mrs. Dodgson?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Mrs. Everts testified that you were carrying his robe when you answered the door. Were you?”

  “No! Why would I? I was in my room.”

  Barbara went to the map again and pointed. “This is where Angela Everts met you. About five hundred feet in from the juncture with Farleigh Road. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, I guess so. About there.”

  “And in your testimony you have stated several times that you continued to the end of the private road. Is that correct?”

  Kay Dodgson moistened her lips again before answering. “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you pass the ‘No Trespassing’ sign?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “You know there is a sign here, don’t you?” Barbara held her finger on the map and regarded Kay Dodgson evenly.

  “I know we posted the property some years ago, to keep out trespassers, yes.”

  “Did you know about this particular sign?”

  I guess so.

  “Yes or no, Mrs. Dodgson. Did you know about this particular sign?”

  “Yes, then! I did.”

  “And were you aware that this particular sign housed a motion sensor directed across the private road?”

  Kay Dodgson cast swift glances about the courtroom, toward the jury, the prosecutor’s table; then she raised her chin and said almost defiantly, “I knew all about it. I told you, we were determined to keep an eye on those women and what they were up to, and since we were gone so much, we needed a surveillance system. I knew all about it!”