Ikeda trotted out from his corner with his predictable questions and received the predictable answers.
Lisa called for a brief recess.
Kay turned to Sid. “OK. Let's do a little gambling. You take Quentin after the recess.”
***
“What's this gambling stuff?” I asked Kay when she got back from the restroom. I hadn't had a chance to ask either of them that question before they'd loped off.
“We're counting on Ikeda not having done his homework. He has a bad habit of letting things slide. It's just possible he hasn't figured out who Rose Tanner is. We listed her as someone who knew you outside the office situation. He may think she's a girlfriend who'll say what a great guy you are.”
For a minute, I couldn't figure out who Rose Tanner was either. Then I remembered Quentin's wife still used her maiden name. Before I could ask anything more, Judge Raines came out of chambers.
Quentin did a bang-up job. I just had the feeling he was absolutely convinced I hadn't killed Dale, and that's why he sounded different from most of the rest of the crew, except maybe for Annie Loh. Sid didn't seem to be at his best. He interrupted Quentin at least a couple of times when Quentin was just getting really going about what a great guy old Ron Crockett was.
I'd swear even the judge was influenced by Quentin's answers. The way she looked at me, I just knew she had a different impression of Ron Crockett than she'd had the day of the arraignment.
Quentin wasn't as hard on Dale as most of the others had been. But the one thing he emphasized was Dale's bad temper. He'd seen him in action a couple of times before I joined up, and the way he described those incidents was pretty graphic.
He also confirmed Dale's illness. And Dale had talked to him briefly before he'd left on Saturday morning.
“Can you describe what he was like at that time?”
“It's hard to say. His face was really red, as though he'd been drinking heavy. I knew that couldn't be, because he seldom drank—unless someone else was paying for it.”
“What did he say to you?”
“I'm not really sure. He was incoherent. As I say, he sounded drunk. I'd have been worried about anyone else, but I wasn't about to waste any sympathy on him. I didn't bother to answer. I just walked out.”
When Ikeda asked his first question, I caught on to Kay's gamble. “Did you know Mr. Crockett socially?”
“I most certainly did. We visited back and forth frequently. I knew him about as well as I know anyone else on Elima. He's the nicest guy imaginable.”
Ikeda finally managed to turn him off, but then made the mistake of asking him another question.
Quentin picked up right where he'd been interrupted and made me sound like a cross between Dr. Schweitzer and the head of the SPCA. I could swear I began to blush.
Ikeda beat a retreat under a hail of rose petals. I knew some of the audience had caught on, because I heard a couple of snickers behind me.
Rose was the icing on the very rich cake.
I didn't suspect I was blushing. I knew I was blushing by the time Rose got through testifying.
When she said if she weren't married to Quentin, she'd have set her sights on Ron Crockett, a laugh went up in the courtroom. And the judge had to gavel the spectators back to silence.
***
Kay glanced at the clock and weighed the possibility of stretching Rose's testimony out and asking for an early recess, or moving on immediately to Kimmie Uchida. Kimmie might prove to be a downer, while Rose was superb.
On the other hand, Kay knew that after Kimmie the defense had some really strong witnesses. Better to end on a mildly negative note this session, than to start on one at the next, she thought.
As expected, Ikeda waived cross-examination of Rose.
At first, Kimmie proved to be as cooperative as the others who had testified on Ron's behalf.
She spoke highly of Ron. But she began to balk when the topic shifted to Dale. Kay decided to let it rest after she got Kimmie to admit Dale was, “Hard to get along with.”
Kimmie was almost as unhelpful when it came to Dale's physical health during his last two weeks of life. She had been gone the week before the killing, but had heard he'd been sick. She did say he looked as though he had a hangover when he came in on Monday morning, but she had nothing more to add for the remainder of Dale's last week.
“I was very busy showing properties, so I really saw very little of him during the week. And I didn't go to the office at all on Saturday.”
Kay checked the clock. “Good timing,” she thought, “Even if Ikeda wants to cross-examine, we'll get out early.”
Ikeda seemed to have given up. He didn't offer to cross-examine. Lisa adjourned until the following morning.
Chapter 22
I showed up early at Kay's office. Sid, Kay and Qual were standing at Leilani's desk. Kay was looking at the morning paper and expressing her feelings about it in no uncertain terms. Leilani was saying to her, “Such language! You're going to slip some day and talk like that in court, and then you'll be in big trouble.”
When I saw the editorial and the accompanying cartoon, I could see why Kay was fuming.
At first, the editorial seemed to be on an entirely different subject than the earlier ones in the week. There was no question about the untitled cartoon, though. Even though badly drawn, it clearly represented a woman judge, her robes open to show her legs (also badly drawn), with a face heavily loaded with make-up and her hair in curlers.
Next to the cartoon, the editorial headline read: SHOULD WOMEN BE ALLOWED INTO COMBAT?
The beginning of the editorial was standard enough. It excoriated the administration for expecting that girls, born to be wives and mothers, should be trained to kill. It moved on to generalizations concerning the temperament of females as contrasted to males. It praised the female virtues of passivity, gentleness, and compassion, listing all the professions—nursing at the top—where women could best exercise those virtues.
Toward the middle, the editorial went on to describe the areas for which women were totally unsuited, pointing out in the process a major quality of the male was his ability to make rational decisions untainted by emotions. But the writer had saved the clincher for the last paragraph. “And it is a travesty of justice to think women can serve as judges. Criminals do not need mothering, they need punishment. Compassion for murderers is worse than the murder itself, because it encourages further murders. A woman on the bench strains the quality of justice. She is totally incapable of protecting society from the scum who threaten law-abiding citizens. Justice must be swift, sure and certain. We cannot afford to leave it to the whims of that segment of society which yields so easily to emotions and is so incapable of making rational decisions.”
Sid was reading the paper with open-mouthed astonishment. Qual was calling the paper to cancel his and the firm's subscription. Kay was still fuming. Leilani was looking over Sid's shoulder at the cartoon and editorial. What she said brought Kay up short.
“Leilani!” Kay exclaimed. “You were just picking on me for using just that kind of language.”
“That was before I saw what you were talking about. That's the worst thing I've ever read. And that cartoon! I'm calling Kumiko Ikeda right now. Her nephew is married to John Pak's niece, and I went to school with Kumiko. I'm going to give her a piece of my mind. She'd better straighten out her no good husband. That's all I've got to say.”
Sid, Kay and Qual were still talking about the Chronicle when Leilani came back from her phone call.
Sid grinned. “Did you tell her off, Leilani.”
Leilani looked puzzled. “I didn't have to. She was even madder than me. She said she didn't see the paper until after the old man left this morning, and the phone's been ringing ever since. She told me tomorrow's paper would be different. Then she rattled off something in Japanese. It sure sounded like she was cussing.”
***
The public had apparently recovered fully from the
disastrous Victorine testimony. Spectators were being turned away as the defendant and the two attorneys entered the courtroom.
Ron, Sid and Kay watched Lisa closely as she entered, to see if there was any change of expression. There was none, and certainly no hint she had seen the morning paper.
The first witness of the morning took the stand. In a heavy German accent he identified himself as Hans Schultz.
Sid, who was doing the questioning, moved on quickly to the witness's occupation (a restaurant owner), the location of the business (Keawe street, two blocks from Royal Elima Realty), the hours of business (six in the morning until four in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, and six to two on Saturdays).
“Do you know Mr. Ronald Crockett?”
“I do. He's an agent at Royal Elima. He sold me a nice piece of property up on Ridge Road. I know him real good. He's a real nice man. It's a pleasure to do business with him.”
“Is he here in the courtroom, today?”
“Sure. That's him.” Ron smiled as the big German pointed a sausage-like finger in his direction.
“Did Mr. Crockett come into your restaurant on Saturday, the ninth of last month?”
“Yes sir, he did.”
“Could you tell me the approximate time he was there?”
“Sure thing. He came in at about quarter-to-twelve and left at twenty minutes to two.”
“Are you sure of that?”
Schultz nodded emphatically. “I sat at his table and spoke to him most of the time.”
“Could you describe his mood?”
“He was down in the dumps. He told me that no good Matthias had fired him. I tried to cheer him up. I said old loud-mouth Matthias wouldn't really fire anybody who made money for him. As soon as he found he was losing a good salesman, he'd be crying to have him back. After awhile Mr. Crockett seemed to feel better about it, and we talked about a lot of things—you know—like sports and cars and things. He's a nice guy. He always has time to stop and say a few words over his coffee.”
“Why are you so sure of the times involved?”
“Cuz that dumb, stupid Council don't spend enough money to finish the work on Keawe street. With traffic going down behind my building instead of out front, I'm going to have to close up after twelve years of business there. The place is always full by twelve-thirty, even on Saturdays when the street’s open. But that Saturday there wasn't no more than five other people come in while Mr. Crockett's there. He was the only one left at twenty-to-two, so when he leaves I tell Martha to close up.”
Ikeda wasn't quite as animated when he rose to cross-examine Hans Schultz.
“I believe you made the representation that there were some five other persons availing themselves of your services on the day in question.”
“If you mean did I say four, five customers came in about that time, the answer is 'yes.'“
Laughter rippled through the audience. Lisa glared at the offending parties, but Sid was convinced she was having difficulty controlling her own amusement.
“How could you have waited on four or five customers and at the same time be so certain Ron Crockett didn't leave during that time and then return later?”
Schultz gave a snort. “My restaurant can hold over forty customers. Five, I can handle standing on my head while juggling three milk cartons and telling my wife what to buy for the next day's menu.”
Lisa gaveled down the laughter.
Martha Schultz quickly confirmed what her husband had said, pointing out she worked in the kitchen but she could clearly see the table where Ron had been sitting, and she had come out several times to talk to him while he was there—including as an aside what a nice man he was—and that she'd checked her watch when he left, and had told her husband twenty-minutes-to-two was closing time for an empty restaurant.
Ikeda made no move to cross-examine.
***
Kay hadn't planned on Willa being a character witness, but she asked her a question about me, and Willa threw a plug my way. I was feeling pretty good already after all of yesterday afternoon's praise, but I wasn't about to turn down compliments from wherever they might come.
Kay was much more interested in getting Willa's description of Dale's personality. She didn't have to push very hard to get what she wanted. For someone newly married and even more newly bereaved, Willa had more than a few harsh words for her departed husband.
Dale emerged as a person with a violent temper, a truly amazing talent for pinching pennies, and a uniquely bad reputation.
“I found out soon after I married him, that no one he knew trusted him. That was probably his most discouraging quality. He told me how, in the real estate business, the number of enemies you make is directly proportional to the amount of money you make. I think he actually enjoyed making people mad at him.”
I thought she might be overdoing it some, but not much. And I sure wasn't about to argue with her.
Kay moved on to Dale's eating habits, which was too much for Ikeda. He bounced out of his chair and objected, saying what Dale Matthias ate was completely irrelevant. Kay asked to approach the bench and Ikeda bounced right after her. After a few minutes of consultation, Kay returned to her line of questioning and Ikeda came back to the prosecutor's table with a puzzled look on his face.
Sid slipped me a note he'd scribbled. “Watch Ikeda. I'll bet he sends out for a medical dictionary.”
Sure enough, Ikeda turned to an assistant sitting behind him as the judge overruled his earlier objection. Before Kay had finished questioning Willa, Ikeda had a tome in front of him and was busy thumbing through it.
As it turned out, Dale's eating habits were almost as abominable as his personality. But it was one of the few areas of his life where Dale was a spendthrift.
“He used to order those fancy cheeses from Holland. And he was big on ham. Some company in Denmark used to send him a ham every month. And he got a big shipment of Bulgarian sausage a while back. Big greasy things. I wouldn't even cook them for him.” She made a face. “He ate them all himself,” she added.
Kay moved on to his recent illness, asking if he'd been very ill.
“I'll say he was. He was sicker than a dog. I told him it was all the slop he was eating. He finally went to the doctor who said he had the flu.” She sniffed. “If Dale had told him what he'd been eating, the doctor never would have called it intestinal flu.”
Without any prompting, Willa continued, “He moaned and groaned the whole weekend, but was too mean to go back to the doctor. He did seem to get better by the next week, but he looked like he'd been drawn through a knothole. He went to work on Monday, but kept getting worse as the week went on. I knew he was really sick because he didn't eat hardly anything. By Saturday he was running a high fever. He didn't even try to eat breakfast, but insisted on going to work. I told him he was crazy. And he was acting crazy, too. I just gave up. With that temper of his, I wasn't about to cross him.”
Ikeda was so entranced with his volume that he waived cross-examining Willa.
Judge Raines adjourned for recess.
I was coming down from my high of the day before.
Before going out to lunch with my attorneys, I looked around the courtroom and wondered what in the world I was doing there.
Chapter 23
“Well, this is it,” Sid said. Turning to Kay, he asked, “Any last minute impressions about Dr. Apolinario Abang?”
“He's very nervous. He thinks his English isn't good enough. And he's going to be very tentative. I've assured him there'll be no expert up there to rebut him.”
“Ikeda's gone off to lunch with his medical volume,” Sid said. “You'd better alert Dr. Abang.”
Kay laughed. “Abang will make mincemeat out of Ikeda and his last minute medical knowledge. That doesn't bother me. My main concern is Abang underrates himself, and there's no need for it. He did a good share of his medical work in tropical medicine, and he really knows his stuff.”
“Have you given h
im all the details?” Qual asked.
“Yes, but that's part of the problem. He calls it diagnosis at a distance, and it makes him uncomfortable. But he's ready to take an 'if . . . then' approach. He'll swear if certain things are true then others follow. And he's clear in what he says. I told him about Victorine's testimony, and he was appalled. He guaranteed that, whatever else, he wouldn't litter his testimony with obscure medical terms. And I believe him.”
***
I watched the small, brown-skinned doctor, with the nervous smile, mounting the stand, and I wasn't impressed. Six-foot something Victorine with his touch of graying hair and somber look seemed far more likely to know what he was talking about. Kay quickly ran the doctor through his background and credentials, pausing only to make him repeat the name of the school of tropical medicine where he had studied. Contrary to the concerns Kay had expressed to Sid and me, Dr. Abang now showed no signs of being nervous, his smile having been replaced by an alert expression as he carefully weighed his answers.
Kay then asked him to describe the condition and treatment of Dale Matthias on the day he had come to Dr. Abang's office. Dr. Abang ran through the symptoms and indicated he had tentatively identified the illness as an intestinal viral infection, but had urged Dale to come back for an additional consultation if he didn't markedly improve.
“During the week that followed,” Kay continued, “your patient complained of the following: fever, muscle pain, headaches. And I understand he called you on the following Saturday morning indicating additional symptoms and asking for an appointment. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell us what he reported those symptoms as being?”
“Chills, photophobia–—bright light hurt his eyes–—a sore throat, he was having difficulties staying awake and, to use his own words, he felt 'sick all over.'“
No Time for Death: A Yoshinobu Mystery Page 14
