Hostile Witness Part 44

"What about his mistress, Reverend, have you met his mistress?"

Prescott leaped to his feet and bellowed his objection.

Judge Gimbel waved us to the bench, leaned forward, and said in a low rasping voice, "Explain yourself, Mr. Carl."

"Last I heard, Your Honor," I said calmly, "adultery was a violation of both G.o.d's law and the penal code. Now the reverend has testified as to his opinion of the councilman's law-abiding character as well as his adherence to G.o.d's law. I am now ent.i.tled to ask questions about that opinion, as well as to inquire on specific instances of the councilman's conduct. Rule 405(a) of the Federal Rules of Evidence allows this precise question."

"Rule 405(a)?" asked Judge Gimbel. He snapped at his clerk and a leatherbound volume was immediately brought to him. He licked his thumb and paged through the book. "Rule 405(a), Rule 405(a). Here it is, Rule 405(a). Hmmmmm." He slammed the book shut. "Yes, all right, I'll allow it. Objection overruled."

"But Your Honor," protested Prescott. "This is far beyond anything relevant to the crime charged."

"That's enough, Mr. Prescott. You opened the door, so now don't be surprised when Mr. Carl marches through it. Read your rules before you call your next witness."

"But Judge..."

"It's Rule... What rule is it, Mr. Carl?"

"Rule 405(a), Your Honor."

"Precisely. Now go back to your seat and sit down, Mr. Prescott. You can ask your question, Mr. Carl."

"Thank you, sir."

I stepped back to the podium and stared sweetly at the jurors as I said, "Now, Reverend, I'll repeat the question. Have you ever met Councilman Moore's mistress?"

The reverend hesitated just enough so that the whole courtroom knew he was lying and then said, "No."

I turned my attention to him sharply. "You're under oath now, sir," I said. "You have sworn on the Bible to speak only the truth. Are you telling me you have never met Veronica Ashland?"

The reverend looked nervously at Jimmy, at the judge, and then said, "I have been introduced to Miss Ashland."

"Pretty woman, isn't she?"

"My my, yes." He paused for a second and involuntarily licked his lips. "As are all G.o.d's creatures," he added.

"And you knew that Miss Ashland was Jimmy Moore's mistress."

"I had been told that, yes," said the reverend.

"Objection, hearsay," shouted Prescott.

"Sustained, answer is stricken."

"How did Councilman Moore introduce her to you, Reverend?" I asked.

"As a dear friend."

"But you knew that to mean mistress?"

"Well, sir, the councilman is a very pa.s.sionate man."

"That means you knew her to be his mistress."

The reverend looked at Jimmy with pleading eyes and then said, "That's what I a.s.sumed."

"Now you've been with the councilman on one or two of his evenings out with his limousine and Miss Ashland, haven't you?" I glanced over at Chet and the reverend followed my gaze and knew immediately all that I knew.

Staring at Chester, he said, "Yes, that's right."

"You drank champagne with the councilman and Miss Ashland."

"That's right."

"Good champagne, right? The best."

"I don't remember the quality of the champagne."

"And the councilman paid for everything, isn't that right?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you didn't pay, did you, Reverend?"

"No, sir. The pulpit is not a place for prosperity."

"Are you aware, Reverend, that the councilman met Miss Ashland, his mistress, at a crack house?"

Prescott leaped again to his feet as the murmuring rose. "I object, Your Honor. This is pure slander."

"Mr. Carl," said the judge, "is there a good faith basis for that question?"

"Yes, sir."

"Proceed."

"Answer the question, Reverend. Were you aware of that?"

"No, I wasn't."

"Are you aware that the councilman has put Miss Ashland up in a luxury apartment in Olde City with a sweetheart lease at far below market value?"

"No, sir."

"Are you aware that during this trial he has slipped up to that apartment numerous times to visit late into the night with his mistress, Veronica Ashland?"

"No, sir, I was not."

"Now, sir, adultery is against G.o.d's law, is it not?"

"Yes. That is one of the Ten Commandments handed down to Moses on Mt. Sinai."

"One of the big ten of G.o.d's laws, isn't that right?"

"You could say that it is one of the big ten, yes."

"Like the prohibition against bearing false witness."

"Yes."

"And the Sixth Commandment is also one of the big ten, isn't that right?"

"Yes sir, it is right there in Exodus, chapter 20, verse 13. 'Thou shalt not murder.'"

"And someone who has so easily violated one of the Ten Commandments might just as easily violate another."

"I can't say that for certain."

"But all of G.o.d's laws are equally vital. I mean, you don't preach it's okay to violate some of the Ten Commandments and not others. You don't preach, go ahead and steal, just don't take the Lord's name in vain, now do you?"

"No, sir, it is all G.o.d's law."

"And both adultery and murder, along with being against G.o.d's law, are also against the secular law, isn't that so?"

"I am not a lawyer, sir."

"Good for you, Reverend, that puts you one up on the rest of us here. I have no further questions."

As I walked back to my seat I had a panoramic view of the defense table. Chester was sitting calmly, his hands clasped before him on the table, looking straight so as to avoid Jimmy's stare. Jimmy's face was dark with anger, his facial muscles moving like stung slugs beneath his skin. Prescott was in a desperate conference with two of his a.s.sociates.

The battle had been joined.

Just before I sat down I noticed someone leaving the courtroom. It was Moore's wife, Leslie, head high, posture erect, rushing out of there as fast as she could go.

46.

THE FISTFIGHT STARTED in the men's room before spilling into the hallway. U.S. marshals, stiff and heavy, ears plugged, blazers flapping, lumbered over to break it up, but the ferocity of the combatants kept them at bay. Jimmy Moore had hold of Chet Concannon's neck. Chester held tight to Jimmy Moore's crotch. Their shoes slipped on the smooth tile floor as they struggled in silence. With their free arms they were flailing, one at the other, like hockey players. Chester landed a few mighty hooks into Jimmy's stomach and then Jimmy b.u.t.ted him, a brutal contraction of the arm that left Jimmy dazedly swirling away and Chet bleeding in sheets down his forehead even as he maintained his death grip on Jimmy's crotch. A photographer's flash popped like a firecracker. The picture landed on the front page of the Daily News under the headline COURT HALL BRAWL.

After the judge had dismissed the jury early for the day, once again admonishing them not to read the newspapers, and after he issued contempt citations, fining Chester and Jimmy each five hundred dollars and threatening both with jail if anything like that happened again for the rest of the trial, and after the bloodied Chester Concannon headed home in a taxi and the bowed Jimmy Moore stepped out of the courthouse bent over double, as if he had eaten a bad piece of pork, Prescott slipped beside me on the courthouse steps.

"Your client has been fired from the councilman's staff," said Prescott.

"Evidently," I said. "But it was only a matter of time."

"That's right," said Prescott. "Only for as long as the loyalty shown by my client to a subordinate would continue to impress the jury and keep Concannon in line at the same time. There's no need for it now. It is my understanding that Concannon somehow obtained a copy of our expert's jury survey."

"You mean the one you had promised repeatedly to send me but never did?"

"Precisely. It is what Chester told Jimmy before their little burlesque broke out. How did he get a copy of it, hmmm? Do you know?"

"I gave it to him."

"How did you get it, Victor?"

I shrugged. "I have my sources, Billy."

He put his arm around my shoulders and squeezed hard enough for me to hear a crack. Looking the other way he said, "Don't call me Billy again or I'll snap you in two. There was a break-in at my office last night. Nothing was missing except that report. I requested the entire office be dusted for fingerprints. You wouldn't mind giving us a sample of yours, would you?"

"I would, actually," I said. "On principle, you understand."

He let go of me. Like an injured ballplayer, I restrained from rubbing my shoulder.

Prescott said, "You really stepped in it today, Victor."

"The day I stepped in it was that first afternoon when I walked into your office."

"I would have thought you'd be grateful," he said. "You were a nothing and I gave you the opportunity to be a something."

"The opportunity to play your dupe."

"Really now, Victor. What other role could you play? I'm very disappointed in you."

"I am crushed," I said.

"Yes, that's right. I am going to crush you. You know of course that CUP is very dissatisfied with your personal attack on their chairman."

"I a.s.sumed they would be."

"They've forbidden Blaine, c.o.x to even think of hiring you."

"I don't need their stinking job," I said with my best bandito accent, but it came out wrong, like a whine.

"And of course they'll dispute your fees now."

"I'll get paid. I'm a lawyer. I'll sue them if I don't get paid. That's what lawyers do."

"Any judge will see the conflict of interest. How could you have expected CUP to pay for Concannon's defense when his strategy at the trial is to betray CUP's chairman? In fact, they have told me they are going to sue you for the retainer."

"Good luck to them finding it. I've got nothing but debts."

"Yes, we know. But still, judgments can be inconvenient things."

I thought of Winston Osbourne and his sad overgrown fingernails. My eyes were involuntarily watering now. It was one thing to antic.i.p.ate the firestorm, it was another to be in the middle of it. I turned away from him so he wouldn't see tears. Across the steps I saw Chuckie Lamb staring at us, something strange and open in his face. He saw me looking at him and he smiled as Prescott dressed me down, but it must have been an off day for Chuckie because the normal quantum of malice in his smile was missing.