“Mr. Varick, we have another half hour if you care to use it. Are you prepared to call your next witness?”
“Your Honor, Detective Schwab was my last witness,” Varick said, and glared across the room at Ross with suspicion. Ross was up to something, he was sure, but he could not imagine what it could possibly be; he knew the prosecution had done a good job. Paul Varick sighed. “The People rest.”
Judge Waxler looked from the prosecution table to the defense table and raised his gavel.
“Court is adjourned!”
Chapter 16
Judge Waxler had ascended the bench and settled himself; the spectators had squirmed themselves into relative comfort and the Press had completed the betting that was normal among reporters on an interesting trial. Despite Ross’s reputation, the odds were strongly against Dupaul. Hank Ross came to his feet; on the table beside him was a thick folder of information miraculously procured by Mike Gunnerson and an army of agents in a matter of less than twenty hours.
“The defense calls its first witness: William Dupaul.”
Billy Dupaul rose and crossed the room under the curious eyes of everyone in the courtroom. He sat down in the witness chair, slouching a bit, and was sworn in while Ross waited patiently. Ross then moved forward.
“What is your full name?”
“William Emerich Dupaul.”
“What is your business or occupation?”
There was a small gasp of surprise from everyone in the courtroom; Billy Dupaul’s history was only too well known. Judge Waxler looked down disapprovingly, as if suspecting levity, but Ross’s face was calm. At the prosecution table both Gorman and Varick were studying the defense counsel with suspicion. Billy Dupaul’s face was unconcerned. Ross waited until the small disturbance had quieted itself.
“Mr. Dupaul, the question was: What is your business or occupation?”
“At present I’m unemployed.”
“I see. The last time you were employed — gainfully employed, that is — what did you do?”
“I was a baseball player.”
“A professional baseball player?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What position did you play?”
“I was a pitcher.”
“Since the time when you were employed as a professional baseball player, have you played any — shall we say — amateur baseball?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When was the last time you played in an amateur game?”
“A week ago Thursday.”
“You pitched in that amateur game?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ross nodded to him pleasantly. “Thank you, Mr. Dupaul. That’s all. I have no more questions.” He turned to Varick, nodding pleasantly. “Mr. District Attorney, you may cross-examine.”
This time the surprise of the spectators took the form of a loud buzz that swept the courtroom. Judge Waxler’s gavel came down several times before the sound level in the room reduced itself to his satisfaction. The reporters in the press box were scribbling furiously. Varick came to his feet, smiling confidently for the benefit of the jury, but behind the façade of assurance was a complete lack of understanding as to why Ross should have handed him his case on a platter. Still, he intended to follow his pretrial plan before testing the gift that had been presented to him by Ross’s direct examination.
“Your Honor,” he said, “the prosecution, frankly, is rather surprised by Mr. Ross’s brief and rather unusual direct examination. We had expected the direct examination to take at least several hours. The prosecution is at a loss to know what Mr. Ross has in mind, but yes; we are certainly not only anxious to cross-examine, but quite prepared.”
He smiled at the jury and turned to the witness.
“Mr. Dupaul, we will get around to your baseball career in a little while, but first a few questions regarding the crime on which you are charged. First, in your testimony you claim that on the night of July 25, 1964, you were in a bar with a woman, but that nobody — among the customers or the bartenders — saw you two together. Is that true?”
“Yes, but I—”
“Unless a more detailed answer is indicated by a question, please just answer ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Now, you further claim that you went to the Neeley apartment with this woman in a cab, but no cab was ever located that made that trip. Is that true?”
“Yes, but—”
“Please. You further claim that Raymond Neeley appeared in the doorway with a suitcase, but that suitcase was never found. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“You further claim that Raymond Neeley drew a gun, but that gun was never found by the police. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“In fact, the only gun that was found was the gun you used. And that gun belonged to you. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“You were very drunk that night, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me,” Varick said smoothly, “have you ever taken drugs?”
“Me?” For the first time Billy Dupaul was startled out of his calm. “Never!”
“Heroin?”
“I said, never!”
“LSD?”
“I said—”
“In high school did you ever try pot? Marijuana?”
Billy Dupaul hesitated. He looked over toward the defense table, but Ross was calmly cleaning his fingernails with a file, his eyes on his task. Billy looked up.
“Well, maybe in high school I did smoke a stick or two, but all the gang was doing it—”
“Did you ever take sleeping pills?”
“Well, sure — sometimes.”
“Prescription pills?”
“I don’t remember. Pills from a drugstore, generally, the ones you don’t need prescriptions for. But I never took them very often. Just when I got worked up, sometimes.”
“Like after signing a contract for a fortune in money?” Varick didn’t wait for an answer but went right on. “Mr. Dupaul, are you aware of the effect of alcohol on a person who has taken certain drugs? They induce a euphoria, a dreamlike state where hallucinations are common—”
“Objection,” Ross said mildly, looking up from his nails. “The prosecution has failed to qualify himself as a medical internist.”
There was a ripple of laughter in the courtroom, instantly stilled.
“Sustained.”
Varick continued as if he had heard neither the objection nor the sustentation.
“Are you aware that under the influence of this combination, a person’s subconscious tendency for violence often comes to the surface and he—”
“Objection,” Ross said in the same even tone. “The prosecution has similarly failed to qualify as a psychiatrist.”
“Sustained.”
Varick was not at all disturbed by the decision. He went on.
“Mr. Dupaul, I want you to know that acts performed under the influence of drugs, alcohol, or a combination of both; or acts performed under a hallucination, do not relieve a person of the full responsibility for any crime committed—”
“Objection,” Ross said. “Now the prosecutor is trying to qualify as a lawyer.”
Laughter swept the courtroom. Repeated pounding of the gavel was necessary to finally bring it under control. Judge Waxler glared at both Varick and Ross.
“The objection is sustained,” he said. “I must warn both defense counsel and the District Attorney on both their questions and their comments. Mr. District Attorney, you may continue, but I suggest a different line of questioning.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Varick said meekly, but it was easily seen he was pleased with himself. At the prosecution table Gorman was grinning openly. Varick turned back to the witness.
“Mr. Dupaul, the defense mentioned baseball. Let’s touch on that a moment. You say you pitched in a baseball game within the past few days — a week ago last Thursday, to be exact. Where did this baseball game take place?”