“Yes, all memories do fade over time. And what you perceived as rudeness could have been a slight joke at your expense.”
Paula stood and said, “Objection. Is that a question or a statement?”
“Sustained. Please rephrase as a question, Mr. Lee.”
“Withdrawn.”
Leo watched as Monty nodded deferentially to Judge Cray. He watched Monty turn to sit back down, and then change his mind and turn back to Mrs. Watkins. Don’t do it, Leo thought. Don’t do it. Just accept the fact that you’ve been burned. Badly. By a seventy-year-old woman. Just dismiss the witness and sit back down. Take your lumps.
“Are you a drinker, Mrs. Watkins?”
Oh Christ, not that old chestnut. He was desperate. Almost didn’t coach her against that one, didn’t think the guy would be stupid enough to try it.
“Certainly not.”
“So you had nothing to drink that day?”
Leo saw Paula stand to object, as she rightly should. The question had been asked and answered. But Mrs. Herbert Watkins beat Paula to the punch. She turned to the judge and said, “Your Honor, I object.” The entire courtroom erupted with laughter. The jury, the spectators, the press, even Judge Cray hung his head and covered his face. Anne Hunter would use it in her next day’s headline. Monty walked back to his seat, ridiculed.
And Leo watched it all. Days unwound and he watched the parade of witnesses and evidence, watched the drama unfold and saw the prosecution begin to wrap up its case against Adam Lee. He watched the case he had meticulously put together as it came to its beautiful fruition. He took some bitter satisfaction in knowing he was still a damn good trial lawyer, even if he wasn’t the one getting the glory. And he watched it all play out in front of him, and he took bitter, bitter satisfaction.
“Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call its last witness. Constance Perkins.”
The courtroom grew quiet as Violet headed for the stand. This was the witness everybody had been waiting for. The other woman. In her strut to the front of the courtroom, Violet’s body language proclaimed to any and all that she was finally, ultimately justified. The world could now acknowledge her role in all of this. She wanted to be acknowledged for what she was. The other woman. The bailiff swore her in, and Leo noted that she was wearing a provocatively short-hemmed skirt despite his strenuous urging that she dress conservatively. It was a small thing, but it was bothersome. So far, it was the one thing that hadn’t gone exactly as planned. Leo saw a male juror crane his head in a less-than-discreet attempt at catching a flash of thigh. When Leo had interviewed her, she had grown more and more excited at the prospect of her part in the trial. She used terms like a kept woman, mistress, and key witness when referring to herself in conversation.
Paula approached her key witness, and Leo noted that even from as far back as he was, Violet’s lipstick was alarmingly red. He began to wish for a cigar.
“Would you state your name for the record, please.”
“Constance Perkins. But you can call me Violet.”
Leo groaned. The beginning of their case had gone better than it probably should have. It looked like they were going to pay for that good luck now. Paula stuck to the questions Leo had prepared, and Violet responded more or less as he had coached her. There were some deviations, a few overly cute asides, but no real harm done. Mostly it was a lot of leg crossing and cleavage thrusting and generally acting like a tart that was blowing her credibility all to hell.
“And what was his response?”
“That he wished his wife would die.”
“Adam Lee said that he wished his wife, Rachel Lee, were dead?”
“Yes. He said that Rachel would be better off dead.”
“Thank you, Ms. Perkins.”
Leo sighed. Not a bad finish. Not bad at all. Considering. Then Monty stood up. Then everything went to hell.
“Ms. Perkins, good afternoon. You go by Violet, is that right?”
“Yes.
“May I call you that?”
Violet smiled at Monty like she was sitting at a bar in a nightclub and he had just bought her a fuzzy navel. She cooed, “I’d like that.”
“Violet. That’s an unusual name. Pretty.”
Leo watched as Paula finally stood to address what was starting to sound like dialogue out of a porno film. “The originality of the witness’s name is without relevance.”
Judge Cray waved his finger at Monty. “This isn’t social hour, Mr. Lee.”
“Well, let me get to the point then. Violet, do you make a habit of seducing married men?”
Paula jumped up and said, “Objection. Argumentative.”
“Just trying to establish the character of the witness, Your Honor.”
“Overruled. Play nice, Mr. Lee. And you may address the witness as Ms. Perkins.”
“Well, Ms. Perkins? Do you often have affairs with married men?”
“No, I don’t.” Violet’s face had taken a pouty turn; her lower lip protruded, full and red.
“But you did know, didn’t you? That Adam Lee was married?”
“Yes, I was aware.”
“Yet you still chose to accompany him on this romantic weekend getaway?”
“I wasn’t the one cheating, he was.”
“Well, it takes two to tango, doesn’t it?”
Monty earned a spattering of laughter with this last remark. He had stolen it from a movie he saw on cable television the night before. Feeling somewhat uplifted, he grew bolder.
“Were you angry, Violet, uh, Ms. Perkins, when Mr. Lee didn’t call you after your tryst?”
“Objection. No foundation,” Paula said.
“Withdrawn. Did Mr. Lee call you after your weekend together?”
“No, I’d changed my-”
“Yes or no will do.”
“No. He didn’t.”
“I see.”
“No, you don’t see. I changed my number so he couldn’t call me. I didn’t want-”
“Your Honor, I ask that those last remarks be stricken from the record and the witness be instructed to answer only the questions asked of her.”
“So stricken. The jury will disregard those last remarks. Ms. Perkins, you are not here to volunteer information.”
Monty walked nonchalantly to the defense table, pretended to straighten some papers, and turned back to Violet. “Ms. Perkins, one final thing.”
Here we go, Leo thought. The one final thing. The one final thing is seldom final and is always, without exception, something that will come as a total surprise to the other side. What will it be? Satanism? Drug dependency? Something fun, no doubt. The one final thing is always fun.
“How did you meet Adam Lee?”
“At work. I was temping at the hospital where his son stays.”
“Yes, but what exactly were you doing the very first time you met Mr. Lee?”
Paula objected, mostly because she had no idea where this was going. “How many times must the witness answer the same question?”
Monty turned to Judge Cray. “Your Honor, I simply want the witness to tell the court exactly what task she was performing when she first met the defendant.”
“Overruled. The witness may answer the question.”
“I told you, I was working,” Violet said. Her bottom lip pouted out again, but not quite as red now. Those pouts had worn off a lot of lipstick.
“Come on, Ms. Perkins, you know what I’m driving at, don’t you?” Monty asked.
“I’m sure I don’t.”
“Isn’t it true, Ms. Perkins, that you were masturbating Mr. Lee’s son?”
Paula jumped to her feet and barely kept her voice below a yell. “Your Honor, this is outrageous.”
“The facts are the facts, Your Honor,” Monty said. “I can’t help it if Ms. Manning finds the facts uncomfortable. This relates directly to character.”
“Overruled. Answer the question, Ms. Perkins.”
Violet’s mouth was set like a little girl facing down a spoonful of castor oil. “I do it to help them sleep.”
“Do what?” Monty asked.