“That’s entirely possible, your honor. Could we please have a short recess?” So I can dream up some more questions? Please?
“I suppose. Ten minutes, counsel.”
Thank goodness. A reprieve.
The courtroom attendants stood and stretched as Judge Hart retreated to her chambers. Ben scanned the courtroom high and low—and it was low that he spotted a familiar pair of yellow leotards. Help was on its way.
“Christina! Glad you could make it.”
“I hurried as fast as I could.” She seemed out of breath, as did Ben’s secretary, Jones, who was standing beside her. “Have you crossed the expert yet?”
“No, but I’ll start in about ten minutes. What have you been doing?”
“Working, of course.” She was carrying a huge posterboard. Even folded down the middle, the board was shoulder-high on Christina, who was just over five feet tall. “Am I not your faithful aide-de-camp?”
“Spare me your French.” Ben focused on the poster. “What’s that?”
“Your Exhibit A. Let’s go somewhere private and talk entre nous.”
Ben followed her to a relatively unpopulated corner of the courtroom. She was wearing a brown leather skirt, not quite knee length, a noisy chain belt, and a silky blouse. And she wondered why he didn’t let her sit at counsel table!
“Did Loving discover anything?”
“No,” Jones answered. His eyebrows bobbed up and down. “That’s why I got into the action.”
“Jones, when are you going to get it through your head that you’re a secretary? You’re not supposed to be skulking around dark alleys. That’s Loving’s job. You’re supposed to answer the phone.”
“Aw, Boss, no one ever calls except your creditors. That guy you stiffed for the photocopier is driving me crazy.”
“I told him I’d pay as soon as some money came in.”
“Yeah, but that was four months ago. Anyway, Loving was upset because you wouldn’t let him talk to the expert witness directly.”
“The Rules of Professional Conduct don’t permit me or my staff to contact opposing witnesses.”
“Loving felt stymied.”
“There are methods of gaining information other than beating the witness into submission!”
“Perhaps,” Jones said, “but that’s sort of Loving’s specialty….”
“Okay,” Ben said, “I know I’ll regret asking, but what did you do?”
“I followed Mr. Expert Witness when he left Anglin’s offices last night.” Anglin was the attorney representing Topeka Natural Gas Limited.
“And where did he go?”
“To a classroom at Tulsa Junior College.”
“Pick up the pace, Jones. I don’t have a lot of time. Did you find out what the class was?”
“I didn’t have to. The classroom was being used as a public meeting room. I knew because I’ve been there before with Christina.”
This did not bode well. “And what undoubtedly auspicious group meets there?”
“The Tulsa Past Lives Society.”
Ben slapped his forehead. Surely this was a mistake.
“See, Ben,” Christina interjected. “I’ve been saying for months that you should attend some of those meetings with me. But you always refuse.”
“I can’t get too excited about spending the evening with a bunch of people who think Shirley MacLaine is on the inside track.” He glanced at his watch. “I suppose you checked this out?”
“Of course.” She tossed her long strawberry blond hair behind her shoulders. “Where do you think I’ve been? I wasn’t at the meeting last night, but my girlfriend Sally Zacharias was, and she says that the expert was just the cutest man, very polite and a vegetarian—”
“Cut to the chase, Christina.” He saw the judge’s clerk reentering the courtroom. “What did you find out?”
She smiled. “Perhaps it would be simpler if you just looked at the exhibit.”
Ben laid his hand on the oversize posterboard. He had a definite suspicion he was going to regret this.
“Mr. Kincaid, are you ready to proceed with your cross-examination?” Judge Hart asked when she returned to the courtroom.
“Yes, your honor.”
“And you still believe it may be lengthy?”
“It’s…possible I’ll finish sooner than I anticipated, your honor.”
The judge’s eyes brightened. “Now that’s encouraging. Remember, Mr. Kincaid, brevity is the soul of wit.”
“I will, your honor.” He approached the witness stand. “Dr. Lindstrom, you are a Ph.D., are you not?”
In fact, Dr. Lindstrom was the stereotypical picture of a Ph.D.—tortoiseshell eyeglasses, tweed jacket, salt-and-pepper beard. “I am. I received my degree in Environmental Sciences, with an emphasis on toxic gases.”
“And you belong to a myriad of professional organizations.”
He seemed pleased at the opportunity to flaunt his awesome credentials. “Yes, and I’m also a delegate to the National Environmental Congress for North America.”
“I’m sure we don’t want to bore the jury with a litany of your countless awards and commendations.”
He sniffed. “Well…if you say so.”
“You also hold an endowed chair at the University of Oklahoma, correct?”
“I have been fortunate to receive the John Taylor Ross chair, yes.”
“But the vast majority of your current income does not come from the University, does it?”
He paused. “I’m…not sure what—”
“You make far more money these days as a professional expert witness, right?”
“I have been called on occasion to offer my expertise—”
“And always by right-wing groups or businesses that want to destroy something natural so they can erect something artificial.”
Anglin rose to his feet. “Objection.”
Judge Hart nodded. “Sustained.”
“Your honor,” Ben said, “I’m endeavoring to make the point that this witness has been paid to testify twelve times in the past three years, and in each instance he has testified that the project in question would not harm the endangered species whose habitat was being destroyed.”
“Then perhaps you should establish that through cross-examination testimony,” Judge Hart said, “rather than by making long-winded speeches.”
“That’s all right, your honor. I’m ready to move on.” Especially since the point was already made. If Ben had learned anything in the time he’d been practicing, it was when to leave well enough alone. “Dr. Lindstrom, I’d like you to look at an exhibit.”
Dr. Lindstrom reached for the stack of previously admitted documents.
“No, no, Doctor,” Ben said. “I want you to examine a new exhibit.” He lifted the posterboard off plaintiff’s table, unfolded it, and propped it up against the courtroom easel. The poster was an enlargement of a full-length photo of an attractive platinum blonde in a white party dress.
Anglin was back on his feet the instant the blow-up was displayed. “Objection, your honor. What relevance can this possibly have to the question of whether the proposed gas treatment plant will cause environmental harm?”
The judge fingered her glasses. “I admit I’m a bit mystified myself….”
“I will make me relevance clear very quickly,” Ben assured her.
Anglin continued to protest. “Your honor, I have no idea what he’s planning to do!”
“Well, life is an adventure,” the judge said. “Let’s just kick back and see what happens.”
Obviously unhappy, Anglin returned to his seat.
Ben confronted the expert witness. “Dr. Lindstrom, do you know who the woman in this photograph is?”
“Uh…I believe that would be Jean Harlow.”
“I believe you’re right. And you’re familiar with Miss Harlow, correct?”