“So the fight emerged from the discussion. Argument, probably. Possibly an argument begun two nights before at your boardinghouse.”
“I said it wasn’t Tommy Vuong that came to visit Vick!”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. With God as my witness, I’m sure.”
Ben slowly crossed the courtroom. “Ma’am, I don’t want to be indelicate. But isn’t it true that you have a drinking problem?”
“I beg your pardon!”
“I don’t mean to embarrass you, ma’am. But you are fond of the bottle, aren’t you?”
“I … occasionally take a small glass of sherry just before bed.”
“Well … according to your testimony, on the day of the murder, you were in the Bluebell Bar. In the middle of the afternoon. Right?”
Mary Sue lifted her head indignantly. “True.”
“And you weren’t there just to play pinball, were you?”
Mary Sue looked down at her hands.
“Ma’am, the jury is waiting for your answer.”
“No,” she said quietly. “I wasn’t there just to play pinball.”
“In fact, you sometimes take a drink or two in the morning. Right?”
Her eyes began to well up. “It’s just so hard some mornings … since Joe passed on and … and—”
“My point is this,” Ben interrupted, hoping to make this easier for her. “Drinking affects your vision, doesn’t it?”
“Well, I don’t know … I guess it could.”
“Ma’am, had you been drinking two nights before the murder?”
“I … suppose I might’ve done …”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Tommy Vuong who came to your house to see Donald Vick two nights before the murder?”
“I told you it wasn’t!”
“True.” Ben slowly turned toward the jury. “But haven’t you also said that all those Vietnamese look alike to you?”
Mary Sue’s lips parted, then froze. Her mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments.
“Thank you,” Ben said, walking back to defendant’s table. “No more questions.”
48.
BEN WAS IN THE back of the Hatewatch office, in a smallish cubbyhole he had transformed into his War Room. He was poring over his notes for the next day’s trial when Mike and Jones entered.
“Nice work on that boardinghouse lady,” Mike said. “I think you seriously impeached the veracity of her identification.”
“That’s true,” Ben agreed. “But that doesn’t alter the fact that Donald picked a fight with Vuong a few hours before he was killed. That combination of inconvenient facts is going to be very hard for the jury to forget.”
“I expect so.” Mike noticed that Ben was craning his neck, peering over Mike’s shoulder. “Looking for something?”
“Oh … not really. I just thought … maybe …”
“Christina? Sorry. I did see her in town today. I think she was going on a picnic. It’s amazing how well she gets on with the locals. You could take some lessons from her. Haven’t seen her around here, though.”
“Oh.” Ben glanced down at his notes. “It’s not important. I just thought perhaps she might have …”
“Changed her mind?” Jones said. “Christina? Don’t count on it, Boss.”
“Yeah. Stupid of me. I have other problems to worry about anyway.” He dropped his pencil. “But I sure could use a good legal assistant.”
Jones pulled some papers out of his satchel. “Here’s some research I did this afternoon on the admissibility of confessions. Should come in handy tomorrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry I didn’t get back from the post office sooner,” Mike said. “My lab people back in Tulsa reached the same conclusion, though. They’re absolutely certain the blood on the crossbow came from Donald Vick. How much longer do you think the trial will last?”
“Two or three days. Why?”
“After yesterday’s riot, it’s just a matter of time before the FBI descends on this town. This is becoming a major civil rights situation.” Mike grimaced. “If you think things are bad now, wait till the FeeBees arrive.”
“Swell. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“If there’s some way I can help,” Mike replied, “let me know. Otherwise I’m going out of town to try to scrounge up helicopter parts. If I don’t replace most of Portia’s engine, I’ll never get her off the ground again.”
“That’s fine,” Ben said. “There’s no point in your hanging around the courtroom watching me get slaughtered.”
“Try to cheer up, Ben. If—”
The bell over the front door rang. All heads turned as Belinda bounced into the office.
“Jones,” Mike said, “don’t we need to be somewhere about now?”
“Not that I can—oof!” Mike’s elbow in his stomach seemed to jog his memory. “Oh, right. Now I remember.”
“C’mon,” Mike said, grabbing Jones by the arm. “I’ll buy you a drink at the world-famous Bluebell Bar.”
After they left, Belinda sat next to Ben, grinning happily. “How’s it coming, lover boy?”
“Not well, I fear.”
“Nice work in the courtroom today.”
“Thanks. But I bet it wasn’t good enough.”
“Ben … you know how I feel about this trial. I—” She paused, then reformulated her sentence. “I don’t know why I’m saying this. But I don’t want to see an innocent man go to prison. Or worse. There’s something you should know.”
Ben looked at her, puzzled. “What is it?”
“Mary Sue’s testimony wasn’t entirely accurate. The conversation at the Bluebell between Vuong and Vick lasted more than a minute or so. It was at least five minutes. Maybe longer. And it wasn’t just Vick getting upset. It was both of them.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there.”
“Wha—!” Ben sat up straight in his seat. “You?”
“Yes. John and I had decided to get out of the office for a bit, so we walked down to the Bluebell for a drink.”
“And you saw them talk? And fight?”
“Couldn’t miss it. During the fight, Vick’s head got slammed down in the middle of our table.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“I told the DA. I didn’t know it would be important to your case. Frankly I thought you’d want to mention that fight as little as possible.”
Ben nodded. “If I were smarter, you’d probably be right. But that’s a big if.”
Belinda glanced at the papers scattered across his desk. “Do you have much more trial prep to do?”
“Tons. I keep bashing my head up against the same unanswered questions. There’s too much I don’t know. I haven’t had the time I need to investigate this mess.”
Belinda took his hand and pressed it to her breast. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in taking a little break. …”
Ben removed his hand. “Belinda … I’m really swamped.”
She put her head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled his earlobes. “Not even a little break … ?”
Ben pushed her head away. “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Belinda tried not to look hurt. “Have I done something … wrong?”
“Have you—? Of course not.”
“You seem different today.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. You seem … withdrawn.”
Ben looked away. “Belinda … last night … was …”
“So that’s how it is.” She rose suddenly. “Don’t bother trying to let me down easy. I know how to take a hint.”
“Belinda, wait.”
“Have fun with your trial prep. Lock up when you’re done.” She strode out of the office.
Ben emitted a long sigh. What the hell was wrong with him? Belinda was a spectacular woman and he was—