And a Puzzle to Die On (34 page)

Judge Trilling blinked his eyes, rubbed his head. “I wish someone had been so considerate of me. Miss Felton, you subpoenaed a dog into my courtroom?”

“Not just any dog, Your Honor. This is the dog that I’m accused of swiping.”

“Is that true, Mr. Goldstein?”

“Yes, Your Honor. It is the dog the defendant is accused of stealing, because it is the dog that was recovered in the defendant’s possession, and it is the dog the defendant was observed removing from the premises. Which can be shown by competent witnesses if I am just allowed to call them. There is no question as to probable cause.”

“Says you,” Cora snorted. “Luckily, the judge here requires more than just your assurance.”

The prosecutor’s angry retort was silenced by the judge’s gavel. “That will do! Do I understand that you have subpoenaed the stolen property?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“For what purpose?”

“To make sure we’d have it.” Cora jerked her thumb at the prosecutor. “You see how F. Lee Bailey here expects us to take his word for everything? I couldn’t count on him bringing the dog into court.”

“That’s not what I meant. You subpoenaed a dog. What did you expect to prove by it?”

“That I’m innocent of the crime.”

Judge Trilling could feel a headache coming on. He repressed a groan. “Miss Felton, I am not sure if you are willfully misunderstanding me, or simply missing the point. I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Unfair though it may seem, your guilt or innocence
is not at issue here. We are not trying the case. There is no reason to call these witnesses, since all the prosecution is attempting to establish is probable cause.”

“Phooey, Your Honor. Suppose the prosecutor puts on a police officer who claims he found the dog at my house. Suppose I have six reputable witnesses who saw that police officer picking up that dog from the crime scene and
taking
it to my house. Wouldn’t that show the officer
didn’t
have probable cause?”

“Do you claim such is the case?”

“No. I was stating a hypothetical. But excluding my witnesses out of hand is unacceptable, and grounds for appeal.”

“You intend to appeal a probable-cause hearing?”

“Not at all, Your Honor. I intend to win it.”

“God save me.” Judge Trilling cocked his head at the prosecutor. “Mr. Goldstein, is there the least doubt as to probable cause?”

“Not at all, Your Honor. If I can just be allowed to make my case …”

Cora waved her hand. “Who cares about your darn case? As the judge here pointed out, that’s not at issue. The defense will stipulate that you could call a cop who would testify to finding the dog at my house, as well as the next-door neighbor who would testify to seeing me take the dog. She would also have to testify that she
gave
me the dog.”

“That’s justification that should be argued at trial,” the prosecutor protested. His cheeks were getting red. “All we need to show is that the defendant took it.”

“You don’t have to
show
I took it,” Cora retorted. “I’m offering to
stipulate
I took it. I can’t believe you’re not willing to stipulate in return.”

Judge Trilling banged the gavel. “Miss Felton! Are you willing to stipulate as stated?”

“Yes, Your Honor. On the condition that I be allowed to call my witnesses.”

“For what possible purpose? You just stipulated to the theft.”

“No, Your Honor, I stipulated that I was
given
the dog. But that’s not why I want to call these witnesses. I would point out, Your Honor, that I have been threatened with abuse of process. That is an extremely serious charge. But I didn’t do it. As I can readily explain, if given the chance.”

“Your Honor, I must object most strenuously to this highly unorthodox procedure—”

“Oh, keep your shirt on, Goldstein,” Cora said. “You’ve already won your case. Wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on?”

“Miss Felton,” Judge Trilling began, “I don’t want to warn you again.”

“Sure, Your Honor. But could we move things along? He just made his case. Now it’s my turn. Can I call my witnesses?”

“Objection, Your Honor!” A.D.A. Goldstein snapped. “The defendant is making a mockery of this courtroom. These witnesses have no bearing on the case. I object to them being called!”

In the back of the courtroom Sergeant Walpole of the Danbury police force stood up. “Your Honor, I have been subpoenaed as a witness in this case. I would like to state that I have absolutely no evidence that would bear on the theft of the dog in question. I ask that I be released from this subpoena.”

“This is flagrant abuse of process, Your Honor,” A.D.A. Goldstein contributed.

Judge Trilling frowned. “Miss Felton. Once again, the question of abuse of process has been raised. I ask you now, are you willing to release Sergeant Walpole from his subpoena?”

“No, Your Honor. But thank you for asking.”

“Are you willing to release any of the other people you’ve called?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“Very well, Miss Felton. Then will you please tell the court just exactly what you hope to prove by these witnesses?”

Cora Felton smiled.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Cora Felton strode out into the middle of the courtroom, doing her best Perry Mason. There was no jury to address, but she managed to play to the cameras and the house. She shrugged her tweed jacket open, put her hands on her hips, and smiled. If she’d had suspenders, she’d have hooked her thumbs.

“If it please the court,” she began, “before I explain what I expect to prove by these people, I’d better tell you who they are.”

Cora gestured to the front row. “First off, that scruffy-looking man with the black eye and the scab on his chin is Mr. Darryl Daigue, lifer at Brandon State Penitentiary. The gentlemen seated next to him are not under subpoena. I would suspect they are prison guards.”

“You subpoenaed a life prisoner?”

“Yes, Your Honor. I would say that Darryl’s appearance here is a dramatic demonstration of the effectiveness of our legal system in general and our
courtroom summons system in particular, which is even capable of getting a life prisoner
out
of jail.”

“That’s not exactly how I would view it,” Judge Trilling said dryly. “It would appear that the abuse of process is even more egregious than I thought.”

“Not at all, Your Honor. Darryl Daigue is central to the whole affair, as I shall demonstrate. Mr. Daigue has been behind bars for twenty years for a murder he swears he did not commit, that of a young girl named Anita Dryer. My attorney, Miss Baldwin, was asked to look into this situation by the prisoner’s sister, Miss Stacy Daigue, though she now denies it. That’s Miss Daigue over there in the red bandanna and the leather jacket, and, if she’ll forgive me, a little too much makeup. She’s a waitress from New Haven, finds it a huge imposition to be here. She’s one of the people pushing abuse of process. Yet her presence here is key.

“That gloomy man in the three-piece suit who manages to look angry and apprehensive at the same time, is Warden ‘Iron Man’ Prufrock, of the Brandon correctional facility, where Darryl Daigue currently resides.

“That attractive woman sitting next to him is Ida Blaine, wife of industrialist Quentin Hawes, currently on vacation in Australia. She and her husband take separate vacations, not an essential point, except for the fact Quentin is not here. Mrs. Blaine is important because she is on the parole board that considers Darryl Daigue’s case.

“Also on the parole board is Dr. Jenkins. Dr. Jenkins is the prison doctor, one of his patients is Darryl Daigue. Dr. Jenkins is also the doctor who performed the postmortem on one Ricky Gleason, killed in an automobile accident last summer. Mr. Gleason is reputed
to be the counter boy who was on duty the night twenty years ago when Anita Dryer met her death.

“Sergeant Walpole, who just objected to this procedure, is the officer who investigated Ricky Gleason’s accident. He also examined the crime scene where Valerie Thompkins was murdered.”

“Objection, Your Honor!” The prosecutor shot to his feet. “None of this is relevant.”

“Oh, keep your trap shut,” Cora told Goldstein. “I’m trying to answer the judge’s question.”

“Miss Felton,” Judge Trilling said severely. “Do I need to remind you it is not your place to admonish counsel? That’s my job.”

“Then go ahead and do it, Judge. He’s got it coming.”

The prosecutor sputtered angrily.

Laughter rippled through the courtroom.

Judge Trilling banged the gavel. “That will do. Your indignation is noted, Mr. Goldstein. Miss Felton, if we could move this along …”

“Sure thing, Your Honor. Now, where was I?” Cora looked around the courtroom. “Oh, yes. That gentleman in the Brandon State Penitentiary uniform is the prison guard I spoke to the first time I called on Darryl Daigue.

“The woman next to him with the pretty grim hairstyle and radical face-lift who looks like she swallowed a bottle of castor oil is Valerie Thompkins’s next-door neighbor, Cynthia Mayberry, who was in charge of feeding Val’s dog.

“The plump gentleman next to Cynthia, the guy with the curly thinning hair, is Mason Westbourne, editor of Pilgrim Publishing. He has been served with a subpoena
duces tecum
, ordering him to bring into court
any and all contracts entered into between Pilgrim Publishing and A. E. Greenhouse, author of the book
Lifer
, which has a section on Darryl Daigue. Mr. Greenhouse is not here today, all attempts to serve a subpoena on him having failed.

“Also not here is Jason Dryer, brother of murder victim Anita Dryer, and recent inmate at Brandon State Penitentiary, where Darryl Daigue is incarcerated. Mr. Dryer died of a drug overdose shortly after being released from prison, but not before giving an interview to Mr. Greenhouse, which wound up in Greenhouse’s book.

“Also under subpoena are cruciverbalist Harvey Beerbaum, Bakerhaven Police Chief Dale Harper, Officer Sam Brogan,
Bakerhaven Gazette
reporter Aaron Grant, my niece, Sherry Carter, and my former attorney, Becky Baldwin.”

“Is that
all
?”

“For the moment, Your Honor. I can’t promise more witnesses may not arise.”

“I
can
. Miss Felton, you’re not calling any of these people. So far, you have listed them. And if there is a
germ
of an idea in that list, I have yet to see it. So I suggest you get your act together. What do you expect to
prove
?”

“By Sergeant Walpole, I expect to prove that Ricky Gleason died in a traffic accident. I expect to prove that Dr. Jenkins was the medical examiner who examined Ricky’s body and ruled it an accidental death. I expect to prove that Dr. Jenkins was Darryl Daigue’s prison doctor, and that he communicated this fact to Darryl Daigue. I expect to prove that Darryl Daigue is an opportunist, that upon hearing a coworker from the old diner had kicked the bucket, Daigue immediately
began to blame the crime on him, since Gleason was dead as a doorknob and couldn’t deny it. I expect to prove that this is absolute hogwash, a complete fabrication, and has absolutely nothing to do with the price of corn.”

Judge Trilling leaned forward. “Wait a minute. You are now
admitting
you summoned witnesses
knowing
they had no relevant testimony?”

“Not at all, Your Honor.” Cora smiled. “The fact that some of these people are lying makes their testimony no less relevant.”

“It does to
me
, Miss Felton. You are bordering dangerously on contempt of court. What do you expect to
prove
?”

“I expect to prove that these lies were
told
. I expect to prove that they are
lies
. And I expect to prove that these lies precipitated the current situation.

“It all goes back to the writer, A. E. Greenhouse, who, as I say, I have been unable to dig up. I have, instead, his book, his editor, and his contract. I expect to prove that Mr. Greenhouse was an author researching a book on life prisoners in the American penal system; that Mr. Greenhouse wanted to interview Darryl Daigue, who was serving a life term for the murder of a seventeen-year-old named Anita Dryer. Initially, Mr. Greenhouse was unable to do so. Why? Because Darryl Daigue was one of the least savory individuals in Brandon prison, an antisocial troublemaker who spent most of his time in solitary confinement.

“In the interim, Greenhouse spoke with Anita Dryer’s brother, Jason Dryer, who was also an inmate at Brandon prison. Jason was a junkie, who died of an overdose shortly after getting out of jail, but not before giving Mr. Greenhouse an interview in which Jason
stated frankly he would have killed Mr. Daigue with his bare hands had he encountered him in prison.

“I expect to prove with the records kept by the Brandon prison guard that shortly after Darryl Daigue was released from solitary he was interviewed by A. E. Greenhouse for the book
Lifer
, published by Pilgrim Publishing.

“I expect to prove that after the publication of the book, A. E. Greenhouse vanished off the face of the earth.”