Defense for the Devil (30 page)

Roxbury finished with her soon after that, and Judge Waldman called for a short recess. That morning the courtroom was filled to capacity; Marta Delancey’s appearance had made the news both locally and nationally.

“Mrs. Delancey,” Barbara said after the recess, “your testimony is that you first saw Ray Arno in the fall of 1978. Can you be more precise about the date?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I can. We were back and forth between Eugene and New York several times that fall. On one of those trips, but the date…?” She shook her head. “It was a long time ago.”

“I understand. Nineteen seventy-eight was a momentous year in your life, wasn’t it? Was your son born that year?”

“Yes, January twenty-eighth.”

“And your father-in-law died unexpectedly in March. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then, in October, your mother-in-law died, also unexpectedly. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Was there an investigation regarding her death?”

“There was. It was determined that she died from an accidental overdose of a prescription sleeping medication.”

Barbara picked up a paper from her table. “This is the official report following the conclusion of that investigation.” She showed it first to the judge and then to Roxbury, who looked bored and resigned. It was admitted. “According to the report here, Mrs. Delancey, the autopsy report attributed her death to a high level of alcohol in her system, in combination with the sleeping medication, antidepressants, and tranquilizers. Do you recall that?”

“Yes,” Marta Delancey said in a low voice. “She had become very depressed that year. I believe her children, and I, all made a statement to that effect.”

“Yes, your statements are included. Your statement also says that you and your late husband visited Mrs. Chisolm two weeks before her death, that you arrived on October fourth and left on October seventh. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you accompany your late husband and your mother-in-law when they went to her bank and arranged a loan?”

Roxbury was on his feet with an objection instantly. Judge Waldman was frowning at Barbara, who said, “Your honor, I am trying to pinpoint exactly when Mrs. Delancey might first have seen Ray Arno.”

“Please rephrase your question,” the judge said crisply.

“Mrs. Delancey, did your late husband have business to attend to with his mother on that visit in early October?”

“Yes. It was a business trip.”

“Did they spend time on both days of your visit conducting their business?”

“Yes.”

“And did you visit your own mother while they were doing that?”

“I did.”

“In fact, did you spend the nights of October fifth and sixth in your mother’s house?”

“Yes. Her health was failing, and I wanted some time with her.”

“You flew all the way from New York City to Eugene in order to spend two days with your mother? Is that what you’re telling us?”

“Yes. I didn’t know at the time how ill she was, and I had a nine-month-old baby back in New York. I was torn between them. After I reassured myself that she was in no immediate danger, I was eager to return home.”

“Was your mother employed at the time?” Barbara walked to her table and picked up a sheet of paper. She looked at Marta Delancey, who was watching her closely.

“I really don’t remember when she retired.”

“Wasn’t she given a luncheon in 1982 and presented with an award for thirty years of service with the Lane County government?”

“I don’t remember when that happened.”

Barbara nodded and said, “I have a photocopy of a newspaper account of her award and her retirement, dated December third, 1982. Would that refresh your memory?”

Marta Delancey shook her head sadly. “What happened was that my mother began to suffer from a debilitating illness that was intermittent for several years before it progressed so much that she could no longer hold her position.”

Her point, Barbara thought almost in admiration. “I see,” she said, putting down the photocopy of the newspaper account. “So on that first occasion in October of 1978 you arrived in Eugene at seven or later in the evening on the fourth, your late husband and his mother were occupied with business the following two days, during which time you stayed with your mother; then you left Eugene at ten in the morning on the seventh. Was there an opportunity for you to stroll and shop during that brief visit?”

Marta Delancey glanced at the police report Barbara was still holding, then said, “I don’t think so. It must have been when we came back later that month.”

She continued to be very calm and poised, to all appearances unruffled and quite willing to be as cooperative as possible. A good witness for the prosecution. Painstakingly, keeping her own voice as pleasant and conversational as Marta Delancey’s, Barbara led her through the next visit, following the death of Greta Chisolm.

That afternoon Barbara summarized: “So you flew back to Eugene on October twentieth, and the funeral was not until the twenty-fifth. In the intervening days, there was the reading of the will, and many discussions about the new codicil that Mrs. Chisolm had added on October fifth. Did Harry Chisolm retain his own attorney to represent his interests?”

“Yes. It was a very emotional time for everyone. We all felt it was best to let attorneys handle all the details.”

“Was Harry Chisolm not only shocked and stunned by his mother’s sudden death but also furious that she had left the house and furnishings to your late husband?”

Roxbury objected fiercely, and this time asked permission to approach the bench. Judge Waldman motioned him and Barbara to step forward.

“Your honor, this is harassment, pure and simple. Innuendos that are certain to be prejudicial. This witness is not on trial here, and what happened nearly twenty years ago is irrelevant.”

“But she said she first saw Ray Arno nearly twenty years ago,” Barbara said reasonably. “I just don’t quite see when that was possible.”

Judge Waldman considered for a second or two, then she said, “I’ll permit you to continue, but I don’t want you to rake up old scandals and gossip. And I direct you to rephrase your question with that in mind.”

After Roxbury and Barbara returned to their tables, Judge Waldman said, “Sustained. Counsel will rephrase the question.”

“Mrs. Delancey,” Barbara said then, “did Mrs. Greta Chisolm leave her house and furnishings to your late husband?”

“Yes.”

“Was the codicil added to her will on your previous visit in early October?”

“I believe so,” she said. “That was Joel’s business and hers. I didn’t know she had done that until after she died.”

“All right. So the funeral was on the twenty-fifth. Did you have an inventory made of the furnishings before you returned to New York?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Was that done by a local person?”

“I don’t know. Joel handled it.”

“Did all three of the Chisolm children oversee the inventory?”

“Yes. Harry and his sister had some personal belongings they wanted to recover, and naturally there was no question about that. Those items were not included in the inventory.”

“How long did it take to inventory the furnishings?’

“I don’t remember precisely. A day, perhaps two days.”

“Were you all staying in the house during this period?”

“No. Harry had his own residence and was staying at home, and his sister chose to stay with him.”

“So the inventory might have taken two days, and you remained in the house during that time, and that brings us up to the twenty-seventh of October. Is that right?”

“I really don’t remember how long it took. Possibly not two whole days.”

It was slow, and there was always a risk that the jury would get too bored to keep listening, but for the moment they were following closely, maybe intrigued by the witness or by the timetable Barbara was constructing. She could tell little about them; it made a difference not being there from day one, not being there for jury selection. They were an unknown quantity to her now.

“When did you return to New York?” Barbara asked. “A few days after the inventory was made.”

“I see. There was a third catastrophic event in your life that year, wasn’t there? Was your late husband shot and killed on a sidewalk in New York City on December thirteenth?”

Marta Delancey looked down and said yes in a low voice.

“During the ensuing investigation did the police ask you to retrace your steps for several weeks prior to that incident? And didn’t you tell them that you had returned to New York on October twenty-ninth?”

Marta looked startled momentarily, then nodded. “Yes, that was my statement. At the time, of course, I remembered it very well.”

“Of course. And did you make one more visit to Eugene between the twenty-ninth of October and the time of your late husband’s death?”

“Yes. When the movers crated up the furnishings, we supervised them. In November. We didn’t go shopping then, we went the day after the inventory was made in October. Joel said he needed a distraction, and we left the house for several hours.”

That was good, Barbara thought. Marta had seen the timetable narrowing to nothing and had taken steps to fix it. A good move.

Barbara nodded, as if satisfied. “So on the twenty-eighth of October you and your late husband took some time off and went shopping. Is that right?”

“Yes. Not to shop, actually, just to get out of the house.”

“When did Harry Chisolm and his sister remove their personal possessions from the house?”

“Immediately following the inventory. I believe it was early the next morning. We went out soon after they left.”

“Were there servants in the house?”

“No, they had left several days earlier.”

“Did you just lock up the house and go out for a stroll?”

“No. My husband made arrangements for a security firm to maintain a watch in the house until we had the furnishings moved. An empty house is too tempting to leave unwatched.”

“I see. Do you recall what company was used for security?”

“No. My husband took care of it. I know a guard arrived before we went out.”

“Was he instructed not to let Harry Chisolm or his sister enter the house?”

“I don’t know.”

“You said earlier that your late husband was interested in buying a gift for his brother. Was that not the case?”

“Not really. He was being ironic, I think. He just wanted to get out, to get his mind off the past week, I think.”

“In fact, had there not been a number of very emotional scenes that week, a lot of tension and turmoil?”

Barbara waited for Roxbury to object, but he remained silent, and Marta answered almost sadly, “There was a lot of tension. It was an emotional week. Losing the second parent in such a short time had everyone’s nerves frayed. Joel was in a highly emotional state and he said he had to get out and get some air. We drove, then we left the car and walked past some shops in south Eugene. I don’t recall exactly where. I don’t even know what kind of shops they were, and that’s when we spotted the new shop and went in, just to be doing something.”

“While he was being shown fishing gear, what did you do?”

“Just wandered around the shop a little. I was not interested in fishing equipment.”

“Did you pick up items, examine them at all? Just to keep yourself occupied, perhaps?”

“I might have done so. Probably I did.”

“Were there other customers in the shop?”

“Not that I recall.”

“Are you certain it was The Sporting Chance shop that you entered that day?”

“Yes. My husband commented on the name. He liked it. That’s really why we entered, the name sounded interesting.”

“Were you standing near your husband and Mr. Arno when you began to study Mr. Arno?”

“No. I might have been near the door, or across the shop. I don’t remember where I was standing, only that I was bored and that I found his face interesting and very handsome.”

“How far from Mr. Arno were you when you observed his face?”

“Not far. Fifteen feet or so. It was a small shop.”

“And how was the lighting?”

“It was quite good. I could see him clearly.”

“Did you ever see him again between then and this year?”

“No. I have a very good memory for faces, and names as well. I would remember if I had seen him again. Besides, following the death of my husband, my trips to Eugene were solely to visit my mother.”

“Are you certain you entered his shop that day in October, and not the next month when you and your late husband returned for your last trip together to Eugene?”

“Yes. You reminded me by mentioning the police report concerning Joel’s death. In November we were very busy supervising the crating of the furniture. There was no time for shopping.”

“You said ‘crating’ again. Did each piece have to be crated up?”

“Most of them. They were very valuable antiques. And we had to check each piece against the inventory list. We didn’t go out shopping on that trip.”

“Who moved the furnishings, Mrs. Delancey? Was it the Palmer Company from New York?”

Roxbury objected that it was irrelevant, and his objection was sustained, but she had seen a flicker of startlement in Marta Delancey’s eyes. If Barbara hadn’t been watching closely, she would have missed it. But finally she had shaken the witness just a little.

“Mrs. Delancey, when you came to Eugene last August, did you fly in?”

“No. I drove.”

“Up from California? That’s a long drive.”

“I often do if the weather is pleasant.”

“Where did you stay while you were in town?”

“One of the motels off I-5.”

“Can you be a little more precise?” Barbara asked, just a touch sharper than she had been before.

“I’m afraid not,” Marta said, still at ease, still trying to help. “Usually when I come to visit my mother, I simply stop at a motel and sign in, often with a fictitious name because I don’t want any publicity about my visits, and I don’t want to become involved in any social obligations or interviews, anything like that. When I visit my mother, that’s all that’s on my mind.”