In Self Defense (25 page)

***

“Ms. Burdick,” David inquired on cross-examination, “during your two-year clandestine relationship with Richard Durant, did you ever catch him in a lie?”

“In a lie?” Stephanie echoed.  “I certainly wouldn’t say so.  I can’t think of any reason he would have had to lie to me.”

“Well, the prosecutor seems to want the jury to believe that my client’s motive for killing her husband was revenge because he was going to divorce her and marry you.”

“He was.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” she countered.  “After our first few months together, it was almost all he ever talked about.”

“Even though two attorneys will testify right here in this court that they both told him, almost a year before his death, that a divorce would more than likely mean professional suicide?  And that, if he chose to pursue it, he stood an excellent chance of losing everything because his wife could have ousted from Nicolaidis Industries?”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Sundstrom put in.  “Assumes facts not yet in evidence.”

“Sustained,” the judge said.  “Rephrase, Mr. Johansen.”

              “What would you say, Ms. Burdick,” David rephrased, “if it could be proven that Richard Durant would likely have lost everything if he divorced his wife to marry you?”

“He was the best thing that ever happened to that company,” Stephanie retorted, shooting a disdainful look at the defendant.  “Everyone knew that -- in and out of Nicolaidis Industries.  She would have been an idiot to force him out just because he wanted out of their marriage.”

“I see,” David said softly.  “So let’s make sure we all understand what you’re saying here.  You’re saying that exacting revenge by tossing him out of the company would have been idiotic -- but exacting revenge by killing him -- that was smart?”

Stephanie bristled.  “That’s not what I meant.  That’s not what I meant at all.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” David murmured.  “So, as far as you knew, Richard Durant was going to divorce his wife and marry you, and Nicolaidis Industries be damned, if it came to that, is that right?”

“Look, this was totally Richard’s idea, not mine,” Stephanie said.  “He was the one who kept talking about being done with his wife.  He was the one who wanted out of his marriage.  He didn’t have to concoct a story about marrying me just to keep me around.  I was perfectly okay with our relationship the way it was.”

“And when was the last time the two of you discussed this idea of his being done with his wife and marrying you?”

At that, tears filled Stephanie’s eyes.  “On the night he died,”
she whispered.

              “Thank you,” David said softly.  “Nothing further.”

***

It was very late, close to midnight.  A lamp on the nightstand in the yellow guestroom, was softly illuminating the space that Clare now inhabited.  Ever since that night, now only days from being a year ago, she had been afraid to close her eyes in the dark.

Sleep did not come easily, even in the comfortable four-poster.  It was often fretful, and frequently filled with unwanted dreams that awakened her with a start.  On this night, however, her emotional exhaustion was so profound that, almost before her head made contact with the pillow, she fell into a deep and blessedly dreamless slumber.

As a result, she didn’t hear the door open, and she didn’t see the slight figure that tiptoed to the foot of the bed.

It was a school night, and Julie should have been asleep hours ago, but instead, she had stayed up, as she had every night now for most of two weeks, creeping out of her room and down the stairs after everyone else had gone to bed, to watch the late news on the television set in the family room, and hear about the trial from some reporter who had been lucky enough to witness the proceedings.  She didn’t understand a lot of what the reporter said, but enough to know that her family was being destroyed, both in and out of court, and that the reason was because the were people with power and authority who didn’t believe that her mother had killed her father by mistake.

In the lamplight, Julie gazed at the figure in the bed.  Her mother looked so pale and so fragile that it wouldn’t have been a surprise if she had disappeared right before her daughter’s very eyes.

The thirteen-year-old squared her thin shoulders.  She would talk to Doreen again.  The housekeeper would know what to do.

***

“Richard and I had several conversations over a period of about a month, I’d say,” John Fowler testified on the second Friday of trial.

“When was that?”

“In December, two years ago.”

“And those conversations -- what were they about?” Sundstrom prompted.

“Richard talked about the breakdown of his marriage, and inquired about getting a divorce.”

Fowler was clearly uncomfortable discussing a client, even though the client was dead.  And the line was even more blurred because Richard Durant had also been a friend, and as far as he was concerned, Clare Durant still was.

“A divorce?”

“Yes.”

“Richard Durant told you he wanted to divorce his wife?” Sundstrom emphasized.

“Yes.  He said that they had grown apart over the years, that they’d both become different people, with different needs, and that the marriage wasn’t working anymore -- for either of them.  And he said he’d met someone else.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him a divorce might well mean he would lose his position at Nicolaidis Industries,” Fowler replied.

“And what was his response?”

“I think he was surprised,” the witness said.  “To be honest, I don’t think he had thought about that possibility at all.  I got the impression that he believed the divorce would be amicable.  But he said he would take a look at his contract.”

“And did he?”

Fowler shrugged.  “I don’t know, but a few weeks later, he told me that he and Clare had talked seriously about their marriage for the first time in years, and that he was encouraged enough by the dialogue that he had decided to try to work on improving the situation.  He said he was going to put the idea of a divorce on the back burner while he waited to see whether things would get better.”

“But, in effect, whether on the front burner or the back,” Sundstrom suggested, “a divorce was still hanging over Clare Durant’s head, isn’t that true?”

“Well, yes,” the witness conceded, “I suppose you could put it that way.”

***

David rose slowly from the defense table, his expression thoughtful as he checked his notes.

“So, Mr. Fowler,” he began, “is it your testimony here today that Richard Durant abandoned his quest for a divorce some ten months before his death?”

              “Yes, that was my understanding,” Fowler confirmed.

“He made that perfectly clear to you -- he said that he and his wife were going to try to work things out?”

“Yes.”

“Did he tell you that he had obtained the opinion of another attorney on the matter?”

“No, he didn’t mention that,” Fowler replied.  “But it wouldn’t surprise me.  Richard was circumspect in all his dealings.”

“And in all the months after that, when the two of you would go out on your boat together, or on the occasions when you and your wife would meet socially with the Durants, did he ever bring up the idea of divorce again?”

“On the contrary,” Fowler said.  “He made a point of telling me, it seemed at every opportunity, that things were going very well between the two of them, better than ever, in fact, and that he had been wrong to consider ending the marriage.”

“And on those occasions when you saw the Durants together,” David pressed, “did their appearance, their actions, seem to corroborate his words?”

“Yes, they seemed to be quite devoted to one another.”

The defense attorney frowned.  “Then what would you say if I told you that a previous witness testified, right here in this courtroom, that Richard Durant was discussing divorcing his wide and marrying his mistress, as though both actions were imminent, on the very night he died?”

The divorce attorney blinked.  “I’d say that was very far indeed from the last conversation I had with him a month earlier,” he replied.

“And what conversation was that, Mr. Fowler?”

“We were out on my boat at the time, and Richard made a point of telling me that, what with the arsenic poisoning and Clare’s fall off the mountain, he was profoundly sorry that the idea of divorce had ever entered his head.”

***

The media were eating it up, every salacious word.  Marriage, divorce, money, high society, adultery -- once the appetizer of the tabloids, was now the meat of the mainstream.

Television cameramen camped outside the Laurelhurst mansion, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone, anyone involved in the sordid story.  Reporters peered into every vehicle going in and out of the estate, and followed anyone who looked like a lead.  Elaine Haskell had some unpleasant words with a few.   Dr. Ahrens called the police.  The supermarket delivery boy wished he had more to tell.

“Wife Accused in Philandering Husband’s Death,” the more mainstream headlines read.  “He Done Her Dirty -- She Done Him In,” those not so concerned with image opined.

“There’s real money in this for you, if you talk to us, you know,” someone suggested to Doreen when she came down the drive to pick up the mail.

“There isn’t enough money in the world,” she told them, thankful after all these years that the mailbox had a sturdy lock mechanism on it.

The lowest of the low, and some not so low, resorted to going through the household garbage.

Clare had made the decision that the whole family would stay at home for the duration of the trial.  She arranged for a tutor to come in, to keep the children up with their schoolwork.  “I’m sure it’ll be only for a few weeks,” Clare assured them.  Julie and Peter didn’t mind.  Anything was better than facing their classmates right now.

Everything they needed to have got delivered, brought around to the service entrance, taken custody of and examined at the door.  Visitors were screened.  The private security guards that David had hired patrolled everywhere.

“Why am I fighting so hard to stay out of prison?” Clare wondered.  “I’m already there.”

***

On Monday, Morton Bloom testified that Richard Durant had indeed consulted him, too, about the possibility of a divorce.

“What did he want?” Mark Sundstrom asked.

“I guess he wanted a second opinion,” the attorney said.

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him the divorce would be easy, but unless it was amicable, he could be out of a job.  He had asked me to review his contract with Nicolaidis Industries, which I did.  It was a good one, very good, in fact, but it was clear that the Board of Directors could dismiss him at any time.  There was a morals clause that could have been invoked, if one wanted to go that far.  Apparently, there had been a number of affairs.”

“Did that seem to be a sticking point for him?” the prosecutor pressed.  “Losing his position?”

Morton Bloom shrugged.  “I don’t know,” he replied.  “The severance package attached to his contract was quite substantial.  It would have allowed him to live quite comfortably, if not extravagantly, for the rest of his life.”

***

“Is that all you told Richard Durant?” David inquired on cross.

“Well, I suggested that he might want to sit down with his wife, and evaluate the situation.  It’s been my experience that it’s often a good thing to do when the wife holds the purse strings.”

“And do you know whether he took your advice?”

“I assume he did,” Bloom testified.  “Because in our next conversation, which was also our last, he said that he had reconsidered and decided against pursuing a divorce.”

***

“We don’t have to prove Durant was actually getting a divorce,” Mark Sundstrom reminded his colleague, Tom Colby, when court recessed for the day.  “Just the fact that he was talking about it should be enough.”

Colby cocked his head.  “I think it weakens our case,” he said.  “Both attorneys have now as good as confirmed he was lying to Stephanie Burdick.  Which makes the argument that Durant never told his wife he was coming home that night seem that much more plausible.”

“Well, we had to put the attorneys on the stand,” Sundstrom said.  “If we hadn’t, Johansen would have called them, and made us look like we were trying to hide something.  But I think we’re still okay with the humiliation angle.”

***

The following morning was the start of the third week of testimony, and it was Jeffrey Durant’s turn on the witness stand.  In the course of the past year, Richard’s brother had come to side with his parents, rather than his sister, in his evaluation of what had actually taken place the night Richard died.

“In the last couple of years of his life, Richard spoke to me often about problems in the marriage,” he testified.  “He told me he thought Clare was having an affair, and might be considering divorce.  He said he had contacted a couple of divorce attorneys, himself, for an evaluation of his situation.”

“And what did he tell you about that?” Sundstrom asked.

“He said his position wasn’t good.  He said if Clare divorced him, and he gave her any trouble at all about it, he could lose everything -- the house, the kids -- and he could be tossed out of Nicolaidis Industries, too.  He said all it would take was for her to make her wishes known to the Board, and since she was the majority stockholder by far, the Board would do whatever she wanted.  I guess she found another way to get rid of him.”

“Objection!” David declared.

“Sustained,” Judge Lazarus ordered immediately.  “The jury will disregard the witness’s last remark, and I caution the witness to confine himself to answering the questions he is asked, and keep his opinions to himself.”

“Thank you, I have no further questions,” Sundstrom said, knowing full well that the jury wasn’t about to disregard anything, no matter what the judge said.

                           
***

David knew it, too.

“Mr. Durant, did you approve of your brother’s marriage to Clare Nicolaidis?” he inquired.

“Sure,” Jeffrey replied.  “Why not?  She was the boss’s daughter.”

“And at the time, did you ever suggest to your brother that he find out what the impact of a divorce might be before he married the boss’s daughter?”

“No,” Jeffrey said.  “Why would I?  She was obviously head over heels in love with him.  It never occurred to me that she would want to dump him down the road.”

“And your brother,” David asked softly, “was he head over heels in love with her?”

The witness shrugged.  “Well, yeah, I guess so.  He married her, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?” David conceded.  “And if you would, please tell the jury what evidence you have to suggest that Mrs. Durant wanted to dump her husband.”

“My brother told me so.”

“No,” David said.  “I asked what
evidence
you had that your sister-in-law wanted a divorce.  Your brother telling you so is what’s called hearsay, not evidence.”

Jeffrey looked at the prosecutor, who shrugged, and then again at David.  “Well then, I guess I don’t have any evidence.”

“You have no evidence that Mrs. Durant ever went to a single divorce attorney, much less two, do you?”

“No,” Jeffrey was forced to admit.

“And other than your brother telling you that he believed his wife was having an affair, you have absolutely no independent knowledge that she was even doing that, do you?”

“No.”

“I see.  So you’ve testified here today with no evidence of anything, with only hearsay from a man who was, in fact, doing all the things he accused his wife of doing -- having affairs and seeking a divorce -- isn’t that so?”

“Yeah, well, maybe,” Jeffrey said.  “But she’s not the one who’s dead, now is she?  He is.”

“Yes, he is,” David responded with a nod.  “Thank you for raising that point.”

***

“When is this going to be over?” Julie cried impatiently.  “I can’t go to school.  I can’t see my friends.  I can’t go riding.  I can’t even go out of the house.  I can’t do anything!”  The girl was still sneaking down to the family room at night to watch the news, so she could keep up with what was going on in the trial.  But hearing that her Uncle Jeffrey had now said awful things about her mother was more than she could take.

“I know this is hard on you,” Clare said, unaware of her daughter’s nightly fixation.  “It’s hard on all of us.  I don’t think it will be much longer.  I hope it won’t.”

***

“This is just too much for the children,” Clare told David.  “It’s disrupting their whole lives.  What if I plead guilty to something?  Would it all just go away?”

“If you plead guilty to something -- presuming the prosecutor would even entertain the idea, you go to prison,” her attorney told her in return.  “For a very long time.  Is that what you want?  Is that what you think you deserve?”

“Well, I did kill him.”

“Yes,” David conceded, “but you killed him in self defense, and that’s the big difference.”

***

On the second day of the third week of trial, James Lilly took the witness stand.  Looking somewhat nervous at having every eye in the courtroom fixed on him, he had to clear his throat twice before he could even say his name.  Clare couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him.

“Mr. Lilly, you worked as Richard Durant’s assistant at Nicolaidis Industries, did you not?” Sundstrom began.

“Yes,” James replied.

“Will you tell the jury what kind of businessman he was?”

“Enthusiastic, energetic, brilliant,” James ticked off.  “He took a first-rate company and turned it into an even bigger star.”

“Will you tell the jury what kind of man he was personally?”

James shrugged.  “He was nice enough, I guess.  And charismatic, I think the term is.”

“How did he treat people?”

“He was strict, but fair.  He certainly treated his employees well.”

“What about his personal life?”

James looked a bit uncomfortable.  “His personal life wasn’t any of my business,” he replied.

“Maybe not,” the prosecutor conceded, “but you were in a position to know a lot about what was going on, weren’t you?”