Kiss Mommy Goodbye (7 page)

“And your impressions of Mrs. Cressy?”

“The first few times I met her, I was very impressed,” he allowed. “She was lovely, seemed to have a nice sense of humor …”

Why is he talking about me in the past tense? Donna wondered. Had she passed away suddenly? Was her hell to be this courtroom and not a sink full of dirty dishes, after all? Listening to an endless litany of witnesses denounce her every move and motivation—Sisyphus pushing the giant boulder—until she collapsed under the weight of it all, shouting, “Yes, you’re right. It’s all my fault.”

“… she seemed to change,” Danny Vogel was explaining.

“When was that?”

“It’s hard to pinpoint exactly because I only saw her on rare social occasions and they got rarer all the time.” He paused, collecting his saliva and then swallowing it. “But when I first met Donna she seemed fairly outgoing, and through the years she just seemed to get more withdrawn. She stopped having company over to her home—”

“Objection,” Donna’s lawyer said, rising. “This witness is not in a position to state who did or who did not come into the Cressys’ home.”

“Sustained.”

Danny Vogel looked confused.

“Mr. Vogel,” Ed Gerber continued, picking up the dangling thread, “how many times were you, yourself, invited to the Cressy house for either dinner or any type of social gathering?”

Danny paused to reflect. “In those first few years of their marriage, I’d say several times a year. After Adam was born, maybe once. After Sharon, not at all. Once,” he began, looking toward Ed Gerber, who, obviously knowing what the witness intended to say, indicated that he was to go on, “she came by to pick Victor up from work, and Victor and I were waiting on the street—she was late—and I leaned in the car to say hello, and Victor suggested that Renee and I come over for a barbeque dinner at their place one night the next week and she said no, it was absolutely out of the question. Victor looked very embarrassed. Needless to say,
I
was embarrassed.”

“Did she offer an explanation?”

“No. That was all she said. It was very strange.”

“Did you notice anything else that was ‘strange’?” Ed Gerber asked, repeating and emphasizing the final word.

Danny Vogel shook his head. “Not really. Oh, except her hair. It was a bright carrot red. I’d just seen her the previous week at a party and it had been blonde.”

“So you did have occasion to see Donna Cressy at various social functions?”

“Oh yes. We moved in roughly the same circles. Our office was a friendly one. Someone was always having a party.”

“Over the years, was there any discernible change in Mrs. Cressy’s behavior at those functions?”

“Well, like I said, she was becoming more withdrawn. It seemed each party, she said less and less. She hardly ever smiled. She had a lot of colds. There always seemed to be something wrong with her—”

“Objection.” Mr. Stamler sounded ineffably disgruntled.

“Sustained,” the judge said. “The court will draw its own conclusions, Mr. Vogel.”

Danny Vogel seemed genuinely upset he had caused the court any problem. “I’m sorry, your honor,” he said quietly, then, mindful of his previous admonition, repeated it in a louder voice.

“Did you ever have one of those parties in your own home, Mr. Vogel?” Ed Gerber asked, knowing he had.

“Yes, sir.”

“To which the Cressys were invited?”

Again, a positive reply.

“When was that?”

“A little more than two years ago,” Danny Vogel answered. “My fortieth birthday.”

Donna knew the date precisely. It was twenty-five months
ago. Nine months exactly before Sharon was born. The night Sharon was conceived.

“Could you describe precisely what happened from the time the Cressys arrived at your party?”

Donna thought back to the party. What could he possibly have to say?

“Well, they were late. The last ones to arrive. But Victor was very friendly, cordial. Donna kind of hung back. She didn’t smile when she came in; she seemed distracted. I just figured she was in another of her moods—”

“Objection.”

The objection having been ruled on and sorted out, the witness continued with his testimony. “Anyway, she didn’t say much that I was aware of. Every time I looked over in her direction she was just standing off by herself. She just stood like that, I don’t think she moved, with a drink in her hand, nursing it and sniffing—she had a cold, and I remember her nose kept running. She always seemed to have a Kleenex in front of her face.”

They’re going to take my children away from me because I used a Kleenex to wipe my nose? Donna wondered in disbelief. Kleenex user unfit to wipe her children’s noses! Damn them, she uttered into herself, she was the one who had gotten up at three in the morning to wipe their noses when they cried. (“Mommy, the nose, the nose,” Adam had always yelled at the slightest dribble.) She had wiped their noses and their tears and their glorious little round butts. But it was somehow wrong for her to wipe her own nose—even when she had a cold.

But, of course that was the whole point. She had another cold. Victor had already mentioned her fondness for the
affliction. This was merely what they termed corroborative evidence. They weren’t going to damn her because she had used a Kleenex to wipe her nose, they were going to damn her because she had another cold.

“I went over at one point to speak to her,” Danny Vogel continued, unaware of Donna’s silent interruption, “but the conversation was pretty much one-sided.”

“Can you recall any of it?”

“I told her she looked lovely.” He chuckled. “She agreed with me.”

Now, it was crazy to agree, Donna thought.

“Her voice was very husky. She seemed to be suffering from laryngitis, which she got quite frequently, and so I concluded it must be painful for her to talk, especially after I tried to ask her a few questions and she didn’t answer.”

“What kind of questions?”

Danny Vogel shrugged his shoulders. “I asked her about her son—Adam. How he was, if she was planning on sending him to nursery school. She didn’t answer. She just looked at me, I remember, and she looked almost—afraid—”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“I have no idea. She didn’t say anything.”

“Your honor,” Donna’s lawyer, Mr. Stamler, said rising from his seat, “I fail to see the point of this witness’s testimony. If he is to be a character witness for Victor Cressy, that’s fine. Let him confine himself to that type of testimony, but so far anything he has had to say regarding Mrs. Cressy has been totally irrelevant. Because the lady failed to answer his questions to his satisfaction, Mr. Vogel seems to imply that there was something amiss in her behavior. Donna Cressy had a cold; she had laryngitis. Does
that qualify as unbalanced behavior? Does that make her an unfit mother?”

“If I may beg the court’s indulgence,” Ed Gerber interjected before the judge could speak. “We intend to prove the relevancy of this testimony immediately.” The judge looked appropriately skeptical, but allowed the lawyer to continue.

Ed Gerber twisted his mouth unattractively, until the next question was formulated in his mind and ready to be spit out.

“Did Mrs. Cressy’s subsequent behavior at the party do anything to, let us say, arouse your suspicion as to her state of mind?”

“About halfway through the party,” Danny Vogel answered, choosing his words carefully, “there was a total transformation in her behavior. It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Or Mrs. Hyde,” he added, laughing meekly at his joke. No one joined him, although Ed Gerber did smile. “One minute, she was sniffing and not talking to anyone and the next minute, she was yelling, and I mean yelling, in a perfectly clear voice, one that had absolutely no traces of a cold in it anywhere, and that’s how she was for the rest of the evening.” He paused, waiting for someone to object. No one did. Donna looked at the judge. His interest had been rekindled. He was listening intently.

“Did anything happen that you were aware of to occasion this change?”

“Donna was standing across from the bar—in the same position she’d been in since their arrival—when Victor walked over to her to offer her a Kleenex. I saw it in his hand, and then suddenly she slapped his hand quite loudly, knocking the Kleenex out of his hand, and pushing his arm
against one of the other guests who spilled her drink—I believe it was Mrs. Harrison—down her dress. Donna got very belligerent. She raised her voice and kept it raised until they left. Every time anyone started to have any kind of a conversation, she interrupted, giving them her opinion, which always seemed to be the opposite of what everyone else was thinking. She insulted several of the guests and used obscene language on several occasions. And she was merciless with regard to Victor. Every time he opened his mouth, she made some sarcastic reply. She kept putting him down, outlining all she felt was wrong with him. Mimicking him. It was very embarrassing. Finally, Victor indicated it was time they left and she made another disparaging comment about her master’s voice, or some such remark, and then they left. I must admit we all breathed a large sigh of relief.”

Ed Gerber took a long, smug pause. “Mr. Vogel, to your knowledge, could this sudden shift of behavior have been due to Mrs. Cressy’s consumption of alcohol that night?”

Danny Vogel looked delighted he had been asked that question. He confided the answer as a schoolboy might, having been allowed to release a secret too long contained. “No,” he almost squealed. “Like I said, she just stood off to one side, directly across from the bar, and nursed that one drink I had originally brought her. She didn’t move. I never saw her get another.”

“You said earlier,” Ed Gerber continued most carefully, “that Victor Cressy was a man who rarely confided his problems to other people.”

“That’s correct,” the witness agreed.

“Now tell me, but be careful, I don’t want you to tell me anything that was actually said because that would be
hearsay,” Ed Gerber said with a sly smile to Mr. Stamler, “but without going into any actual conversations, did Victor Cressy ever confide in you that he was worried about his wife’s behavior?”

“Yes, he did. On numerous occasions.”

“Did he ever express concern for his children?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What kind of father was Victor Cressy?” Ed Gerber asked. Once again, Donna noted the tense. Had Victor suddenly passed away as well?

“From all I could see, he was a wonderful father. He was very concerned about his children, right from the time he first learned Donna was pregnant. He read all the books, went to prenatal classes with his wife—both times—and knew all the breathing exercises. He stayed with Donna all through her labor, and with Adam I think it was close to twenty-four hours—”

Twenty-six hours, you clown, Donna’s eyes screamed. And it was me who was in labor, not the jerk doing all the breathing. I was the one in pain.

How lucky you are to have such a considerate husband, the nurses had told her. Especially after Sharon’s birth, that one nurse who had beamed so glowingly at Victor. Bitch, Donna had wanted to shout, ask him about the way she was conceived!

“He was very insistent that Donna eat all the right foods. He was thrilled when she decided to nurse both children. He felt that was healthier. He was very proud of his children. He’d bring them to the office occasionally. You could just see how crazy he was about them.”

“And did you ever observe Donna with her children?”

Danny Vogel shook his head. “No.” Somehow he made it sound like a condemnation.

Donna’s lawyer was quick to take the offensive when it was his turn to cross-examine.

“Mr. Vogel,” he began, his voice clipping off his words as a typewriter dispenses letters, sharply, crisply, with determined speed, “are you by any chance a trained psychologist?”

Danny Vogel smiled and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Have you had any extra training in any of the behavioral sciences?”

“No, sir.”

“A psychology major at the university perhaps?”

“No, sir.” The smile had vanished.

“So that you have no real qualifications, shall we say, for assessing Mrs. Cressy’s behavior?”

“Just my eyes and ears,” Danny Vogel retorted, the snake concerned and frightened, coiled to strike.

“Eyes and ears can be deceiving, Mr. Vogel, as we all know. No outsider to a marriage can ever fairly or fully assess what goes on inside that marriage, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so.” He paused. “But Donna’s behavior was more than—”

Mr. Stamler cut the witness off abruptly. “Would you say you’re especially qualified to comment on female behavior? How many times have you been married, Mr. Vogel?”

Danny Vogel squirmed visibly. “Twice,” he admitted.

“Your first marriage ended in divorce?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And your second? A happy one?”

“We’re separated,” he said, keeping his voice clearly audible while lowering his bead.

“So you’re really not much of an authority on women, are you, Mr. Vogel?” the lawyer asked sarcastically, then continued on immediately. “You stated moments ago that you never observed Mrs. Cressy with her children, is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So then, you’re really not in a position one way or the other to comment on Mrs. Cressy’s abilities as a mother, are you?”

“No, sir, but—”

“Thank you, that’s all, Mr. Vogel.”

Danny Vogel hesitated momentarily before stepping away from the witness stand. He looked at Victor, who continued largely to ignore his presence, still carefully avoiding Donna’s glance as he ambled back to his seat.

Mr. Stamler—did he have a first name? Donna suddenly wondered, realizing she had never called him other than Mr.—patted her hand reassuringly. He obviously felt they had won that round. The witness had admitted he was in no position to comment on Donna’s capabilities as a mother—“So then, you’re really not in a position one way or the other to comment on Mrs. Cressy’s abilities as a mother, are you?” “No, sir,” the witness had agreed. “But—” Her lawyer had quickly terminated the testimony, but the word remained in the records. The court had heard it. She had heard it. The judge had certainly heard it.
But
.