Secrets (31 page)

They pulled into his driveway just after midnight that night, and they felt as though they'd been away for weeks. He carried all their gear inside, and she decided to spend the night with him.

I can drop you off at your place on my way to the attorneys' tomorrow. He looked suddenly sad and she looked at him questioningly.

Can I come?

To the lawyers'? He seemed surprised.

I'd like that very much ' I want to be there with you' .

It's not much fun. That was the understatement of a lifetime, but she walked over to where he stood and put her arms around his neck.

I happen to be in love with you, Mr. Warwick ' for better or worse ' at Lake Tahoe, or at the lawyers'.

He didn't say a word to her, but when he kissed her, there were tears in his eyes. He hated himself for dragging her into it, but he needed her now ' more than she knew ' more than he had ever needed Sandy.

The law offices of Harrison and Goode looked serious and well decorated, combining modern decor with English antiques, and some very fine paintings. The senior partners' wives had hired the best decorators in town, and the office looked more like New York than Los Angeles. And Gabby was relieved at the knowledge that they were the best in town, as she waited in the reception area with Bill.

She had stopped at her place to change and she was wearing a dark blue linen dress that her mother had bought her years before at Bergdorf's.

You're sure you want to come? he had queried her again as she dressed, and she told him to shut up and go make them some coffee. He found everything he needed in her tiny kitchen, and half an hour later she had been dressed and ready, looking very proper with her long hair in a neat bun. All she needed was a pair of white gloves and she would have looked ready for lunch at the Colony Club in New York, where he knew her mother had taken her often.

And as they waited for the attorneys to call them in, he was glad she had come. It gave him a feeling of quiet strength just to have her near him. He introduced her to the attorneys, and it was obvious that they approved, and without thinking, he introduced her as Gabrielle Thornton-Smith, but she didn't object. And it was obvious that her name had impressed them. Stan Harrison even mentioned that he had met her father. Then he introduced the criminal attorneys who had been brought in by the firm to work on Bil's case. They were sober and well prepared, and they spent three hours preparing him, explaining the pitfalls of the case, the dangers, and their line of questions. Bill was exhausted when he and Gabby finally left the office at lunchtime, and they were expected to come back the next day.

God, I feel like my head is swimming after all that legal garbage. He suddenly looked tired and pale, despite the tan he had gotten that weekend. It was a tremendous strain for both of them, but Gabby looked composed, and she suggested they stop for groceries on the way home.

I'll make some lunch and you can lie by the pool and relax.

He looked down at her tenderly. What did I ever do to deserve you, Gab? Especially after the rough time he had given her for so long, but all of that was forgotten.

Just bad luck, I guess. You know what a pain in the ass debutantes are.

Slumming again, eh? He gently pinched her behind as they got out of the car at the supermarket and she only laughed.

I used to want to strangle you when you said that word.

In this case it happens to apply perfectly. But not nearly as aptly as it did the following week, as they got out of the car at the courthouse. The halls were filled with seedy-looking people, and they saw two defendants brought in in chains, as lawyers bustled through the halls, and Bill met his at the appointed time outside the courtroom.

Gabby stood very close to him this time, not because she was afraid, but she needed to be close to him, as though to prove to herself he was still there.

They had been assigned a judge, and his lawyers said he was very tough, but that could play for him either way. He might be turned off by the ugly tales of Sandy's addiction ' or he might have no sympathy for Bill at all. There was no way to tell. And it was going to be in the hands of the jury.

Gabrielle took a seat in the second row, and Bill moved through a little gate with three of his attorneys to take a seat at the defendants' table.

They waited ten minutes as the courtroom began to fill, with other defendants, the curious, attorneys who needed papers signed by the clerk, and a few reporters who had slipped in quietly to watch the action. And then the bailiff called out.

All rise. Judge MacNamara is now on the bench. Court is in session. Everyone sat down again, and Gabby stared at the back of Bill's head, praying for him and that all would go well.

The attorneys approached the bench, assorted papers were passed around, and the prospective members of the jury were led in. Bill was astounded at how many there were. There were close to a hundred. His attorneys had estimated two days for the selection of the jury. Groups of twelve would be put on the stand at a time, and each attorney had the right to release twenty without cause or explanation.

Two men were chosen first, one an elderly Mexican who spoke English well, and said that he felt he would have no trouble understanding the trial. No one in his family was involved with drugs and he had never been arrested. The second man was a mailman, he said, and he looked nervous and pale. The defense excused him for just cause. His daughter had died of an overdose of drugs three years before. It was obvious why they had excused him.

Two women came next. One heavily made up, one who said she had been an actress years before, the other a grandmotherly type who announced that she had never been married. After that came a young girl, a gay man, a woman who said she was married to a cop. It went on all day, with a recess for lunch. People came and went and were excused, sometimes for obvious reasons, sometimes not. The policeman's wife had been excused immediately by the defense. And the prosecution excused the actress and the gay. It seemed endless and why they kept them or didn't sometimes seemed to make no sense. Gabby and Bill were both exhausted when they left that night. It was like looking at random samples of the human race all day long, and it was exhausting to realize how many variations they came in.

I keep looking at them and wondering if they're going to believe me or not. I can't figure any of them out, except the obvious ones. The cop's wife scared the hell out of me. But she'd been excused.

I know. Sometimes I don't understand why they excuse them.

Neither do I. I just hope they know what they're doing.

They were too tired to make love that night, they were almost too tired to talk or eat, and they went out to the pool afterwards for a last swim before they went to bed. The nightmare had begun, and it couldn't be stopped now. Not until it was all over.

They went back the next day, and the same process began again. And the full jury was not selected until the afternoon of the third day. Seven women and five men and an innocuous-looking man as the alternate, all of them sober, plain, ordinary, like the man at the drugstore or the guy in the garage or the woman who sold you a pair of stockings at the dime store. None of them remarkable. And his life was now in their hands. The judge called the afternoon recess early that afternoon, and Gabby and Bill were relieved to go home again. She looked at him quietly over the salad she'd made for them to eat. Neither of them was hungry and he was getting testy from the tension.

Want to go to a movie tonight? she tried. He desperately needed some kind of distraction.

I'm on trial for murdering my wife. I don't need anything more dramatic than that.

We could go to something funny.

I'm not in the mood. It was understandable, but she wanted to help him.

Want to go to Mike's and shoot some pool?

Maybe tomorrow night, Gab ' I'm too tired to move. They were both amazed at how absolutely exhausting it was, just sitting there, feeling the strain all day, and not being able to do anything about it.

Want me to go home and give you some space?

He shook his head miserably, and reached for her hand. No ' unless you need to get away from me, and I'd understand if you did. I know I'm being a real turkey, but I'm so damn nervous.

It's okay. She leaned over and kissed him. You're not. I just don't want to make you more uptight.

You don't. You're the only thing getting me through it.

She stayed with him once or twice, but most nights she went home at the suggestion of Bill's attorneys. And the next day, the prosecution began their case, describing a senseless murder of a beautiful young girl, her actor husband tied to her with chains of anger and hatred, resenting her for spending all his money on drugs, desperate to get away from her, willing to do anything to unload her. It was difficult to recognize Bill in the portrait they painted, and he was terrified as he listened, sure that the jury would believe all of it. They made him sound like a homicidal monster. And they described a crime of passion at the culmination of it all, with Bill desperate to be free of her as he realized what she would do to his new career, and his role on Manhattan. He was sick with fear by the end of the second day of the prosecution's case, and his lawyers' assurances did little to calm him as they told him again and again that they would get their chance to tell their side of the story. There were few witnesses for the prosecution's side, except one or two actors from her old show, testifying about what a wonderful young girl she had been. And Bill was shocked to see her agent take the stand, saying that he had opposed the marriage to Bill. He said that he thought the marriage added pressures to her she couldn't handle, and that's when her drug addiction started in earnest.

Son of a bitch' Bill muttered under his breath, and the attorney closest to him gently touched his arm, reminding him that members of the jury were watching.

The prosecution had used everything they had by Friday afternoon, and a handful of photographers had begun hanging around outside the courtroom. They snapped photographs of Gabrielle and Bill as they left, questioned him, pushing the cameras in his face, and got no answers.

Bill met with his attorneys at length on Saturday morning, while Gabby did some errands for both of them, and she was back in time to cook lunch, feed the dog, and take a call from Mel Wechsler. He wanted to know how it was going, and he didn't seem surprised to find her there. He knew everything that went on, on the show, and they had made no great secret of their romance before the hiatus.

I don't know, Mel, she answered honestly. Everything is so stilted and one-sided. It's awful to watch. His lawyers say he'll get his chance next week, and he'll take the stand himself, but it's so goddam scary.

I'm sure it is. He was worried for Bill, and he reminded her to tell him that he was anxious to appear in court for him. Bill had already told his attorneys that, and they had every intention of calling Mel to the stand. I'll be here all week. Just tell them to call me.

I'll tell Bill you called. It'll mean a lot to him, Mel. He was always there for all of them, when they needed him, no longer like the Wizard of Oz, but like a father.

And Bill was touched when he came home, exhausted again. He had lost seven pounds that week, and Gabby had lost five. It was one way to lose weight for the show, but not the way either of them would have chosen.

What did they say?

The same old stuff. They want Mel to take the stand on Monday. He called him himself after lunch, and told him what courtroom they were in, and Mel promised to be there.

And the rest of the weekend alternately dragged and went too quickly. He wanted it to last forever so they wouldn't have to go back to court, and then sometimes he just wanted it to be over. They were back outside the courtroom all too soon, and Mel was there, conferring quietly with Bill's attorneys. They put him on the stand first, as Gabby watched. It was a relief to see him there, as though he could help them.

Would you say that Mr. Warwick was angry about anything?

No. I would say he was a quiet, hardworking young man.

Did he complain about his wife?

No.

Did he talk about her at all?

No.

Did you know he was married?

No, I did not. Mel's eyes didn't waver as Bill watched, remembering the lie he had told him and wondering what Mel would say about that. But Mel didn't let him down. He was there to help him.

Wouldn't you say that was a little unusual?

No, I wouldn't. Not in this business. Many of the actors we deal with keep their marriages a private affair, particularly if it will affect their image, if it's important for them to appear to be single.

Would you say that was the case with Mr. Warwick, or do you think he was ashamed of her, afraid that she would destroy his career with her constant arrests for

Objection, Your Honor! The prosecution is leading the witness! Bill's attorneys cut him off, and the objection was sustained.

Let me phrase that differently. Was it important to Mr. Warwick's career to appear to be single?

It could have been eventually.

Why?