There was another pause and it seemed to Ruth that the whole courtroom was holding its breath, waiting for his next line.
“If Mrs. Malone lied about the time at which she said she fed them dinner and the last time at which she said she saw them—and the evidence of Dr. Dunn here says that she did lie about one or both of these facts—we must ask ourselves: what other lies has she told?”
Ruth felt the rope around her own neck. Tightening.
After Dr. Dunn, Devlin was recalled. Hirsch held up a number of pages stapled together and turned to the judge.
“Let the record show that I am handing Sergeant Devlin a copy of Exhibit 34b. Sergeant, please identify this for the court.”
Devlin flicked through the papers, bent to the microphone.
“It’s a shift report written by Officer George Bresnick, dated July fifteenth, nineteen sixty-five.”
“And why was Officer Bresnick asked to write this report?”
“He was on duty that day with his partner, Officer Johnson. They were instructed to follow Mr. and Mrs. Malone and to report on their observations.”
“Thank you. Please read aloud the marked passages on pages three and four of the report.”
“One fifty-one p.m.—Mr. and Mrs. Malone left their apartment. Mrs. Malone wore white dress and shoes, sunglasses, carried purse. Three reporters attempted to get her attention (Daily News, Tribune, third unknown). Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Malone spoke to or acknowledged them. Mr. and Mrs. Malone entered vehicle parked directly in front of building, identified as Mr. Malone’s car. Mr. Malone in driver’s seat. Drove east along 72nd Drive, north on 150th Street, and then proceeded west along 72nd Road and turned onto Main Street.
“Two oh nine p.m.—vehicle parked on Main Street. Mrs. Malone exited vehicle and entered store. Mr. Malone remained in car and lit cigarette.”
Scott: “Objection. These details are irrelevant.”
Hirsch, quickly, smoothly: “I’m coming to the crux of it, Your Honor.”
The judge waved at Devlin to continue.
“Officers made decision not to pursue Mrs. Malone. Mr. Malone waiting in car indicated her intention to return.
“At two forty-one p.m., Mrs. Malone emerged from store wearing a black dress and carrying bag with Debonair Doll on it in silver lettering.”
Devlin paused and raised his eyes.
“There’s a note here—shall I read that?”
“Please do, Sergeant.”
“Inquiry by Officer Bresnick July fifteenth established Debonair Doll is a dress shop at sixty-one Main Street, Queens, New York, one one three six seven. Proprietor Miss Dorothea Lister.”
Devlin looked up again and Hirsch nodded at him to continue.
“Officer Johnson exited the patrol vehicle and proceeded in the direction of Mr. Malone’s car. His statement is attached.”
Hirsch interrupted. “Officer Johnson’s statement is Exhibit 34c. Please read that to the court.”
There was a soft rustle of paper as the jury scrambled to find the next part of the story in their own copies.
“Mrs. Malone approached her husband’s car at approximately two forty-two p.m. on the afternoon of July fifteenth. As she drew near, he leaned out of the window and called to her, ‘Come on honey, we need to hurry now.’
“I was near enough to hear her response which was given in a lower voice.
“ ‘I know that, Frank. You think I don’t know that? If we’re late, we’re late. This was important. I have to look right, I have to—’
“At this point, the suspect stopped speaking and bent her head. I was unable to see her face clearly due to the dark glasses she was wearing.
“Mr. Malone opened his car door but she waved him away and got into the car on the passenger side. Mr. Malone started the engine and the car exited the parking lot and headed north. The car arrived at St. Michael’s Church at approximately two fifty-four p.m., at which point surveillance of Officers Bresnick and Johnson ceased and that of Officers Schwartz and Goldstein at the funeral home took over.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Devlin. To confirm, this report details the observed activities of Mrs. Malone on July fifteenth—that is, the day after the children disappeared and the day after the body of her daughter was found strangled?”
“Yes sir. That’s correct.”
“No further questions, Your Honor.”
But none of that told how it was.
She stood in the hall, looking at her white dress in the mirror. Smoothing the skirt again and again, focusing on the cleanness of it, the unspoiled evenness. Smoothing away the memory of the day before: the dirt on her daughter’s face. The stink. The terror.
Frank watched her from the doorway of the living room.
“Come on, honey. You look fine. We should go to church. It’ll help.”