“That’s called narrowcasting,” Annie corrects me.
Jesus. “Okay, but you know what I mean. The judge has only allowed six pool reporters into the courtroom, and they can only make audiotapes for their records, not for broadcast.”
She shrugs and looks back at the television, but I sense that her attention has not left me.
8:55 a.m. Shad questioning M.E. n detail bout why adrenaline injected. Complicated. Going to record voices on my dictation recorder. U listen later.
For the next few minutes no texts come in, and anxiety begins to rise in me. Not only because of Quentin’s apparent unwillingness to act like a lawyer, but also because Carl should have called by now. Glancing back into the kitchen I see Serenity sitting with an arm around Dolores’s shuddering shoulders. Tee looks at me and shakes her head. I decide to give Carl one more minute.
My mind shifts straight back to the trial. In his opening statement Shad offered no explanation for why Dad would have chosen adrenaline to kill Viola if he botched the morphine injection. Convincing the jury that this was a plausible choice under the circumstances is critical to Shad’s case, and as a former prosecutor, I can see problems with it. But there’s no point in speculating. If Rusty succeeds in his covert recording, I’ll hear Shad’s examination of the pathologist soon enough.
My phone vibrates powerfully in my hand, signaling an incoming call. Checking the LCD I see carl sims. A premonition of death passes over me, leaving a sense of dread behind.
“Hello?” I say quietly.
“Penn, I’m at Mrs. Booker’s and it’s not good.”
“Tell me,” I whisper, having struggled mightily not to say, Is she dead?
“I found the old lady lying on the ground beside her porch. She’s alive but unresponsive. Looks like a fall to me. Serious head trauma.”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by horror and guilt. “That was no fall,” I whisper. “That’s a crime scene, Carl.”
“I’m afraid you’re right. I’ve got paramedics on the way, so I’m about to be real busy. Can you inform the St. Denis woman?”
“Yes. She’s right here.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“Thanks. We’ll talk later.”
Hanging up the phone, I quietly ask Annie and Mia if they’ll go downstairs and give me some time to talk to “Mrs. Dolores.” They know instantly that something terrible has happened, and I couldn’t have concealed it no matter what I told them. As they walk into the hall, Mia looks back at me with her lips closed tight. Beyond her, I see Annie raise a hand to the back of her head and pull at the hair there.
Any hope I had of breaking the news gently is shattered when I turn back to the kitchen. The second Dolores St. Denis sees my face, she begins to shriek.
Ten minutes later, we’ve gotten a Valium down her throat and Drew Elliott is on the way. At first Dolores wanted to drive straight to Athens Point, but we convinced her she could accomplish nothing there, except putting her own life at grave risk. Somehow Serenity convinced her to lie down upstairs. After they went up, I sat in the kitchen waiting for Drew and reading Rusty’s texts as they arrived from the courthouse. When I wasn’t trying to work out what hidden logic might lie behind Quentin’s seemingly incompetent behavior, I began to realize that I’m going to have to bring John Kaiser into the Dolores situation, whether she wants me to or not. But that can wait until Drew examines her.
Meanwhile, the ping of my cell phone has become my Pavlovian master.
9:07 a.m. Shad just tendered the witness. Quentin said No questions. He apparently doesn’t intend to cross-examine the pathologist. WTF?
WTF indeed. No competent defense lawyer would let the autopsy findings go unchallenged, especially since several aspects of the postmortem offered fertile lines of inquiry.
9:11 a.m. Shad called Cora Revels to the stand.
9:13 a.m. Cora explaining she’s Viola’s sister, describing childhood. Compelling witness.
At 9:18 Tim Weathers escorts Drew into the house, and I gratefully direct him upstairs. I’m happy to see an old-school black bag hanging from his right hand, because it offers the promise of effective sedation. There’s nothing like having doctors “in the family.” After Drew and I separate, I return to my text updates like someone watching a slow-motion disaster.
9:19 a.m. Cora affirms existence of asst. suicide pact. Q. doesnt object on hearsay grounds. Id at least object and make judge overrule. I got a bad feeling about Q, man . . .
The rules governing so-called hearsay evidence are complex; some scholars believe they exist to prevent a defendant from being accused of crimes without being able to confront his accuser. The exceptions to hearsay are several, but any good lawyer would have objected to Cora’s statement so that the issue could be preserved for review on appeal to a higher court. By Quentin’s failure to object, Dad loses that right. So the question is . . . what the fuck is Quentin doing sitting on his ass like a brown Buddha?
9:22 a.m. Cora establishes your father in her house that night. She went to nearby neighbor’s house to rest. Often did that. Left Tom alone with V, that night n others.
9:25 a.m. Cora says V’s son Lincoln was on way from Chicago that night. Says she told Tom Lincoln was close to Natz, but didn’t tell V. Cora didn’t want Tom to go thru with pact while Lincoln on way home. Didn’t want Tom and Lncln to meet 1st time over Viola’s dead body.
9:28 a.m. Next thing C remembers is getting call from Tom asking how V doing. C trotted home & found V dead. She thought then the pact had been fulfilled, even tho Tom acted like V was alive when he left.
9:31 a.m. Cora had mixed feelings about asst. suicide pact. Religious guilt. She Catholic like V. Cora claims Lincoln was coming because she told him death was close, but nothing about death pact b4 L arrived. Shit, my fingers spazzing out. I may call you and sit here with the line open.
I type: Can you do that w/o getting caught?
9:34 a.m. Less obvious than txting. U may not be able to hear tho. Let’s test it in a bit. Still text 4 now
I hear Drew’s heavy tread descending the stairs. I meet him in the hall, and I can see instantly that the news isn’t good.
“Well?” I prompt him.
“Mrs. St. Denis is going to need a psychiatric consult. She’s been living with a repressed trauma for decades, as I’m sure you know. The assault on her mother-in-law has triggered an unbearable level of terror and guilt. I think she’s a suicide risk, Penn. I sedated her. She doesn’t seem to have any family she feels comfortable having handle this. I met Serenity, and Dolores seems to trust her, but that’s no long-term solution. Do you have any sort of plan?”