Hi! My apologies for such a long time between postings.
~D
CHAPTER 10
"What a circus," Perry muttered under his breath, fingers tightening protectively on Della's elbow.
The preliminary hearing for murder suspect/pop star Kaitlynn Parrish had brought out television reporters in droves, most accompanied by gaudily painted panel vans crammed with portable broadcasting equipment and manned by myriad camera and sound personnel. Police had formed a perimeter to keep the intrusive paparazzi reporters, news teams, shrieking fans, and gawkers as far away from the arriving defendant, her family, and her famous attorney as possible, but not far enough away to suit Perry Mason.
While his cases customarily attracted attention, the number of media outlets represented was daunting, and the famous attorney was in no mood to deal with them. He hadn't minded posing for still photographs many years ago, usually with Della by his side much like at this moment, then combing through the newspapers the next day to find the published photo, but he didn't like seeing himself on 'live' film. Della kept a scrapbook of every photo and article about him, as well as a library of tapes the television stations graciously handed over to her. He wasn't particularly looking forward to viewing the film festival of tapes Della would collect in connection to this case.
Kaitlynn, her parents, and Gary Hawkes were a tight-knit little group as they made their way from the chauffeured car Della had arranged to transport them to and from court, faces somber, heads bowed. Considering how many television vans disrupted traffic by taking advantage of their media passes, Perry was thankful she had thought of it. What he wasn't pleased with was the family's expressions and body language, especially after specifically instructing them to appear confident in public. He would have to talk to them again. Or better yet, he would have Ken pull Max aside and remind him of appearances, since suddenly no one in the family seemed to want to listen to him.
Case in point: a phone call at ten o'clock from Kaitlynn to sternly revisit her wish for him not to "throw her father under the bus" in order to advance his defense of her; a call from Max at ten forty-five pleading to be sacrificed if necessary to get Kaitlynn acquitted; and a call from Laura at nearly midnight inquiring about what she should wear and if he would be escorting her into court – alongside Kaitlynn, that is. He had ready reassurances for Kaitlynn and Max, but for Laura had nothing but annoyance, and unfortunately let it show as she objected to his apparel suggestion as well as his recommendation that she enter the courtroom with her family, head held high. Della, lying on her side with her head propped on several pillows, had raised expressive eyebrows in silent inquiry about his tone of voice. He had merely shrugged, turned out the light, and gathered her into his arms with what he hoped sounded like a contented sigh.
Laura Parrish had completely ignored his advice to wear a dark-colored tailored suit, and instead wore a wide-legged pantsuit of golden beige jersey fabric that left little to the imagination. At a party he would have complimented her, but the outfit, complete with gold necklaces and bracelets, was not at all appropriate to attend the first day of her daughter's preliminary hearing for murder. Petite Kaitlynn, appropriately sedate in a nicely cut suit and fashionably youthful chunky earrings, was completely overwhelmed by her mother's flamboyancy.
Perry didn't remember Laura this way. Her golden blonde hair was cut in the very same bob from twenty-five years ago, but gone were the conservative skirts, sweater twinsets, kitten heels and ubiquitous strand of pearls. This Laura, who wore trendy clothing and too much jewelry, confused him. Had moving from Virginia, a state known for charming southern tradition, to the progressive hodge-podge that was California changed her that much?
He looked down at Della, and his irritation ebbed. She was resplendent in a meticulously tailored collarless black suit and white blouse. Her jewelry consisted of a multi-colored crystal necklace looped three times around her neck, nestled in the soft folds of the impeccably draped blouse. The necklace was old, the culmination of a ridiculously romantic plan to sweep her off her feet that had been powerful enough to bring her back to him following several days of emotional wallops. That she still wore the necklace over thirty years later was a testament to her resiliency and her devotion to their relationship.
He would like to kiss her for luck, with a dozen news cameras pointed at them, although it wasn't about him or Della and their personal life, or Max, or even Laura today. It was about Kaitlynn, and clearing her of murder. That's where his concentration needed to be. A last-minute kiss would be nice, but he had sat in courtrooms with Della for all these years, so lovely and poised, and performed spectacularly, and today would be no different, because she would be with him.
There was such a crowd in the courtroom that he lost track of the Parrish family as he guided Della to the Defense table, until out of seemingly nowhere, Kaitlynn, wide-eyed and struggling not to let her shaky emotions show, appeared at his side. He seated Della, and then Kaitlynn. As he pulled his own seat away from the table, Perry surreptitiously watched Della reach out and squeeze Kaitlynn's trembling hand, marveling at the heart-felt sympathy and empathy she could offer the young woman. He wouldn't have held it against her if she maintained a distance with Kaitlynn, but that wasn't Della's way. When she liked someone, she could overlook what was difficult for her to make that person feel better. When she didn't like someone, well...look out.
He opened his briefcase and laid all of Della's perfectly typed, double-spaced notes in front of him, and fingered the folders for all witnesses on Assistant DA Robert Norrell's list and extracted one for Dr. David Stone, the first name on the list. He hadn't faced ADA Robert Norrell in court before, but many years of experience had taught him that the People liked to identify the deceased and establish manner of death crack out of the gate by examining the medical examiner of record.
And that is exactly what Robert Norrell, a folksy attorney originally from West Virginia, did by calling Dr. David Stone, who so emphatically declared Lon Hawkes had been killed by a left-handed person after a brief examination of the body.
"Dr. Stone," Robert Norrell began with a slight Southern accent, "would you please detail what you observed when called to the home of Maxwell Parrish on the day in question."
Dr. Stone, tall and slender with thinning black hair, adjusted his rimless glasses and glanced at a notebook. "I observed a deceased male who had been stabbed. The complete autopsy revealed recent contusions to the face and throat of the victim, and a single penetrating wound in the mid-thoracic region eight centimeters deep resulting in a laceration of the superior vena cava vein."
Robert Norrell held up his hands and turned slightly to the gallery of spectators.
Dr. Stone smiled. "In layman's terms, the victim suffered a stab wound to the heart."
The ADA lowered his hands. "Did you determine anything in particular about this stab wound to the heart, Dr. Stone?"
The coroner nodded earnestly. "I did. The wound was most likely inflicted by a left-hand individual."
"At this time, You Honor, I would like it stipulated that the Defendant, Kaitlynn Mae Parrish, is left-handed."
Judge Charles Kimbrel swung inquiring eyes to Perry Mason. "Mr. Mason?"
Perry replied without looking up. "So stipulated, Your Honor."
Robert Norrell seated himself, never taking his eyes off of opposing counsel. "Your witness, Mr. Mason."
Perry finally looked up from the coroner's file. "Dr. Stone, would you please tell us about the contusions you found on the victim's body."
"I found two – one on the jaw, and another on the throat."
"And were these recent bruises inflicted say...within an hour prior to death?"
"I assumed they were inflicted during the fight that interrupted the wedding."
"Do you always engage in such speculation when investigating a murder?" Perry Mason asked, but left no opportunity for the coroner to respond before posing his next question. "If the fight you refer to at the wedding was in fact just a single punch to the jaw, would that change your opinion about the bruise on the victim's neck?"
Dr. Stone stroked his jaw. "Yes, it would. Indeed it would."
Perry Mason tapped a pen on the paperwork in front of him. "Could we not then posit that the bruise on the victim's throat could be the result of a later struggle, perhaps between the victim and his killer? Or even an altercation right before the victim interrupted his nephew's wedding?"
"We could make that assumption, yes."
Perry smiled. "Do you always make so many assumptions when conducting autopsies, Dr. Stone?" Again he allowed no time for the coroner to reply. "Would you please describe the bruise you found on Lon Hawkes's throat."
Dr. Stone wiped his brow with a folded handkerchief as he glanced down at his notebook. "It was about three inches long and a quarter of an inch wide."
"About this long and wide," Perry said, demonstrating on the outside of his left hand. "In your experience, Doctor, would such a bruise be consistent with a violent karate blow?"
The coroner hesitated a moment before answering. "Yes. Yes, it would."
At that moment there was a slight commotion in the spectator gallery as Hannah Hawkes stood and exited the courtroom. Perry Mason watched as the heavy door closed on her retreating back before returning his attention to the witness stand.
"Exactly where was the bruise located, Dr. Stone?"
Dr. Stone indicated the location on his neck. "Here, just to the right of the Adam's apple."
"Could the bruise have been caused by a karate blow?"
"I said I suppose it could have been."
"No, Doctor, you said it would have been consistent with a violent karate blow," Perry reminded him.
Dr. Stone remained silent, and mopped his brow again.
"Based on the location of the bruise, would such a blow have to be delivered by a right-handed person?"
"Well, not necessarily."
"Not necessarily? So, was the killer left-handed or right-handed...or don't you know?"
Robert Norrell sprang to his feet. "Right-handed or left-handed, Lon Hawkes could have gotten that bruise before he arrived at the wedding."
Perry Mason turned his entire imposing body toward the ADA. "You're the one who made a point that my client is left-handed, Mr. Norrell."
No amiable Southern charm was evident in Robert Norrell's reply. "And you had no hesitation in stipulating that fact. Save the games for the jury trial, Mr. Mason. This is just a preliminary hearing. All I have to do is show probable cause and that's exactly what I'm going to do."
Perry Mason bowed in the direction of the ADA. "Mr. Norrell, all I have to do is present alternate scenarios, and that is exactly what I am going to do."
Laura Parrish, seated directly behind her daughter in the front row of the spectator gallery, let out a small exclamation. "He's wonderful," she whispered, eyes following every movement Perry Mason made.
Della nearly groaned audibly.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Your mother married our father."
Dumbfounded by both the fact that it was her brother calling her at the office combined with the unexpected announcement, she pulled the receiver away from her ear and stared at it.
"Della Katherine?"
She slowly brought the receiver back to her ear. "I'm here. When...?"
"Yesterday. They were married at City Hall right before five o'clock, went out to dinner with Lawrence and Sarah Allensworth, and went to the house, where I found your mother in the kitchen this morning wearing almost nothing but a gold wedding band."
She pulled a pearl clip earring from her lobe and dropped it on top of a fraud lawsuit defaced by Perry's bold handwriting. This was going to be a lengthy call. "Did you know they were seeing each other?" She spoke weekly with her sister-in-law but Henny had not once mentioned that Jameson Street and Eve Sherwood Street Akers Wyman had contact outside of stockholder meetings for Milliron Corrugated.
"Nobody knew. Not even Henny, and she's the one who's had the most contact with your mother since Bitty died."
Common thought had been that following the dramatic dissolution of her former mother-in-law's estate Eve would leave and never return. But she had stayed when the only mother she had ever known fell suddenly ill, caring for her in between sporadic voluntary committals to the small psychiatric hospital in the next town.
"This is the last thing I expected to hear after almost four years. I thought they were both done with marriage. The money Grandma Bitty left her must have run out."
Carter replied with combination sigh and snort. "She says he's wonderful and he swept her off her feet."
"Her mental problems appear to be getting worse." Sometimes the inappropriateness of her sense of humor shocked her.
"Or Father has gone crazy along with her."
She had to laugh, because Carter rarely recognized or attempted humor. "She's crazy like a fox, Carter. Father is a handsome, wealthy man. She's made a career of marrying handsome, wealthy men."
"I do not want to think about that."
"He's also a smart businessman. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize the mill, if that's what's worrying you."
"I'm not worried about the mill. I'm worried about..." her brother's voice trailed off.
"I know," she said quietly. As emphatically as she maintained her brother was a corrugated cardboard cutout and not a real human being, she knew that beneath the judgment and concern for appearances he cared about his family. "If it helps, Perry told me that once they had genuine feelings for one another."
"How does Mason know that?"
"Father told him. Have you ever asked him anything about how he feels?"
"Have you?" Carter challenged. He was quiet for a moment. "What if Eve runs away again? When he was younger he handled everything that happened...but he's almost seventy now."
"Yes, he is. Old enough to know what he wants."
"But he's –"
"Carter, it's nice that you're worried about Father, but I think all we can do is congratulate him, and stand back while he lives his life."
"That's a very California attitude to take," Carter groused, "considering how he disapproves of your relationship with Mason."
"If you mean my attitude is open-minded and accepting, then thank you, because my initial reaction was that it's dumb."
Finally she was making sense. "It is dumb."
"We have to let them be dumb, then. They have a right to be happy, and if being married makes them happy, we don't have any right to judge them."
"It's all about being happy for you, isn't it?"
"Life is too short to be unhappy, Carter. Or judgmental."
"And I suppose you're deliriously happy sneaking around with Mason?"
She knew eventually the conversation would come around to her relationship with Perry. By mentioning his name she had probably steered her brother in that direction sooner rather than later. There were two choices: begin debating her life with Carter or hang up. "Perry has a full calendar of appointments, and I've got a pile of important documents in front of me that have to go out today. I'll call Henny later and if you want to talk more, we will."
"Nice little side-step, Della Katherine." Carter was no fool. "Maybe you should call and congratulate the happy couple as well, since you're so thrilled for them."
"I wouldn't say I'm thrilled," she retorted. "I just don't think we have the right to tell our almost seventy-year-old father how to live his life."
"Even if he's making a mistake? You know your mother is..."
"I know what my mother is," she said irritably. "Let me leave you with this, Carter: a lot of people think Henny made a mistake by marrying you." She firmly placed the receiver back into the cradle.
He found her staring at the telephone on her desk, brow furrowed, lips pursed, oblivious to the fact that he had buzzed her on the intercom three times. "Is it going to do a trick?"
She jerked her head up suddenly and blinked several times. "Huh?"
He raised a hip and sat on the edge of her desk. "The phone. Is it going to do a back flip off the desk? You're totally absorbed."
Her smile was brief. "Nooo. I was trying to decide if I should call my brother back. I said something to him I regret."
Perry glanced at his watch, worry suddenly making the little hairs at the back of his neck prickle. "It's only eight a.m. there. Is everything all right?"
"It depends if you think it's all right that my father and mother remarried yesterday."
"Each other?"
She snickered. "Yes. Each other."
"Well, well, well. That was unexpected."
"To say the least. Carter isn't pleased."
"Are you pleased?"
She frowned. "Not particularly. But they can do whatever they want. He's almost seventy, and she's...nineteen years older than me."
He grinned broadly. "Sure, at those ages they can do whatever they want. But what do you think about it?"
She drew her eyebrows together slowly and sighed. "I have a lot of thoughts about it. A lot of conflicting thoughts."
He reached down and took hold of the index finger on her left hand. "How about after our last appointment we grab some chicken Cantonese, go to your place, and you tell me all about those conflicting thoughts."
She looked up at him with misty eyes. "That would be wonderful."
