Chapter 13
Robert Norrell called Hannah Hawkes to the stand. The future sister-in-law of Kaitlynn Parrish looked pale and nervous as she slowly walked toward the witness stand.
"Uncle Perry," Kaitlynn whispered urgently. "You need to know something Gary told me about Hannah and their Uncle Lon..."
Perry squeezed her arm, and held up one of Della's very thorough dossiers. "I already know."
Robert Norrell cleared his throat. "Miss Hawkes, the Defendant is engaged to marry your brother Gary Hawkes, is she not?"
Hannah adjusted her skirt, clearly uncomfortable on the stand. "Yes."
"Your Honor, the People request permission to regard this witness as hostile."
Judge Macauley frowned slightly. "Permission granted."
"At the time Lon Hawkes was knocked down at the wedding, you were standing beside your brother Gary Hawkes and the Defendant, were you not?"
Hannah looked like she might be ill, tried to reply, but could say nothing.
"Your Honor, would you direct the witness to answer the question?"
Judge Macauley leaned forward. "You are under oath, Miss Hawkes," he chastised, sternly. "Answer the question."
Hannah swallowed uncomfortably. "Yes, that's where I was standing."
"And what did you hear Kaitlynn Parrish say regarding her feelings toward your uncle Lon Hawkes?"
The witness swallowed again, clearly in distress. "She said 'I could kill him'."
Robert Norrell couldn't suppress a smirk. "No further questions."
"People say and do things all the time they don't mean and later regret," Hannah said almost desperately.
Robert Norrell let his self-satisfied smirk be seen by the entire gallery of spectators as he turned slowly toward the Defense table. "Your witness, Counselor."
Della still wasn't on board with Perry's strategy to expose Hannah Hawkes's sad, violent history with her uncle on the witness stand, considering a last-minute discovery about another person close to the Parrish family that could take the case in an entirely different direction. If for the sake of expedience it could be stipulated that the victim was an abhorrent human being, a lot of personal pain might be avoided, and she wouldn't be so upset, but unfortunately, Lady Justice frowned upon putting the victim on trial.
"Miss Hawkes," Perry Mason, standing at the Defense table, began in his most urbane manner, "may I call you Hannah?"
As awed by the legendary attorney cross-examining her as she was frightened by the amiable District Attorney, the witness couldn't reply immediately. Finally she found her voice. "Yes – yes, of course."
"Hannah, isn't it true that you once tried to kill Lon Hawkes?"
Hannah blinked furiously. "No."
"Hannah, didn't you try to stab your Uncle Lon three years ago with a kitchen knife?" He pressed on without a reply, before Norrell could object. "Your brother stopped you, but if he hadn't...Hannah, Gary doesn't know why you did it, but I believe I do." His voice as low and kind, and every single person in the courtroom was completely silent, straining to hear his words. Even Robert Norrell seemed enthralled.
"I – I don't know what you mean." This man was her hero, the type of attorney every law student aspired to be. His cases were regularly used in criminal law courses, and although she had studied many of them thoroughly, she was not prepared for the mesmerizing blue eyes; the expressive voice; the daunting presence of the man in person.
Perry Mason sat down. Being tall, broad-shouldered, and possessing what had oft been described as granite-like features, he knew that if he remained standing Norrell would likely object on the grounds of intimidation. "You disappeared for three years," he said gently. "You didn't call, didn't in any way communicate with your brother. Hannah, why don't you at last tell everyone what happened to make you try to kill your uncle."
Hannah Hawkes stared at Perry Mason, emotions swinging between betrayal and relief. It would feel so good to finally tell the truth. She took a deep breath. "Uncle Lon beat me. He beat me so severely that...that an ambulance was called."
Perry lowered his head momentarily in sympathy. "Your uncle was a violent man."
Robert Norrell leapt to his feet. "Objection, Your Honor! The victim is not on trial."
He should be, Della thought crossly, tiny frown lines appearing between her eyes at what she considered short-sightedness of the law in regard to this case. If ever a murder victim deserved to be put on trial, Lon Hawkes was that victim. She almost hoped Perry would concede to Norrell and end his cross-examination of Hannah, although she knew there was more he wanted from Hannah Hawkes.
"Your Honor," Perry said imperturbably, "since this witness is considered hostile, I request the widest possible attitude in order to get at the truth."
"Objection overruled." Judge Macauley leaned toward a distraught Hannah Hawkes. "Answer Mr. Mason's question, Miss Hawkes."
"He, um, he could be very violent, especially if he'd been drinking. He fractured my jaw and dislocated my shoulder. I spent two days in the hospital."
"You must have hated him," Perry Mason said sympathetically, half expecting an objection that he was leading the witness. "And yet, you kept what happened a secret."
Hannah looked very small and fragile on the witness stand while trying to maintain her composure. "I did. I hated him. But I never told anyone what he'd done to me. Not even my brother."
"Why not, Hannah?"
"Because Uncle Lon frightened me. You have no idea what it feels like to be that afraid of someone."
Perry let Hannah's words settle over the courtroom for a few seconds before speaking. "So three years ago you left home and stayed away until this past March when Lon Hawkes was sentenced to prison for assault."
"Yes. I thought I was finally safe."
"When you saw him at your brother's wedding, did you still hate him?"
Hannah sat up straight in the witness chair. "More than you can imagine," she replied firmly.
"Enough to kill him?"
"I wanted to, and I honestly think I could have." She held her idol's gaze, fully aware of what she had just admitted under oath and what Perry Mason was trying to accomplish with this line of questioning, "But I didn't. And neither did Kaitlynn."
Perry looked down at his notes, then up at the Hannah Hawkes, granite features softened by sincere sympathy. "No further questions, your Honor."
Judge Macauley nodded toward Robert Norrell. "Any re-direct, Mr. Norell?"
The District Attorney was still smirking. "No, Your Honor."
'In that case, Court is recessed thirty minutes."
"I can call Max and cancel. We haven't had time alone in weeks."
She pulled the turbaned towel off her head and shook out damp curls, which had always driven him mad with desire. "No, you've cancelled dinner with him twice already. And besides, I have to make an appearance at the Gordon Foundation fundraiser."
They were together so little lately that any time not spent completely alone sent them back to their respective cities dissatisfied and unfulfilled. In the first year of his judicial duties, they spent every weekend, holiday, and vacation together. By year three it was every other weekend, July 4th, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, and each took vacations without the other. It was now late in year four and the end of Harvey's original appointment tenure was nearing, but their busy schedules and separate commitments often made being together frustratingly difficult.
He appeared in the bathroom doorway, expertly knotting his tie and securing a gold bar without benefit of a mirror. She liked it when he wore tie bars and flashy cuff links. "How about Max and I go with you to the fundraiser? You could finally meet him."
"You would be bored silly, and I won't be able to spend much time with you."
"Max and I can catch up just as easily at a boring fundraiser as we can at a restaurant," he pointed out. Even if she couldn't be by his side the entire night, he could at least see her, admire her, be ridiculously proud of her. There was a time that it didn't matter how many people were around, they still felt alone in their world together. How times had changed.
She placed her hand on his freshly shaved cheek. "No, you said you and Max have lots of things to talk about. Tell you what I'll do – I'll develop a headache and leave early enough for us to..."
"To what?" She smelled marvelous fresh out of the shower, and he nearly ripped off his newly knotted tie and dropped her to the floor. How long had it been since they'd been rambunctious on anything but a bed? A year? Yes, almost exactly a year from the night he'd shown up at her house by surprise and wantonly taken her against the cool, hard surface of the front door with a ravenous longing that left them spent and speechless.
"To have fun," she finished in a sexy whisper, trailing her fingers down his cheek as she ducked away from his attempt to embrace her. "None of that, Your Honor! We have obligations."
"Damn obligations," he groused. He had never felt so unsettled and unfulfilled, not even during the two years they spent dancing around physical intimacy at the beginning of their relationship. They were always in a hurry lately, running from one work-related event to the other either in Los Angeles or San Francisco with little or no time to enjoy one another.
"I know," she said sympathetically, even though her eyes sparkled with whimsy, "it stinks being an adult."
"Seriously, Della. I'll call Max and push dinner back thirty minutes."
She raised one eyebrow. "Only thirty minutes?"
His smile was quick and boyish. "An appetizer."
She wanted an appetizer, Lord how she wanted it! The fundraiser would be almost tolerable if she wasn't lusting so mightily for Perry. Dang that tie bar. "Two hours, darling. Two hours and we can have a full meal."
"I really don't like when we talk in metaphors." He turned and strode toward the bedroom door.
"You started it," she called after him.
"Two hours!" he bellowed, feet pounding heavily on the stairs.
Tears unexpectedly welled in her eyes when the front door slammed. Thirty minutes. She couldn't take thirty minutes from yet another Gordon Foundation fundraiser to make the most important person in her life happy. Not to mention herself. What was wrong with her?
She squeezed into a slightly scandalous dress Perry enjoyed taking off of her and was ready to head downstairs when the telephone rang. Seriously tempted to let it ring, she had one foot on the top step when she abruptly turned and hurried back into the bedroom. "Hello," she almost sang, half expecting it to be Perry calling to say 'two hours', and hanging up.
But it was a woman's voice on the other end of the line, smooth and low, with a soft Southern accent. "Oh...hello. I'm not sure I have...is Perry there?"
"No, I'm afraid he's out. May I take a message?" Perry's official Los Angeles address was still the downtown apartment, which was subleased to a college friend since his move to San Francisco, and he gave out her telephone number when he would be in Los Angeles. The woman didn't sound like either Eileen or Linda, his legal assistant and law clerk respectively, or even either of the female judges on the Appellate bench, both of whom had very loud, boisterous voices.
"Oh," the woman repeated, "I was hoping to catch him. I called my husband's hotel...my husband is Max Parrish. I'm Laura Parrish. And you are...?"
"I-I'm Della Street, Perry's..."
"Oh! You're Perry's secretary! He's mentioned you."
Her entire body stiffened. Perry had 'mentioned' her? "No, I'm no longer Perry's secretary..."
"Oh, that's right! You stayed in Los Angeles when Perry became a judge. Now I remember." In the background a young girl's voice could be heard, obviously whining, obviously vexed. "Excuse me, Miss Street..."
She couldn't hear much of the muffled conversation, just enough to figure out that the young girl wanted to go somewhere and her mother wasn't inclined to allow her to, in a very harsh tone.
"I must apologize, Miss Street. I'm the world's meanest mother right now because I don't think a fifteen-year-old...no, she's not fifteen yet...she was born on February 12th, exactly nine months and one week after Perry left Georgetown...Kaitlynn Mae! Stop whining right now or I'll hang up and you definitely won't go to that party. To your room, young lady. March!"
She listened silently as teenage Kaitlynn Mae Parrish protested and her mother commanded her to leave the room repeatedly. Finally, she heard stomping footsteps and a slamming door.
"I apologize again, Miss Street," Laura Parrish's smooth voice was contrite. "It's difficult bringing up my daughter virtually alone in Virginia since my husband spends so much time in California."
"Your daughter's name is lovely," she said sincerely, excruciatingly uncomfortable with the entire conversation.
Laura Parrish laughed. "I heard the name somewhere when I was a child and never forgot it. Her middle name caused a lot of arguments until Perry insisted it should be Mae."
Her legs gave out and she sat down hard on the bed. Of course Perry would choose Mae, because it was the perfect one-syllable name, and one-syllable names were meant to be middle names. Aunt Mae always said so. "It is a lovely name."
"I didn't necessarily want children, but when I found out I was expecting, the baby became the most important thing in the world to me. My pregnancy brought the baby's father and me so much closer together. Kaitlynn adores her father, and he adores her, even though he can't spend as much time with her as he'd like."
"That's nice."
"Yes," Laura Parrish bubbled on, "her father is a busy man, but he always does something special for her."
"Mrs. Parrish, I'm late for a function..."
"Oh! I've been prattling on about my little darling and you've been such a dear to listen. Do you know where I might be able to reach Perry... and my husband? I thought they might be at Perry's perfectly lovely bachelor apartment..."
"Perry hasn't lived in that apartment for several years," she said dully. Being clubbed by innuendo was brutal and she needed to insert a bit of her own.
"Oh, that's a shame. It was such a nice apartment. So masculine – just like the man who lived there."
"Mrs. Parrish, I can give you the phone number of the restaurant where Perry and your husband are having dinner. It's an Italian place called Luigi's..."
"That would be marvelous, Miss Street! I'm afraid my husband will need to decide whether or not she can attend this party she's been invited to."
She slowly gave the phone number to Luigi's and Laura Parrish repeated it. "Perry left late and won't be there for another few minutes, but your husband might be there already."
"I'll wait for Perry to get there before I call. He likes to be part of these skirmishes with Kaitlynn. It's been a pleasure speaking with you, Miss Street. Perry has spoken highly of you."
She couldn't say the same about Laura Parrish, because Perry never spoke of her except in passing as his friend Max Parrish's wife. Most likely because she'd told him she didn't want to know anything about the woman who had been in his apartment that awful night five days after he came home from Georgetown.
Exactly nine months and one week before Kaitlynn Mae Parrish was born.
