Note: And the preliminary hearing begins! You will see subtle differences that I believe make a huge difference in the plot, because there just wasn't away I could relegate the hearing to descriptive asides or reduce it to a few paragraphs. I hope there is enough new material to keep the next two chapters from dragging for you readers.
My undying and heartfelt thanks to StartWriting for her knowledge and wisdom and creative talent.
TCOT Absurd Assumption C19
Perry drove to court Monday by himself, leaving the house twenty minutes before everyone else because he claimed he needed to stop by the office to pick up something. He didn't, and Della knew he didn't, and tried not to show any anxiety over his avoidance of being alone with her. He had been distant and distracted off and on over the weekend, which hadn't stopped him from flexing his freedom in regard to the disposed of Article III and kissing her goodnight, but something was definitely off-kilter, and she wondered what it was he was hiding from her. It would be simple to attribute his standoffishness on Paul being a.w.o.l., on her tears, on a house full of people quick to judge and blame, and on a looming return to the courtroom after an eight year absence. Gosh, what indeed was there to be distracted about?
But nothing about life currently was simple, and the Streets and the Masons were hiding their emotions from Della as well, emotions that revolved primarily around the competence of her attorney. Perry was a legend in his field, but they had never seen him in action, and would be lying if they didn't have nagging thoughts about his proficiency as an attorney after eight years wearing the robes of a judge. He was their younger brother and illegitimate brother-in-law, and the fate of someone else they loved dearly rested solely in his hands. They hoped he was more than just a glimmer of what he once professed to be, because they pretty much knew him only at his worst.
Della, as usual, appeared to be calm and unconcerned. The fact that her sister-in-law had complete trust in Perry despite his own intermittent battles with confidence quelled some of the queasiness Henny felt and she tried to convey that to Val, who looked gravely ill but insisted she was fine. Valerie's quiet strength won out over her husband's loud insistence that she stay at the house and rest instead of attending the hearing, steadily going about packing two inhalers and plenty of hankies and telling her husband he was mistaken if he thought he was going to keep her out of the courtroom to support the closest thing to a sister she had.
An undisturbed glassy surface hid profound turmoil in Della's house, and she wished everyone would treat her normally, not as someone with an unspeakable illness. Val more than anyone should have appreciated that and been her outspoken self, but mostly she regarded her brother-in-law's former secretary with worried eyes and remained silent.
And then there was the enormous chasm that was the absence of Perry, when Della needed his lopsidedly dimpled grin more than ever, needed his reassuring swagger and familiarity to reinforce her own strength at facing what the People of the State of California were about to throw at her. The ride to the Courtroom was the blurriest event of the last few days, tucked between Henny and Val in the back seat, conversation hushed and funereal. Della wanted to cry at the mute apprehension permeating the interior of the automobile, but once her feet hit the concrete steps of the Criminal Courts Building, she forgot who had driven her and why, and tried to steady herself for what lay in wait for her behind those glass doors.
Court was scheduled to convene at nine a.m., but due to the interest in Della's case, a crowd had begun gathering at seven-thirty. Court Officers stood sentinel at the main doors to control the crowd in the event it became unruly, and Henny fretted that they might not find seats in the courtroom.
Della was overwhelmed by the crowd, a great portion of whom she recognized. She assured Henny that there would be plenty of seats in the spectator gallery, as it appeared the crowd waited for her to arrive before entering the building. She wondered briefly if Perry had arrived yet, if he had slayed the dragon pursuing him so he could adequately defend her. Being steadfast, faithful, and loyal was her stock in trade as a legal secretary, but she could see how Perry's little pre-trial quirks could test a defendant.
It didn't help she knew that Perry was mad, seething inside, on the verge of exploding at Paul. Della sensed exactly what his state of mind was in regard to their private investigator and didn't mention the boy, but had been unable to hide the fact that she snuck calls to Paul's apartment all day Sunday. Perry caught her guiltily emerging from the den a couple of times but chose to ignore what she was doing for the sake of civility, and later wordlessly handed her the earring she had removed and left on the desk. She was on the verge of reluctantly admitting he should have hired a seasoned professional – perhaps an operative from the firm Johnson and Inskip had formed after Paul Sr.'s death. Damn the kid's irresponsible Lone Ranger attitude.
Years ago Perry would probably have gone to Acton himself, very possibly with her beside him, and they would have dug up the information themselves while Paul Sr. worked other angles. Della admitted she felt left out from the preparation of her case, and that was because Perry had deliberately limited her contributions to protect her, for not only were the people involved in the case proving dangerous, the murderer was undoubtedly someone she had interacted with on a daily basis, someone she might care for, and that would be a severe blow to her.
She took a deep breath and headed into the crowd. Maybe Perry was already inside, waiting for her.
But she knew better. He was behind her, in the on deck circle as it were, the distance between them not just metaphorical this time.
Extra security had been assigned to the courthouse for Della's preliminary hearing, and people mingled everywhere indoors and out, some who knew Della personally (Perry recognized former clients, friends, acquaintances, and a celebrity or two in the milling throng) and wanted to wish her well; some there for the thrill of participating however minutely in such a high-profile proceeding. Once inside the courtroom, having run the gauntlet of reporters and well-wishers without making a quotable comment, Perry heaved a sigh of relief.
The perspective of a judge, sitting on the raised bench, had never felt completely comfortable to Perry Mason. Being in the trenches as it were felt more natural and as he made his way to the Defense table, passing every person he suspected capable of hiring a man to kill another man, his step quickened and became more purposeful, especially when he saw Della seated not in the third chair at the table, but in the middle chair.
The Defendant's chair.
She had sat in the Defendant's chair once before*, a long time ago, accused as an accessory, Hamilton Burger publicly admitting it to be the only way to punish him for methods the DA considered 'unorthodox', 'spectacular', 'dramatic', 'bizarre', 'legal hocus-pocus', and most amusingly 'swashbuckling'. The belligerent, barrel-chested DA then admitted it bothered him that Perry's methods were also 'effective', but it wasn't so much what Perry did to win cases as it was how he did it that pissed him off enough to pursue charges against the attorney's most valued employee and threaten disbarment once his secretary was convicted. Which he had been unable to do. And that pissed him off even more.
Perry treated the entire incident as a nuisance, referring to it as a 'damn silly case', and cautioned Della not to talk to their relatives until it was over. Unworried about a positive outcome for his secretary, he had astoundingly asked for an immediate jury trial and waived examination and all challenges for the first twelve prospective jurors, playing a psychological trick on Hamilton Burger. He knew in doing so it would set the proceeding off on a wrong foot with the bombastic DA, who would not recognize the ploy for what it was and would expend copious amounts of hot air examining a greater number of prospective jurors than necessary. And it had worked out exactly as Perry surmised, to the detriment of Hamilton Burger's reputation. No officious DA was going to act like a petulant schoolyard bully with him. How he won his cases might irk both the police and the Prosecution, but that in and of itself didn't warrant their despicable behavior toward Della. He wasn't going to let either get away with it, and sitting a jury would only add to the gravitas of the thrashing he would deliver to the two arms of law enforcement misguided enough to provoke him in such a crass manner.
For her part, Della had been beautiful and stalwart, succumbing to nervousness only once during a soft, fuzzy moment on the dance floor of their favorite night club while waiting for the jury to return a verdict, which Perry bet her five dollars would come after only three hours of deliberation. He had made sure they participated in a whirlwind of activity in the days leading up to the trial, either in public or behind closed doors since her arraignment – they hadn't made love so much since the very first week they became lovers and were both pleasantly exhausted – and once she was acquitted after three hours and ten minutes of jury deliberation, whisked her off to a desert inn ostensibly to work uninterrupted on an important brief, but in reality to continue what Della termed their 'relentlessly debouched assignations' away from any reminder of the trial.
Then as now she was indescribably lovely and innocent, a victim of circumstantial evidence an unimaginative police force and an overreaching Prosecutor interpreted from absurdly wrong angles, ignoring glaring discrepancies and making sweeping assumptions all for the dubious distinction of besting the legend that was Perry Mason. He wasn't being arrogant or egotistical – it was just the way it was.
He should have made another bet with Della before leaving the house.
He should have done a lot of things before leaving the house.
They rarely spoke of that long-ago trial, and had not mentioned it since her arrest for the murder of Arthur Gordon, and when she was acquitted again, they would speak rarely of this trial. That was how they had always dealt with difficulties in their life together – Della's evolved version of running away from what hurt her.
There was much more at stake in this trial for a capital crime carrying a life sentence compared to charges of spiriting a witness for which she most likely would have received a suspended sentence had there been any chance of conviction. Disbarment was threatened but unlikely, and in the event Hamilton Burger's charges resulted in him being disbarred, he would have found another career. Maybe become a detective. Paul Drake would have hated that.
Knowing that, Perry may still have pursued the life of a PI. Not to upset his friend, but as a way of finding another path toward adventure. If he could make the stodgy practice of law exciting, just think what he could have done for the profession of private investigator.
But when all was said and done, and as much as he would have liked being a detective, he would have missed being an attorney, being the one who called the shots, being the one to complete the puzzle first. The last eight years had shown that to be painfully true.
What was at stake now in this trial was the rest of his life. Eight years ago he had made a promise out of grief without thinking, and although he'd accused Della of being harsh and unyielding in regard to that promise, he had indeed made promises to her first, promises that were much more important than a friend's governmental appointment. Although to Harvey, that appointment was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Poor, unhappy Harvey.
How in hell had he allowed himself to be unhappy after watching Harvey be unhappy his entire life? What earthly point had there been to serving out his dead friend's time on the Appeals Court?
The latter point involved philosophical subjects Perry wasn't prepared to deal with, then or now. Especially now, when still breathtakingly beautiful, still steadily stalwart Della was seated in the Defendant's chair, counting on him to do what he did best, and he was not going to let her down. Never, ever again.
The walk to the Defense table had taken a lifetime, but finally Perry made it. Della looked up at him with a smile as he settled in his seat next to her. Chairs were so much more comfortable now than they were years ago. He didn't know how Della had endured sitting in those straight-backed wooden chairs for hours on end. At least he had been able to stand and walk around. "Heard anything from Paul yet?" Geez, Mason, way to be solicitous of your client's uneasiness...
"No. Worried?" If he turned her question around and asked her if she was worried, she didn't know if she could put forth a convincing denial. The one thing that genuinely worried her was Paul's whereabouts. With a gun.
Perry didn't look at her. He didn't have to. "Not at all." She was worried. She wouldn't admit it, but she was. Not for herself, but for the boy, which was the essence of Della Street. He finally gave her a sideways glance, seeing the notebook open in front of her and several sharpened pencils lined up next to it. His eyebrows bobbed up and down quickly. "You're taking notes?"
"It's part of my job…isn't it?" What had he expected her to do? Sit docilely beside him looking tragic?
I love you. I love you, Della Street, and when this is over, when hearing it won't break you or me, I will tell you. His features and voice softened. "Whyyy…I suppose it is."
Barbara Scott walked up to the Defense table dressed in a long pleated skirt and boxy blazer that engulfed her. Twiddling eyeglasses in one hand against her voluminous skirt, she mustered a firm, "Good morning, Counselor."
Perry blasted the Prosecutor with a dimpled grin and a jovial, "Yes, it is."
Barbara Scott dealt beautifully with the reply as well as the unexpectedly boyish grin. She lingered for a couple of mildly awkward seconds, with what she hoped was a confident smile before taking the few steps to her place at the Prosecutor's table. She hadn't expected anything like that grin. There was no resolution to this case yet, but any mystery surrounding why Della Street had hung around Perry Mason for thirty years had been solved for her.
The bailiff appeared and bade all to rise, calling court into session with the Honorable Norman Whitewood presiding, once a criminal attorney of generally good repute himself.
Della rose steadily enough, but when she blew out an audibly shaky breath, Perry circled her with his arm, drawing her trembling slenderness to his side. He would protect her. He would fight for her. He would be her hero again, a man she could admire again.
A man she could love again.
Della leaned into Perry, taking enough strength from him to top off her tank. Her shaking knees steadied, her mind cleared, her vision slowly focused. The only thing that didn't calm down was her palpitating heart.
Behind them, Bart smiled with satisfaction and clasped his wife's hand as court artists frantically sketched the scene at the Defense table.
And so began the preliminary hearing of Miss Della Street.
The Prosecution's first witness was Lt. Cooper, who detailed the discovery of Arthur Gordon's body by his housekeeper Mrs. Mary Jeffries, of finding the letter opener lying beside the body, wiped clean of fingerprints, as well as an earring clutched in the man's hand, and that Mrs. Jeffries had seen a woman run out of the house just before finding Mr. Gordon dead on the floor in his office. That led to information that Mr. Gordon's Executive Assistant Miss Della Street had the code to the security gate, and she was summoned to the Gordon Estate immediately.
Miss Street identified the earring clutched in Arthur Gordon's hand as belonging to her, Lt. Cooper testified, as well as a swatch of fabric found clinging to a thorny bush above a footprint made by a high-heeled shoe as resembling the pattern of a dress she owned. The investigation shifted to her house with her permission at that time. The bloodied dress was found in a trash can, and shoes muddied with soil consistent with that found on the Gordon Estate grounds were hidden at the back of a closet. Because Miss Street could not provide an alibi for her whereabouts the previous night, she was arrested for the murder of Arthur Gordon.
With just one witness, Barbara Scott introduced every bit of physical evidence in her 'dead bang winner' of a case accompanied by increasing murmurs from the spectators.
Perry quietly declined questioning of the witness at that time, and had no objections to entering crime scene photos as People's Exhibit A, the letter opener as Exhibit B, the earring as Exhibit C, and the dress and muddy shoes as Exhibits D and E respectively with the court clerk.
Barbara Scott's next witness was Dr. Joseph Henderson, the County Medical Examiner, who established when and how Arthur Gordon died, confirming that his death was definitely murder, describing a terrible wound caused by penetration of a sharp instrument through the solar plexus and upward into the victim's heart. Pictures of the wound at autopsy were entered into evidence – pictures Perry had not allowed Della to see previously and did not ask to view before being logged as exhits.
Barbara Scott then showed the ME a letter opener, asking him if he had ever seen it before and if in his opinion it was the murder weapon. Perry agreed to stipulate the implement was indeed the murder weapon and reiterated that no fingerprints were found on it. It was so stipulated. Barbara Scott picked up the torn, bloodied dress with a flourish and showed it to the ME.
"Dr. Henderson, have you ever seen this dress?"
"Yes. I examined the bloodstains on it."
"And what did your examination of the blood stains tell you?"
"That they are type O, the same as the deceased's."
Barbara Scott walked briskly back to the Prosecutor's table. "Your witness, Mr. Mason."
"Dr. Henderson," Perry's 'courtroom' voice sounded for the first time in eight years, vibrating against every wood-paneled wall, his earlier quietness a deliberate build-up to this moment. "How long have you been a Medical Examiner?"
Della nearly swooned as a shiver ran through her. That voice. That marvelous, mesmerizing voice. Perry was in his element again, and it was thrilling. It didn't matter that his questions were mundanely establishing the ME's status as an expert witness, something which Barbara Scott did not do, Della felt as giddy as the first time she'd attended court with Perry thirty years ago. The shiver, as well as her quickly beating heart felt wrong and out of place, but so good that it could not be wrong.
"And how much force would be necessary to inflict this type of wound?"
"It would take considerable force to inflict such a wound because of the tough muscles surrounding the heart and protective placement of the rib cage."
Perry paused for a second, letting the doctor's words register with the judge. "With that in mind, would it be fair to say the force necessary would be more than considerable? In your opinion, Doctor, would a woman be able to inflict such a wound?"
"Objection," Barbara Scott interposed. "Mr. Mason himself provided my grounds."
"Why don't you go ahead and clarify those grounds for the Court, Miss Scott," Judge Whitewood directed.
"Your Honor, I've just established Dr. Henderson's status as an expert witness with exposure to in excess of two hundred similar fatal wounds," Perry interjected before Barbara Scott could reply. "I believe his opinion as to whether a woman could inflict such a wound would be considered expert testimony."
"Unlikely," Dr. Henderson answered Perry Mason's original question, "but not impossible."
"Your Honor!" Barbara Scott jumped to her feet.
Judge Whitewood motioned her back. "Dr. Henderson, I have not yet ruled on Miss Scott's objection. But since I was inclined to overrule initially, I will do so now. The answer stands."
Barbara Scott accepted the ruling with a small frown and an exchanged glance with her associate.
Perry's expression was unreadable, contours of a granite-hard mask presented for effect. If she wasn't the Defendant, Della would have smiled widely at the memories evoked by that inscrutable expression. Instead, she kept her smile hidden, contented and confident.
"Dr. Henderson, you testified that the deceased's blood type was O. Did you ever ascertain the Defendant's blood type?"
The ME shifted from hip to hip in the witness chair. "No, I did not."
Perry stood in the middle of the courtroom; feet planted apart, arms crossed over his chest. "Dr. Henderson, the Defendant's blood type is O."
Barbara Scott jumped to her feet again. "Your Honor, Mr. Mason pointed out he just established this witness as an expert and then impugned him."
Judge Whitewood stared at the young Prosecutor. "Miss Scott, this is your witness. Did you intend for him to testify as an expert?"
"Y-yes. I thought my intent was clear."
"Did you ascertain the Defendant's blood type?"
Barbara Scott sat down. "N-no, I did not."
"You opened the door by introducing the deceased's blood type and connecting Exhibit D to the Defendant. I trust Mr. Mason can verify his client's blood type?
"I have a report from Cedars Sinai Hematology lab so stating." And Della had a bruise on the inside of her left elbow because as the male laboratory technician complained, her veins ran deep and quiet, and Perry thought if that young man only knew…
"Prosecution will stipulate as to the Defendant's blood type," Barbara Scott said, chagrinned and sullen.
Judge Whitewood tapped his pencil on the desk blotter. "Call your next witness, Miss Scott."
"Call Mrs. Mary Jeffries to the stand." Barbara Scott wasn't happy, and not just with the failure of her first objection. She needed to keep her emotions and temper under better control. This was a dead-bang case as far as she was concerned. All she had to do was systematically present all the evidence so the judge would see he had no choice but to find probable cause to bind Della Street over for trial. The blood type similarity was a minor bump in the case she could easily overcome. Perry Mason wasn't infallible, he could be defeated, and she was the Prosecutor who could prove that despite this insignificant blunder.
Mrs. Jeffries made a precise, articulate witness. After being buzzed by the intercom in Mr. Gordon's office, she had put on her robe and begun descending the stairs, calling out to Mr. Gordon, when she saw a woman in a flower-print dress run across the foyer and out the front door. She couldn't identify the woman definitely because she only saw her from the back, but was certain about the details of her appearance. Barbara Scott showed the bloodied and torn flower-print dress to Mrs. Jeffries, who identified it as the one worn by the woman running out of the Gordon mansion, as well as worn by Della Street on two different visits to her adjunct estate office. Barbara Scott, very pleased with herself, handed the witness over for cross-examination. Witnesses like Mrs. Jeffries could literally win a case, and she was confident the woman would hold up admirably under Perry Mason's questions.
"Mrs. Jeffries, what were you doing when the intercom in your room buzzed?" Perry asked without standing.
"I was sleeping."
Perry leaned forward on his elbows, a pose adopted to radiate he was not concerned by the testimony of a Prosecution witness. "Do you wear glasses?"
"I do not. My vision is perfect. My last eye appointment was only two months ago and the doctor said as much."
"Your vision is 20/20?"
"If that is perfect, then yes."
"So when your eyes were last examined, the doctor described your vision as 20/20?"
"He described it as perfect," the witness corrected.
Perry was thoughtful for a moment, still leaning on his elbows. "How dark was the foyer the evening of Arthur Gordon's murder?"
"Not so dark that I couldn't see a woman in that dress running away."
Just then a woman in the gallery, gasped "Oh no!" leapt out of her seat and ran from the courtroom sobbing. Perry Mason stood at that moment, watching the woman exit through the doors as the gallery crowd reacted to what had just happened.
"Oh my goodness," Henny gasped to her husband. "I haven't been able to take my eyes off of Perry. What just happened?"
Carter leaned toward his wife but before he could say anything, Perry turned abruptly to the witness seated on the stand.
"Mrs. Jeffries, did you get a good look at the woman who just ran out of the courtroom?"
Della was as surprised as everyone else by the interruption of proceedings, but following Perry's quick question to Mrs. Jeffries suspected he was playing that full house against Barbara Scott's pair of deuces early in the game. And it was just like him not to tell her anything about what he was doing. The element of surprise. No wonder he wanted to drive to court alone this morning. He wasn't distracted by her tears, by the missing Paul Drake, by a house full of relatives judging and blaming him.
He was enjoying himself. He was thrilled to the bone to be in a courtroom again as an attorney.
"Just from the back," Mrs. Jeffries admitted.
"Could you describe the woman?"
Mrs. Jeffries sat stiff and straight in the witness chair. "She was tall and slender, wore a blue flower-print dress, had long brown hair, and was carrying a beige handbag with a shoulder strap." She relaxed her shoulders a bit, confident in her observation.
Perry Mason motioned to the Court Officer. "Mr. Jones, please ask the woman to come back in."
The officer opened the door and the woman in the blue dress re-entered the courtroom. Perry held open the gallery gate so that the woman could stand next to him. She was possibly five-feet seven inches tall in heels, slender, and yet his powerful physique dwarfed her.
While everyone around her looked disoriented, Della sat back and smiled indulgently at her bad boy attorney, knowing he had pulled a fast one on the entire courtroom. She had heard Henny's remark through the babble, and knew it was precisely what Perry had been banking on with the rest of the spectators.
"I must congratulate you, Mrs. Jeffries," Perry said with a Cheshire Cat smile. "The description you gave was completely accurate. However, you missed one significant detail. This…" he reached up and pulled a long brown wig off the head of the person standing next to him, "is not a woman."
Judge Whitewood pounded his gavel as the gallery crowd exploded in excited chatter once again at seeing the man's haircut and masculine features covered with pancake make-up and a generous application of rouge. "Order!"
"This gentleman," Perry raised his voice to be heard above the hubbub behind him, "is a stuntman who has doubled for some of the top female television and motion picture actresses in Hollywood during a successful ten-year career."
Barbara Scott was rooted to her seat, furious that Perry Mason had pulled one of his famous stunts only three witnesses into her case. She strove to sound bored and unimpressed. "Your Honor, the days of theatrics such as this are long since gone. I object to Mr. Mason's stunt on the grounds of relevance."
Judge Whitewood waved both Counsel to the bench and dismissed Mrs. Jeffries from the stand. Perry swallowed a gleeful grin and bowed deferentially to Barbara Scott, allowing her to precede him to the bench.
"Your Honor," Barbara Scott started right in, jaw tight with anger. "Mr. Mason is obviously trying to compensate for his lack of any credible defense by turning this courtroom into a sideshow. In the past he may have gotten away with it, but I –"
"I'm attempting to demonstrate the plausibility that someone other than the Defendant killed Arthur Gordon," Perry interrupted, "in this case a man."
"A man!" Barbara Scott exploded in disbelief, more loudly than she should have. "I still object to this kind of disruptive behavior as irrelevant and immaterial regardless of what Counsel is attempting to establish. He'll have an opportunity to present a Defense after the People have rested their case."
Perry stepped closer to the bench and Judge Whitewood. "Your Honor…" it was difficult not to call the judge 'Norm', and he suspected Norm was having difficulty not calling him by his first name, this being the first time the two contemporaries had met in court. "My client is accused of murder." Judges called it the 'no shit, Counselor' approach, and Perry detected a momentary twinkle in Norman Whitewood's eyes. "Your Honor, I'm asking the Court for the widest possible latitude to introduce this possibility."
Judge Whitewood, so far underwhelmed with the Prosecution's case, and interest piqued, looked from Perry Mason's calmly sincere eyes to the enraged eyes of Barbara Scott and made his decision. Demonstrating an alternate scenario in such a disruptive fashion was a brilliant strategy, one which he had employed as an attorney on occasion himself, although admittedly not as effectively as Perry Mason just had. "I concur, Counselor, so I'm overruling Miss Scott's objection. But, I am cautioning you to keep your performance art within the bounds of acceptable court procedures from here on out. Do you understand, Mr. Mason?"
Perry nodded contritely. "I understand. Thank you, Your Honor."
"But – but it isn't acceptable court procedure to interrupt the People's case!" Barbara Scott sputtered. "I've only called three witnesses –"
"And the rest of your witnesses will testify," Judge Whitewood told her firmly. "At the moment the Court is interested in exploring Mr. Mason's line of reasoning."
"I assure you, Miss Scott," Perry said, deference now barely rising above unctuous, "that you will be given every opportunity to cross-examine any witness I call, and that most of those witnesses are on your witness list as well. In fact, I will promise not to object to any questions you ask regardless of groundwork laid."
"If I agree to this highly irregular detour from acceptable court procedures," Barbara Scott said acidly, "will I be given rights of voir dire questioning of witnesses unfamiliar to the Prosecution as well as recall for cross-examination?"
"By all means."
"Then I agree."
Judge Whitewood tapped his pencil irritably. "I'm delighted you agree with the Court's ruling, Miss Scott. You may proceed, Mr. Mason."
"I appreciate the Court's indulgence, Your Honor."
Chastened and red-faced, Barbara Scott returned with leaden feet to the Prosecutor's table while Perry could have skipped back to the Defense table. He took his seat and leaned toward Della, who placed her elbow on the arm of her chair, chin in hand, bracing for the news.
"Judge Whitewood is allowing me to introduce the concept of Bobby Lynch," Perry whispered, each word wrapped in elation.
Della's elbow slipped off the arm of the chair and the palm of her hand smacked against her cheek. She had no doubt he would get his theory heard, but had no idea it would be like this, just three witnesses into the hearing, in a strange twist of procedure. She shook her head, marveling at the big break they had been given, spirits higher than the clouds.
"Where the hell is Paul?" Perry groused.
Indeed, Della thought worriedly, quickly coming down to earth, where the hell is Paul?"
*Refer to the novel TCOT Careless Kitten