AN: Hi all! So sorry for the horrible delay, school season is once again upon us! I promise it be more prompt from here on out!
Slowly Kal Painter stood from his place at the front of the courtroom and made his jittery way to the witness stand. His manner was fidgety, and his eyes darted nervously about, searching for faces in the crowd. He caught his father's eye once, and the old man gave him a calm, self-assured nod. This seemed to give the boy confidence, and when Slater began questioning he had succeeded in quieting his trembling hands and placed them knitted in his lap.
He had been with the others at the river, it was true.
He had noticed that Mary was drunk, but had not seen or heard any mention of alcohol other than the wine provided at the dance. He was asked if he understood the judgement for rape and he nodded, swallowing hard. Margaret could not have missed the terrified sidelong glance the boy shot at James Slickson, and the latter narrowed his eyes, face otherwise impassive.
Kal claimed not to have known anything about a mystics society or about the business with Georgia Richards, and no sir, he would never hurt a woman. He was with them that night but when Mary had thrown herself at him, he had resisted and she cut him. Geraad sidled up to the witness box and could barely smother a smug grin.
"Mr. Painter, might we see your arm?" Geraad asked, arms folded. His manner was one of a hungry dog, and he flashed a pair of thin white canines as he spoke.
Kal rolled up the sleeve of his cheap flannel work shirt and everyone leaned in. He did indeed have a cut, but it was on his forearm and shallower than what Mary had described on the night of her assault, and the scar had formed over it, leaving an uneven white line.
"This was from Mary Higgins, correct?" Geraad asked. Kal bent his head, and snuck a glance at Mary, who sat beside her father, a stricken gasp on her lips. He mouthed something to her, and she burst into tears. Distressed, he rubbed his face with the injured arm and only collected himself enough to nod.
Slater growled something at Geraad, and stomped up to Kal.
"How old did you say that scar was?" he wouldn't let the boy answer, "because from my research I discovered that you sustained it days after the attack in which your apron got caught on a meat hook and you struggled to free yourself, only to cut your arm. Did this or did this not happen?"
"I have the scar," Kal stammered, "I have the scar an' Slickson doesn't. I didn't rape her, I swear by God but she attacked me. James told you she attacked me!"
"It is not a very convincing argument," Slater pushed, "if your story is not one hundred percent consistent with every word Mr. Slickson said then you will be on trial for this young lady's mutilation and will have the hangman to face yourself. Now, I ask you again, is the hook story true?"
Kal looked as if he was a trapped animal, and he glanced around wildly, his mouth gaping like a fish and eyes wide as if in shock. He looked as if he would be sick, and shook his head. "No," he said.
"Your father is liar then?" Slater asked.
Kal's head shot up and he shot a nauseated look to his father. The old man appeared confused, and Kal closed his eyes, contemplating his next statement.
"No-o-o," He drawled.
"Object to this line of questioning!" Geraad boomed, a red vein tight in his temple. "He had shown Your Honor and the court the scar, and explained its origins. As for our Dear Miss Higgins, her loss of virtue could have been the result of a midnight tryst some other time, and she could have faked the whole thing in order to preserve her reputation, such as it was."
"We have the dress, and there is no doubt she was assaulted," Slater ground out. "Now, please stop being such an ass and answer my questions, Mr. Painter."
"Careful, I could have you charged for contempt," Judge Darin warned. It seemed impossible to know what the old man was thinking; there was no sign of shock or partiality on his face at all.
Slater bowed.
"Why are you so intent on being punished for this crime, Mr. Painter? You must realize that by standing for this you risk not only your reputation, your family's reputation and business but also your life? What is so great a force that a young man would risk everything, even for a friend?"
"We ain't friends," Kal said it with the first conviction anyone had heard since the beginning of the questioning.
"Then why?" Slater threw up his hands, as if the answer would fall into them.
"His Da's shop is on Slickson land!" Someone shouted from the crowd. There was a wild glance about, and when it was demanded that the speaker be found, no one was produced.
"Is this true?" Slater turned, his back to the crowd.
Kal nodded, and bit his lip. He took a deep breath and answered. "Yes."
"Ah ha! Now we know the reason for all this secrecy!" Slater exclaimed in jubilant triumph. "I put it to the jury that this boy was blackmailed into taking the fall for Mr. Slickson and Hamper, lest his father's business be destroyed and the family evicted. How many people live in your house, boy? And how many bairns?"
"Seven," came the answer, "an' two little 'uns."
"So you needed to protect them by staying quiet about this."
Kal did not speak, but he did qualify his statement. "I—cannae say anthin' about it, but I wouldn't say even if I knew. Our rent went up last month an' we need the business of all the Master's families if we're to survive. We don't want to end up poor like Old Man Boucher's bairns an' I wouldn't let me Da suffer the pain of it."
"You knew the Bouchers," Slater responded mildly, "you dined with them, and even visited the children after their parent's deaths. Why would you, as a good Christian, agree to tell horror stories at the site of Mr. Boucher's suicide?"
"I didn't want to go down there," Kal shook his head, "I thought it was a bad idea an' Mary agreed but the others thought it would be fun. James said he had a little tobacco with 'im an' said smoking some would calm me down. I had no reason not to trust 'im."
"There was no mention of alcohol?" Slater's eyes narrowed. He had already asked, but repetition, Margaret was learning, was a very valuable tool.
Kal shook his head.
"What state did you find Miss Higgins in?"
"Nervous, but not really all that drunk, not worse than any o' the others." Kal shrugged, "seemed more nervous than anythin'. I was scared too, in truth. I don't like the dark."
Margaret could almost hear the clicking on Slater's mind and the whirring of the gears of connection. Click, there was a motive. Click, he knew how the boy had been framed. Click, Click, Click.
"One last time, Mr. Painter," Slater said, his voice cutting like a butcher's knife through supple flesh, "you posit that you did not rape Miss Higgins?"
Kal shook his head.
"But you held her down. Did someone else rape her? James Slickson perhaps?"
"I didn't do it!" Kal responded heartily, "an'—an' neither did James."
It was Mary's turn to exclaim her thoughts.
"You liar!" She screamed at him, "you liar! I thought you were my friend but you weren't! You just wanted to protect your shop!" a bailiff appeared and she was silenced.
"We didn't rape her," Kal said again, not looking at Mary.
And then again with less conviction…
"We didn't rape her."
"This is inconclusive," Judge Darin announced after a small pause. We will take a recess until tomorrow. I expect both sides will have more evidence to present then, but we will be taking Mr. Slickson and Painter into custody for the night. Court dismissed."
There was an angry shout from Mr. Slickson, but Kal took the conviction with the resignation of one already hung. He bowed his head and shuffled off with the bailiff as James blustered and fussed all the way to the station car.
"That was a strange move on the judge's part," Margaret commented, mystified as people began to shuffle out, creating a vast clatter of chairs and shoe heels.
"It was indeed," John took her hand, "but a wise one if I am not mistaken. Wait and see, Slater may yet win."