Part 22 (2/2)
”Objection!”
”Mr. Wood, please rephrase your question.”
”There were a lot of men you didn't ask Robert about, weren't there? Men who weren't on this list that Mrs. Danse gave you? A lot of men in the neighborhood perhaps? Male teachers at school? Isn't that true?”
”I suppose so.”
”So how do you know he wouldn't have wanted to talk about one of those men, either? How do you know it's just his father he doesn't want to talk about?”
”I wasn't going after his abuser here, Mr. Wood, if that's what you mean. I wasn't looking for suspects. I was only eliminating a possibility. I thought it was a fair sampling.”
”You weren't going after his abuser, as you say, because you were already convinced that his abuser was Arthur Danse, am I correct?”
”Basically, yes. From the evidence it seemed quite clear to me.”
”This is an investigation?”
”Objection.”
”Sustained. Move on, Mr. Wood.”
Wood consulted his notes again.
He walked back to their table and stood directly behind Arthur Danse.
”My client called you ... what was it? A tight-a.s.sed ...?”
”f.u.c.king tight-a.s.sed b.i.t.c.h, Mr. Wood.”
Her voice had gone hard now.
He smiled. ”Didn't endear him to you very much, did it?”
”No. It didn't.”
”In fact you don't like my client, do you, Miss Stone?”
”My likes or dislikes have no relevance here whatsoever, Mr. Wood. As you know very well.”
”No more questions, Your Honor.”
She thought that Cindy did wonderfully. Wood wasn't able to shake her for a moment and hardly even tried. She was there for the most part as a character witness-as was Olive Youngjohn, Robert's teacher-but also to establish Lydia's conduct the night of the incident. Dressed in a tailored blue suit, her long blond hair pulled back in a tight knot, carefully and sparingly made up, she radiated calm and respectability. It was as though she did this every day. Lydia was proud of her.
”Mrs. Danse was obviously angry when she came to the house that night, wasn't she, Mrs. Fortunato?” Wood asked her.
”She was angry, yes, and I'd say she was deeply shaken.”
”Would you say that her anger was under control?”
”Objection. Calls for an opinion,” said Sansom.
”I'll allow it.”
”Yes. Under the circ.u.mstances.”
”But you weren't aware of the circ.u.mstances at that time, were you?”
”No, I wasn't.”
”Were you aware where she was going when she left your house that night?”
”She said she had to talk to Arthur, right away.”
”But she didn't tell you why.”
”I didn't ask.”
”You're best friends and you didn't ask?” He looked incredulous.
Cindy smiled. ”Best friends know when not to ask, Mr. Wood-that's why they stay that way. But you already know that, I'm sure.”
Mrs. Youngjohn was a little rockier. She looked the part perfectly-middle-aged, somewhat plump, gla.s.ses, sensible cotton print dress belted at the waist-and spoke with a.s.surance and determination as she told them about Lydia's habit of keeping in very close touch with her and Robert's other teachers about his problems. It was those problems, however, that Wood finally managed to use against her.
”You say he stutters?”
”Yes. Has trouble getting the words out.”
”And he's receiving therapy for this?”
”Yes. We have a speech therapist working with him right at school.”
”And you're aware that he's seeing Dr. Bromberg, a psychotherapist.”
”Yes.”
”And he's shy?”
”Yes.”
”But his work is good.”
”Yes.”
”Do other kids like him, Mrs. Youngjohn?”
”Oh, Robert's a very nice boy.”
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