Part 31 (2/2)

”Ms. Holloway, this afternoon a note was delivered to my office which concerns me a great deal. It was anonymous, I might add. It states that Mr. and Mrs. Feldman have chartered a plane which is being kept at the Eugene airport. Is there any truth to this?”

A rush of fury swept through her. Dolly! She might have to strangle the b.i.t.c.h herself. ”I know nothing about it,” she said, trying to keep her anger in check.

”I must warn you, Ms. Holloway, that if Alexander Feldman makes any attempt to board that plane, he will be apprehended and held in custody for the remainder of this trial.”

”I a.s.sure you, Judge, that Alex has no intention of fleeing. I didn't know about the airplane, but I will try to find out something about it. Mr. and Mrs. Feldman, of course, are free to charter anything they want and can afford. Neither Alex nor I can speak for their actions or their intentions.”

He regarded her for a moment, then nodded. ”Very well. That's what was on my mind. Pa.s.s on my warning to your client. Now we can all go home and put our feet up.”

Will was coming up the broad stairs as she headed down; he stopped to wait.

”Bad?” he asked.

”Bad. Wait until we get in the car.” She continued down and he fell into step by her. Without a word they walked through the tunnel under Seventh Street, and to his car in the lot on the other side.

”They chartered a plane that's parked out at the airport,” she said then.

He turned the key in the ignition. ”That's my news flash,” he said. ”How did you find out?”

”Judge Mac. An anonymous tip. Do they want to see him in jail? Are they crazy? What's the matter with them?”

”Minick says she's harboring the mother of all guilt complexes, for one thing. Could be, I guess. I think she's crazy.”

”Did Alex say anything when she proposed a little trip?”

”He said he's committed to seeing this through. And he suggested that this is too hard on her, that she might suffer too much, and it would be best for her sake to go home and let him get in touch when it's over.” He gave her a quick look and added, ”Was he kidding her along? Serious? Sarcastic? I wish I knew. She began to cry. She and Alex went into the other room and stayed for ten or fifteen minutes. I don't have a clue what was said in there.”

In Frank's house she went to wash her hands and cool down before she joined Alex and Dr. Minick. When she entered the living room, Frank put a gla.s.s of pinot noir in her hand and she took a drink before she said a word.

”The judge got a note that says your parents have a plane waiting to take off,” she said to Alex. ”Judge Mac told me to warn you that if you go near it, you'll be taken into custody and kept in the county jail until the trial is over.”

Alex was petting Thing One; he nodded. ”Warning duly delivered. I don't intend to go near it.”

”Good. Now, tomorrow they'll bring in Dr. Wrigley, and then start on motive. They'll bring in their tame psychologist and Rachel eventually. Dr. Minick, we have to discuss what your testimony is likely to be.”

”Before you get into that, there was something else on my mother's mind,” Alex said.

Thing One had stepped up into his lap, filling it, overflowing at both ends, and Thing Two was standing by the side of the chair, his forepaws on the arm, rubbing his face against Alex's hand, marking him: mine. They had accepted him from the start, paying no attention to how he looked; it was only people who put stock in appearance, Barbara was thinking, watching the cats. With the thought there came another one: it had been weeks or longer since she had paid any particular attention to how Alex looked, and when she thought of him if he was not with her, his face never intruded any longer.

”Do you know who Courtney Innes is?” Alex asked, keeping his gaze on the cat he was petting.

”Sure. He's a big-time, high-profile New York attorney. Why?”

”Mother's in touch with him. I think she plans to bring him here.”

In exasperation, Barbara said, ”Alex, you have the right to change attorneys at any time, but it's your right, not hers, to make that decision. She can't interfere with whatever decision you reach.”

”She thinks I can be declared incompetent and that she can produce medical doc.u.ments to back that up. Graham was hired to keep me under close surveillance because I was unstable, and so on.” Now he looked at her. ”She thinks I killed Gus Marchand, but if we manage things properly, I can be admitted to an inst.i.tution where I can receive the kind of treatment I need. Or else get on that plane and take off for some South American country where they can come and visit me every now and then.” His face twisted. He didn't turn away from her. ”With a mother like that, who needs a prosecutor?”

He sounded bitter, and also furious. There was a flush on the good side of his face. Barbara darted a glance at Minick, who nodded slightly, as if to say Alex had every right to be both bitter and angry.

Alex was still talking. ”She thinks I probably was tormented too much to resist the impulse to kill. But she loves me, you have to understand, and she'll do right by me, if I'll let her.”

”What did your father have to say about all of that?” Barbara asked.

”He didn't say much, but he nodded a lot,” Alex said. ”A long time ago, when I was ten or eleven, she was going on about something, and he said, 'You two work it out, I have an appointment.' He's been keeping that appointment ever since.” He shrugged. ”I think a car just pulled in the driveway. Maybe it's Sh.e.l.ley.”

Of course, Barbara thought, as Frank went to open the front door, Alex had that fake ear with a superstrong receiver built in; he could hear better than most people. And from studying his drawings, she felt that he could see better than most people also.

Frank came back with Sh.e.l.ley in tow, and her gaze went instantly to Alex, who had risen, dumping Thing One, who leaped into the vacated chair and batted Thing Two away from the arm. ”They have to talk about Graham's testimony,” Alex said. ”You want to go to the dinette, get on with your art lessons?”

Sh.e.l.ley looked at Barbara, who waved her away, and then left with Alex. He took his drawing pad, which seemed an extension of him in the same way Barbara's briefcase was an extension of her.

Will Thaxton stood up to leave. ”Work to catch up on,” he said. ”I might not put in the same kind of hours you're keeping,” he said to Barbara, ”but I'm running a close second. See you good people in the morning.”

Frank walked to the door with him, then returned, but he remained standing near the door. ”Graham, I'll leave you and Barbara to get at it, but a question first. Is Alex coping with his mother's good intentions?”

Dr. Minick took off his gla.s.ses and rubbed his eyes. ”I think so,” he said. ”Years ago they wanted him inst.i.tutionalized; that's when we made our plan to come to Oregon. He knew what they wanted, and it filled him with rage and with fear. We haven't had a chance yet to talk about what happened today. He used to a.s.sume the persona of Xander and fly away when things got to be too much. And sometimes when nothing else worked, he became Alexander. Now? Maybe after all these years he can handle the rage, and reject the fear.”

Barbara wondered how many people who believed in Alex's innocence it would take to outweigh one mother who didn't.

The next morning Novak called Dr. Isaac Wrigley. Wrigley was dressed in a good gray summer-weight suit, blue tie, polished black shoes; he looked a little closer to his age now, less like a graduate student and more like an investment broker, but still a far cry from a college professor and researcher.

His credentials-personal, academic, professional-were all impeccable, his voice low-key but forceful in the way of some teachers who command and receive respect. Novak asked if he had children, and he smiled and said yes.

”How old are they, Dr. Wrigley?”

”Five and a half, two and a half, and six weeks,” he said, his smile broadening. He looked as if with the slightest encouragement he would start pa.s.sing around snapshots.

Novak quickly established that Wrigley had known none of the princ.i.p.als in the case. Then he asked, ”But you did know Hilde Franz. Is that correct?”

”Yes.”

”From testimony we know that Hilde Franz was on Old Opal Creek Road at about the time Gus Marchand was killed. Did Ms. Franz talk to you about that?”

”Yes, she did.”

”When did she talk to you about that?”

”Two or three days before she died.”

”Dr. Wrigley, what was your relations.h.i.+p with Hilde Franz?” Novak asked then. His round face was grave, his voice low and mournful, as if this were painful to him personally.

”Objection,” Barbara said. ”This line of questioning appears to be immaterial to the trial at hand. And it is hearsay.”

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