Part 33 (2/2)
”I don't remember,” he said. ”I just know we weren't alone when she asked.”
”How often during those eighteen months did you visit Hilde Franz at her home?”
”I never visited her!” he snapped. ”Once or twice she asked me to come in, once to look at an error message on her computer monitor, once to carry books inside for her.”
Barbara smiled slightly. ”So you could evaluate her medical condition, be her computer expert, and also act as a porter to carry her books. Any other occasions?”
”No!”
”When was the last time you were in her house?”
”I don't know the date. Late Mayor early June. She had many things to carry and I gave her a lift; she asked me to take some books in for her. I did that, then left.”
”Was that following a committee meeting?”
He hesitated a moment, then said, ”No. It was late in the afternoon, not at night. I happened to run into her in town.”
”Dr. Wrigley,” she said, ”I'm trying to understand the situation you've described. You say your wife warned you that Hilde Franz was stalking you and at one time even recommended that you go to the police about it, yet for the next eighteen months you continued to act in a friendly manner to her. You gave her lifts, helped her out in various ways, had conversations with her, accepted telephone calls. You did not report her to the authorities. Did you and your wife have additional conversations about Hilde Franz after your wife said she was stalking you?”
”Yes. We discussed the situation.”
”Was she satisfied with your decision not to report Ms. Franz to the police?”
”Yes. She understood that it would ruin Hilde, and we agreed there was no threat, just a nuisance.”
”Did you discuss any of the literature about stalkers, that they often do pose a threat to the person they're stalking or to that person's family?”
”No.”
She regarded him for a moment, but before she could ask the next question, Judge Mac held up his hand.
”I think we might have a recess at this time. We will resume at one-thirty.”
At Frank's house, Frank said in a low voice to Barbara, ”The police haven't told the D.A.'s office anything yet about their investigation of Hilde's death. Hoggarth asked Judge Mac for an early recess so he could get in a word with us. He would appreciate it if you don't blow the case in open court.”
She nodded and put down her briefcase and purse, then said, ”I need to walk a little bit. I won't be long.”
Will started to follow her. ”Mind if I-”
Frank caught his arm and shook his head. Barbara apparently had not even heard; she walked out the front door. ”She needs a little thinking time,” Frank said to Will. ”Now what's for lunch? Salad, soup, sandwiches?”
Will grinned. ”She's pulling the most genteel dissection job I've ever seen. He isn't even quite aware of how much blood he's already lost.”
”Do you think his wife really will back him up?” Alex asked.
All three attorneys nodded. ”Protecting the home front,” Will said, and Sh.e.l.ley said almost simultaneously, ”Safeguarding the investment.”
Frank laughed and said, ”Both. But we might never know. She's in California and can't be called as a witness, not to verify the testimony of another witness. Let's eat.”
When Barbara returned, he would put a sandwich in her hand, a gla.s.s of milk nearby, but he often worried, and even half believed, that food consumed without awareness seldom did the body much good.
Then, back in court, Barbara felt as if the interlude had not occurred; it was like a blip, an eye blink, without duration or consequence. She picked up exactly where she had left off.
”Dr. Wrigley, in your earlier testimony you stated that you spoke for the last time with Hilde Franz two or three days before her death. Can you be more specific about when that conversation took place? For instance, what time of day was it?”
”I don't recall precisely. I know I was at the clinic working when she called. It was after dinner and before ten. I don't know what day it was.”
”All right. How long was that phone call?”
”I don't know. At least ten minutes, perhaps longer.”
”Let's try to narrow down the day it occurred. Gus Marchand was killed on the evening of June ninth, a Friday. No details of his death were released until the following day. Did you speak with her on Sat.u.r.day?”
”No. I was out of town Sat.u.r.day and Sunday.”
”That brings us to Monday. Was it on Monday night?”
He shrugged. ”As I said, I don't recall which night it was.”
”Were you at a faculty reception and dinner with the university president on Monday night, June twelfth?”
”Sometime in early June,” he said after a moment.
”In fact, weren't you singled out and praised for work that your graduate students had done that gained them national recognition?”
”Yes.”
”And that was Monday, June twelfth. Is that correct?”
”It might have been,” he said.
”Let's try to pin this down,” she said equably, then walked to her table and picked up a copy of the university newspaper. After returning to the witness stand, she handed it to Wrigley. ”Do you recognize this newspaper?”
It was a tabloid, easily recognized from across the room with the picture of the fighting duck mascot on the front page.
He admitted knowing what it was, and she turned to an inside page with an article about the reception, the attendees, and the special recognitions mentioned.
Then she said, ”Do you agree that the reception and dinner were on Monday, June twelfth?”
He shrugged. ”Yes. As I said many times-”
”'Yes' is quite sufficient, Dr. Wrigley,” she said. ”Now, Tuesday. Did you have a meeting on Tuesday, June thirteenth, with the doctors who were planning to start a new drug trial in the coming week?”
He hesitated, then nodded. ”Yes. I think it was then.”
”Is that answer a yes?” she asked sharply.
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