Part 40 (2/2)

”Cops calling it that?”

”No. Commentators. Op-ed pieces. The police are investigating, no other comment.”

She shrugged, got her toast and jelly, and sat down again.

”The phone's been ringing all morning,” Frank said sourly. ”Reporters, friends, neighbors, G.o.d knows who all. I turned the ringer off”

”We'll have to hand out a statement of some sort. Want me to call Patsy, let her be our official spokeswoman?”

They were still at the table when the doorbell rang. Barbara went to see who it was, and admitted Bailey and a county detective.

”They're getting Alan's life story,” Bailey said. ”This is Sergeant Oleski; he'll get your father's life story. Got coffee?”

She led them back to the dinette and poured coffee for Bailey; the detective said no thank you very politely. Excusing herself, she went to the study to listen to the phone calls on the answering machine.

After the detective left, she rejoined Bailey and Frank, whose mood had not improved a bit. ”Tell him we'll both represent him,” Frank said fiercely. ”With all the resources of two offices.”

”Now what?” Barbara asked.

”Alan,” Bailey said. ”Two guys, one with a bullet hole in his shoulder, one shot in the leg, are charging Alan with a.s.sault, attempted murder, destruction of private property-the truck and the car-and with being a maniac in general.”

She snorted.

”No kidding,” Bailey said. ”See, they're mill workers, laid off until operations can start again, and they were killing time, drinking a little, and then started cruising around peacefully looking for fires to put out, when this maniac showed up waving a gun at them and shooting everything in sight.”

”Did they send an arson crew out there?” she demanded.

”Sure did. No report yet. The fire's still going strong, a whole crew out handling it, smoke jumpers and everything, and they're sore. You start burning down houses, they get mad. Minick's and two others so far. Besides, it's too close to home.”

She turned to Frank. ”The judge called. I called back and told him you're fine. He's sore, too. And Will's going to drop over this afternoon to clear his press release with us. But mostly, I think, to avoid dinner with Dolly and Arnold. He said she's quote fit to be tied unquote. Cousin Herbert is going to make dinner for them all. Will's going shopping with Dr. Minick for clothes for the homeless, and afterward he'll come over. I said I'd be here.”

”You don't have to hang out here,” Frank said irritably. ”I'm not a target. They wanted Alex. They were going to force him and Graham to leave, stop them at the road, and grab Alex; probably planned to load him in the truck and take him somewhere and beat him to death.”

”I know,” she said. ”It just happened that you were in the wrong place at the wrong time twice now. But I want to hang out here. Okay?”

”Sure,” he said gruffly.

Will came around that afternoon and showed them a copy of his press statement. It was a marvel of lawyerly double-talk, using a lot of words to say very little. He would have no further comment until the police concluded their investigation.

”How can you do that?” Barbara asked.

”Practice,” he said. ”It takes years of practice. In fact, some time ago, I found that I was having fun seeing how long I could go on without saying anything. My clients think I'm a legal genius.”

And that was the difference between him and Sam Bixby, her father's elderly partner, she realized. Sam took it seriously, and Will treated it like a joke.

That night, after Will left, she thought of the creeps who had planned to murder Alex. They would get a lawyer, whether they pressed charges or found themselves as defendants. And their lawyer would argue that they needed to be defended as much as a saint would if charged, an argument she had used more than once to justify herself and what she did. Where do you draw the line?

She had no answer, only the persistent question that came late at night more often than she would like to admit. Where do you draw the line?

Sunday afternoon Frank was in his study reading when he heard Barbara yell out something. He hurried to the hall in time to see her racing down the stairs, then toward the back door, where she stopped long enough to kick off her shoes before she ran out into the yard. Understanding, he breathed, ”Ah. She noticed.”

It was raining. Not a hard, leaf-stripping downpour, but a gentle misty rain that was like having an infinite cloud sink lower and lower, caressing all it touched on its way to the parched earth.

On the back lawn Barbara spread out her arms in welcome, and lifted her face to the rain.

When their group arrived in court on Monday morning, the corridors were chaotic with news-media people and onlookers. A police escort cleared the way for them to get through and into the courtroom, where a bailiff met Barbara and said the judge wanted her and her father in chambers. He went to Novak's table to deliver the same message, then led them around the bench through a back door to the hall with many doorways to the jury rooms, and beyond to the judge's anteroom.

They were ushered into the inner room without delay. Judge Mac, already in his robes, was sitting behind his desk. ”Good morning,” he said, and they all responded politely. ”Frank, are you well?”

”I'm fine, thanks.”

”Please be seated.” He waited until they took chairs, and then said, ”As you all know, a circ.u.mstantial case requires the same degree of certainty as one with eyewitnesses or indisputable forensic evidence, and therefore is a much more difficult case to present. I have a written decision which I shall read in court, but for now I want to outline the gist of it. I am dismissing the charges against Alexander Feldman for lack of sufficient compelling evidence that points to him and to him alone as the probable murderer.”

Barbara did not move, but she felt herself rising as if an immense weight had been removed, and she felt her heart thudding hard. Frank's hand caught hers and squeezed it, then let go.

”Jase, you were given a bad case to prosecute, poorly investigated, and biased from the beginning,” Judge Mac continued. ”Briefly, I'll tell you what I found lacking; it is in greater detail in the statement which I shall read. First, the boy Daniel is impeached. I don't know what the true story is, but his version is not truthful. His statement that perhaps he saw someone on the property is inconclusive, not trustworthy. The evidence of the stopwatch is compelling. He could not have seen his mother in the house, or spoken with her....”

He went over the same details that Barbara had, reaching the same conclusion. Wrigley's testimony was stricken. Koenig had nothing to tell except what Gus Marchand had told him, and that had to be treated as hearsay. Some of the investigating officers had shown bias from the start, and evidence that should have been considered had been overlooked, for example, Rachel's boyfriend, the birth-control pills and condoms.

”I have informed the Children's Services Division that Rachel Marchand's story of stalking must be investigated. She is under the care of a competent psychologist who will a.s.sist in the investigation. She is not to be questioned by the police until that investigation has been concluded. Ms. Holloway, I also informed them that you have certain evidence regarding her allegations, and you will be called to present whatever facts you have gathered.”

He drew in a breath and leaned back. ”Jase, I have based my decision on the presentation of the prosecution's case, not on any hypothesis that Ms. Holloway put forward, but I strongly advise you to consider the scenario she outlined and proceed accordingly.”

Very deliberately he said then, ”The seeds of hate have been sown, and they bear bitter fruit, as we saw on Friday night. I will call upon the district attorney's office to issue an unambiguous statement exonerating Alexander Feldman of wrongdoing, and start the long and arduous task of rooting out the cause of that hatred before it spreads further with even more disastrous results. Unleashed hatred in a close community such as ours can have devastating effects. I strongly urge continued police protection for Mr. Feldman until the district attorney's office issues such a statement.”

As Frank had said early on, Judge Mac was a fiend for details; he liked all the i's dotted, and all the t's crossed. With court in session once more, he cited the Const.i.tution, as well as Oregon statutes; he referred to case law. He stressed that a circ.u.mstantial case demanded the same burden of proof as any other and that the burden was on the state, not on the defendant. He referred to testimony and explained why it was stricken, or simply not trustworthy.... He had seven pages to read; he read them slowly, stopping to explain a point now and again, and throughout there was not a sound in the courtroom, not a movement, not a rustle.

When he finished and declared Alex free to go and then left the bench, bedlam erupted. Sh.e.l.ley had tears on her cheeks, and Dolly screamed; people were rus.h.i.+ng toward the defense table, where Barbara hugged Alex, then Dr. Minick, then Will and anyone else who got within reach. And on the other side of the courtroom, a detective had approached Daniel Marchand and was talking to him. Rachel grabbed her brother's arm; he pushed her away, and she took a step back, another, and then let out a piercing scream. Her aunt and another woman held her by the arms and took her from the courtroom.

”I said from the start that if there had been a competent attorney, all this would have been stopped before it got this far,” Dolly was saying. ”A whole week wasted! For what?”

Alex moved toward her and said in a low intense voice, ''I'm very tired, and Graham is tired. We're going someplace where we can rest. I suggest you go back home now. When you can admit that Barbara pulled off something like a miracle and apologize to her, let Will Thaxton know, and he'll get in touch with me. I'll give you a call then.” He turned, then stopped, and said over his shoulder, ”Thanks for coming.”

Arnold put his arm around Dolly and said to no one in particular, ”It's been a very hard time. Hard for all of us. We should go back home now, get on with life. My boy, don't write us off. Your mother's in a very emotional state. Come, Dolly, let's see if we can make our way through the horde.”

When Cousin Herbert said in Frank's driveway that he would be right proud to make them all some supper at Will's house, Frank didn't bat an eye. ”Great,” he said. ''I'll pick up some champagne.”

”And some real stuff,” Bailey said.

”And some real stuff.”

Herbert drove off with Dr. Minick and Alex in the van. A city detective followed at a discreet distance.

”Press conference at two,” Barbara reminded Frank. She, Frank, and Alan Macagno would meet the press in her office, and for once she was looking forward to it.

<script>