Part 9 (1/2)
”Well, I mean . . . he only yelled during big fights.”
”So you had big fights too?”
”Yes.”
”Okay. I'm going to trust that you are answering my question accurately this time. Is that fair?”
”Yes.”
Mrs. Reid was starting to get steamed, and Daphne hadn't raised her voice once.
”Mrs. Reid, can a husband be kind and gentle if he hits his wife?”
”Objection,” Nigel blurted, standing up. ”The question is vague, more prejudicial than probative, a.s.sumes facts not in evidence . . .” He was talking as fast as he could think.
”Your Honor,” Daphne said pleasantly, ”the defense is putting a lot of weight on this phrase kind and gentle. I think the jury deserves to know exactly what it means.”
”Go on,” the U.S. Attorney said.
”Mrs. Reid, can a husband be kind and gentle if he hits his wife?”
”Of course not.”
”And Mr. Reid never hit you?”
”Never. Not once.”
”Can a husband be kind and gentle if he pushes his wife?”
”No.”
”And Mr. Reid never pushed you?”
”No.”
”Can a husband be kind and gentle if he grabs his wife and shakes her?”
”Nuh--”
Halfway through the word no, Mrs. Reid came to a halt.
”Mrs. Reid? It's a simple question. Can a husband be kind and gentle if he grabs his wife and shakes her?”
”I don't know . . .”
”Yes or no, Mrs. Reid.”
Silence.
”Your Honor, please instruct the witness to answer my question.”
”Mrs. Reid?” Bernini looked at her curiously.
”Yes,” she whispered.
Daphne c.o.c.ked her head, confused.
”Mrs. Reid, for the record, are you saying that a husband can be kind and gentle if he grabs his wife and shakes her?”
”Yes. No. I don't know.”
”Please, answer my question. Yes or no?”
”No,” she said softly.
”Good. We can't call a husband kind and gentle if he grabs his wife and shakes her. Mrs. Reid, I'm sorry, but I have to ask, has Mr. Reid ever grabbed and shaken you?”
Mrs. Reid shook her head, not yes or no, but as if she were warding the question away. Nigel and John stared straight ahead, betraying nothing.
”Yes,” she said finally.
”Thank you for your honesty,” Daphne said kindly. ”It was on the night of your husband's company dinner, wasn't it?”
”Yes.”
”You thought you two were alone in the coatroom, didn't you?”
”Yes,” she said, starting to weep softly.
”Would it surprise you to know that a man named Arthur Willey, the man working in the coatroom that night, saw you two fighting?”
”I didn't see anyone else.”
”Your husband was yelling, wasn't he?”
”Yes.”
”He grabbed you by the arms, didn't he?”
”Yes.”
”He shook you and shouted at you, didn't he?”
”Yes,” she said, and tears started to run down her face.
Daphne leaned in, like a priest or a cellmate.
”What were you fighting about that night?”
”I don't remember.”