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Stepping back and with a wave of the arm that was all-inclusive, Brice Mack appealed, ‘Please, ladies and gentlemen, look into your hearts and consider well your attitudes to what I have just told you. Words such as ‘incredible,’ ‘unbelievable,’ and ‘impossible’ have a distinct place and utility in the earthly matters of men but - I’m sure you will allow - have no pertinence at all in the heavenly affairs of God. All things are possible with God. And on God’s lofty plane do the basic issues in this case reside! For we are dealing here with a man’s faith, belief, and a most deeply felt religious commitment. A commitment to a religious concept that was made only after long and anguished soul-searching and years and years of travel and study before the seed of a firm conviction and absolute faith could take root and blossom in his heart and mind.’

Brice Mack had slowly retreated from the jury box to a point just parallel to Elliot Hoover, who was sitting stiffly upright, scribbling intensely on his pad. Scott Velie, Janice, noticed, had turned about in his chair and was observing his adversary with the interest and curiosity of a scientist studying a bug on the end of a pin. Even the press had paused in their note taking and were watching the young attorney, transfixed.

‘Only then, ladies and gentlemen, after nearly a decade away from home, did he allow himself the privilege of returning to this country in order to bring down the curtain on the final act of his long and desperate quest. Only then, firm in his belief of the verity of Erik Lloyd’s message, did he dare approach the lives of the plaintiffs and seek to introduce himself to them. And how did he present himself? As a beggar? No. As a robber out to take that which was not legally his? Never! He presented himself simply as the man of honour and decency that he is, requesting their indulgence, their understanding, and perhaps even a crumb of kindness. As he himself stated it to me, wanting nothing more than they were prepared to give him. He expected their derision, and he got it. He expected their rejection and received it. He expected their absolute denial of his God-granted right to meet and to visit with the child, Ivy - the earthly embodiment pf his daughter, Audrey Rose - and fully accepted the whiplash of their denial with grace and understanding and was prepared to turn away from their door, to step out of their lives and never return again, when - when something happened to stop him, ladies and gentlemen. An event so extraordinary as to cause Elliot Hoover to halt in his tracks - to cause him to reconsider his adamant resolve to escape that intolerable situation, an event that suddenly lent force and meaning to all the years of travel and study and dedication he had given to his untiring pursuit of truth.’

The defence attorney selected this crucial moment to relieve his parched throat and cruelly lingered over each step of pouring, measuring, and sipping the water.

‘And that event, ladies and gentlemen, occurred on the very first night Elliot Hoover visited the Templeton family, at their invitation by the way, at which time, as if God in heaven had heard his appeal, a miracle took place. Yes, a miracle. For that night, for the first time in ten years, Elliot Hoover heard the voice of his daughter, Audrey Rose, cry out to him in desperate appeal, ‘Daddy, Daddy, help me, help me!’

‘Now let me make myself perfectly clear. I’m not talking about a voice that came to him out of his own anguish, an imagined voice, a voice in his head, disembodied, oh, no! It was a voice that was heard by all present, a real, honest-to-God voice that belonged to the one person who had the right to transmit Audrey Rose’s appeal to her father - the Templetons’ own daughter, Ivy!’

There was a noticeable stirring in the courtroom as throats were cleared and looks exchanged. A kind of nervous questioning in the faces of press, jury, and spectators alike, as if seeking corroboration to credit what they were hearing. Janice saw Scott Velie bestir himself and thought he might be preparing to object, but noting the disbelief on the jurors’ faces, he apparently decided not to do so. A smug smile appeared on his face, instead, which, if Janice read it correctly, seemed to say, ‘Go on, buster, you’re doing fine.’

‘Yes, ladies and gentlemen,’ Mack continued doggedly, ‘Ivy Templeton, who, caught in the grip of a terrible nightmare and in the presence of four witnesses, cried out to Elliot Hoover. And her cry was the cry of a soul in torment, the soul of Audrey Rose, who, seared by the flames of the fire that had consumed her, was unable to find rest, to find surcease from that devastating horror until … until, ladies and gentlemen, that man, Elliot Hoover, her father, went to her and through his very presence and fatherly love was finally able to soothe her restless spirit and allay her terrors.’

The attorney turned to the jury and shook his head in quick negative jerks.

‘No, I will not go into greater detail at this time. But understand, there is a great deal you need to know. And before this trial is over, you shall know it all, I promise you.’ His eyes shifted towards Scott Velie. ‘A prima facie case of kidnapping in the first degree against the defendant has been somewhat sparingly suggested by the learned prosecutor. Before this trial is over, we shall present evidence to refute that charge in its entirety. We will show that Elliot Hoover, far from entering the lives of the Templetons as an interloper and villain, bent on evil and mischief, was instead their benefactor, a man of compassion and concern who alone could assuage the awful and devastating torments of their daughter, Ivy, and through her the spirit of his own daughter, Audrey Rose. We will demonstrate beyond all shadow of a doubt that Elliot Hoover did not go to visit the Templetons that fateful night for the purpose of assaulting their daughter, but to place his special and unique services at their disposal in the hope of alleviating the sufferings of a young and innocent child.’

In one abrupt motion he spun around to Janice and fixed her with a hard and accusing look.

‘You will hear how, upon entering the bedroom of the apartment, he found the child bruised and bloodied and tied, yes, TIED to the bedstead like an animal. You will come to understand and fully believe why Elliot Hoover needed to take Ivy Templeton to his own apartment - not to steal or sequester her for purposes illegal or illicit, but to help her, to save her, to calm her, to wash her wounds, to treat and care for her pained and injured body and to pacify and ease her restless and tormented soul: the soul of Audrey Rose.’

Calmly and with assurance, he turned to the jury.

They were listening. They were hanging on to his last word, waiting for his next. Sure, there was doubt, disbelief on the faces of Three and Ten. Number Four, Potash, was grinning.

But Mrs Carbone was listening. And Harrison and Fitzgerald and Hall. They were hearing. They were hooked. Nice going for ten minutes’ work.

‘I’m certain you will all keep an open mind to the testimony of the expert witnesses I will bring into this courtroom to establish a firm basis for our contention that Elliot Hoover had a perfect right - a guardian’s right - to take that child from an atmosphere fraught with violence and peril and remove her to a place of peace and safety. I am equally certain that when the testimony is completed, you will render a verdict — a just and honourable verdict - that will clear Elliot Hoover of any taint of guilt in regard to the false and misleading charges brought against him by the State of New York.’

Then, turning to the bench, Brice Mack effected a slight bow and said, ‘Thank you, Your Honour.’

Judge Langley quickly banged his gavel.

‘This court will stand in recess until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’

Even after the judge’s departure, the entire courtroom remained silent as time hung suspended for seconds until reality took over. Then the silence was rent as a sudden hailstorm of voices deluged the room with a huge, formless wave of sound.

As Janice rose and joined the exodus, she noted the smiles on the jurors’ faces as they filed out of their box and were taken back to the jury room. There was no sign of the judge, but Scott Velie had remained behind and was chatting and laughing with a reporter. Spotting Janice, Velie winked and smiled at her encouragingly.

Elliot Hoover and Brice Mack were standing, hands clasped, smiling amiably while the guard stood by, wearing a small grin as he waited to take the prisoner back to his cell. Smiles and laughter seemed to dominate the moment, forcing Janice into a well of merriment.

The case of the People v Elliot Hoover had got off to a gay and happy start.

There were messages at the desk, mainly for Bill and mainly from his office; his secretary twice, Don Goetz four times, Mr Simmons once, and two from a reporter named Hazard from AP. There was a message for Janice from Carole: ‘Would they care to join them for dinner that night, veal birds and fettucini casa linga? PLEASE! !’ Janice would not at all have minded but knew that Bill would say no. She would call Carole later and thank her.

Bill thrust aside the messages and put through a call to Mount Carmel.

Janice hung up their coats, then went upstairs and picked up the extension in time to hear, ‘And please don’t worry, Mr Templeton, all the sisters and the teachers have been alerted to safeguard your child’s privacy and tranquillity. You can depend on us.’

‘Thank you, Mother Veronica,’ Bill said huskily, then made several fatherly inquiries about Ivy’s schoolwork, deportment, and state of health.

‘She’s a lovely child,’ the mother enthused, ‘and a very good student; alert, bright, and well liked by the other girls. She’s at dinner now. Suppose I have her call you after evening prayers?’

‘I’d be grateful, Mother.’

The omelette a fines herbes seches which she whipped together with dried parsley and basil flakes was a disaster since there was neither butter nor oil in the house. The final result, poached in a bit of water, was limpid, mealy, and inedible.

Before Ivy’s call came through at seven fifteen, they’d received two other calls, both for Bill. Don Goetz’s call came first, a few minutes after they had given up on the omelette.,

‘Hey, guy, you’re famous,’ Don chortled. His voice held a note of mild shock and hilarity. ‘You made page six of the Post.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Bill lied with a matching laugh. ‘Crazy, isn’t it?’

‘Wow! Is it on the level?’

‘Is what on the level?’

‘What it says:

THIS IS MY CHILD, KIDNAPPER CLAIMS, REINCARNATED.’

Bill felt a lump take root inside his chest as Don chuckled his way through a couple of the choicer lines in the news story. ”… renowned psychic clued Hoover to reborn daughter’s whereabouts … defendant heard cry of his daughter’s soul issue from mouth of kidnapped girl… defence promises expert witnesses will substantiate claim …’ Jesus, man!’ Don said in a high, strident voice. ‘Is this guy for real?’

There was no hint of levity in Pel Simmons’ voice when he called a few minutes later. In fact, there was a decidedly funereal quality to their brief transaction as Bill filled Pel in on the essentials of the case and Pel, undoubtedly disturbed, expressed sympathy and support for Bill and his family.

‘Don’t worry about things at the office,’ Pel said in conclusion. ‘Don will stay on top of your accounts.’

Bill felt the first vague and distant reverberations of the death knell in this last statement.

Ivy’s call came through as Bill was wrapping up with Pel. Janice answered and was listening mutely and with concern to Ivy as Bill approached.

‘What is it?’ he asked, fearing the worst.

Janice covered the mouthpiece with her hand. ‘She’s coughing. I think she’s coming down with a cold.’

‘Oh,’ said Bill with a sigh of relief.

‘Here’s Daddy. He’d like to say hello.’ Janice handed the phone to Bill.

‘Hi, Princess, what’s this about a cold?’

‘It’s nothing, Daddy,’ Ivy said in between coughs. ‘All the girls have the sniffles.’

‘Well, be sure to bundle up good when you go out, and if it gets any worse, go see the nurse in the dispensary.’

‘I’ve already been,’ Ivy said agreeably. ‘She gave me some groovy cough medicine. Tastes like cherries, of course.’ Then, shifting subjects: ‘Daddy, you and Mommy are coming up this weekend, aren’t you?’

‘Try keeping us away.’ Bill grinned.

‘You know Mina Dawson?’

‘Yeah, sure - that pretty friend of yours.’

‘Right, she’s really swell, and I was wondering, Daddy. You see, her mother won’t be coming up this weekend.’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘She’s going to Florida to file for a divorce and’ - she continued aloud - ‘since Mina is going to be terribly lonely, I wondered if we couldn’t ask her to join us for dinner at the Clam Box Saturday night.’

Janice saw a pleased, crooked smile spread over Bill’s features as he chuckled and said, ‘We’d be delighted, Princess. Tell Mina to count on it.’

They talked a while longer; then Bill allowed Janice to say good-bye before taking the phone back for a final word.

‘And if any of the kids there should say anything to you. Princess, anything at all that might sound strange and funny, promise me you won’t listen to them, promise you’ll tell them to bug off, okay?’

‘Strange and funny like what?’

‘Oh…’ Bill groped. ‘Like … your father’s got two heads and a bushy tail, crazy, creepy things like that.’

Ivy laughed. ‘The only girl here’d say anything like that is Jill O’Connor, but then she’s a freak.’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘Her left boob is twice as big as her right one.’

After hanging up the receiver, Bill checked with the desk for messages. There were three, two from the man named Hazard and one from a girl in the news department of WNBC local. Bill told Ernie not to bother sending them up.

Later, after a long, relaxing bath, Bill put on his robe and joined Janice in the living-room.

She was surprised to see him go to the television set and turn it on. He had pointedly avoided the six thirty news but now seemed almost eager to catch the ten o’clock summary.

It did not come until the really important issues of the day had been put aside and six commercial messages had been heard. It was only in the final minutes of the telecast that the worry lines in the newscaster’s craggy face gradually relaxed, and the dark, brooding eyes displayed an unaccustomed glint of humour and mischief as he launched into the lighter side of the day’s happenings.