A Verdict for Love (12 page)

Clay was up before Tamika could even
regain her seat.

“So all we really have is the
plaintiff’s word on what she claims was said.” He was addressing
the jury as he neared the stand and was shaking his head doubtfully
when he shifted to Chiara,

“Miss Bianchi…hmmm…that’s some kind of
a foreign name isn’t it? Is it Eye-talian?”

“It is also an American name. Just
perhaps not as common as Clay.” Chiara answered.

There was a short burst of laughter at
the pun. Even Clay had to smile at the deft riposte.

“Much has been made of the length of
time you were with the good firm you are now seeking to discredit.
Why is it that you chose to deceive your friends and associates for
fif-teen-long-years?” it was drawn out in an exaggerated drawl for
effect.

“I deceived no one.” She knew Clay was
trying to rile her but denial was calm.

“You want us to believe you weren’t
hiding your deviant desires toward members of your own
sex?”

“I was never asked about my sexual
preference.”

“Were you open about it?” he
persisted.

“I was foolish enough fear the
prejudice I might encounter.”

“Your Honor, please direct the witness
to answer yes or no only.”

“The answer is no then.” Chiara
volunteered it before the Judge could admonish her.

“Isn’t it true that you hid the fact
of your perversion because you knew it was un-natural…because you
were ashamed of your secret aberration?”

Tamika objected that Clay’s language
was presumptive and inflammatory. She was sustained but the Judge’s
reproof was mild,

“Limit your self, Mr Clay.”

Chiara decided to ignore the earlier
warning to limit her answers and directed herself to the
jury.

“Like most of you might be…I was
afraid of losing something I had worked hard for. I was wrong to be
afraid.” Clay and the Judge tried to cut her off but she continued
over them, “I finally decided that the pursuit of personal
happiness was just as important as a career. We all have a right to
a full life.” She finished.

Clay saw that she had established a
bit of common ground with the jurors. Instead complaining that her
little speech had been out of order, he shifted the
focus.

“No good American will disagree on
that. But maybe you can enlighten us here. Us Christian folk don’t
know much about the sort of happiness your kind pursue. We
understand what goes on between a man and a woman…the joys of
sharing a bed in wedlock.” He turned to leer suggestively at the
jury, “Maybe you can describe for us just exactly what goes on
between gays?”

Tamika was on her feet to object but
Clay had already raised a hand.

“I retract the question. These good
people don’t deserve to have their minds stained by any such sordid
images. That’s all I want with this…this witness, your Honor.” His
voice dripped with disdain indicating that he would have preferred
to have called her something other than “this witness’.

Cyrus Milton banged his
gavel.

“Court will recess for lunch and
resume at 1 P.M.”

I
n
the restaurant Chiara banished any discussion of the
trial.

“I don’t want to hear a single word
about it.” She declared.

Instead she and Grace regaled Tamika
with the details of their stay in Savannah. They extracted a
promise that she would accompany them on their next trip
there.

“I’ll have to bring a male chaperone
to protect me from you conniving dykes!” Tamika joked.

“You may invite anyone you like.”
Chiara assured her.

Chiara was relieved when Grace excused
herself to visit the powder room.

“I know I said you would call the
shots but when we go back in there no way Grace goes on the
stand.”

“She could lend a very innocent note.”
Tamika argued.

“I managed to keep my cool but he
could explode her. She looks sweet but she has a temper. Hell, she
even threw something at me the other night. No. Besides I’m not
going to let that slimeball drag her through the mud with his
filthy innuendos.”

“Ok,” Tamika acquiesced, “but without
the tape it will be chancy. He is going to trot out a slew of
derogatory witnesses. I will challenge and try to discredit them
but in the end we will be holding our breath.”

“I knew I was rolling the dice when I
started this.”

“You sure they have nothing concrete
in the way of dirt?”

“Have they dug up one of Grace’s old
boyfriends to bash her…or one of my past lovers? Maybe…but so what.
You saw how the creep works. Real or no, he will invent a gutter to
drag us through with his dirty little insinuations.”

Grace interrupted them with her
return.

“What’s for desert?” she asked and the
two conspirators broke up laughing at her care free
pose.

T
amika stood to announce that she would call no further
witnesses. She sat back down across from the opposition primed for
the next round of battle but what happened surprised
her.

“The defense will call numerous
witnesses with extensive evidence to present. In order not to tire
the jury,” Clay smiled over at the panel benevolently, “I request
an adjournment until Monday morning.”

“So ordered.” The Judge declared with
no hesitation.

Grace had not been called up and Clay
was disappointed that he would not get to trash the little blonde
angel. Her very appearance had been working against them but he was
not worried. He had decided to let time work on the jurors. A whole
weekend away from the testimony they’d heard would help haze out
the positives Tamika had presented. On Monday he would march one
accusatory voice after another past them.

Tamika saw through the move right away
and had to appreciate the cleverness of it.

“You see what he’s up to? He may be a
rat bastard but he’s a smart rat bastard!” She grumbled to
Chiara.

“Never mind. Que sera sera.” Chiara
answered fatalistically.

E
nduring two full days with their fate flapping in the wind
was maddening but there was nothing to be done about it. Clay would
sling his mud and Tamika would do her best to erase it. Then twelve
relative strangers would decide who they believed. It was that
simple.

Oddly it was Grace who came up with
one diversion after another that Saturday morning. Chiara had
assumed it would be up to her to maintain the calm but the girl was
surprising her. At around mid-afternoon Grace was actually even
napping. For her part Chiara was forced to seek relaxation in the
hot tub with a good stiff Bourbon Old Fashion. She was just
toweling off when her cell played its tune.

“Hello.”

“
Jack Shay here. I think I
can help you.”

Chiara hesitated before replying. She
had placed the Shay affair in the round file of her memory. She had
hoped to never hear from the man again but his cryptic offer
couldn’t be ignored. She was brusque,

“Help me how, Mr. Shay?”

“I read about his feud you’re having
with your old firm. I think I know where you might find some dirt
on Peter Smith.”

Chiara’s dismissive attitude vanished.
“Such as? What exactly would you be willing to testify
to?”

“Whoa, lady! I got no plans to go
within spitting distance of a courtroom again. You got me loose but
they are still looking to bust my ass. In fact I am getting out.
Flipping over a new leaf or however that saying goes. I have a
buyer and I’m retiring down to Costa Rica.”

“So how does this help me?”

“There was this girl worked for
me…Elizabeth Hill…There was a private party with Smith and some of
his big shot pals. They wanted a girl to dance for them. Just to
dance they said. Instead some nasty shit must’ve gone down. I never
wanted to know exactly what but she was a no show at the club after
that. Then a few months later she called me all upset and demanded
Smith’s name and number. My guess is she confronted him over
something and was paid to shut up and disappear.”

“Where can I find her?”

“Hey, it’s been a couple of years. She
was in Buckhead back then but who knows now. Look, if you can find
her you may have something but leave me out of it.” He rang
off.

Chiara sat down to consider Shay’s
revelation. Apparently he really had been grateful to her for
managing his narrow escape. But his information had been sketchy at
best. Obviously Smith had been involved in something bad enough to
warrant a cover up but unless she could talk to this Hill woman in
person this new knowledge would be of little use. Besides, whatever
it was had happened two years ago. She would have a hard time
making such past history relevant to her case. But if she could
learn exactly what had taken place there might be another
solution.

Chiara rang Tamika immediately. She
listened as the conversation with Shay was repeated. Her
reservations were the same as those which had occurred to
Chiara.

“Just in case it can help I think we
need to locate Elizabeth Hill right now. If we can discover exactly
what Peter Smith was so anxious to hide two years ago there might
be a way to derail Clay’s train of witnesses before he can roll
them through court on Monday.”

“I have a friend at the DMV. He won’t
be too keen on missing Saturday football to go in and look up a
driver’s license for me but he owes me some sugar.”

T
he
friend had succumbed to Tamika’s arm twisting. He had turned up
licenses for three women by that name. Two were eliminated as being
too old to have been the one they wanted to talk to. The other was
twenty-three which made her a good possibility.

The address was way out the NE
Expressway in Briarcliff. Even though evening had arrived Chiara
insisted they drive out and try to talk with her.

The house was located in a quiet
suburban cul-de-sac. Not exactly where Chiara would have ever
looked for an ex-stripper. They rang and the door was opened a mere
crack by a blousy woman who was in her fifties at least.

“Sorry to disturb you. Does an
Elizabeth Hill live here?”

“That’s my daughter. Who’s
asking?”

Her look was suspicious of them and
her voice had a slight slur. She sounded as if she might have had a
few. Tamika decided a little deception was in order. She held out
her card.

“We are attorneys. Your daughter may
be due to receive a significant amount of money by way of a
settlement.”

The woman’s expression became more
welcoming. The door opened for them and she headed into the living
room waving behind for them to follow.

There was a half full tumbler and a
bottle of vodka on the coffee table.

“Just havin’ a nightcap. I’ll get
glasses if y’all want to join me?”

“No thank you.” Chiara answered for
them.

The woman flopped down on the couch
and reached for her drink. Chiara signaled for Tamika to take the
lead.

“Mrs. Hill…was your daughter involved
in some unpleasantness a couple of year back?”

“Hah!” She snorted, “Unpleasantness? A
mess is more like it. I warned her what would come of shakin’ her
butt in some titty bar but she wouldn’t listen. Called it a
gentlemen’s club! A pig in a tuxedo is just a gussied up
pig.”

“Maybe it would be better if we could
talk with your daughter.” Tamika suggested.

“She’s moved out west. Arizona. Look,
how does she get any money from what happened…unless the guy that
gave her a bastard son is ready to pony up?”

Chiara and Tamika had all they could
do to hide their surprise and excitement at the unexpected
revelation. Chiara was the first to take advantage of
it.

“We think the man responsible should
be paying child support. Don’t you agree?”

“Damn right he should. After I finally
got her to tell me what happened I told her to go after him but she
wouldn’t listen. Said it was impossible.”

“She may have thought so at the time,”
Tamika said, “but that may not be the case now. We need to know
exactly what she told you.”

Between sips at the vodka Mrs hill
confided the details of her daughter’s ordeal that long ago
night.

Elizabeth had gone to a fancy
apartment, supposedly to entertain at a party. There had been signs
of some earlier partying but only one man was there when she
arrived.

He’d handed her five one hundred
dollar bills and told her not to worry. They’d have a private party
and she could just dance for him alone. Elizabeth had told him that
all she did was dance and if he had something more in mind she’d
call a girl she knew from the club who would be up for anything.
No, he’d said, all he wanted was some company. Someone to have a
few drinks with. So she’d shared some wine and danced with him
before she passed out.