Sister's Choice (31 page)

Worse still was the fact that Colby was an “unassailable” witness, as Evan would have termed it. He was the son of one of the most respected men in the community. Every word he spoke would be believed. Moreover, Colby may have his faults, which Maggie was becoming more and more aware of, but she knew he was not a liar.

Colby told the court of an incident that occurred a year ago in which Tommy Donnelly tried to sell a horse to the Stoddards. Albert Stoddard knew enough not to have any dealings with Tom, but it was Tommy who did the negotiations, and Albert had a soft heart and could not shut down the boy despite his misgivings. Turned out the horse had been stolen.

Maggie noted that, as before, Tommy reacted to Colby’s words with signs of guilt. His cheeks colored, and he sank down in his chair. Maggie sighed inwardly.

“Now, I’m not saying Tommy himself stole that horse,” Colby testified. “Tommy
said
his father had bought the horse from a drifter who needed some quick cash. But Tommy said”—the way Colby spoke that word
said
had skepticism all over it—“he lost the bill of sale. My dad wanted to give the kid the benefit of the doubt. He told me, ‘That boy needs a break. Maybe the money will do the boy and his family some good.’ ”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Evan cut in. “Again, the prosecution is presenting hearsay testimony.”

“Overruled, counselor,” the judge returned. “I am going to allow it because I understand that Albert Stoddard is ill and cannot be here to testify in person.”

With a pointed glance at Evan, Mr. Cranston asked, “Mr. Stoddard, were you present during this transaction?”

“For most of it.”

“Then your testimony is, for the most part, a firsthand accounting of the incident?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you tell the court what young Tommy Donnelly’s reaction was when he heard the horse had been stolen?”

“He denied knowing anything about it. But my father is a pretty good judge of people, and he could see Tommy really did know—”

“Objection!” exclaimed Evan.

“Sustained,” the judge replied almost wearily.

Maggie had a feeling he didn’t think much of Evan, and it worried her that he might be conveying this attitude to the jury.

The judge added, “Mr. Stoddard, please confine your answers to facts.”

“Well, Your Honor, it’s a fact that there was no bill of sale!” Colby declared triumphantly.

“I have no further questions,” Mr. Cranston said.

Evan remained seated, looking as if he was weighed down by a lead ball. His skin still had a grayish green tinge. Maggie prayed harder.

“Mr. Parker, do you wish to cross-examine the witness?” asked the judge.

“Not at this time, Your Honor, but I request that the witness remain close in case there is need to question him later,” Evan replied.

At first, upon hearing Evan’s response, Maggie thought he had capitulated, giving in to his fear. But upon further thought, she realized this was the only move he could have made. There was no way he could discredit Colby’s testimony in the eyes of the jury, so instead he probably opted to give him no further opportunity to speak. Hopefully his short testimony would be lost in the mix. Maggie thought Evan would be pleased at how she was beginning to think like a lawyer.

The afternoon dragged on with more prosecution witnesses of the same ilk. Maggie began to think her testimony was going to be put off another day. According to Evan, the most important witnesses were questioned early in the day when the jury was fresh. So Mr. Cranston might be saving her for the morning. If she was called today, it could indicate her testimony wasn’t as significant as she thought. There was one other possibility. It came to her around four o’clock in the afternoon when her name was suddenly called. What if she was the prosecution’s finale? Mr. Cranston might rest his case after she testified, leaving her words echoing with a kind of finality in the jury’s collective mind.

“I call to the stand,” Mr. Cranston said, “Miss Margaret Newcomb.”

Her knees were shaky as she walked toward the witness box and her right hand trembled when she placed it on the Bible and swore to tell the truth. All thought of lying fled from her in that moment.

“Miss Newcomb,” Cranston began, “please tell us your relationship to the accused.”

“He’s a friend. We went to school together,” Maggie replied.

She tried to block from her mind the awful rumors that there was more to their friendship. But her stomach knotted in fear that Mr. Cranston might try to exploit this.

“But you have been out of school for over a year, have you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yet, you have still maintained your friendship.”

“Yes. I’m friends with everyone I went to school with,”

Maggie said smugly.

“Of course,” Cranston replied dryly. “We have established in this court, if nothing else, that Tommy Donnelly was not the most respected or trusted person in the community . . .”

He paused, perhaps expecting an objection from Evan. But there was none.

Cranston continued, “Therefore, I must ask, why is it that you remained friendly with this boy who could not have been the best influence? Did your parents support this . . . ah . . . friendship—”

“Objection!” Evan jumped to his feet.

“On what grounds?” the judge asked.

“Well . . . I just don’t like the sound of his voice,” Evan replied.

His tone was hesitant. He probably realized belatedly that the last thing he ought to do was draw attention to the rumors to which Cranston was obviously making a subtle reference.

“Overruled. But, Mr. Cranston, do please watch your
tone,
” said the judge, his own tone sounding rather snide.

“Of course, Your Honor. I certainly don’t wish to bring aspersion upon my own witness.” There was amusement in Cranston’s voice. He’d made his point and nothing would wipe it from the jury’s memory. “So, Miss Newcomb, your parents approved of this friendship with Tommy?”

“Not exactly. But—”

“You continued to interact with Tommy despite their displeasure?”

“Yes. But—”

“Objection!” Evan exclaimed, again springing to his feet. “Why doesn’t the prosecution let the witness complete a sentence? She is his witness, isn’t she?”

“Overruled. As I understand it, she is a hostile witness,” the judge replied.

“Is that why the prosecution must manipulate her answers?” Evan asked.

“You’ll have your turn with the witness, Mr. Parker, but in the meantime please watch
your
tone,” reminded the judge. “Now, please sit.”

Cranston resumed. “How close were you and Tommy Donnelly?”

“Objection!” Evan cried again.

“Mr. Parker,” the judge said with undisguised displeasure, “please refrain from these unfounded objections. One might think she was a defense witness, the way you feel you must protect her.”

Evan slumped back in his chair, an almost imperceptible pout on his face.

“Would you please answer the question, Miss Newcomb?” the judge requested.

“I saw him once or twice a week,” Maggie replied. “He told me I was his only real friend. And I liked his company because he didn’t mind that I liked fishing and hiking better than stitching and cooking.”

“What activities did you pursue when you were together?”

“We mostly went fishing when the weather was nice. Or hunting. We both liked the outdoors. That was all!” she added, almost daring the man to contradict her.

“Did you talk?” Cranston asked, ignoring her final remark. Maggie wished he would just get to the point and quit dragging her through the wringer like this. She had a feeling it was as much to agitate Evan as it was to interrogate her.

“Some,” Maggie replied. “Tommy isn’t a big talker. We mostly just fished and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Sometimes we talked about news and such and occasionally about our problems.”

“I can’t imagine a well-brought-up girl such as yourself could have many problems, at least that would be pertinent to this case. However, I would be interested to hear what problems the defendant revealed.”

Maggie looked desperately at the judge. “Your Honor, do I have to tell things that were told me in confidence?”

“Yes, Miss Newcomb. Only a doctor, a lawyer, or a man of the cloth has the privilege of confidentiality. Answer the question please.”

“Well, then . . .” She hesitated. As much as she wanted to get to the point, she was also dreading that moment. “Tommy talked about things that happened at home.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“His father.” Maggie had tried studiously to avoid looking at the defense table, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Tommy stir and Evan lay a hand on his arm.

“Yes . . . ?” prompted Mr. Cranston.

“He’d tell me about his father beating him and calling him names.”

“Did you ever see the father beat his son?”

“No. But—”

“That’s good enough.” As Cranston spoke, Maggie noted Evan was now about to make a move, but a sharp look from the judge forced him to refrain. Cranston added quickly, “So you have only the defendant’s word regarding the abuse?”

“He had a fat lip once or twice!” Maggie said quickly before the man could cut her off again.

Cranston smiled. “I suppose Tommy never fought with anyone else in the community.”

“Sure he did! The other boys were always making fun of him and egging him on.”

“So those wounds you saw could have been from these fights, could they not?”

Maggie groaned inwardly, realizing her error. Gamely she replied, “Maybe, but—”

“Now, then—”

Frustrated with his constant interruptions when she wanted to explain an answer that could be misunderstood, she now assertively talked right over Cranston. “But I know the bruises were from his father!” she blurted.

Cranston arched a brow. “Please, Miss Newcomb, a simple yes or no is adequate unless
I
ask for more elaboration.”

“Your Honor,” Evan put in, “the way the prosecution is handling this witness is a travesty!”

“Your protest is duly noted, Mr. Parker,” said the judge, only as a matter of form, she was certain, not because he agreed.

“Continue, Mr. Cranston.”

“Miss Newcomb, let’s recall the day of June twenty-first of this year. There was an altercation that day between the defendant’s father and the supposed minister, whom we now know as Mr. Zack Hartley. Can you tell the court what happened on that day?”

“I wasn’t there to see it,” Maggie said smugly. “So it would be hearsay.” She risked a glance at Evan, and he offered her a faint smile.

“But you can tell us what the entire community knows of the incident.”

Maggie shrugged. She may as well not fight it. “That day Zack called at the Donnelly house, and I guess Mr. Donnelly tried to kick him off the property. Anyway, it ended up in a fight in which Zack knocked Mr. Donnelly out cold.”

“The defendant saw the altercation. Correct?”

“Yes. He told me about it later.”

“What else did he tell you?”

Maggie took a breath. She had to practically force out every word. “He told me he had never believed his father could get beat—”

Tommy instantly sprang to his feet. “Maggie, no!” he implored. A murmur rose from the spectators. This was the kind of drama they had come to see.

“Mr. Parker,” ordered the judge, “restrain your client, or the court will be forced to do so.”

“Tommy, sit down,” Evan pleaded, grasping his arm and giving it a tug.

Tommy wrenched his arm away. “Don’t you say nothing, Maggie, or you ain’t my friend no more!”

“Tommy, sit down!” Evan said with more authority. “Now!”

Tommy hesitated a moment before slumping back into his chair. He continued to glare at Maggie, however. Evan leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was seemed to settle him a little.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” Maggie murmured.

“Did Tommy say anything else about that incident?” Mr. Cranston asked.

“Yes.” Let him drag it from me, Maggie decided.

“Tell the court what Tommy said.”

She glanced toward the defense table. Tommy’s hostility made her heart quake, but Evan offered her a look of encouragement. She had to trust that he would somehow make everything all right.

“Tommy told me . . . well, that he wasn’t afraid of his father anymore after seeing him get beat. He said . . . the next time his father pushed him, he was going to push back.” Maggie couldn’t look at Tommy, but she could feel his angry glower.

Her words caused another buzz of voices to ripple through the spectators.

“Order!” demanded the judge, and when there wasn’t immediate quiet, he banged his gavel on his bench and said louder, “I will have order in the court, or the spectators will be removed!”

That brought the desired effect. Quiet descended.

Maggie realized her words also created the desired effect. That is, the effect the prosecutor hoped for. Everyone, including the jury, would have to consider her testimony as a real motive for murder.

“And,” Cranston said, “less than a month later, Tom Don-nelly was dead—”

“Objection!” cried Evan. “Counsel is—”

“I know what the prosecution is doing,” the judge interrupted. “That last comment is to be stricken from the record, and the jury is instructed to ignore it.”

Mr. Cranston had made his point nonetheless. “That will be all, Miss Newcomb,” he said.

“The defense may cross-examine,” said the judge.

Evan rose. “Good afternoon, Miss Newcomb,” he said formally. Maggie had expected nothing less. “I will try to make this brief. The day is waning, and I am sure everyone is growing weary. But can you tell me something regarding the defendant’s remark about not letting his father push him anymore? Was that the first time he ever made such a statement to you?”

Good question, Evan! Maggie silently cheered. “No, as a matter of fact it wasn’t. He often said how he’d like to hit his father back.”

“So this most recent statement didn’t seem any more serious to you than the others?”

“No, not at all.”

“As our learned prosecutor so aptly pointed out, nearly a full month passed between the conversation you described and the untimely death of Mr. Tom Donnelly. Did you have opportunity to see young Tommy in that time?”