The Best Defense (6 page)

She has lost the will to live. I tried to get through to her, I really tried. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the trial, or what will happen to her after that, but while she was my patient, I tried to help her.” His hands had started their restless motions again.

“You’re still trying to help her, aren’t you?”

“Yes. But I’m in a funny position.” He attempted a grin that failed and was only a grimace.

“I can’t protest what another physician does, you see. I can’t override her choice of doctors. But her sister could find out if that really was her choice, or … But I can’t really get in touch with her, either.” He added almost ingenuously, “They told me you were representing the sister.”

“You don’t think the new doctor was her choice?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know for certain. Her attorney said he was her doctor.”

“Who is the other doctor?”

“Peter Copley,” he said in a low voice.

“And what did he prescribe?”

“Halcion.”

“And the dosage?”

“The nurse showed me,” he said.

“Two blue ones initially, then one every four hours.” He lifted the folder he had been fooling with and picked up a paper, the kind that pharmaceutical companies inserted in their medications. He held it out to her.

“Just some information about Halcion,” he said, not looking at her. When she took the paper covered with small print, he stood up, pushed his glasses back into place, and held out his hand.

“Thanks for coming.” His relief was transforming;

all the indecision, the hesitation, the embarrassment had evaporated.

She rose from her chair to shake his hand.

“Thank you. Doctor.” She hesitated at the door.

“I won’t mention your name, but the sergeant knows I was coming over here.”

“Sergeant Perry doesn’t know anything,” he said quietly.

She nodded and left.

In the parking structure, sitting in her car, she read the information sheet quickly, then read it again more slowly.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

Home, she decided. Someplace where she could pace, curse if she wanted to. She drove home and called Lucille. Then she called her own doctor and caught him on his way out to lunch.

Without mentioning names or details, she described Paula and her condition.

“A lot of stress, anxiety, fear, and grief. She lost a lot of blood and is about fifteen pounds underweight.”

“Good grief.”

“Tell me this. Am I right, that’s double the high end of the normal dosage?”

“Probably. I don’t prescribe it; I’d have to look it up.”

“Exactly. I want reports about side effects, the warnings you know the sort of thing. You guys get that stuff sent to you all the time.”

“You know I can’t second-guess another doctor with out seeing the patient, and besides, what you want is in the library,” he said.

“I need it now.”

“Everybody needs whatever it is now,” he said with some sharpness.

She could pick up the material at one forty-five, he agreed at last.

While talking to him she had thumbed through the phone book and found the number for the public de fender’s office; she punched in the numbers.

“I’m sorry,” a woman said.

“Mr. Spassero is out of town. He won’t be back until Monday.”

“He must have left a number where he can be reached.”

“I’m afraid not. If you’ll leave your number, Ms.

Holloway, I’m sure he’ll get in touch with you on Mon day.”

Barbara hung up. She tried his home number, got a machine, and left a message. Monday, she thought bleakly. Monday.

She walked to the kitchen and stood at the sink looking at the doomed rhododendron, but she was thinking of Paula Kennerman, who was equally doomed. Abruptly she went back to her office and again riffled through the phone book, took a deep breath, and then punched in some more numbers.

“May I speak with either Judge Paltz’s secretary or his clerk?” she said to the woman who answered.

She had met Judge Paltz many different times over the years, but she never had tried a case in his court. He and her father had been close in the past, until he had become a judge and her father had moved out to the country and gradually circumstances and distance had separated them. The judge was seventy-three, she knew, one year older than her father.

He was heavily built, with thin gray hair and a deeply weathered face. A fisherman, she remembered. His chambers office looked like the ideal grandfather’s study: deep comfortable chairs covered with dark mohair, fine walnut tables, an even finer walnut desk cluttered with keepsakes—a porcelain clock, pictures in silver frames, a ceramic boot that held pens and pencils…. A reassuring sort of a room. The only surprising thing about it now was the presence of William Spassero, who had stood up when she entered.

“Barbara,” Judge Paltz said, taking her hand, enclosing it in both of his.

“How have you been keeping yourself?

You look wonderful.”

This time she was dressed for the occasion in a navy cotton dress with a white jacket and white sandals.

“I’m fine. Judge Paltz, thank you. Mr. Spassero,” she said with a slight nod. His acknowledging nod was as cool as hers had been. The judge led her to a chair and saw that she was seated comfortably, as if she were his elderly aunt, brittle and frail.

He sat in a chair between her and Spassero and then, with his hands on his knees, he said, “Barbara, the message I was given said there is an emergency situation with Bill’s client. Is there?”

“Yes, sir. I believe there is.”

“All right. Naturally, I couldn’t talk to you about the defendant without her attorney being present also.”

“Of course,” she said.

“I tried to reach Mr. Spassero, and when I couldn’t I had no recourse except to appeal to the court. Thank you for arranging the meeting, sir.”

He inclined his head fractionally.

“You both understand that under no circumstance can I permit any discussion of material that has a bearing on the case of Paula Kennerman?” It was not really a question. Barbara nodded.

“Yes, sir,” Spassero said.

“Your Honor, may I present my understanding of this matter before Ms. Holloway goes into whatever her emergency is?” When the judge nodded, he went on, very smoothly, showing no animosity or resentment, only puzzlement.

“Sir, I was in court on Wednesday when Ms. Holloway chose to sit in and observe me. I didn’t know if I should be flattered or intimidated,” he said with his boyish grin.

“But later, when I spoke to her, it became clear that she was antagonistic.

She questioned the way I was handling Paula Kennerman’s case, criticized me, even offered gratuitous advice.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

“I was baffled, sir. I know I don’t have a lot of experience as a trial attorney, but this struck me as so unusual that I mentioned it to one of the more experienced attorneys, and he said with some emphasis that her behavior had been unprofessional, possibly even unethical.”

Barbara watched him with great interest; his hurt-little-boy act was very convincing.

Judge Paltz shifted his position, crossed his arms over his chest.

“I see. You wish to lodge a formal complaint?”

“No, Your Honor.”

“I take it we haven’t got to the emergency yet,” Judge Paltz said agreeably.

“Any time now. Are you through. Bill?”

“Not quite, sir. You know that Paula Kennerman has received many threats, and that the district attorney and I mutually agreed that her visitors should be screened.

For her own safety. Yesterday Ms. Holloway got through the screening to see the defendant and left her in a highly agitated state. She was so excitable that I felt obligated to bring in a second doctor to evaluate her condition. It was his opinion that Mrs. Kennerman should be sedated and kept in seclusion for the next several days under his observation and care.” He drew in a breath and said slowly, “Today Ms. Holloway was denied permission to see the defendant, who was sleeping And that, I’m afraid, is the emergency.”

“I see.” The expression on Judge Paltz’s face remained interested and neutral.

“Barbara? First, are you representing a client in this matter?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Reiner, Paula Kennerman’s sister.”

She withdrew the various papers she had collected, each set paper-clipped together.

“This is my agreement with Mrs. Reiner,” she said, handing him the documents.

“I

went to see Mrs. Kennerman in order to get her signature The papers were ruined, and when I tried to get back this morning I was turned away.”

“The emergency, Barbara,” Judge Paltz said with a touch of irritation.

“Mrs. Reiner talked to Dr. Copley, who is now treating her sister, and she is very upset by the choice of doctors and his treatment. Paula Kennennan is not in competent; she can choose her own doctor and should not be forced to submit to one who is not under contract with the state.”

“Is she being forced to submit to medical treatment?”

the judge asked Spassero.

“No, sir. As I said, she was very excitable, and it was the doctor’s decision ” “She was restrained and forced to take a massive dose of Halcion,” Barbara said sharply.

“And once a patient has been tranquilized to the extent that dosage would induce, no further force is required.”

“You questioned my competence, and now you’re questioning the competence of a distinguished doctor,” Spassero snapped.

“Yes, I am. Your Honor, I have gathered information from a number of sources concerning the use of Halcion, especially the contra indications for a person in the physical condition Paula Kennennan suffers at this time anemic, under great stress, anxious, depressed.”

She held out the sheaf of papers she had clipped together

“These are photocopies of the original articles, and stapled to each one is an excerpt of the pertinent data.”

With some reluctance Judge Paltz accepted the papers

“What is it you want?” Spassero demanded harshly.

“First you tell me to get a second opinion, and then you create an emergency because I brought in a second doctor What game are you playing?”

“Now, Bill,” Judge Paltz said.

“I asked if you intended to get a second psychiatric evaluation, not if you intended to bring in a hack who seems to think the only good patient is a sleeping patient.”

“Now, Barbara,” Judge Paltz said, only minimally sharper.

“Both of you, quiet.” He began to read through the excerpts, and after a moment he stood up, went to his desk, and picked up his telephone.

“Doris, would you run down Dr. Grayling for me, please?”

While he waited for the call to be put through, he scanned the other excerpts and then picked up the documents Barbara had drawn up for Lucille Reiner.

Spassero and Barbara waited silently.

When the phone rang, a soft melodious three notes, Barbara felt her stomach tighten.

“Dr. Grayling, good of you to let me interrupt your day. I just have a couple of questions to ask you, looking for a little information, you know.” He swiveled his chair around and his voice faded so that his words no longer carried across the room. The conversation seemed to continue a long time before he swiveled back, saying, “I do appreciate all this. Dr. Grayling.

Thank you so much.” After he hung up, he cupped his chin in his hand in thought for what seemed a long time.

Finally he folded his hands before him on the desk and said, “A defendant who is being held in jail awaiting trial becomes of necessity a ward of the court.

But a defendant who has been declared competent to stand trial is deemed competent to make independent decisions concerning certain personal affairs, such as the dispensation of belongings, a will, and non emergency private medical treatment. Once certain treatments are initiated, however, it appears that independent decisions are not

trustworthy, and for that ream son I have asked Dr. Grayling to reassume his position as Mrs. Kennerman’s doctor until Monday, when she will be given the opportunity to choose her own physician if she so desires. Dr. Grayling’s opinion is that it will take until Monday for the medication to be out of her system enough to trust her independence in this matter.”

He regarded Barbara levelly, then turned the same look of measured assessment toward Spassero.

“Be cause her mental functions may be disturbed by the medication she has received, I order both of you not to see her until Dr. Grayling gives his permission, probably on Monday after his examination.”

“Your Honor!” Spassero cried out.

“I object to this entire proceeding. Ms. Holloway created a crisis in an attempt to prejudice the court for some reason which I simply can’t fathom. She has done this in a way that is so prejudicial, my integrity has been impugned. Dr.

Copley’s reputation has been damaged, and for what purpose God alone knows.”

“Well, she says she wants to get a blue sweater back for her client. Isn’t that what Mrs. Reiner retained you to do?”

“Yes, sir,” Barbara said meekly. She could not inter pret the glint in the judge’s eyes.

He stood up and gathered together the papers she had given him.

“As for the rest of it, Bill, leave it alone. No one’s accusing you of anything, far as I can tell. You saw your client animated, according to Dr. Grayling, and that was so unusual you made a mistake. It hap pens. But your doctor probably made a bigger mistake.

And no one outside this room knows what went on in here.” He walked around his desk.

“I think we’re through, aren’t we?” He handed the papers to Barbara.

He ushered them to the door, and said to Barbara

“Sometime, when you have plenty of time, ask your father about that sturgeon we wrestled with over at Snake River. And, Barbara, keep in mind that the court appointed Mr. Spassero to represent Paula Kennennan.

And to my knowledge neither of them has petitioned the court for a change.”

The door clicked shut. Barbara and Spassero walked out silently through the offices, out to the street where (he sunshine was blinding. Still not speaking, he turned one way and strode off, and she headed the other way toward her car. Only when she was inside it, holding the wheel, did she relax, and then she grinned. Asshole.