The River Rose (44 page)

When all the players had returned, he asked, "I want to be perfectly clear about this. The only persons who actually witnessed the shooting were Mrs. Bettencourt, Marvel, Mr. Hardin, and Bettencourt, correct?"

Vince replied, "I followed Clint after we heard Marvel screaming, but he's a lot faster than I am. By the time I got here it was all over but the cryin'." Roberty and Ezra both regretfully told him that by the time they got to Jeanne's cabin Clint was already dragging Max out the door.

Deshler nodded. "This is very important. Did anyone see the gun?" They all looked at each other, then shook their heads mutely. "Ah, the weapon, the weapon," Deshler murmured. "This mysterious, invisible weapon. Very well. Now, what happened when Mr. Hardin returned to the room?"

He made them all go through everything, from Clint stripping Jeanne's bed, Ezra's activities in the galley and attending to Jeanne, from Vince and Clint repairing the door, from all of them scrubbing, and Roberty burning the mattress and bedclothes. He insisted on knowing every single detail, no matter how small, from the time Max had entered Jeanne's room until the deputies had come to arrest Clint.

After that was over he sat down with them all at Jeanne's dining table. Even Leo was allowed to attend, and he laid his head on Jeanne's lap even though they weren't eating. The dog had been especially attentive to Jeanne since that night.

"I'm going to interview each of you separately after we talk," Deshler said. "But first I want to talk to all of you. Normally a defense lawyer will guide his witnesses, he will teach them exactly what to say and how to say it. I do have some suggestions for you, and I'll discuss that when I talk to each of you alone. But just for the record I want to tell you this: you must tell me the absolute, honest, perfect truth about
everything.
Even if you don't understand why I'm asking some question, I want you all to promise me now that you'll tell me the truth."

They all agreed. Deshler went on, "I believe you all are truthful people, anyway, but it helps us all, me included, to say it out loud. Now the only other thing I want to tell you is how you can best help Mr. Hardin with his defense." He gave them one of his rare smiles. "This is most unusual advice for a criminal defense attorney to be giving. My advice to you is this: tell the truth. If the prosecutor comes up with something that you wish he didn't know, don't try to cover. Just answer his questions honestly. Don't volunteer any information; when possible, just answer, 'Yes, sir' and 'No, sir.'" Any sensible man or woman can tell that you, and Mr. Hardin, are honest people. And that is going to be Mr. Hardin's best defense of all."

Ezra scowled. "Thet's all fine and good, Lawyer Deshler, but me and Vinnie here has been called up by the prostecuter's office fer the prostecution! Now I ain't gonna lie, but I've a mind not to answer their fool questions a-tall!"

Jeanne was shocked; she had no idea. She assumed that they hadn't told her so she wouldn't worry.

"I know you have," Deshler said soothingly. "And if you simply refuse to answer the prosecutor's questions, they will put you in jail until you agree to testify. Even if you decide never to answer the questions, then you'll die in jail. And, Mr. Givens, please trust me, and take my advice about your testimony. Answer their questions, and tell the truth. I guarantee you that will help Mr. Hardin much more than you rotting in jail for contempt."

"Well, I got me some contempt, all right," Ezra grunted. "But I b'lieve you, Lawyer Deshler. I'll answer their tomfool questions, and make 'em wish they woulda left me alone."

Then Deshler interviewed Ezra, Vince, and Roberty alone. He returned to Jeanne's room and said, "Mrs. Bettencourt, my client Mr. Hardin has directed me that under no circumstances am I going to be allowed to summon Marvel to testify. At first I argued with him, but now that I've seen what I've seen today, and talked to Mr. Givens and Mr. Norville at length, I must say that I don't think that Marvel's testimony will be crucial to Mr. Hardin's defense."

Jeanne asked hesitantly, "You don't think that the prosecutor's office may summon her?"

"I doubt it. In my opinion, she would be a very credible witness for the defense, not the prosecution. The prosecutor is a very intelligent man, and from her statement that she gave to his investigators, and their opinion of her, he's going to realize that Marvel could do some serious damage to the way people perceive Mr. Bettencourt." He added wryly, "That's why I would really like to call her for Mr. Hardin's defense. But I cannot, since he's forbidden me to. And ma'am, I would never do such a thing unless you agreed. I hope you know that."

"I do," Jeanne said with overwhelming relief. "Thank you, Mr. Deshler."

"You're welcome, ma'am. Now, let me explain something to you about Cyrus Jameson, the district attorney. I know him very well. He's somewhat older than I, I would imagine he's about in his mid-fifties. He's a fair man, but he's strict. He got elected because he is a no-nonsense law-and-order man, and the major reason he won his election is because he promised to clean up the docks, it's sort of his mission. He works very hard, and harshly prosecutes all violent crimes committed on the docks. And I have to say that he is very old-fashioned about women. He believes that their place is in the home, by their husband's side, caring for the children, and never airing their opinions or views in public."

Jeanne sighed. "He's going to think that I'm a loose, cheap, tawdry woman. But then I suppose that most people do."

"That's possible. You are unorthodox, Mrs. Bettencourt. When a person differs in the slightest from the norm—particularly women—people have a tendency to believe the worst. But you knew, did you not, when you decided to pilot the
Helena Rose
, that you would be subject to all kinds of gossip about you and your character?"

"Yes, I did."

"And when you decided to pilot the
Helena Rose,
did you feel that it was the right thing to do?"

"Yes, I do. I still do. I believe it was a gift from God, for both me and Marvel."

"And your character. Have you done anything at all unladylike, or as you said, loose, cheap, or tawdry?"

"No, I have not."

"Are you and Clint Hardin lovers?"

Jeanne drew in a sharp breath. "What? No! That is—I—we love each other, we're betrothed. I mean, we were until I found out that Max is alive. But no, we are not intimate, at all!"

Deshler nodded knowingly. "Get it out of your system. You're going to be asked that question in front of a lot of people, Mrs. Bettencourt. Do not react as you've done just now. Please remember what I told you. Answer the question, tell the truth, but never volunteer information to the prosecutor. When Cy Jameson asks you, in whatever form, if you and Mr. Hardin are physically intimate, say, 'No, we are not and never have been.' You have no obligation at all, either legal or moral, to offer or volunteer information of any kind. I wanted you to comprehend that completely, that's why I was so impertinent."

"Mr. Deshler, you couldn't be impertinent if you had a tutor to teach you," Jeanne said gratefully. "I'm beginning to understand that 'tell the truth' sounds very simple, but it's really not, in a court of law. I promise you I will think about it more until the trial."

"Good. Now, there is one more thing that I must tell you, Mrs. Bettencourt." He hesitated for a moment, then seemed to make up his mind and went on, "I had a telegram from George Masters. He offered to engage me for Mr. Hardin's defense. And he requested that I call him as a character witness."

Jeanne was so shocked that her mouth actually opened a bit. "I had forgotten completely about poor George! Oh, I am awful! But he offered to pay for
Clint's
defense? They weren't—exactly—good friends. And he offered to be a character witness for Clint? He hardly knows him!"

"I refused his offer of payment, of course, as Mr. Hardin had already engaged me," Deshler answered. "It was, I must say, extremely charitable of Mr. Masters, under the circumstances. Oh, yes, I do know the circumstances, Mrs. Bettencourt. George Masters has been a friend of mine for many years. And I was obliged to tell him that it would do far more harm than good for him to act as a character witness."

"Harm?" Jeanne said with confusion.

"Yes. Because you see, Mr. Masters offered to be a character witness for you, Mrs. Bettencourt. He understands, as perhaps you do not, that you will be on trial, and will be judged in the court of public opinion, just as surely as Mr. Hardin will."

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
T
WO

On Monday morning, the day of Clint's trial, Jeanne's face was almost back to normal. The swelling had gone down both on her cheek and mouth. The only evidence left was a faint yellow spot on her right cheekbone, and a very small cut remained on her lip. She was relieved. It was going to be hard enough to be seen in public—in fact, to be a public spectacle—without her face looking all beat up. Perhaps it was vanity, but somehow it made her feel less like hiding.

Shannon Byrne, a sassy, redheaded Irish lass, watched Jeanne searching her face in the mirror. "You're as pretty as a spring day, Miss Jeanne. A little pale, but oh how I wish I had that face! And your hair. Mine looks like a house afire."

Jeanne had been planning to ask Mrs. O'Dwyer to babysit Marvel during the trial, but she had found out that Mr. Deshler had called her as a witness, for some reason. Deshler hadn't told her much about Clint's defense, explaining to her that her obvious innocence and lack of inside knowledge would be a plus. She didn't understand that, but she believed him. So Vince had suggested that Shannon Byrne, the wife of his and Clint's close friend, Duffy Byrne, would make an excellent babysitter. Shannon was twenty years old, lively and cheery, and she was seven months pregnant. She had promised that Marvel could feel the baby next time he or she kicked, and Marvel had been delighted.

Roberty had begged Jeanne to let him attend the trial. At first she had refused, for she knew that some of the testimony would be graphic. But Roberty was so upset, so anxious to help, that finally she had changed her mind and gave him her permission to attend. Living on his own, he already had seen much worse things anyway. And it was sad but true, Jeanne realized. It was different from Marvel; Roberty was a boy.

Finally it was time, and Jeanne finished dressing in her brand-new outfit. Mr. Deshler had asked what clothing she would be wearing to the trial, and she had shown him her maroon skirt and capelet and bonnet and her skirts and blouses. He had advised her to buy another dress similar to the maroon, only not quite so dour. She'd bought a moss-green dress, the skirt with three flounces, and it had long full sleeves, the cuffs trimmed with white lace. The capelet was earth brown with green and white piping. She'd bought a brown bonnet trimmed with green satin ivy leaves and white and peach-colored rosettes. With satisfaction she reflected that she looked as Mr. Deshler had said, "ladylike and not too rich, not too poor, not too frilly, not too plain."

She went downstairs and she, Vince, Ezra, and Roberty left for the courthouse. A crowd of people were gathered on the docks at the
Helena Rose
, and Jeanne was very grateful to Nathaniel Deshler for sending his carriage for them. Journalists shouted out, "Captain Jeanne! Give us a smile, will you? You gonna tell us all your secrets in court? How are you and Clint the Flint doing? Have you seen him since he got arrested? C'mon, give us something we can print, Cap'n Jeanne!"

"Clint the Flint?" Jeanne asked after they got into the carriage.

"Clint the Flint Fist is his whole name," Vince said. "And I think Bettencourt got off real lucky, the little squealin' pig. I've seen Clint do a whole lot worse to a man than getting a little scratch on his shoulder."

All around the courthouse were horses, buggies, carts, and carriages, and a huge crowd of people. The deputies cleared them away from the walk up to the steps. As Jeanne alighted from the carriage she saw with a sinking heart that most of them looked at her with expressions of disdain. There were a lot of women, many with their husbands, and the looks they gave her were much more sour than the men. For the most part they were silent, and for Jeanne, walking with Vince, it was like running a gauntlet. She kept her eyes straight ahead. There were murmurings and whisperings, and she distinctly heard one woman say, "You can see she's a tramp." Jeanne didn't know it, but behind her Roberty stuck out his tongue and made a horrible face at the woman.

At the double doors to the courtroom a deputy said, "Mrs. Bettencourt, we're keeping the courtroom clear until all of the witnesses arrive. You all will be seated on the front bench, just behind the defendant's table."

They went into the courtroom. Two clerks were sitting at the court officers' table, and two bailiffs stood in front of two doors behind the judge's dais. Two more bailiffs stood at the entrance doors. Mrs. O'Dwyer was sitting on the first bench, along with another lady that Jeanne didn't know. On the second bench behind sat the Gayoso housekeeper, Mrs. Wiedemann, and Dr. Augustus Hightower with a stiff, proud-looking woman that Jeanne assumed must be his wife.