Where Love Has Gone (40 page)

Gordon nodded. “Mrs. Hayden has also made arrangements for her granddaughter to attend St. Thomas Church, so that she may begin to enjoy the guidance of sound Christian precepts. The Reverend J. J. Williston of St. Thomas Church, who unfortunately could not attend the hearing this morning, is willing, however, to come down to this court at its convenience later today should he be

needed for consultation.”

“The court will bear that in mind, Counselor.”

“Mrs. Hayden has also set aside a suite of rooms in her home to be redecorated and made available to the child. She is prepared to exercise every care, both physical and moral, that a parent should. As to the concern of the probation department over the physical condition of Mrs. Hayden—”

Gordon picked up a glass of water from the table and took a sip from it. He put the glass down and turned back to the judge.

“Mrs. Hayden is at present a member of the board of directors of eleven different corporations and is actively concerned in the affairs of four of them. She is also a trustee of the College of Arts and Sciences at the university and an officer of the Daughters of the Founders of San Francisco Society.

“Several days ago Mrs. Hayden went into General Hospital at my request and underwent a complete physical examination. I have the written reports of that physical here and I should like to read from it.”

He picked up a sheet of paper. “‘It is the opinion of the examining physicians, whose signatures are appended to this report, that Mrs. Marguerite Cecelia Hayden, age 74, is in excellent health and vigor and shows no extraordinary defects commonly associated with people in her age bracket. We are of the further opinion that, barring accident or unforeseen circumstances, Mrs. Hayden should be able to enjoy the benefits of her present good health for many years to come.’”

Gordon paused and looked up at the judge. “This report is signed by Dr. Walter Llewellyn, Professor of Geriatrics, College of Medicine, University of Southern California, the head physician of the examining group. There are five other doctors who also affixed their signatures. I will read them if the court so desires.”

“The court accepts the statement of counsel. There is no reason to name the other physicians.”

Gordon took another sip of water. “There is very little more than I can add to the petition, except one thing.” He looked across the table to Dani. “We ask the court to bear in mind that for a child there is no greater or more powerful cure than to be loved, to be secure in the knowledge that it is loved. Without that, all our knowledge of medicine and psychiatry is powerless. With it, no cure is impossible.

“It is our contention that Mrs. Hayden can do everything and more for her granddaughter than the state could. Plus this one important added factor—the love they bear for each other. Love that an institution, no matter how well intentioned, cannot provide.”

The judge looked at Miss Spicer. “Do you have any questions regarding this petition?”

The probation officer got to her feet. “The probation department has considered the petition made by Mrs. Hayden most carefully and still feels that the best interests of the child and the state would be served by its own proposal. Had we felt otherwise, we would have joined our recommendation with theirs.”

The judge looked down at Dani. “Danielle, do you have any questions to ask about either of these petitions?”

“No, sir,” she answered in a low voice.

“You understand what I have to decide now?” he asked. “Now I must decide what is to be done with you. Whether you are to remain in the custody of the state or go to your grandmother. The more I know about you, the better I will be able to decide. Is there anything more you wish to tell me now?”

Dani didn’t look at him. “No, sir.”

“Not only have you committed a terrible deed,” he said in his most somber voice, “but you admit to highly immoral and improper behavior as well. The kind of behavior we both know is very wrong and which under no circumstances can be permitted to continue. Is there anything you can tell me that would persuade me to grant your grandmother’s petition?”

She still didn’t look up. “No, sir.”

“If you won’t tell me in court, would you talk to me in private? In my chambers, where no one else will be able to hear us?”

“No, sir.”

He sighed. “You know, you’re not leaving me with very much choice, are you?” Her voice was very faint. “No, sir.”

I thought there was a hint of sadness in the judge’s eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He sat like that for a moment, then turned slightly and looked at all of us. His face was solemn. He cleared his throat as if to speak.

We were watching him as intently as if he were the last man in the world. He cleared his throat again, his hand reaching for his gavel.

“Your Honor!” I said, suddenly getting to my feet. “Yes, Colonel Carey?”

I looked around the table. I was aware of the surprise and shock on all the faces, but the only one that I really saw was Dani’s.

She stared up at me, her eyes large and round in her pale face. I noticed the faintly blue circles under them and I knew that she must have been crying before she came into court. I turned and looked up at the judge.

This was the last chance I’d have to do anything for my daughter.

2

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I cleared my throat. “Do I have the right to ask a few questions, Your Honor?”

“You have the same rights in this court as your daughter, Colonel Carey,” the judge answered. “You have the right to counsel, the right to summon and question witnesses on matters pertinent to this hearing.”

“Thank you, Judge,” I said. “I have a question to ask Miss Spicer.” “You may ask the question.”

I turned to the probation officer. “Miss Spicer, do you believe my daughter is capable of murder?”

Gordon was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor!” he said angrily. “Colonel Carey is asking a question that could be prejudicial to my client.”

The judge looked at him. “Mr. Gordon,” he said in a faintly annoyed voice, “I thought we had already explained to you that all objections on behalf of the minor are automatically made.” He turned to Miss Spicer. “You may answer the question.”

The probation officer hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“You told me the other day that you found it hard to believe that a child like Dani could commit murder,” I said. “That you’d feel better if you were able to establish a sound psychological reason for her actions. Why did you feel like that?”

She looked up at the judge. “Neither Miss Jennings nor myself has been able to establish close enough contact with Danielle to determine what she really is capable of. We feel that she exhibits an extraordinary amount of self-control in one so young.”

“You were in court and heard the testimony presented to the coroner’s jury. Did you agree with their verdict?” I asked.

She looked at me. “I accepted their verdict.”

“That’s not what I asked, Miss Spicer. From what you now know about my daughter, do you think she could have killed a man, as was stated in that court?”

She hesitated again. “I think it’s possible.” “But you still have doubts?”

She nodded. “There are always doubts, Colonel. But we must deal with the facts we have, we can’t let our own personal feelings overrule them. The facts we have bear out the conclusion of that court. We must therefore act upon it.”

“Thank you, Miss Spicer.”

I turned back to the judge. He was leaning across the desk watching me. He seemed curious about what I would do next.

Gordon got to his feet again. “I must protest, Your Honor,” he said. “I can’t see what Colonel Carey hopes to accomplish by asking these questions. This whole form of procedure seems highly irregular to me.”

The judge turned to me. “I must admit to my own puzzlement, Colonel Carey. Exactly what do you hope to accomplish?”

“I don’t know exactly, Your Honor, but several things disturb me.” “What are they, Colonel Carey?”

“If my daughter had not been a minor, but an adult, and the verdict had been ‘justifiable homicide,’ in all probability she’d know be free to resume her normal life. Isn’t that true?’

The judge nodded.

“But since she is a minor, she is still subject to punishment, and that is why she is not in this court?”

“That is not true, Colonel,” the judge said. “Your daughter is not on trial here for murder. This is a custodial hearing held primarily for her own welfare and benefit.”

“Forgive me for being dense, Your Honor. I am not a lawyer. To me the mere fact that she is threatened with confinement is punishment. Whatever the reason—the crime with which she has been charged or some other reason given by the state—it still seems to me to amount to the same thing.”

“You can be assured, Colonel, that punitive measures are the furthest thing from the mind of this court,” the judge said formally.

“Thank you, Judge. But there is one other thing that troubles me.” “And what is that?”

“If I were charged with a crime by the coroner’s jury, I would then be bound over to trial in court. There I would have the right to defend myself against such charges, to definitely, once and for all, establish my innocence or guilt.”

Again the judge nodded.

“But in my daughter’s case that wasn’t considered necessary. From the very first moment of my arrival here, it was carefully explained to me that there was no need to concern ourselves about punishment, because Dani was a minor. Our only concern would be in regard to her custody. It wasn’t until today that I realized one very important thing was missing.”

I was very thirsty and poured myself a glass of water. The judge looked at me curiously as I began to speak again.

“Nowhere in this entire procedure have I seen anything resembling a defense being made for my daughter. Surely she is entitled to an opportunity to defend herself.”

“She has not been denied any of her rights, Colonel,” the judge said rather testily. “It seems to

me that you and her mother have employed a most capable counsel to act in her behalf. Mr. Gordon here has been present at all hearings. If you have any questions regarding the conduct of his defense, surely this is not the place to make them.”

I was beginning to feel entangled in a maze of legalities. It was stupid of me to have thought I’d be able to pierce the web of obscurities that the law had woven around her. “Your Honor,” I said desperately, “what I’m trying to ask in simple words is … What can I do to get the truth about my daughter into this court?”

The judge looked at me for a long moment. Then he leaned back in his chair. “If that is all you desire, Colonel,” he said slowly, “go ahead in any manner you feel will be helpful. This court is as anxious for the truth as you are.”

Gordon got to his feet again. “This is highly irregular, Your Honor,” he protested. “All Colonel Carey can do is prolong this matter unnecessarily. The coroner’s jury has already rendered its verdict. I can’t see what purpose it will serve to rehash the matter. We all realize this is a custodial hearing, and I object to its being turned into anything else.”

“In any other court my daughter would have the right to appeal, Judge,” I said. “Couldn’t this court in effect be the same thing for her?”

The judge looked down at us. “It is not within the province of this court to review the decisions of any other court. However, it is the intent of this court to listen to anything that might aid its judgment in regard to any matter before it. It is the duty of this court to make certain that a minor is protected, in any manner whatsoever, even from his or her own actions. Since these hearings are conducted more or less informally, I cannot see that it would do any harm to hear the Colonel out.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

Gordon shot a curious look at me as he sat down. I turned back to the judge. “May I call a witness?”

The judge nodded.

I walked to the back of the courtroom and opened the door to the waiting room. Anna was sitting in the far corner, near the glass windows. I beckoned to her and she came into the court.

“Your Honor,” I said, “this is Anna Stradella.”

Nora’s face was white with anger. I saw her whisper something to Gordon. The old lady’s face was calm, Dani’s merely curious.

“Please sit down, Miss Stradella,” the judge said. He indicated a chair near his bench. Anna sat down and the clerk stepped forward with a Bible in his hand. Quickly he administered the oath to her and then sat down again.

“You may proceed, Colonel,” the judge said. His eyes were alive behind his glasses now. An interest had come into his face that had not been there before.

Anna was dressed in black, but the darkness of her clothing could not conceal the lushness of her body. She sat quietly, her hands folded across her purse.

“Would you tell the court how we met, Anna?” I asked.

“I met Colonel Carey when he came to the funeral parlor to talk to the family of Tony Riccio.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Dani suddenly lean forward across the table and look at the girl. “Why were you there, Anna?”

“Tony had been my fiancé,” she answered quietly. “We had been engaged to be married.” “For how long?”

“Nine years.”

“That is a long engagement for these times, is it not?”

“I suppose so,” she said. “But Tony wanted to wait until he struck it rich.” “I see. You knew of his employment by Miss Hayden, did you not?”

She nodded.

“Did you ever discuss that job with Tony?”

She shook her head. “No, I never did. But Tony often spoke about Miss Hayden.” “What did he have to say about her?”

Gordon erupted from his seat. “I must object to this line of questioning most strongly. Your Honor. This entire subject is completely irrelevant and immaterial to the matters before this court.”

“Overruled,” the judge said almost negligently. I could see he was curious about what I was doing. “Continue, Colonel Carey.”

“He said she was a rich middle-aged lady and someday he would get a bundle from her.”

I stole a glance at Nora. Her face was white and angry. I turned back to Anna. “Did he have anything to say about his relationships in his employer’s household?”