Death Qualified Part 35

"Is she the last witness?"

"Afraid so. Since tomorrow's Friday, summations probably won't start until Monday, and then Lundgren will instruct the jury, and we wait it out."

Mike looked startled.

"I didn't realize that Nell wouldn't speak for herself," he said carefully.

Frank grunted.

"Let me tell you a story about when I was a kid," he said.

"About eight. We had neighbors with two boys, one my age, and one about four. One Easter they got two little chicks, one dyed green, one blue. Fluffy little things, you know, barely big enough to walk alone.

Well, that little one loved them to beat the band. He stroked them, and put them up to his cheek and kissed them, first one, then the other. Gentle, sweet, my G.o.d, he was unbelievable, considering his age. Just about four.

And then, he had one in his hands and he began to squeeze, and he kept squeezing. His old man paddled him good, but his brother told me that the next day he got his hands on the other one." He lifted his coffee cup and finished drinking.

For a few seconds Mike looked blank, as if he was waiting for the story to end; then he blinked in comprehension.

"Oh," he said, very softly.

Frank excused himself then, and when they were alone, Barbara said, "I'll be working on my summation over the next few days. I'd like to practice on you, if you wouldn't object. You and Dad."

"I would be honored," he said seriously; then a big grin broke out on his face.

"Am I allowed to make comments?"

"That's the whole point," she said.

"But if you use a certain tone of voice, or laugh, or point out too many inconsistencies, or do anything else I find offensive, then I get to hit you."

He considered it.

"I'll try to do it right."

He was watching her again with that look of hesitant discovery that she had found so confusing. It still was.

"This has been a very nice evening, Mike. Thanks. I was wound as tight as the springs could get. This has been good. Even if I don't quite understand how it happened," she added.

"Well, that part's simple. Your old man said, hey, bud, she's a woman doing a job you find incomprehensible.

And you're a man doing a job we both find incomprehensible.

And the lights came on for me. It all became very simple."

"You have a formula, an equation?"

He shook his head.

"Still working on it."

"Let me know if you find it," she said.

"Maybe it will be one even I can understand." Then her father returned, and they got up to start for home.

TWENTY-FIVE.

the new attorney was Gregory Erlich, a very tall, very thin man of middle age, with tremendous energy and a booming voice. Ichabod Crane with a backbone, Barbara thought, studying him. A chair was brought forward for him and placed midway between the defense and prosecution tables. He smiled at everyone, and even his teeth looked too energetic; they were very large teeth.

Barbara had the last question read by the clerk: "Dr.

Brandywine, did you go to the bank with Lucas Kendricks on November 16, 1982, and stand by him while he closed his checking account?"

Ruth Brandywine said in a thoughtful manner, "I went to the bank with Tom Mann on one of his lucid days. I have no way of knowing what the precise date was."

"What did he do with the money he withdrew?"

"I don't know."

"Did he put it in his pocket?"

"I said I don't know. I wasn't watching."

"And then what did you do that day?"

"I took him back to my house."

"And resumed treatment?"

"Yes."

"He was calm, controlled, capable of conducting his own business at the bank?"

"Under supervision only."

"But you didn't feel the need to watch him closely. Dr.

Brandywine, you said earlier that he was immobilized for many weeks, not capable until December. Which is right?"

"He was incapable for most of the time, but he had lucid moments."

"Did he have his checkbook with him that day?"

"I don't know."

"You can't just walk into a bank and say, "Give me my money," now, can you? Is that how they do it at Boulder Bank?" She let the sarcasm and disbelief come through with the words and turned her back on the witness chair.

"I wasn't watching his minute-by-minute actions," Ruth Brandywine said coldly.

"I was observing his general behavior.

I don't know how he withdrew money if that is what he did."

"How did you treat Lucas Kendricks?"

"Objection," Tony called.

"The witness has stated many times that she knew her patient by the name of Tom Mann."

"Sustained," Judge Lundgren said.

Barbara bowed her head slightly and rephrased the question.

"Dr. Brandywine, how did you treat the young man you call Tom Mann?"

"Your Honor," Gregory Erlich said, and he was on his feet and halfway to the witness chair before he finished the two words.

"If I may...."

Judge Lundgren drew in a breath and spoke to the clerk, who instructed the bailiff to take the jury to the deliberation room. The look he gave Barbara while this was happening was baleful, as if to say, now it starts. Then they all waited for Gregory Erlich and Ruth Brandywine to conclude their whispered conference.

Erlich finally withdrew from her and approached the bench.

"Your Honor, may I?" he asked, but he was already there.

Judge Lundgren beckoned Tony and Barbara to come forward also.

"Yes, Mr. Erlich? What is it?"

"Your Honor, I have instructed my client that she cannot be forced to betray the confidentiality of the doctor-patient relations.h.i.+p with Tom Mann. She will have to refuse to answer any questions pertaining to any details of his medical treatments under her care. May I suggest that it will save much time if counsel simply abandons that line of questioning."

"Your Honor," Barbara said swiftly in a furious voice, "the witness has already opened that door with her vivid descriptions of the patient, complete with diagnosis. I intend to prove that the treatment she administered was inappropriate for the condition she has described."

"Give me a break," Tony muttered.

"What difference does it make? All that's irrelevant, and you know it."

Judge Lundgren held up his hand for silence, his thin, ascetic face very pale, his lips so tight they were pale.

"You may not pursue that line of questions," he said to Barbara.

"I rule that the doctor-patient relations.h.i.+p is to be respected in this court. Now, let's get on with it."

"Dr. Brandywine, are you the author of this article?"

Barbara held up a copy of a journal, opened to an article t.i.tled "New Approaches to Understanding Why They Believe."

"Yes."

"In the article you describe your methods for learning the most deeply held beliefs of adolescents.

Is that right?" "The article can't be summed up like that--" "I quoted from the box caption accompanying the article," Barbara said.

"Dr. Brandywine, did you hypnotize children and ask them questions concerning their beliefs?"

Erlich was on his feet, moving like lightning to her side, and this time Barbara said in her sharpest tone, "It's published, it's public information, you gave a paper about it.

Did your method involve hypnotizing children?"

"Objection. This is irrelevant," Tony said.

"Overruled," Judge Lundgren said tiredly and motioned to the bailiff.

The jury was led out again; the conference was held in whispers; the jury returned, and finally after ten minutes Barbara got an answer.

"Yes. That is standard procedure for that kind of inquiry."

"Did you coauthor this article--" Again and again the play was enacted. She asked questions, the jury filed out, Erlich and Brandy wine conferred, then the jury filed back in, Erlich resumed his seat, and some of the times Brandywine answered the question asked.

She had done a study with Herbert Margolis. They had used a hypnotized subject to investigate the ability of the human eye to compensate for incompletion of a computer image. The subject was identified only by initials: LK.

"Who was the subject?"

"I don't know."

"Did you hypnotize him yourself?"

"Yes."

"Did you recognize him?"

"I don't remember who it was."

"My question was did you recognize him?"

Deliberately Ruth Brandywine said, "I don't remember."

She admitted to doing a paper with Walter Schumaker, again using a hypnotized subject, again identified only by the initials: LK.

"Was it the same person?"

"Probably, but I don't remember. That was a long time ago."