“In other words, the ordinary kinds of domestic problems that any of us might face?”
“Yes.”
“But no one went to see Dr. Speakman because they thought they were being stalked or because they thought someone was threatening to kill them?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
The trial was recessed for lunch.
David got into his car and drove through the park, depressed. The trial was going badly. The doctors couldn’t make up their minds whether MPD existed or not. If they can’t agree, David thought, how am I going to get a jury to agree? I can’t let anything happen to Ashley. I can’t. He was approaching Harold’s Cafe, a restaurant near the courthouse. He parked the car and went inside. The hostess smiled at him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Singer.”
He was famous. Infamous?
“Right this way, please.” He followed her to a booth and sat down. The hostess handed him the menu, gave him a lingering smile and walked away, her hips moving provocatively. The perks of fame, David thought wryly.
He was not hungry, but he could hear Sandra’s voice saying, “You have to eat to keep up your strength.”
There were two men and two women seated in the booth next to him. One of the men was saying, “She’s a hell of a lot worse than Lizzie Borden. Borden killed only two people.”
The other man added, “And she didn’t castrate them.”
“What do you think they’ll do to her?”
“Are you kidding? She’ll get the death sentence.”
“Too bad the Butcher Bitch can’t get three death sentences.”
That’s the public speaking, David thought. He had the depressing feeling that if he walked around the restaurant, he would hear variations of the same comments. Brennan had built her up as a monster. He could hear Quiller’s voice. “If you don’t put her on the stand, that’s the image the jurors will carry in their minds when they go into the jury room to reach a verdict.”
I’ve got to take the chance. I’ve got to let the jurors see for themselves that Ashley’s telling the truth.
The waitress was at his side. “Are you ready to order, Mr. Singer?”
“I’ve changed my mind,” David said. “I’m not hungry.” As he got up and walked out of the restaurant, he could feel baleful eyes following him. I hope they’re not armed, David thought.
Chapter Twenty
WEN David returned to the courthouse, he visited Ashley in her cell. She was seated on the little cot, staring at the floor.
“Ashley.”
She looked up, her eyes filled with despair.
David sat next to her. “We have to talk.”
She watched him, silent.
“These terrible things they’re saying about you…none of them are true. But the jurors don’t know that. They don’t know you. We’ve got to let them see what you’re really like.”
Ashley looked at him and said dully, “What am I really like?”
“You’re a decent human being who has an illness. They’ll sympathize with that.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get on the witness stand and testify.”
She was staring at him, horrified. “I—I can’t. I don’t know anything. I can’t tell them anything.”
“Let me handle that. All you have to do is answer my questions.”
A guard came up to the cell. “Court’s coming into session.” David rose and squeezed Ashley’s hand. “It’s going to work. You’ll see.”
“All rise. Court is now in session. The Honorable Judge Tessa Williams presiding in the case of The People of the State of California Versus Ashley Patterson.”
Judge Williams took her seat on the bench.
David said, “May I approach the bench?”
“You may.”
Mickey Brennan walked to the bench with David.
“What is it, Mr. Singer?”
“I’d like to call a witness who’s not on the discovery list.”
Brennan said, “It’s awfully late in the trial to introduce new witnesses.”
“I would like to call Ashley Patterson as my next witness.”
Judge Williams said, “I don’t—”
Mickey Brennan said quickly, “The state has no objection, Your Honor.”
Judge Williams looked at the two attorneys. “Very well. You may call your witness, Mr. Singer.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” He walked over to Ashley and held out his hand. “Ashley…”