“You know what I mean. I mean he didn't come across like didn't do it. He got confused and tripped up on what he was saying. He started crying when Emily got after him about Jimmy Easton and that loud drawer. I bet he wishes now he had had it oiled. And to make matters worse, he really started blubbering and they had to take a break. I felt sorry for him but, being totally neutral, I have to say this: I think today he was coming across as sorry that he had killed his wife.”
Fully aware that Belle was geared to have a serious discussion about the trial right now, Sal knew that it was time to put down his newspaper. He asked Belle a question that he was sure would evoke a lengthy response and require only minimal reaction from him “Belle, if you were on the jury, as of right now how would you vote?”
Looking pensive and troubled, Belle shook her head. “Well . . . It's so hard . . . It's all so sad. I mean, what's going to happen to Katie? But, oh, Sal, if I were a member of that jury, I'm forced to say, with my heart breaking, I'd vote guilty. On Friday I really thought that Gregg was starting to make sense out of what had looked, even to a real dope, to be so suspicious. That squeaky drawer worried me, but anyone can tell Jimmy Easton is a born liar. But just now, when I saw those clips of Gregg on Courtside, I felt as if I was looking at a man who was going to confession. You know what I mean, not quite confessing as in admitting you did something you're not proud of, but kind of confessing by explaining how it happened, if you know what I mean.”
Jimmy Easton, Sal thought.
Belle was looking straight at him and he hoped he didn't show the worry that the sound of Jimmy's name evoked in him. He had not told Belle that Rudy Sling had phoned him this afternoon. Nearly three years ago, his crew had moved his old friends Rudy and Reeney from their apartment on East Tenth Street up to Yonkers.
“Hey, Sal, by any chance have you been watching that Courtside show about the big-shot agent who shot his wife in the Garden State?” Rudy had asked.
“I'm not really paying attention to it, but Belle wouldn't miss a moment of it. And then I have to hear all about it.”
“That guy Jimmy Easton was one of your crew when you moved us to Yonkers three years ago.”
“I don't remember. He was an occasional backup when we were busy,” Sal answered cautiously.
“The reason I'm telling you is because of something Reeney talked about this morning. She reminded me that when you moved us, you said we could tape the dresser drawers closed so we didn't have to unload everything.”
“That's right. I told you that.”
“My point is that when your guy Easton was pulling the tape off the drawers of the bedroom furniture, Reeney caught him going through them. She couldn't find anything missing, but she's always believed he was looking for something that was worth stealing. That's why we both remembered his name. You weren't on the job that day. Remember I called and told you to watch out for him?”
"Rudy, I never hired him again. So all I can say now is, so what?
“So nothing. I mean, it just makes it kind of interesting that a guy who worked for you is making the headlines testifying he was hired by Aldrich to kill his wife. Reeney wondered if he maybe delivered something to that Aldrich guy's apartment for you and maybe opened that drawer, and that's how he knew it squeaked.”
Easton is also one of the many guys I've paid off the books, Sal thought, nervously. “Rudy,” he said, “I gave you a pretty nice break on that move, didn't I?”
“Sal, you were a prince. You moved us without a nickel down and waited two months till we paid you.”
“And I've never delivered anything to Park Avenue where that Aldrich guy lived,” Sal snapped angrily. “And you'll do me a real favor if you don't talk to anyone about Easton. I'll be honest. I paid him off the books. I could get in trouble.”
“Sure, sure,” Rudy replied. “You're my pal. Anyway, I guess there's nothing to it. I thought you'd get a chance to be a hero and maybe get a reward if you could honestly tell them that Easton had made a delivery to Aldrich's apartment. And you know how much Belle would love it if you guys got your picture in the newspaper.”
My picture in the newspaper! Sal thought with dread. That's all I need!
His conversation with Rudy rushed through Sal's mind as Belle finished explaining how Emily, the prosecutor, had just about de?stroyed Gregg on the stand. “She was like one of those avenging an?gels,” Belle said.
At that point in the narration, she sighed, reached down, and pulled over the hassock. She put her feet on it and continued. “Sometimes the cameras were on Alice Mills, Natalie's mother. Oh, I should tell you, Sal. Natalie's real name was Mills but she didn't think it was a good show business name so she changed it to Raines in a tribute to Luise Rainer, an actress who won the first two back-to-back Academy Awards that were ever presented. That was in People magazine today. She didn't want to take exactly the same name, but she wanted it close.”
Just Take My Heart
39
On Monday afternoon, after the disastrous day in court, Cole Moore walked with his father to their cars in the courthouse parking lot. “Why don't you and Robin come over around six thirty and have dinner with your mother and me?” Richard suggested quietly. “And we'll have a couple of drinks. We can both use them.”
“Good idea,” Cole replied. As he opened the car door for his fa?ther, he said, “Dad, you did everything you could. And don't give up yet. I still think we've got a decent shot at a hung jury.”
“We had a decent shot until he admitted to being a Peeping Tom,” Richard said, angrily. “I can't believe he never told me about that. At least we could have gone over it so that he could have ex?plained it somewhat better. And if we'd had a chance to prepare him, he wouldn't have gotten so flustered over it. It makes me won?der what else he didn't tell me.”
“Me, too,” Cole said. “See you later, Dad.”
At seven p.m. Richard and his wife, Ellen, and Cole and his wife. Robin, were at the dinner table, somberly discussing the trial.
Throughout their forty years of marriage, Ellen had always been an invaluable sounding board for Richard about his cases. A sixty-one-year-old woman with silver hair and the trim body of a disci?plined athlete, her hazel eyes were filled with concern. She knew the toll this case was taking on her husband.
It's a blessing that Cole has been working with him, she thought.
Robin Moore, a twenty-eight-year-old real estate lawyer with au?burn hair, had been married to Cole for two years. Now she shook her head in frustration. “Dad,” she said, “I absolutely believe that somewhere along the line Easton had access to that apartment. In my mind that's the difference between a conviction and an acquit?tal. It's that miserable drawer that is going to be the sticking point during the deliberations.”
“I completely agree,” Richard replied. “As you know, we had our investigator, Ben Smith, go through Easton's background with a fine-tooth comb. When he wasn't in prison, he never had a regular job. So when he wasn't stealing enough to keep him going, he has to have been working off the books.”
“Robin, we have a list of every store that regularly delivered to that apartment,” Cole said, his tone frustrated. “You know, the laun?dry, the dry cleaner, the supermarket, the drugstore, you name it. No one admits ever having hired him, either on or off the books.”
He picked up his glass of pinot noir and took another sip. “I really don't think Easton ever worked for one of those local stores. If he ever set foot in that apartment, I think he might have been making an isolated deliver)' for a vendor who paid him off the books. And remember, we couldn't even show Easton's picture to the Aldrich housekeeper after he was arrested seven months ago and came up with this whole scenario. She had already retired and then passed away about a year after Natalie died.”
“Is there any chance he ever committed a burglary there?” Susan asked.
Richard Moore shook his head. “The security's too good. But if Jimmy Easton had ever managed to break in, he certai
nly would have stolen something, and the theft would have been noticed. Trust me, he wouldn't have left empty-handed.”
“Naturally, everyone at the club is talking about this,” Ellen said. “Richard, you certainly know that I don't talk about anything confi?dential, but sometimes it's helpful to hear how other people are re?acting.”
“How are they reacting?” Richard asked. The expression on his face indicated that he knew what she would say.
“Tara Wolfson and her sister, Abby, were in our golf foursome yesterday. Tara said that the thought of Gregg Aldrich reaching into that drawer and counting out five thousand dollars as a down payment on Natalie's life sickens her. She hopes he gets life.”
“What does Abby think?” Susan asked.
“Abby was just as strongly convinced that Aldrich is innocent. They talked about it so much yesterday they barely focused on the game. But Abby called me a little while ago, just before you got home. After hearing the news reports on what happened in court today, she's changed her mind. Now she thinks he's guilty, too.”
For a moment there was complete silence at the table, then Robin asked, “If Gregg Aldrich is convicted, will the judge let him go home to settle his affairs before he's sentenced?”
“I have no doubt that Judge Stevens will revoke his bail immedi?ately,” Cole replied. “Dad has tried a number of times to make Gregg face that possibility and at least make tentative arrangements for Katie.”
“On that subject, to this day, he always cuts me off,” Richard ex?plained, his tone resigned. “He has his head in the sand, and refuses to face the consequences of being found guilty. If they have a verdict tomorrow—and I don't think it will happen that fast—I don't even know if he's made arrangements to have Katie driven home from the courthouse. Worse than that, I doubt that he's appointed a guardian to take care of that poor kid. Gregg was an only child and so was Ka?tie's mother. And except for a few cousins in California that he al?most never sees, there is no other family.”
“God help that child,” Ellen Moore said sadly. “God help both of them.”
Just Take My Heart
40
After Courtside ended, Michael Gordon walked from Rockefeller Center to Gregg's apartment on Park and Sixty-sixth Street. It was little over a mile but he was a fast walker and now that the rain had ended, it felt good to have the cool, damp air on his face and hair.
That afternoon, as he was leaving the courthouse, Gregg had said. “I'm having dinner with Katie in the apartment tonight, just the two of us. It may be the last time that we can ever do that. But would you mind coming over after your program? I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, Gregg.” It had been on the tip of Mike's tongue to -something reassuring to Gregg, but looking at the drawn, sad face of his friend, he had stopped himself. It would have been insulting Gregg's expression told him that he was painfully aware that he had damaged himself badly in his testimony.
Natalie.
Her face was in Michael's mind as he crossed Park Avenue and started walking north. When she was happy, she was funny and warm and great to be around. But if she was in the dumps because rehearsal was going badly, or if she was fighting with a director on how a role should be interpreted, then she was impossible. Gregg had the patience of a saint with her. He was her confidant and protector.
And wasn't that what he was really trying to convey when he testi?fied about looking in the window of the house at Cape Cod? Wasn't that what he was trying to explain when Emily Wallace pounded on him about driving around that house the next day? What were the words he had used in his response to her? He said, “I was worried about her emotional state.”
Knowing Natalie, that made sense, Mike thought.
The prosecutor, Emily Wallace, had rattled Gregg. He'd admitted that much over the weekend in Vermont. It wasn't so much that Wal?lace looked like Natalie. Oh sure, in a general way, maybe there was something of a resemblance, Mike reflected, that struck me, too.
They were both lovely-looking women. They both had beautiful eyes and chiseled features. But Natalie's eyes had been green, and Emily Wallace's were midnight blue. They were both slender, but Emily Wallace is at least three inches taller than Natalie had been.
On the other hand, Natalie carried herself so gracefully and held her head so high that she always appeared to be taller than she actu?ally was.
Wallace's perfect posture also gave her a commanding presence. And there was something about the way she used her eyes that was compelling. Those side glances at the jury, as though she knew they were sharing her scorn for Gregg's hesitant answers, were downright theatrical.
But no one had used side glances to better advantage than Natalie . . .
It was starting to drizzle again and Michael quickened his pace. So much for the weatherman on our station, he thought. At least the one we had before him used to make better predictions. Or better guesses, he added wryly.
It occurred to him that another resemblance of sorts between Natalie and Emily Wallace was the way Wallace walked. She moved between the jury box and the witness stand like an actress on a stage.
A half block before he reached Gregg's apartment building, the rain turned into a near cloudburst. Michael began to run.
The longtime doorman saw him coming and held the door open for him. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”
“Hello, Alberto.”
“Mr. Gordon, I don't think I'll see Mr. Aldrich tonight. And I won't be on duty tomorrow morning when he leaves for court. Please give him my very best wishes. He's a fine gentleman. I've been work?ing here twenty years. That's even before he moved in. In my job you get to know what people are really like. It's a damn shame if that rotten liar Jimmy Easton can make a jury think that Mr. Aldrich ever brought him into this building.”
“I agree, Alberto. We'll keep our fingers crossed.”
As Michael walked through the tastefully appointed lobby and stepped into the elevator, he found himself praying that at least one person on the jury would feel the way Alberto did.
Gregg was waiting at the door when the elevator stopped on the fifteenth floor. He looked at Mike's dripping raincoat. “Don't they give you cab money at that cable station?” he asked with an attempt at a smile.
“I trusted our weatherman's forecast and decided to walk. A serious mistake.” Michael unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off. “I'll hang it over the tub,” he suggested. “I don't want it dripping on the floor.”
“Good idea. Katie and I are in the den. I was about to pour my second scotch.”
“While you're at it, pour me my first.”
“Consider it done.”
When Mike came into the den a few moments later, Gregg was sitting in his club chair. Katie, her eyes swollen with tears, was sit?ting on the hassock at his feet. She got up and ran to Mike. “Mike. Daddy said he thinks he's going to get convicted.”
“Hold on, hold on.” Gregg said, as he stood up. “Mike, your drink's over there.” He pointed to a table next to the couch. “Come back here, Katie.”
She obeyed, this time settling next to him in his chair.
“Mike, I'm pretty sure that you've been going over in your mind how to find something cheerful to say to me. I'll save you the trou?ble,” Gregg said quietly. “I know how bad it is. And I know I've been wrong not to face the fact that I could be convicted.”
Mike nodded. “I didn't want to bring that subject up to you, Gregg, but, yes, I've been worried.”
“Don't worry about not bringing it up to me. Richard Moore has been doing that for months and I've been blowing him off. So let's get to it now. Would you consider being Katie's legal guardian?”
“Absolutely. It would be an honor.”
“Of course, I don't mean to say that Katie should live with you. That wouldn't be appropriate, even though she'll be at Choate for most of the next three years. I have friends who have offered, but when you're trying to figure out what is the best situation for Katie, it's pretty damn tough.”
>
Katie was crying silently, and Gregg's eyes were moist but his voice was composed. "On the business side, I made some calls to?night when I got home from court. I spoke to two of my top guys in the agency. They would be willing to buy me out for a fair price. That means I'll have enough money to finance an appeal. And there will be an appeal. Richard and Cole have done a good job but I had the feeling when we left court today that they looked at me differ?ently. I may have to hire different lawyers for the next round.
He tightened his arm around his daughter. “Katie has a trust fund that will see her through to a graduate degree at an Ivy League col?lege if that's what she wants.”
Michael felt as though he were watching a terminally ill man making a living will. He also knew that Gregg had not finished re?vealing his plans.
“I have enough behind me to maintain this apartment for at least a couple of years. By then I hope I may be back here.”
“Gregg, I agree that it is inappropriate for me to live with Katie, but she certainly can't live here by herself when she's not at school,” Michael protested. “And I'm still not conceding that this worst-case scenario will happen,” he added hastily.
“She's not going to be alone,” Gregg responded. “There is a wonderful lady who loves her and wants to be with her.”
As Michael looked at him, Gregg Aldrich seemed to be gathering strength. “Mike, I know that today, in the eyes of most of the people in the courthouse and most of the people in your audience, I came across horribly. But one person, a very important person, believed me.”
Gregg tugged his daughter's hair. “Come on, Katie, cheer up. We've got the vote of someone who, unfortunately, is not on the jury but whose opinion means everything to us. She has sat in that court?room every day from the very beginning. Of all people, she was the one most emotionally invested in seeking justice for Natalie.”
Momentarily stunned, Michael waited.