“And you did this, I assume, both because of her teaching ability and because of her character, her integrity.”
“That is correct.”
“Now, let’s get to last night. You gave, I believe, a closed-circuit address to a large group of people assembled at the stadium.”
“Yes. I told the group about our plan to cut tuition. They were quite excited.”
“Fine. After the address was done, you dispatched a student to deliver a message to Ms. Bannister, inviting her to the residence for a late dinner.”
Lucinda Herndon said nothing.
Tell them, Nina found herself thinking.
Tell them.
Marsh continued:
“She arrived shortly before nine o’clock. The two of you had sherry together, then went into the dining room for a late supper of oysters. Ms. Bannister left shortly before ten to join Mr. Barnes at the wine bar on Hatcher Street. So we need you simply to confirm that, at the time the provost was killed, Ms. Bannister was eating dinner with you.”
Nothing from Lucinda.
Tell them, Lucinda.
Tell them!
Finally, Lucinda Herndon shook her head and, looking first at Rick and then at Nina, said:
“I’m sorry. Both of you. I know what you want me to say. Mister Marsh told me, Nina, of your need for my assistance here today. And I have struggled with my feelings concerning this matter.”
Nina, despite herself, rose in her chair and half shouted:
“For God’s sakes, Lucinda, tell them where I was last night!”
But there was only another shake of the head.
And Lucinda Herndon, looking solemnly at the judge, said:
“I cannot lie about this matter. I must tell you all the truth. Which is that I never saw Ms. Bannister at any time last night.”
Nina, stunned, slumped into her chair.
There was complete silence in the courtroom.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: OLD WHITTINGTON
This could not be happening. There was a dreamlike quality about the entire scene. For a certain number of seconds Lucinda Herndon remained motionless, her expression stone-like, her eyes staring straight in front of her. She nodded when told she was excused, and she walked purposely from the courtroom, not looking right nor left, and acting as though neither Nina nor Rick even existed.
More silence.
Finally, Adam Marsh said, quietly to the judge:
“Your honor, I’d like a moment to confer with my clients before the court takes any action.”
A nod.
“I can understand your position, Mr. Marsh. Why don’t you take them into examination room B?”
“Thank you.”
A moment later, they were seated around a small table in a windowless room.
Nina wondered for an instant if the rest of her life was to be lived at small tables in windowless rooms.
This could not be happening. What was going on in Lucinda’s mind?
When the three of them were seated as comfortably as could be expected under the circumstances, Adam Marsh looked sternly at both of them and said:
“What is going on here?”
Neither answered for a time. Finally, Nina said:
“She’s lying.”
Marsh:
“Why?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Marsh. I can only tell you that I am not lying. I was there. I drank the sherry, I ate the oysters. I listened to her talk about the stupidity of the research that was going on. Toward the end of our time together, she quoted Margaret Mead. We held hands. We even talked about Rick.”
“She knew about your relationship?”
“She had guessed it. I told her he was probably going to ask me to go to bed with him and I was probably going to say yes. I told her I was going to accept the job she was offering me. Mr. Marsh, I did not dream these things.”
“If Nina says this dinner happened, Adam, then it happened.”
Marsh simply shook his head.
“Now both of you have to listen to me. I’m as good a lawyer as you’re likely to get. But I can’t do miracles. Whatever actually happened, we can make a defense. If the provost was actually embezzling money, Rick, and you found out about it––”
“But he wasn’t embezzling money, at least as far as I know!”
“Did you tell anybody at The Gazette about this story you were working on?”
“No, dammit, because there was no story!”
“Then what about Richardson’s testimony?”
“It makes no sense.”
“I’m only saying, Rick, that the testimony we’ve heard is truly damning. And Ms. Bannister––”
He turned to Nina:
“Either the president is lying—which seems highly improbable—or she’s––”
He shook his head:
“I don’t know. I don’t know any other possibility. I can only say that, if the provost came to your house last night, Rick, and the two of you fought, with Nina present.”
“That did not happen!”
“No. What did happen was that you walked for two hours and can’t even remember where, and Nina ate ghost oysters with one of the most intelligent and respected women in the state—and she swears you weren’t anywhere near her. Great.”
Silence for a time.
Marsh:
“You’re both sticking with these stories?”
Nina and Rick nodded.
Finally, Rick said, quietly:
“Adam, if you’d like us to get somebody else––”
“No, there isn’t anybody else. No lawyer in town would be crazy enough to take this case, and the public defender is not much more than a kid. You’ve got me and that’s all. But if I find out you’re lying, I’m gone. I won’t be lied to.”
“Mr. Marsh,” said Nina, “I had the dinner. I swear to God.”
“Well, that’s exactly who you’ll be swearing to. Okay. You both have to realize that they’re probably going to bind you over. Peter Stockton is a powerful man and he’s got a lot of both money and influence to spread around. But not enough. Not in the face of Herndon’s testimony.”
“We understand,” said Rick.
“All right then. Let’s go back in there and take our medicine.”
They rose.
Rick walked up to her and said:
“I’m sorry about this, Nina. I’m sorry I got you into it.”
She shook her head:
“I’m not. I’m in my late sixties and thought I wasn’t going to have, ever again, the feelings I’ve had for you. But I have them and I’m not ashamed of them. As for the other things, they’re impossible. There’s no way to explain them. They’re like a bad novel written by a lunatic or a drunk. But they aren’t your fault, Rick. We may be the only two people in this insane world who know the truth; but I’m not sorry I got to know Rick Barnes, and I never will be.”
He smiled at her, seemingly unable to speak, and he nodded:
“Let’s go,” said Adam Marsh.
And they did.
They’d seated themselves in their original positions when the judge, looking first at one and then the other, began to speak:
“Ms. Bannister; Mr. Barnes; Mr. Marsh. I’ve heard the testimony, and have listened with as much sympathy as possible. But in light of what we’ve heard here this morning, the court has no choice other than––”
The door opened and a police officer, a tall blonde woman, entered:
“Your honor, I’m sorry for the interruption! But something has come up.”
The judge looked up:
“What has come up?”
“Another witness.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A man—a professor at the university, I think—is saying that he has something extremely important to say to the court.”
The prosecutor, shaking his head:
“I don’t see why he’s waited so long. We interviewed everybody who seems to know anything about this. Your honor, I
think you ought to tell him to––”
But the judge cut him off:
“No. This has all just happened. Nobody has had time to interview all witnesses who might be vital, to either side. No, I’m going to allow him to come in and talk to us, especially if defense has no objections.”
Marsh:
“None your honor.”
“All right, bring in this professor, and let’s see what he’s got to say.”
The officer disappeared for a second.
Then a small and dapper man entered. Nina recognized him immediately as the classics professor who’d taken her, two nights previously, to the university library.
“You are, sir?”
“Whittington.”
“Have a seat.”
“Thank you. And thank you for hearing what I have to say.”
“It’s our duty to hear it, just as it’s your duty to bring it to us. That is, if it’s truly important.”
“It is. It’s not pretty. But it’s important.”
“All right. Your occupation?”
“I’m a full professor of classics here at Ellerton. Have been my entire career, more than forty years.”
“And why have you come forward here?”
“I was outside, in the crowd. I talked to Lucinda when she was leaving.”
“President Herndon?”
“Yes. Lucinda and I have been close for decades. I knew her husband, Thomas, quite well. At any rate, she told me just then, just outside there, that she was not going to lie for anyone, not even for her old friend, Ms. Bannister.”
“The president was not authorized to discuss her testimony with anyone.”
“Well, nevertheless she did. And as soon as she did, why, I realized what I had to do.”
“Which was?”
“Say some very unpleasant, even tragic, things.”
“They will not be the first unpleasant or tragic things we’ve heard here this morning. So go ahead.”
“All right. Last week I had dinner with the president. She invites me over to the residence, usually once a month. We rehash old times.”
“Go on.”
“She began telling me at length about her plans to fire the faculty and administration. She swore me to secrecy. I was stunned, of course, but, as she went on, I could see that she was making sense. And I even found myself agreeing with her. Why, when I began here as a young professor, we were proud of our profession. The profession of college teaching. Never, never, would we have allowed into these classrooms college-level teachers who were paid the miserable wages these adjuncts are given. We would have gone on strike before letting that happen. And as for administrators, there were only eight of them. And that’s all. Now…it’s insane, and she was right to see that.”
“All right, Mr. Whittington, but the court doesn’t quite see…”
“And so I agreed with her, and told her I agreed with her. She merely smiled. Then she walked around the table, took my hand, squeezed it firmly, and said: ‘Of course, you agree with it. Because after all, it’s your vision, Thomas. Your vision entirely. Now I feel a bit tired. Let’s go to bed.’ And, after saying these things, she turned and left the room.”
Silence for a time.
The judge:
“She called you…”
“Thomas.”
“She thought you were her husband?”
“Yes. I’m sure of it.”
“What did you do after she’d left the room?”
“I went home. I was very shaken.”
“I can understand.”
“But the next evening, on some excuse, I went by the residence. To check on her. She met me at the main door, embraced me, told me it had been too long, and that I must come over for dinner sometime.”
Silence in the room. Several deep breaths.
The prosecutor:
“You’re saying she’d forgotten that you were there at all?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I know. I said that phrase several times in the next few days. But I tried to dismiss it as a one time occurrence. I knew I should say something to someone, but wasn’t able to bring myself to do so. I did manage to find excuses to drop by during the next couple of days. She always seemed fine, alert. But the important thing is this: one of the times I dropped by was last night. I wanted to congratulate her on her splendid victory.”
“What time did you go by, Professor Whittington?”
“It must have been around nine thirty. I walked across the yard to the side entrance of the residence. But I did not go up to the door and knock.”
“Because?”
“I could see through the window, and into the dining room. She was having a guest for dinner.”
“And that guest was?”
“Ms. Bannister.”
So saying, he looked down at the floor.
Nina should, she realized, have been ecstatic.
Instead, she felt like crying.
CHAPTER NINETEEN: VISITS FROM FRIENDS
The alibi offered by Whittington of Classics—aided no doubt by the man’s general bearing and demeanor—proved effective. It set in motion events that were to encircle Lucinda Herndon, who, if it were to be proven true, might very well be suffering from early stages of Alzheimer’s, and Nina Bannister, who, if it were to be proven true, was nowhere near Rick Bannister’s house at the time a murder was being committed.
In short, it allowed for Nina to be released from police custody after some hours time, her bond provided by the benevolent Peter Stockton.
He was, in fact, the first person she saw as she approached the exit to the police station, on her way to she knew not where.
Actually, she found herself thinking, it did not matter very much where; she simply needed to get out of there.
“Peter, how can I ever thank you?”
He shook his head:
“I didn’t think it was going to work there for a while. I have a lot of dirt on a lot of people, but when I heard that Lucinda had denied your being there…”
“I know. It was a nightmare. I thought I was losing my mind.”
“You’re not. But from what the word now seems to be…”
“I know. When Professor Whittington told his story I should have been excited. But I was crushed. She had seemed so lucid during the last days, brilliant even. Now I don’t know. Is the word out?”
“Yes.”
“What are they going to do?”
“What they have to do. Have her examined. Probably removed as president.”
“I’m sure that’s what the faculty and administrators want. But Peter, what about Rick? Can you get him out now?”
A shake of the head.
“Unfortunately, Lucinda’s mental condition doesn’t have much bearing on his part of the case. There’s still so much that’s going against him. He can’t say where he was. Too many people saw that attack at the stadium. And there’s Barbara Richardson’s testimony about the message he got. There’s also the damned message itself, if you really think about it, sitting there on Rick’s word processor.”
“But Rick insists he didn’t write that message!”
“I know, Ms. Bannister, and I believe the man. But the bottom line is, I can’t get him out. I did get you out, though. Question is, where do you want to go?”
“I want to go back to my Hobbit House, and sit in the little yard, and drink some tea, and just think of what I can do to help Rick. Do you think that’s possible?”
He nodded.
“Might otherwise be tough, but contacts help. We can sneak you out the back. I’ve hired some private security people who can kind of keep a lookout on the place to be sure no crowd of reporters comes looking for a story.”
“Let’s go then.”
They did, and Peter Stockton was as good as his word.
They wove through a tangle of back alleys and small streets, the limousine almost too large to get through in some instances.
As she got out of the car, reveling in warm, fresh air, she felt a sense of wonder.
How many centuries had passed since she’d left here, walking to Lucinda’s Residence, in preparation for her first faculty meeting?
Several lifetimes, certainly.
But really, when one thought about it, not much had actually happened.
Lucinda had fired the faculty and all the administration. Then she and Rick had attended the board meeting, where Peter Stockton had bribed the leadership of the entire university with a billion or so dollars of money and land. Then there had been the adjunct meeting, where five hundred or so characters who could have come straight out of Dickens’ London—the poor parts—had learned that they now had careers and, instead of teaching remedial English, were to start running the university and be paid for it. Then she’d been taken to Rick’s lake house, realizing that, somewhere amid all the events that had happened that morning, she was completing the process of falling in love with him.
But that was about it.
Nothing more happened except the incredible scene at the stadium and the ghost oyster dinner with Lucinda and the wine bar “let’s go to bed” Chardonnay, and the near going to bed except that one could not because of the corpse on the sofa. And the being arrested and the getting sprung and the sleeping pill from Lucinda and the preliminary trial and hopelessness and then finally hope…
…except that such hope depended on the realization that her old and dear friend was losing her mind.
Yep. That was about all that had happened.
Strange that she felt tired, drained.
Peter Stockton opened the gate and let her walk through it.
The door to the cottage opened and Adam Marsh walked out, smiling.
“Welcome home!”
She walked quickly up to him and embraced him.
“Adam. I might have known you’d be waiting for me.”
“Seemed the least I could do. Door wasn’t locked.”
She shook her head:
“Didn’t seem like there was a need. I don’t have anything important in there. Adam, how is Rick?”
“He’s all right. He’s ecstatic about your being cleared. And at the same time, he’s crushed about Lucinda. As we all are. I think those things are more important to him than his own case. But we can talk about that later. Nina, I have to tell you, I’m not alone here.”
Mind Change Page 18