Something was wrong with Mrs. Tengstedt’s expression. She didn’t look resigned, or tearful, or nervous, or hostile, or even detached, all moods Nina might have anticipated. Her eyes shone, her lower lip trembled, and she leaned forward, catching Nina’s eyes.
She was eager. Chilling, that eagerness.
Nina thought, confession is good for the soul. But I wish I were behind a grille, invisible. I’m going to exhume something old and frightful, something that maybe should stay buried. Ah, look at her, she wants to tell us, she wants to say it out loud. It’s been choking her for thirteen years.
Nina looked back at Paul. He was watching Barbara Tengstedt, his expression sharp, professional, and inquisitive.
"Mrs. Tengstedt, there was a question pending when we took a recess—"
"I don’t remember it."
"Let’s start over, then. Why didn’t you tell your daughter Carl Tengstedt was not her natural father?"
"When we realized Michelle had forgotten him, we thanked Jesus for removing it from her memory. We felt it was a miracle. We didn’t have the right to undo His act of grace."
"But you are willing to answer my questions at this time?"
"I am willing to confess."
That word. Nina’s spine was ice. She shuddered.
"Who is the defendant’s natural father?"
"Was. He’s dead now, he can’t hurt us anymore."
"All right. Who was he?"
"His name was Larry Stokes."
"Michelle was born—"
"Michelle Stokes." Mrs. Tengstedt smiled at Michelle. "She was such a lively little girl. She takes after me. You can’t see Larry in her face at all."
"You and Mr. Stokes were married?"
"Oh, yes. He married me in Fresno. He joined the navy and was posted to Subic. We flew there when Michelle was two years old."
Come on, her eyes said. The words were tumbling out of her mouth.
Nina wondered what to ask next. The courtroom had quieted. Even the clerk had stopped shuffling her papers and was listening. The stenographer’s fingers rested uneasily in the air above her keys.
"Did ... did problems develop in your marriage?"
"Problems. Yes. Problems. Drinking problems. You know—liquor."
"Go on."
"He had been drinking since he was twelve years old. At first it was a friend, it helped him sleep, be sociable—Larry Stokes was a shy, miserable man—and so he drank more and more, till alcohol was his only friend, and it grew stronger and stronger. And one day I saw his sickness, peeking out of Larry’s face. Alcoholism, not Larry, dislocated my shoulder that day."
"Your husband was an alcoholic?"
"No. That doesn’t say it right. My husband was possessed by alcohol. They call it a demon. That says it right ... a living, raging disease in him, with its own personality. And I never—never—knew how it happened, but one day I was living with both of them."
"How did Mr. Stokes’s alcoholism affect your family?"
"We became slaves.... Larry got drunk two or three times a week, and if we were lucky, he disappeared...."
"And if you were unlucky?" Nina said gently.
"He went to war on us. He found all the ways to hurt us. When his sickness made him hit me, late at night, I could always see Larry in there, screaming and suffering, but he didn’t have the strength to save us anymore." She turned to the jury, raising her chin. "I used up my tears. You won’t see me cry."
"What did you do? About protecting yourself and Michelle?"
"What did I do? What did I do? I knew you would ask that, because you can’t understand, no matter what I say. I did nothing. I endured it. I prayed. I was living off base— because he insisted—with a little girl in a foreign country, and I had no money, and he wouldn’t allow me to leave. You can’t imagine."
Nina glanced quickly at Michelle. Her hands covered her mouth as if she were trying to prevent herself from crying out.
"Why didn’t you go to a superior officer, a chaplain, someone for help?"
"Larry would have been court-martialed. We would have starved. And... I was ashamed. Larry’s shame was my shame. And Larry loved us. When he was sober he promised he could still win, and he wouldn’t drink for a couple of days, but then I would watch the pressure rising in him, the demon eating him from inside, and he would try to hide it; we would pretend he could hang on...."
"What about Michelle?"
"I’m weak, Ms. Reilly. I need someone to take care of me. Michelle and I—we had no one else."
The jury had gone from puzzlement to embarrassed attention. They still didn’t know why Mrs. Tengstedt had been brought up there to make her pathetic revelations. Milne had stopped taking notes. Nina knew her time was running out.
"Mrs. Tengstedt—"
"He got worse. He brought women home, bar girls he paid. He broke my jaw when Michelle was eight. When she was nine, he was driving her in a car, very drunk, and ran it into a ditch. Michelle had a concussion. She was sick for a long time. She started to block out everything around her. She went around in a daze. She still does."
"Go ahead."
"Only Carl knows these things," the witness said. "We have never spoken of these things, even between ourselves."
"What happened then?"
"I started going to church, the Science of Mind Church. There were meetings on Saturday night, when Larry was never home. I met Carl." Her head lifted as she looked for the balding, puffy-eyed man in the back row. "He was kind. He helped me find God. I realized"—she blinked several times—"I had come to love Carl. I told him about my life. We decided that I would pack our clothes and leave. He had found us a place to stay until we could be married."
"Do you need a break, Mrs. Tengstedt?" Milne asked her. She shook her head and ran her hand across her forehead. Her pale skin had blotched with crimson. Strands of hair fell across her face, but she did not try to brush them away. She stared above the audience, working up to something.
A darkness had entered the courtroom, almost as if her memories had grown so real twisting inside her they would materialize any moment.
"Of course, that day Larry came home early. He had just learned he was going to be thrown into the brig for assaulting a woman in the village. He had stopped at a bar and gotten drunk. He came to the bedroom door. Michelle and I were standing by the bed. The suitcases were half full."
"How did Michelle react to seeing her father?"
"Crying, crying, crying. Scared, but she still loved her father."
"Then what happened?"
"He stood in the doorway, watching us. It was raining outside, pounding the tin roof, and he was dripping and muddy. He looked from me to the suitcases, then from the suitcases to me. Like that." She moved her head back and forth.
"What did Michelle do?"
"She ran to me and held on to my dress. She stopped crying and watched him. She could see it wasn’t her daddy. The sickness had taken over."
"It was Larry Stokes, but he was drunk?"
Mrs. Tengstedt nodded, her chest heaving, watching the air. Several jurors were watching the same spot. "Yes or no?" Milne said.
"Yes," she breathed.
"And then..." Nina’s voice had constricted.
" ’Leave me alone, Larry! Please!’ That’s what I said."
"It’s clear in your mind?"
"It’s burned into my mind. And he shouted, ’You go, and you’ll never see Michelle again.’ ... His voice was so thick and ugly. I fell down on my knees, praying, ’Larry, Larry, please stop and save us all.’ ... He started toward us, staggering, his face not human anymore, his arms out for balance, dripping, like something from outside that didn’t belong in there. And I thought ..."
"Yes?"
"And I thought, I’ll never leave here. Never ... leave here." Barbara Tengstedt couldn’t seem to catch her breath. Her mouth was open, her eyes squeezed shut. "Michelle, she started screaming something, and she tore over to the table and picked up a bottle,
a full bottle of whiskey. Then ... it was like he jumped at me, or maybe he just tripped, but while he was in midair she swung that bottle...." She stopped, panting, kneading her hands, eyes still closed.
"Go on."
"I can’t go on. Don’t make me."
"You came here to confess it all. Go on. Make your confession." Nina heard cruelty in her own voice.
Loud breathing for a minute, then: "She hit him with it."
Nina spoke quickly to quell the sounds rising from the courtroom, and to stifle her own frantic despair. What had she done here? What had she done to Michelle? "What happened then?" she said, with as much calm as she could fake.
"He ended up on top of Michelle ... dead ... his blood everywhere...." Mrs. Tengstedt slumped down in her chair.
Milne turned and said softly, "Ms. Reilly? How much longer?"
Nina, watching her case crash around her, said, "Just a moment, Your Honor." The facts might still save her client. And nothing could be worse than what had already been said. "Mrs. Tengstedt, continue."
"I called Carl. He put Larry in the trunk of his car and dumped him in the jungle by the village. They found him the next day. I believe they thought someone from the village killed him, but they never charged anyone. We moved in with Carl, and he took care of us. After a while, I married Carl.... There were too many memories, so Carl decided to leave the navy."
"What did you tell Michelle? How did she deal with it?"
"She wouldn’t speak for a month. We kept her out of school. We prayed she would forget. And God granted our prayers. She had forgotten until this day, in which I confess my sin and accept my punishment." She turned to the judge, as though expecting to be arrested on the spot.
"But ... why do you feel you must be punished, Mrs. Tengstedt? If your daughter killed her father—"
"Oh! No, no, no! Michelle, listen now," her mother said, focusing at last on her daughter, her eyes alive again, full of love and pain. "You never killed him. When the bottle didn’t stop him, I’m the one stabbed your daddy with a butcher knife."
31
HALLOWELL JUST SHRUGGED when Milne asked for any cross-examination of Mrs. Tengstedt, so Milne adjourned for lunch. Michelle ran to her mother, and Carl Tengstedt got there at the same time. They huddled together, looking at no one as they left the courtroom.
"And they say ’kill all the lawyers,’ " a reporter from the Mirror called out. "Where else would we get stories that make your eyes pop out into your breakfast cereal! Watch for mine on the front page tomorrow."
"Let’s get out of here," Paul said. He took Nina’s arm firmly and led her through the crush. They drove out on the highway to the town of Meyers, where the restaurants were few, pulling into the parking lot of the Freel Peak Saloon. Inside, regulars occupied themselves peaceably watching a game of eight-ball at the pool table. Paul sat Nina down in a corner and brought two brandies.
"Drink up," he said. "So. What now?"
"I can’t go on with it. I’m too shook. I’m going to ask Milne to adjourn until Monday. That woman. What I’m doing to that family. I never should have let Michelle talk me into this. I woke up this morning feeling today would be the day I was going to lose control of my case. That’s exactly what’s happening."
Paul shook his head. "Don’t stop now, Nina. Hang on a little longer. Don’t lose your impetus. The case goes by itself; that’s good as long as it goes your way. Just open your mouth and the right words will come out. You’re a natural."
"What’s happening today, Paul? What is the jury thinking?"
"Some of them are thinking that Michelle is a very sick girl who reenacted her father’s death. Some of them are thinking there was no confession, just like you said. I think you’ve got a hung jury at the moment. The thing is, there’s a favorable atmosphere right now. You’ve got the tiger by the tail, not the DA. That can only help Michelle."
"What about the Tengstedts? Milne didn’t even stop her to tell her she was confessing to a crime and she could take the Fifth."
"He was as slack-jawed as the rest of us." A couple of skinny hot dogs with plastic bags of chips were delivered to the table. "Yum." He opened the bag and crunched away. After a minute he said, "Don’t worry. Stokes died a long time ago. It’s so close to self-defense, I can’t imagine they’d ever be charged."
"You know, I never could have gotten this far without your help, Paul. Your notes were great on the police witnesses. You saw holes I never would have seen. But what I appreciate most is, you put things into perspective. I was so horrified when we left court. Now I’m fitting it into the evidence, thinking about what to do next."
"The next thing is, eat your hot dog. Keep up your strength for the afternoon." At least there was plenty of mustard. Nina was as hungry as if she had just climbed Tallac.
"Okay, I’m up and going again," she said when she finished.
"Who’s the next witness?" Paul said, while she neatly stacked all the refuse onto the two paper plates.
"Frederick Greenspan. And his cuddly attorney."
"What’s Riesner doing here?"
"It’s within the judge’s discretion to let him stand around and tell Greenspan not to answer if I violate the protective order."
"What do you want from Greenspan?"
"That Michelle never threatened Anthony. That she repeated the childhood amnesia story to him. That she had problems, but she was rational. That she wasn’t worked up enough to kill her husband in cold blood."
"You have to watch out for him," Paul said. "I think he doesn’t care what happens to her. Plus he’s hiding something."
"I think so too. But I don’t have anything on him."
Paul wasn’t listening anymore. He had glanced at his watch. Court resumed in fifteen minutes. "Nina, I have to go back right after the trial, you know. Marilyn quit. My business needs my attention. But as soon as I can I’m coming up here to do some hiking and camping in the Desolation Wilderness and I want you to go with me."
"We’re a bad fit, Paul," Nina said. "You know it." Paul’s sudden change of subject had left her breathless.
He motioned for the bill. "You’re low because of the trial. And the divorce. I’m going to ask you again in a few weeks. And I bet you five to one you’ll come."
Nina smiled her first real smile of the day.
Michelle came in and sat down at the counsel table at the last minute. Her parents took their seats in back. "Michelle, if you want—"
"I’m with you, Nina, whatever you want to do."
"Let’s just get through the afternoon."
Michelle nodded, resting her arms on her stomach. She looked calm enough to complete the day’s work.
"Call Frederick Greenspan," Nina said. The tall, hollow-cheeked physician stood and made his way to the stand to be sworn. Jeffrey Riesner approached and stood at his side, wearing a double-breasted suit and looking smug.
Nina took the physician through his education and experience, eliciting nothing she did not already know. Greenspan appeared rested and relaxed. He knew she would not attack his competence. Milne’s protective order would stop her.
"You treated the defendant over a period of months?"
"Three and a half months," Greenspan said.
"How many sessions?"
"Ten."
"And why was treatment terminated after ten sessions?"
"You advised me that my notes of sessions might be used against your client."
Nina tried to think of a way to get the answer stricken and decided to say nothing.
"Are these the complete and original notes of your sessions with Mrs. Patterson?"
Greenspan looked carefully through the group exhibit. "It looks complete, yes."
Nina asked a few more questions, then had the exhibit entered into evidence.
"Now, Dr. Greenspan, what were the presenting symptoms of this patient?" she continued.
"Well, she was experiencing a mild to moderate depression. She had some compulsive feelings, which bo
thered her. She felt she was drinking too much. She had marital problems."
"Did any other symptoms or problems become apparent after treatment was initiated?"
"She claimed that she was suffering from a type of amnesia. She couldn’t remember her childhood, basically."
"And what was the course of treatment for these symptoms?"
"We tried hypnotherapy, for stress reduction, to see if we could elevate her mood without chemicals, and in an attempt to access the blocked memories."
"Was the treatment successful as to each of these three goals you’ve identified, Doctor?"
"I’m afraid I couldn’t describe it that way, no. We had hardly started when my patient was arrested and we had to abruptly terminate treatment. Perhaps she had some help with the stress—it was really too soon to tell."
"Did she discuss her marital relationship with you?"
"At length," Greenspan said. He was beginning to look unhappy up there. Riesner stood bristling, waiting for a misstep.
"How did she describe it?"
"Objection, vague and ambiguous."
"Rephrase the question, Counsel."
"Did she express any feelings of unhappiness in her marriage?"
"Yes. She was... ambivalent, I would say."
"Did she describe to you any instances in which her husband, Anthony Patterson, physically injured her?"
"I would say so, though I understand her injuries were not severe enough to cause her to seek medical treatment," Greenspan answered.
"Did she describe any emotional abuse?"
"Objection, ambiguous. Lack of foundation. The witness is an M.D. He hasn’t qualified as an expert in psychiatric disorders," Hallowell said.
Milne thought it over, said, "Overruled."
"Yes, she felt intimidated by her husband. She wanted to leave him." His answers were pat. Nina decided to try to knock him off balance.
"Have you ever been analyzed, Dr. Greenspan?" Nina asked.
"No. Perhaps someday," he said.
"And you have no degree in psychology, right?" Riesner took a breath. Greenspan held his hand up as if to stave him off, his eyes never leaving Nina.
"No, not formally. It’s an interest of mine."
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