“And it was the sight of this face that shocked you into amnesia?”
“That is what Dr. Hollander told me.”
“When did you first realize that you had actually seen Richie’s face?”
“After…When I was given the drug by Dr. Hollander.”
“Isn’t it a fact, Mrs. Pegalosi, that you did not see Richie’s face until some time after the murder?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you remember this exchange between you and Dr. Hollander on Tape Number 10?
Question: But you remember seeing the boy murdered?
Answer: No, I didn’t see that.
Question: Didn’t you say that you saw the fight?
Answer: No, no, I didn’t know there was a murder, until later. I didn’t know what happened. I thought they beat him up like they usually did.
Question: Didn’t you say you saw Richie’s face?
Answer: I saw it later.
“When was later, Esther?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you remember telling Dr. Hollander that the last thing you remember seeing on the hill before you ran was Bobby and Billy holding Richie against the car like they were frisking him?”
“I told you I can’t remember what I said, because I was under the drug.”
“Do you want me to play the tape for you?”
“No. If you say that’s what it said…”
“What you said. Esther, did you ever wake up screaming in the night because of nightmares in which you saw Richie’s bloody face?”
Esther looked into her lap again.
“Yes, I did. A lot.”
“Those nightmares did not start right after the murder, did they?”
“I can’t remember exactly when.”
“Have you ever met a detective named Roy Shindler?”
Esther felt as if she had been struck. She looked directly at Shaeffer, her face white. Her hands twisted the handkerchief she was holding into a tight knot.
“Mrs. Pegalosi?”
“Yes,” she answered hoarsely.
“Did your nightmares start soon after you met Detective Shindler?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do, Esther. Detective Shindler is the same detective who made you see Dr. Hollander, isn’t he?”
“He didn’t force me. I went because I wanted to.”
“To what, Esther?”
“To see if what he said was real.”
“What did he say?”
“That I saw the murder. He knew it even back then.”
“Back when?”
“When they were murdered. He told me.”
“Told you and showed the scene.”
“Yes.”
“Took you up there and suggested how a girl might lose her glasses running down that hill in a certain way.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Suggested that you might have dragged Richie that night, even though you couldn’t remember.”
“It was in my subconscious. Hidden. That’s what Dr…”
“Showed you that picture that scared you so much you became hysterical and had nightmares for years after.”
Esther stopped.
“What picture?” she asked hesitantly.
“You tell the jury what picture.”
“I don’t know any picture.”
“You don’t remember Detective Shindler bringing you to the station house in 1961 and showing you a color picture in one of the interrogation rooms?”
Esther couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t take her eyes away from Shaeffer’s face. He was rising and walking slowly to a table piled high with exhibits that had been introduced into evidence. He was bending slightly from the waist and selecting a manila envelope. There was a roaring in her ears. He was saying, “Perhaps this will help you to remember” and she was back at the police station and it was Roy’s hand drawing the color photograph slowly out of the envelope, face down. And she was peering at it again and it was rotating toward her and she was screaming again.
Sarah had passed him the note as he was leaving the courtroom. It was on yellow note paper and she had obviously written it during the trial. He had slipped it into his pants pocket and retrieved it when he changed back into his prison clothes.
That evening, after dinner, he had stretched out on his bunk, too exhausted from the day’s session to do anything but lie there. He had saved the note, even though he wanted so much to read it, because it was the first real communication he had had with Sarah for so long.
She had been in court every day and she had talked to him during recess, but their conversations had been superficial and she always had an excuse for not visiting him at the jail.
When she had handed him the note, she had not looked at him. He tried to speak to her, but she hurried away.
He was afraid of what she had written. When the paper was unfolded, he held it up to the light. It was very short and it said that she was going away and did not want to see him again. It said that she wanted to believe that he was innocent and that the girl was lying, but she had watched Mark Shaeffer torture her today and had come away feeling sick to her stomach that she had ever let him touch her.
He let his hand fall to his side. The yellow paper fluttered to the cement floor.
5
Mark Shaeffer put his attaché case on his counsel table and opened the snaps. Every seat in the courtroom was already filled and more spectators were milling around in the hallway waiting for someone to leave. He smiled in anticipation of today’s continued examination of Esther Pegalosi. He was feeling good. The trial seemed to be shifting in his direction and he had already picked up several new clients because of the publicity he was receiving on TV and in the papers.
Bobby wasn’t in the courtroom and Mark had some points he wanted to cover with him. He was about to ask the guard to bring Bobby down when Judge Samuels’s clerk signaled to him. Mark straightened a file, then walked to the entrance to the judge’s chambers.
Caproni and Heider were sitting in front of the judge’s desk. Samuels had not donned his robe yet. They all looked grim.
“Sit down, Mr. Shaeffer. I have some unsettling news for you.”
Mark looked at Caproni, but Caproni would not look at him.
“Approximately one hour ago I received a call from the jail,” Samuels said. “I’m afraid the trial is over. Mr. Coolidge killed himself some time last night.”
Esther had been silent during the ride from the courtroom and Shindler was grateful for the chance to think. The trial had ended so suddenly. What did it all mean? For years he had been preparing himself for the moment when a judge would read the jury’s verdict. Now that was not to be. He felt vindicated by the suicide, but he also felt as if business had been left unfinished. Without a jury verdict, Coolidge’s guilt would remain officially unproven. Already, someone in the press had asked him about the note that had been found in Bobby’s cell. The reporter wanted to know about the girl who had written it. They would say he had died for love. Still, there was always Billy. They would do it over again and this time there would be a verdict.
Shindler parked in front of Esther’s apartment. She was staring ahead, as she had all during the ride, and she made no effort to leave.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He wanted to be rid of her, but he still needed her for Billy’s trial.
“No, I’m not all right.”
Her voice was a hard monotone and her intensity surprised him.
“It wasn’t your fault, Esther. He killed himself because he knew he had no chance.”
“He killed himself because I lied.”
“No, Esther. We’ve been over and over this. You were there. You told the truth on the stand yesterday and you’ll tell it again at Billy’s trial.”