An urgency in Lester’s manner communicated itself to Selby; it sounded in his husky voice and animated his distracted gestures. He held up his glass. “A tad more water, Vickie. I didn’t eat since Brussels, a straight whiskey would put me away
An investigation like mine, Selby, attracts tipsters, informers, vindictive gossip, people with grudges, ex-wives, power-brokers in Intelligence... Who was Deep Throat, for instance? What’s a highly placed official? Who are those people the press and TV quote like Holy Writ? Cleaning women selling shredded papers to Jack Anderson? A maintenance man eavesdropping in an elevator? But your father was an authentic source, Selby. He was a living example of what they’d done.”
The senator settled back and put his slippered feet on a stool. He rubbed his forehead. “Vickie, would you order me something light. A steak sandwich and a salad would be nice... Mr. Selby, we’ve run a quick check on you. Miss Kim tells me you never had any direct contact with your father. Unless there’s something in his diaries Vickie missed, this could be another dead end, one more lead that didn’t pay off. Still, I’m grateful for your cooperation... Now tell me this. When you were in Summitt City last October you met a friend of your brother’s, a girl named Jennifer, a model or photographer, something like that. Have you had any further contact with her? Vickie tells me there was one ambiguous phone call from Jarrell. Could have been anyone, for that matter. But I’m wondering if you’ve heard anything from that girl?”
“You also must be wondering,” Selby said, “about what I’m wondering about.”
“How we knew about this Jennifer in the first place? That what you’re thinking? As I told you, Selby, a case like this has an effect on information like a magnet on metal filings. Things can come flying in from everywhere. But you’re entitled to more than that kind of bullshit, pardon my pidgin French, Vickie. We’ve got an agent undercover in Summitt City, have had since we started looking into Harlequin. A routine procedure. Never mind whether it’s a he or a she — it’s our source for your brother’s friend. But we don’t have much. So I’m curious about her, thought you might know something.”
“Sorry I can’t be helpful—”
“You don’t know anything more about her?”
“No.”
“Did she mention how she met your brother?”
“Said something about a disco party, they met, started talking.”
“Your brother tell you anything else about her? How she happened to be there that particular weekend, for instance?”
Selby said no. He’d been trained, it occurred to him, to stand for the national anthem, to regard pretty cheerleaders waving pom-poms on sunny fall afternoons as the quintessence of healthy and innocent American values, and, it followed, to trust members of the United States Senate. But it struck him that Senator Lester was not being altogether truthful with him. Why all this curiosity about Jennifer? Why so little, really, about Jarrell, or Harlequin, which they were supposed to be investigating? He had been told — by the senator and Miss Kim — a judiciously edited story... They also hadn’t revealed what Jerry Goldbirn had found out in an unofficial inquiry, that Jennifer’s last name was Easton, that she lived at an expensive address in New York on Sutton Place South and had an unlisted phone protected by a high priority seal. Such basic information had to be available to anyone with Senator Lester’s contacts. If they were keeping their own counsel on those matters, Selby would keep his.
“If your check on me was as thorough as I imagine it was,” Selby said, “you’ll understand I’ve got to be back in East Chester this afternoon.” He stood and picked up his coat. “So you’ll both have to excuse me now. Thanks for the coffee, Miss Kim.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
An expectant silence settled as Brett walked to the stand to begin her cross-examination of Dr. Leslie Clemens. The sharpened interest was understandable because it was obvious the People’s attorney was angry; a combative energy was evident in her posture, and her eyes narrowed as she studied the witness.
“Dr. Clemens, how much are you being paid for testifying in this case?”
“I can’t tell you exactly, the case isn’t over yet.”
“Then you are paid on an hourly basis?”
“Yes.”
“Plus expenses?”
“Yes.”
“How much are you paid by the hour, Dr. Clemens?”
“My fee is one hundred dollars per hour.”
“Is that for an eight-hour day?”
“That depends on circumstances. They vary from case to case. On occasion, my working day begins at breakfast, reading transcripts and so forth. Sometimes it doesn’t end until I retire—”
“What is your schedule in this particular case?”
“I’m not exactly sure. Close to full time.”
“Which means a twelve- or fourteen-hour day?”
“You’d have to check my office for those specifics.”
“You are staying at the DuPont Hotel in Wilmington, Delaware?”
“Yes, I am.”
“In a suite?”
“Yes — I need a sitting room for reading and writing, dictating notes and so forth.”
“A chauffeured limousine brings you from your hotel suite to the courtroom each morning?”
“Yes, it does, but—”
“And returns you in the evening?”
“Yes.”
“And these expenses, the hotel suite, all meals and gratuities, the chauffeured limousine — these are paid for by the attorneys who represent the accused?”
Davic stood. “I object, Your Honor. These questions are obviously designed to exaggerate the plain fact that expert witnesses are in heavy demand and are paid accordingly. There’s nothing unusual or culpable in such arrangements.”
“Your Honor,” Brett said, “I think it’s only fair that the jury be given a clear picture of these financial arrangements. Nothing in my questions has suggested that they are unusual or culpable. Those are Mr. Davic’s words.”
“Your Honor,” Davic protested, “I just denied that such payments were unusual or culpable.”
Judge Flood then said, “Since you first used those terms, Mr. Davic, the court cannot hold People’s counsel responsible for repeating them.”
“Thank you, Your Honor... Dr. Clemens, isn’t it true that while your fee is one hundred dollars an hour, you will not accept commitments at that rate unless they are computed on a weekly basis?”
“That’s generally true, I believe.” The doctor crossed his legs. “But circumstances vary, as I’ve pointed out. In any case, these matters are handled by my office...”
“I can understand the demands on your time, Doctor, but isn’t it a fact that you are being paid for a full two months for your testimony in this trial?”
“That may be true, yes... but I’m at a loss to understand your persistence. You must be aware that flexible fees and schedules are of necessity standard—”
“And you have earned on your flexible schedule — if my arithmetic is correct — only three hundred dollars in professional fees for talking directly to the plaintiff, Shana Selby, for three hours. Is that right, Doctor?”
“Your arithmetic is fine, Miss Brett. Three times one hundred is three hundred.”
“But in another phase of this flexible schedule, Dr. Clemens, you will receive close to seventy-five thousand dollars. Is that correct?”
“Yes, for many days of preparation, for additional extensive reading in recent studies in adolescent sexual psychology, for the time I need to analyze and confirm my impressions of the plaintiff, to modify those concepts, and to refine my definitions and evaluate any possible ambiguities. Yes, I’m paid extra for those contributions.”