“Your Honor, this is absurd!” Logan stopped halfway to the bench. “The plaintiff has not connected the company in any way to this woman’s disappearance!”
Judge Nicols lowered her head in a warning glare. “Is that the defense’s opening statement?”
Logan caught himself. “No, Your Honor. Defense waives its opening statement, but reserves the right to claim it later.” He retreated to his table, muttering just loud enough for the jury to hear, “If the trial actually manages to last that long.”
“Very well.” Judge Nicols turned to the jury. “The defense will not address you now, but may do so later on. This will probably take place before they call their own witnesses.”
Logan remained standing. “Your Honor, once again we move to dismiss this case. The plaintiff’s opening statement shows this whole thing to be nothing more than a sham.”
“No, I am going to allow it to continue. For now.” Her gaze was hard and searching. “Mr. Glenwood, Mr. Hayes, you have your work cut out for you.” She banged her gavel. “Court is adjourned until nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”
Thursday’s dawn found Marcus already at work. The sunrise was filtered through his two favorite trees, the sycamore tall and looming, the dogwood gnarled and thick-limbed as a Florida oak. Marcus sat at his desk and wrestled with strategy. An hour or so later, Darren slipped a breakfast plate and a fresh cup of coffee in front of him, then left without saying a word.
When Marcus emerged from the house it was to find Amos Culpepper standing with Darren next to an unmarked car. The two were in the process of shaking hands, a sight that warmed Marcus as much as breakfast.
Amos said in greeting, “Looks like we’ve managed to clear up that misunderstanding with the local police.”
Marcus stowed his load of papers in the Jeep. “This is very good news.”
“My visits over at New Horizons haven’t done much but ruffle a few feathers. They claim they don’t have a single Lonnie on staff, and they’ve never heard of anybody fitting the description of your gray attacker. Felt the need to deny that before I even finished my description.” He squinted down the street as he asked, “What’d you think of the New Horizons reception area?”
“Very cold, very New York.”
“Seems kinda strange how they need to have two armed bruisers guarding a textile company’s front office.”
“They’ve got a lot of celebrities coming and going over there.”
“Maybe so.” Amos started toward his car. “Thought I’d ride along with you, hang back a ways, see if that pickup makes another appearance.”
The drive was uneventful. Amos walked him to the courthouse door and handed him over to Jim Bell, the judge’s receptionist. The retired patrolman clearly took the attack on Marcus during his watch very seriously.
Charlie was there and waiting for him, making quiet conversation with Alma Hall. “Austin teaches class this morning,” Alma said in greeting. “He wanted to come but I told him to go on to school.”
“Whatever you two feel is best.” Marcus turned to Charlie. “We need to talk.”
Charlie reached over and patted Alma’s arm. “You remember what I told you, now.”
Marcus led him over to the empty jury box. “What were you saying?”
“Not a thing you need to worry over. She’s scared, she’s not sleeping, she’s got strategies that’d wake a plucked goose. I heard her out and then told her to trust you.”
“When did all this happen?”
“Last night and again this morning. Fine-looking young lady they got staying with them, by the way.” The man sounded ten years younger and had a kick to his heels. “I assume you know who I mean. Blond, slender, smart as a whip, most remarkable eyes I ever did see.”
“It’s a shame she won’t give me the time of day.”
“Now that’s strange, seeing how she fair hung on every word I said about you.”
Marcus could not tell if the old man was joking, so he handed over the folder and said, “I’ve gone through and made a list of today’s and tomorrow’s witnesses. You have one key question for each witness. Take your time, establish each one carefully, hammer that one point home as much as you like.”
Charlie scanned the morning’s work and surmised, “Past practice.”
“Exactly.” Past practice was a legal jungle, with hundreds of rulings on either side. “Hopefully the judge will allow us at least to suggest this was not an isolated case.”
“The defense will be all over this with bazookas.”
“I know. Can you handle that?”
“I’m feeling a mite peckish this morning. Wouldn’t mind taking a bite or two out of a fancy-suited lawyer.” He closed the folder. “You think they did this to young Gloria Hall?”
“I’m more convinced with every passing day.”
“Then vile and treacherous don’t even begin to describe them.” Charlie nodded to where the bailiff was holding open the door to the judge’s chambers. “Let’s get to work.”
Charlie followed the order and the strategy with a veteran’s ease. Marcus sat and rested and grew stronger, and marveled at the old man’s ability. Charlie Hayes limped badly, his dentures clicked occasionally, his eyesight was mostly absent. But he remained a master in the courtroom. His timing rivaled that of a Shakespearean actor. The jury followed his every move.
The first witness was a local labor expert. Charlie walked him through his testimony on the textile industry’s employment structure, detailing how textile companies preferred economically struggling regions because they hired large numbers of low-skilled workers. Such areas paid premiums to have the companies come, offering grants in the form of free land and tax subsidies and low-cost loans. Charlie paused at that moment, then slipped in the question Marcus had intentionally not raised at deposition. “If such companies don’t require highly skilled workers, wouldn’t it be easier for them to leave?”
The expert’s surprise was evident. “Leave?”
“Sure, just pick up sticks and walk away. Go somewhere else willing to bribe them, soon as they’ve got trouble on their hands.”
“Objection.” The word did not come from Logan Kendall, but rather from one of the firm’s young associates. “Irrelevant.”
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.” Charlie headed back. “Your witness.”
“No questions at this time, Your Honor.”
Charlie scanned the sheet Marcus held out for him, said, “Plaintiff calls Weldon Smith.”
Smith was the director of industrial development for eastern North Carolina. Charlie had him describe the difficulties in attracting a company to invest in Edgecombe County. The man was only too eager to explain how important New Horizons was to the local economy. Thirty-nine hundred jobs. New national headquarters. Great free publicity for a depressed area. Tax revenue. Boost to local businesses. New incoming suppliers.
“You mentioned taxes earned from the company.” Charlie limped over to where Marcus had a page ready. “Do you have any idea how much in taxes New Horizons has paid?”
“How could I? That’s none of my concern.”
“I submit that it is very much your concern, since you arranged a ten-year tax exemption, and have offered them a further ten-year exemption for this new expansion of theirs.” Charlie headed toward the witness stand. “They haven’t paid one plug nickel in state taxes, now, have they?”
“Objection, Your Honor, this case is supposedly about some incident at a Chinese factory. It has nothing to do with local tax records.”
“Sustained.”
Charlie pressed on, “Is it not also true that the New Horizons group has been a headache from day one, and there are currently five outstanding legal actions the state has itself brought against the company?”
“Objection!”
“Sustained.”
“No further questions.”
“Defense, your witness.”
A young associate rose to his feet. “Your Honor, I cannot ask questions of the witness since the plaintiff has failed to show any connection to the case we are here to try!”