He pulled the car to the curb outside his building. The doorman standing just inside the glass entrance doors immediately put on his gloves and came out to greet him.
"Put her away for the night, Mr. Willow?" he asked.
"Please, Dave."
"What happened to your fender here, Mr. Willow?"
"I had a little accident."
"Really got mangled, didn't it?"
"Mmm."
"There's a good body man over at the garage, if you want to…"
"I'll talk to him about it in the morning, Dave."
"Will you be using her tomorrow, or…"
"No, I'll need a taxi."
"Right, Mr. Willow, G'night now."
"Good night, Dave."
He walked quickly into the lobby, stopping at the long table with the mirror over it, picking up his mail. There was nothing from Amy. He scanned the envelopes rapidly, and then walked back to the elevator bank.
"Good evening, Fred," he said.
"Evening, Mr. Willow." The elevator doors closed. "Getting pretty cold out there, isn't it?"
"Bitter," Jonah said.
He got off on the sixth floor, and walked to his apartment at the end of the hall. Bessie had left a light burning for him in the entry alcove; the apartment was otherwise dark. He went into the kitchen, turning on lights ahead of him, and found a note from Bessie scotch-taped to the refrigerator door. Your daughter called, she had written in pencil, says you should called her back at school tonight or Wesday noon. He nodded briefly, took off his coat, and then went through the apartment to the master bedroom overlooking Park Avenue. He was about to place his call to Pennsylvania when he realized it was past midnight. He would have to call on Wednesday.
His wrist hurt like hell. He undressed slowly and carefully, cursing the Egyptian under his breath — that was another call he'd have to make, to Judge Santesson, see what he could do about that crazy son of a bitch.
The cross begins tomorrow, he thought.
Wearily, he pulled back the covers, the blue and violet flower-patterned sheets Christie had brought home from Lord & Taylor, traces of her lingering in the bedroom even though the divorce had become final in August of 1962, the painting they had bought in Rome, St. Peter's in sunlight, the crayoned drawing Amy had given them as a Christmas gift when she was only four, traces, traces.
The cross begins tomorrow, he thought.
In a little while, he fell asleep.
Tuesday
5
It began snowing early in the morning, but by nine-thirty there was scarcely any cover at all on the sidewalk outside the courthouse. The snow was fine, a sharp powder that sifted from the sky only to be blown off the streets and sidewalks, patches of gathered white suddenly in motion, rearranging to reveal black asphalt and gray concrete, moving again like mist on a bog, to form yet another pattern directed by the wind. Arthur stood with Brackman just inside one of the barred windows fronting the street, looking past the thick white columns to the shifting snow beyond. He had not been able to sleep last night, and his eyes felt heavy and puffed.
"I want to give you some tips about Jonah Willow," Brackman said.
"I feel like hell," Arthur said.
"You'll wash your face before we go in. That'll make you feel better."
"That'll make me feel worse."
"Arthur, do you want me to tell you about Willow, or do you want to make wisecracks? If you want to make wisecracks…"
"You have no sense of humor, Sidney," Arthur said.
"That's right. Not when ten million dollars is at stake."
"All right, tell me about Willow. What should I know about him?"
"He's very smart," Brackman said. "That's the first thing you should know."
"I'm smart, too," Arthur said.
"Yes, but you're not a lawyer. Willow is smart, and he knows the law, and you can bet he's researched this case from top to bottom and can quote you precedent in Sanskrit. Don't underestimate him at any time during the cross. That's my first word of advice."
"All right, I won't underestimate him."
"Especially if he seems to be fumbling for words. That's an old trick of Jonah's, he does it to give the witness a false sense of confidence. Then he springs like an animal."
"I'll watch for it."
"He has a habit, too, of shooting questions at you from every corner of the universe, seemingly without logical order. He knows where he's going, but very often the witness can't connect the line of progression because the questions aren't in sequence. Watch out for that, Arthur. He can have you admitting your mother is a whore, and then ten minutes later contradicting it."
"You do have a sense of humor," Arthur said.
"So watch for that," Brackman said, ignoring him, "questions out of sequence. I'll help you all I can from the table, but there'll be times when I can't object, and 1 won't. You're up there alone, and you've got to watch yourself."
"I'll be very careful."
"Take your time with him. If he asks a question that sounds at all tricky, hesitate before you answer. If he pushes for an answer, ask him to repeat the question, even though you heard it the first time around."
"That'll fool him, I'll bet."
"It won't fool him for a minute, but it'll gain time for you while you think. And if you need more time, even after the question has been repeated, simply say you did not understand the question. While he explains it to you, you keep thinking. And then you answer it."
"Okay," Arthur said.
"If he asks a question that requires a 'yes' or 'no' answer, and you feel that such an answer will hurt you, I want you to say — and please memorize this, Arthur — I want you to say, 'I can answer that with a yes or no, but the answer will be misleading.' Have you got that?"
"I can answer it with a yes or no, but the answer will be misleading, right, I've got it."
"Good. Don't lose your temper."
"I won't."
"Don't raise your voice to Willow."
"I won't."
"Don't argue with him. Just answer…"
"I won't."
"… the questions."
"Okay."
"And don't let him trick you into saying anything you don't want to say."
"I doubt if he can do that."
"I'm telling you he can."
"Words are my business, Sidney."
"They're Willow's, too, and you're playing in his ball park."
"I'll remember."
"Be especially careful of the negative question — where if you answer yes, you're really saying no."
"I'll be careful."
"This is the cross-examination, Arthur, and during the cross he's going to try to get you to contradict everything you said in the direct. Failing that, he'll try to make you appear foolish or ridiculous. He can be a ruthless man when he wants to, I've seen him in action, and he can make you feel like a child or a stuttering moron. If that happens, just take your time, regain your composure, and continue answering the questions truthfully. Don't he, Arthur. Not about anything. I can guarantee that if you lie, Willow will pick up the lie later, and then your credibility will be questioned and that could very well lose the case for us. Am I making you nervous?"
"Yes, you damn well are."
"Good. I want you to be nervous because that'll make you careful. Don't forget, Arthur, this is where they got Jesus."
"What?"
"By the cross," Brackman said, and grinned.
"Mr. Constantine, had you ever met James Driscoll before the publication of The Paper Dragon?" Willow asked. "Just a moment, and I'll set a date for that."