The judge looked down from the bench, surprised that a veteran like Alfred Corona — even if he were a Ree — would pull such a boner.
“Will the prosecution...”
“Forgive me,” Corona said softly, and then he asked his witness, “Your name, please, sir?” Fields sat down triumphantly, and Van smiled again, convinced the trial had got off on the right foot.
“Sigmund Weiss,” the witness said.
“Thank you, Mr. Weiss. Can you tell us now where you were on the night of June thirtieth?”
“I was with Mr. Pelazi, sir,” Weiss said.
“Do you see Mr. Pelazi anywhere in this courtroom?” Corona asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you mind pointing him out to the court, please?”
Weiss pointed to where Pelazi sat at his table, his legs crossed, his hands folding and unfolding a sheet of paper.
“That is Mr. Pelazi,” Weiss said.
“Thank you,” Corona said. “And where did you and Mr. Pelazi go, Mr. Weiss, on that night of June thirtieth?”
“To the Beldame Theatre to watch a Vike benefit.”
“Will you tell us at what time you first saw Mr. Pelazi on that evening?”
“Yes, sir. It was approximately 1930, sir.”
“And where was this?”
“At my home, sir. Mr. Pelazi stopped by for me.”
“And did you go directly to the theatre when you left your home?”
“Yes, sir, we did.”
“Thank you, Mr. Weiss. That will be all.”
Brant almost chuckled out loud. Fields had anticipated all this. A witness to establish the fact that Pelazi had gone to the theatre. He was surprised that Corona hadn’t tried to show that Pelazi had remained there during the show, but so much the better for the Vike case. Fields was walking to the dais now, regarding the witness with cold suspicion. He cleared his throat, pointed a pencil at Weiss, and then asked, “You say you left your home at approximately 1930. Are you sure about that time?”
“As sure as I can be, sir. I didn’t say it was exactly 1930. I said approximately. A few minutes before, or a few minutes later.”
“How many minutes?”
“Objection,” Corona said. “Defense is attempting to disparage the witness’ testimony, asking for admissions beyond the scope of witness’ direct knowledge. If...”
“I am merely attempting, your honor,” Fields said, “to arrive at a definition for ‘a few minutes.’ When a woman is dressing for a ball, a few minutes can be two hours.”
The court snickered, and Corona said, “Witness is not a woman, your honor. By common definition, few implies not many. We can take it to mean...”
“Your honor...” Fields said.
“Order in the court!” the judge said, pounding his gavel. “Will the witness please define the expression ‘few minutes.’ ”
“Five minutes either way,” Weiss said.
“Thank you,” Fields said. “Tell me, Mr. Weiss, how do you know it was close to 1930?”
“I’d pulled a message from the Private Communicator at 1920. Dino... Mr. Pelazi came in shortly after that, and we left almost immediately. That’s how I know it was very close to 1930, five minutes either way.”
“I see. And you went directly to the Beldame Theatre when you left your home, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Mr. Pelazi was with you, is that also correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what did you do when you got to the Beldame?”
“We took our seats.”
“Which seats were those?”
“Fourth row, second and third seats from the aisle.”
“Which aisle?”
“The one on the right.”
“Did you and Mr. Pelazi sit together then, Mr. Weiss?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Side by side, is that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you happen to see who was sitting on the other side of Mr. Pelazi?”
“No, sir.”
“And you sat alongside Mr. Pelazi all night, is that right?”
“No, sir.”
Fields seemed surprised. Van watched the surprise cross his face, and he suddenly wondered what Corona had up his sleeve.
“You did not sit alongside Mr. Pelazi all night?” Fields asked.
“No, sir, I did not.”
“But for a portion of the night?” Fields asked, smiling.
“Yes, sir.”
“And where did you sit for the remaining portion of the night?”
“I didn’t sit,” Weiss said. “I went home to bed.”
The court began mumbling, and the judge banged on his desk again. Corona sat at the table with Pelazi, apparently undisturbed by his witness’ peculiar admission.
“You went home, Mr. Weiss?” Fields pounced.
“Yes, Sir.”
“At what time?” he asked quickly.
“At about 2100, sir.”
“Exactly 2100?”
“No, sir. A few minutes before or after.”
“By earlier definition, I take a few minutes to mean five minutes. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes, sir, give or take five minutes.”
“Then, am I to understand that on the evening of June thirtieth, you left Mr. Pelazi at the Beldame Theatre and went home to sleep, and you left Mr. Pelazi there roughly between 2055 and 2105, is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And did you see Mr. Pelazi again that night?”
“No, sir. I did not.”
“Defense rests,” Fields said. He walked back to his table beaming happily, and Van leaned forward in his seat. Corona hadn’t seemed like an egghead, but this was certainly a hell of a way to start off. His entire case hinged on proving Pelazi had been at the theatre and had seen the show. And now his first witness had admitted leaving at about 2100, just about when the show was starting.
“Call Paul O’Leary,” Corona said, and the court began buzzing again until the witness had taken the stand. He was a tall boy with red hair, an obvious Ree. He took the chair nonchalantly, and he was sworn in quickly. Corona stepped over to him and asked, “Your name, sir?”
“Paul O’Leary.”
“And your occupation, Mr. O’Leary.”
“I’m an usher at the Beldame Theatre,” O’Leary said.
“Are you now so occupied?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And were you so occupied on the night of June thirtieth past?”
“Yes, sir, I was.”
“Would you please look at that gentleman, Mr. O’Leary?” Corona asked. He pointed to Pelazi where he sat at the table, and Pelazi lifted his head while O’Leary looked.
“Do you recognize him?” Corona asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know his name, sir,” O’Leary said.
“Then how do you know him?”
“He asked me for a program, sir.”
“When was this?”
“On June thirtieth, sir.”
“At the Beldame Theatre?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you give him a program?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“And what time was this?”
“2110, sir.”
“Objection!” Fields snapped, leaping to his feet. “Witness cannot possibly remember...”
“If the court please,” Corona said, “witness will validate his statement.” He paused. “Provided the prosecution may continue without any further interruptions.”
“Overruled,” the judge said. “Proceed.”
“How do you know you gave this gentleman a program at 2110, Mr. O’Leary?”
“He called me over just as the house lights were being dimmed, sir. He asked me for the program, and I gave it to him, and then the lights went out, and the curtain went up.”
“At 2110?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How do you know it was 2110?”
“The curtain always goes up at 2110, sir. You see we have a preset board at the Beldame. It takes care of dimming the lights at the start of the show, closing the rear doors, releasing the locks on the emergency exits, and raising the curtain, all automatically. It’s always set for 2110, sir.”