“Your honor, this is absurd!” Hamper was up and pacing now. “How are we to take this woman’s unconfirmed testimony against all the evidence I presented on Friday?”
Marcus retreated to his seat. “No further questions, your honor.”
“Your witness, Mr. Caisse.”
Marcus held his breath. It was a risk, leaving the critical issue unaddressed. But the impact would be far stronger if Hamper did the asking.
Hamper Caisse did not merely step into the trap. He dove in. “All right, Mrs. Biggs! Let’s get to the heart of the matter. Tell us about Dale Steadman’s drinking!”
“The man liked his bourbon.”
“He liked it a lot.”
“That’s true.”
Hamper angled his head to ensure the judge was catching this. “Too much from the sounds of things.”
“He had himself a glass ’bout every night, that’s true.”
“A glass? Did you say a glass?”
“Sometimes two.”
“Two what, Mrs. Biggs? Two bottles?”
“Nosir. Not Mr. Dale.”
“Come on now, Mrs. Biggs. We’ve had testimony from a variety of sources that directly contradicts your own. We know you like the defendant. But we’re after the truth here. Mr. Steadman was a drunkard, wasn’t he?”
“Nosir. Not a bit of it.”
“I remind you you’re under oath, Mrs. Biggs.”
“Only time he ever let the drink take control was twice.” Ida Biggs kept as tight a grip on her emotions as she did upon her purse. “When that lady left him, and when she came back and stole that child. Mr. Dale’s a man with a big heart. That’s his only crime. That lady just ripped it right out of his body. And she done it twice.”
Hamper cast a molten glance at Marcus, then wheeled about and snapped, “Your honor, there isn’t a single solitary thing this woman can tell us of any value. I am not going to waste the court’s time with probing what I have already shown to be a pack of self-serving lies.”
“The witness may step down.”
But Hamper Caisse’s words had pinched Ida Biggs’ face up tight. “What I told you was the truth.”
Judge Sears said, “Please step down, Mrs. Biggs. The court is grateful for your coming all this way.”
As she left the stand and passed between the attorneys’ tables, Ida Biggs cast another glance at Dale Steadman. This time he returned the look, his expression as bleak as January rain. Whatever she saw there set the woman to humming a deep mournful note as she gathered up her husband and departed from the courtroom.
“Mr. Glenwood?”
“Your honor, at this time I’d like to call Mr. William Pierce to the stand.”
The gentleman being led to the front of the courtroom had skin paler than a deep tan. His hair was kinked a reddish gray, and his eyes were an opaque and smoky blue. A lovely young woman with the erect stature of a classical dancer held him by the elbow. She let him set the pace through the partition and up to where the bailiff waited with the Bible. Once he was seated, he whispered something to the young woman, who replied softly and touched his chin, tilting his gaze over to the right. As she returned to her seat, she gave Dale Steadman a grave nod.
Marcus began with, “How long did you work for Mr. Steadman’s company?”
“Eleven years and eight months. From the day it opened to the day I retired. Didn’t want to stop, but my eyes just went on me.”
“You were shop foreman?”
“Started off working in the supply depot. Got promoted five times.”
“Tell the court about the factory.”
“Mr. Dale, he run himself a tight ship. He was a hard man. He wasn’t out there to make folks happy. And he had himself a temper. Yessir, that man could throw himself a rage. But he was fair. And he treated his people right.”
“Where was the company located?”
“Down in southeast Wilmington, just a few blocks off the river.”
“Was this a nice part of town?”
“ ’Bout as bad as you could get, I suppose. Least it was when he started up. Things is improving a little now.”
“Because of Mr. Steadman’s company?”
“That and some other things.”
“But it is safe to say that when Mr. Steadman began his factory, there was no other industry around him.”
“Wasn’t nothing but ruin and woe down that way. Mr. Dale, he got himself an old school from the city and some money to fix things up. Us early workers used to call it the schoolhouse mill. Some still do, I ’spect. Mr. Dale fixed it up real nice. Took two old falling-down houses and made them his offices. Them places stuck out like new pennies when he was done.”
“The court has heard a lot of criticism from other people about Mr. Steadman. Could you tell us any reason you might know for local officials to speak ill about my client?”
“Objection!” Hamper Caisse could scarcely keep from launching himself around the table. “Your honor, this line of questioning needs to be nipped in the bud. Mr. Glenwood is asking this gentleman to make suppositions about people with whom he has had no contact whatsoever.”
“You started us down this road, Mr. Caisse. I’m going to allow Mr. Glenwood to carry us along a little further. Overruled.”
“Thank you, your honor.” Marcus turned back to the elderly gentleman. “Can you please tell the court-”
“I heard you the first time. And there ain’t more than a thousand reasons I can imagine. My guess is, most of them folks either run companies themselves or have kin that do. And ain’t a one of them that pays their hourly workers a cent more than they have to.”
“Objection! There is no possible way this man could have conducted a proper survey of the local business community.”
“Overruled. Proceed.”
“You say Mr. Steadman overpaid his workers?”
“Nosir. I’m saying he paid a fair wage. ’Bout the time he started up, there was this study they did over to Duke, where Mr. Steadman did his schooling. Said the living wage for a family of four was nine dollars and thirty cents an hour. Less than that, and somebody’s gonna have to work more than fifty hours a week or go without something. So Mr. Steadman set that as his minimum wage. Even the janitors got that.”
“How can you be certain this was an exception to the local rule?”
The man’s shoulders humped in a silent laugh. “On account of how we got almost ten thousand folks ’round there looking for work.”
“Objection, your honor, this is clearly a wild exaggeration, and proves just how lame this man’s testimony is.”
“On the contrary, your honor, I have documents which not only corroborate Mr. Pierce’s assertions, but reveal that they underestimate the number of applicants.” Marcus marched back to his table and accepted the document Steadman had ready for him. “In the first eleven months of operation, the company received eleven thousand, four hundred applications.”
Caisse did not back down. “The witness himself said there was a great deal of poverty and unemployment in the area, your honor.”
Marcus continued to read from the document he had asked Steadman to bring with him that morning. “Over half these applicants, your honor, were gainfully employed at the time of their application.”
The judge repressed a smile. “Lame, did you say, Mr. Caisse?”
“Your honor-”
“Overruled.”
Marcus returned his attention to the witness. “Dale Steadman fired you, did he not?”
“That’s right.”
“For coming to work intoxicated. But later he took you back.”
“That he did. Docked my pay and demoted me, but a year after that he made me foreman.”
“Are there any signs he still promotes these types of changes within his companies?”
“Absolutely. Soon as Mr. Dale got his new position, he started working to make them same things policy right through the whole New Horizons company.”
Hamper flailed in his seat. “Your honor, this is just ridiculous. How on earth could that man possibly be party to confidential corporate policy?”
Marcus asked, “Would you care to respond, Mr. Pierce?”
“Got me a nephew working as assistant manager over to the schoolhouse mill. A son is accountant to the New Horizons Wilmington import warehouse.”