Rage of Angels
“You don’t remember?” Jennifer’s voice was weighted with sarcasm. “Do you happen to remember the date on which you first met Loretta Marshall in that bar?”
“No, I don’t. Not exactly.”
“Then let me refresh your memory.”
Jennifer walked over to the plaintiff’s table and began looking through some papers. She scribbled a note as though she were copying a date and handed it to Ken Bailey. He studied it, a puzzled expression on his face.
Jennifer moved back toward the witness box. “It was on January eighteenth, Mr. Randall.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jennifer saw Ken Bailey leaving the courtroom.
“It could have been, I suppose. As I said, I don’t remember.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Jennifer went on questioning Curtis Randall. It was a rambling, gentle cross-examination, and Roger Davis did not interrupt, because he saw that Jennifer was making no points with the jurors, who were beginning to look bored.
Jennifer kept talking, keeping an eye out for Ken Bailey. In the middle of a question, Jennifer saw him hurry into the courtroom, carrying a small package.
Jennifer turned to the judge. “Your Honor, may I ask for a fifteen-minute recess?”
The judge looked at the clock on the wall. “Since it’s almost time for lunch, the court will adjourn until one-thirty.”
At one-thirty the court was in session again. Jennifer had moved Loretta Marshall to a seat closer to the jury box, with the baby on her lap.
The judge said, “Mr. Randall, you are still under oath. You will not have to be sworn in again. Take the stand, please.”
Jennifer watched as Curtis Randall sat down in the witness box. She walked up to him and said, “Mr. Randall, how many illegitimate children have you sired?”
Roger Davis was on his feet. “Objection! This is outrageous, Your Honor. I will not have my client subjected to this kind of humiliation.”
The judge said, “Objection sustained.” He turned to Jennifer. “Miss Parker, I have warned you—”
Jennifer said contritely, “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”
She looked at Curtis Randall and saw that she had accomplished what she had wanted. He was nervously licking his lips. Jennifer turned toward Loretta Marshall and her baby. The baby was busily licking its lips. Jennifer slowly walked over to the baby and stood in front of her a long moment, focusing the attention of the jury.
“Look at that child,” Jennifer said softly.
They were all staring at little Melanie, her pink tongue licking her underlip.
Jennifer turned and walked back to the witness box. “And look at this man.”
Twelve pairs of eyes turned to focus on Curtis Randall. He sat there nervously licking his underlip, and suddenly the resemblance was unmistakable. Forgotten was the fact that Loretta Marshall had slept with dozens of other men. Forgotten was the fact that Curtis Randall was a pillar of the community.
“This is a man,” Jennifer said mournfully, “of position and means. A man everyone looks up to. I want to ask you only one question: What kind of man is it who would deny his own child?”
The jury was out less than one hour, returning with a judgment for the plaintiff. Loretta Marshall would receive two hundred thousand dollars in cash and two thousand dollars a month for child support.
When the verdict came in, Roger Davis strode up to Jennifer, his face flushed with anger. “Did you do something with that baby?”
“What do you mean?”
Roger Davis hesitated, unsure of himself. “That lip thing. That’s what won the jury over, the baby licking her lips like that. Can you explain it?”
“As a matter of fact,” Jennifer said loftily, “I can. It’s called heredity.” And she walked away.
Jennifer and Ken Bailey disposed of the bottle of corn syrup on the way back to the office.
16
Adam Warner had known from almost the beginning that his marriage to Mary Beth had been a mistake. He had been impulsive and idealistic, trying to protect a young girl who seemed lost and vulnerable to the world.
He would give anything not to hurt Mary Beth, but Adam was deeply in love with Jennifer. He needed someone to talk to, and he decided on Stewart Needham. Stewart had always been sympathetic. He would understand Adam’s position.
The meeting turned out to be quite different from what Adam had planned. As Adam walked into Stewart Needham’s office, Needham said, “Perfect timing. I’ve just been on the phone with the election committee. They’re formally asking you to run for the United States Senate. You’ll have the full backing of the party.”
“I—that’s wonderful,” Adam said.
“We have a lot to do, my boy. We have to start organizing things. I’ll set up a fund-raising committee. Here’s where I think we should begin…”
For the next two hours, they discussed plans for the campaign.
When they had finished, Adam said, “Stewart, there’s something personal I’d like to talk to you about.”
“I’m afraid I’m late for a client now, Adam.”
And Adam had the sudden feeling that Stewart Needham had known what was on Adam’s mind all the while.
Adam had a date to meet Jennifer for lunch at a dairy restaurant on the West Side. She was waiting for him in a rear booth.
Adam walked in, charged with energy, and from his expression Jennifer knew that something had happened.
“I have some news for you,” Adam told her. “I’ve been asked to run for the United States Senate.”
“Oh, Adam!” Jennifer was filled with a sudden excitement. “That’s wonderful! You’ll make such a great senator!”