MARCUS ARRIVED at the courthouse to discover his case was listed first on Judge Sears’ overcrowded Tuesday docket. When Marcus entered the courtroom, Dale Steadman was already there in the back row. Marcus waved him forward. “I’ve asked Deacon to join us as a sort of unofficial aide. His presence might prove important.”
“Whatever you say.” Steadman wore a standard-issue gray suit and the grim expression of one entering a war not of his choosing. He pointed to where the court reporter stood by the back doorway. “Do you know him?”
“Omar Dell.”
“He seems to have a lot of information on both of us. And a lot of questions.”
“Answer him or don’t, it’s your choice. But if publicity is what your ex-wife seeks to avoid, you might want to consider him a potential ally.”
Hamper Caisse bustled into the courtroom an instant before Judge Sears. The judge seated herself and said, “The two of you step up here, please.”
When the attorneys were standing before her raised desk, she inquired of Marcus, “Are the stories in the paper true?”
“I’m afraid so, your honor.”
She showed Marcus the measured commiseration of a seated judge addressing counsel. “Charlie Hayes was as fine a man as I have ever known.”
“He was that.”
“I had a close call, no question. I’m bruised and shaken, but otherwise fine.”
“Is there any evidence that the explosion has any bearing on this case?”
“None that I know of, your honor.”
“What about a tie-in to the recent house fire?”
“My client is seeking to institute some drastic changes at New Horizons, your honor. He personally believes there might be some executives—”
“Your honor, I must protest.” Hamper Caisse quietly raged, “Marcus is doing his best to divert the court’s attention from what the fire chief himself said on Friday, which was that Dale Steadman was falling down drunk when help arrived. And immediately following the fire he started reconstruction, thus hiding any evidence of foul play.”
Judge Sears nodded toward Marcus’ table. “Is that your client there?”
“Dale Steadman in the flesh, your honor.”
“I see your own table remains empty, Mr. Caisse.”
“As your honor well knows, my client is a world-famous opera diva. Her singing commitments hold her in Europe at this time.”
“And what is the position your own client holds at present, Marcus?”
“Chairman of the board of New Horizons, Incorporated.”
“Sounds like a mighty busy individual to me.” She made a note in her case file. “How do you wish to proceed?”
“Your honor, at this time I wish to call Ida Biggs to the stand.”
“Just a moment.” Before Judge Rachel Sears was a typical morning crush. Lawyers spilled from the courtroom’s two side offices. They spoke in muted voices with district attorneys awaiting cases. They scheduled hearings. They leaned over the waist-high partition known as the bench and huddled with clients. They snickered and gossiped among themselves. A pair of translators, one Hispanic and the other Vietnamese, whispered about upcoming cases. Two attorneys spoke in hushed tones with the court recorder, while another waited in the wings, urgently flagging for Judge Sears’ attention.
The judge raised her voice and announced, “In case you folks haven’t noticed, I’m trying a case here.”
The hubbub ground to an astonished halt. Normally a family court judge condoned such maneuverings, for otherwise the caseload would swamp them all. Cases were scheduled ten minutes apart, on the assumption that most of the day’s work would be done in this manner. The court built to a twice daily frenzy as the clock approached the midday and afternoon recesses.
“Now I want everybody who is in here to either find a seat or take their business elsewhere.” She turned to the bailiff and instructed, “Station one of your team by the rear doors. Anyone who comes in has to stay until I’ve made a ruling.”
“Yes, your honor.”
She surveyed the shocked faces and snapped, “You heard me. Grab a seat or take a hike.”
As Marcus returned to his seat, his attention was snagged by Deacon Wilbur. The old pastor was seated between the attorney’s tables and the railing. Ida and Tyrell Biggs were seated just behind him. But the pastor was paying them no mind. He was too busy blazing Hamper Caisse with a reverend’s version of the snake eye. Hamper Caisse ignored Marcus’ side of the courtroom entirely, busying himself with something he found of particular fascination within his briefcase.
Judge Sears rearranged the papers in her open file. “In regard to the case between Erin Brandt and Dale Steadman, I have before me two motions. One is from Ms. Brandt and regards a change of custody. The second is from Mr. Steadman and requests an emergency ex partae order. Is that correct?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“All right, Mr. Glenwood.” Judge Sears motioned with her gavel. “You may proceed.”
He rose and gestured for Ida Biggs to come forward. The woman was dressed for Sunday meeting in a pink linen dress and black enameled straw hat. She carried a purse big enough to hold a bazooka. She endured the swearing-in process with evident nerves, then seated herself with her purse clenched as a lap shield.
Marcus remained stationed by his table. “You worked as Dale Steadman’s housemaid and nanny for over a year, is that right?”
She glanced at Dale, who was intently focused upon nothing. “Yessir, that’s correct.”
“Can you tell the court what was Mr. Steadman’s temperament?”
“Mr. Dale, he’s as fine a man as I ever met. It’s been an honor working for him.” She nodded decisively. “An honor.”
Hamper Caisse rose in gaunt and clumsy stages. “Judge, I must object. We’re talking to a woman who has every reason to tell the court whatever will ensure her paycheck.”
In response, Marcus asked the witness, “Are you still in Mr. Steadman’s employment?”
“Nosir.”
“He dismissed you?”
“I wanted to stay on, but he wouldn’t let me. Said it might be dangerous, since the police couldn’t say how the fire got started.”
Hamper subsided into his chair without speaking. Judge Sears gave Marcus the nod.
“Tell us about the situation within Mr. Steadman’s former marriage.”
Ida Biggs took an even tighter grip upon her purse, glanced once more at Dale Steadman, then replied, “They argued back and forth all the time.”
“Accusations have been made that Mr. Steadman has physically attacked Erin Brandt.”
“Only time I know when Mr. Dale touched the lady, it happened right in the middle of the kitchen while I was fixing the baby’s lunch.”
“Did Mr. Steadman strike her as has been claimed?”
“She did the grabbing. But he ended up falling on top of her.”
“What happened then?”
“Mr. Dale, he pulled himself back up and ran off into the library. The lady went after him. She was swinging something, a pot I think it was.”
“So she was the aggressor?”
“Every time I saw, she was the one doing the swinging.”
“Do you recall what it was they argued about?”
“Everything under the sun. But Mr. Dale, he never started much of anything unless it was about the child. The rest of the time, he just stood there and let her get all worked up.”
“So there was nothing in particular that set her off?”
“Most times, it was how much she hated the place.”
“Their home?”
“The house, the town, the heat, the food, the people. You name it, she hated it.”
“What about their baby, Celeste?”
The woman’s features softened a stroke. “Mr. Dale, he dearly loves that child.”
“What about Ms. Brandt?”
“She didn’t act like no mother I’ve ever seen.”
Hamper Caisse gave a sonorous blast. “Objection! Generality!”
“Overruled. Proceed.”
“How was Ms. Brandt different from what you might have expected?”
“Just the way she looked at that baby. It was strange.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Biggs. I’m trying to gain a mental picture here. Strange just doesn’t do it for me.”
“The lady never said a thing. Not to me, not to her husband that I ever heard. She never disabused that baby in any way. She just never did anything.”
“Excuse me, but could you please try and give me a specific—”
“Why is this not clear to you, sir? If I brought the baby into a room, that lady would get up and walk out. She never changed the child’s diapers, not one single solitary time. She wouldn’t feed her. She wouldn’t dress her. She wouldn’t even hold Celeste unless there was somebody who walked over and set the child down in her lap. Then she’d just sit there waiting till she could find somebody to hand the baby to.” Ida Biggs kneaded the purse so hard the leather stretched and bunched. “Sweetest child you ever saw in all your born days. Little blond-haired angel was all she was. Just a treasure. I still dream about that baby’s smile.”
“Your honor, please,” Caisse complained. “The child is not on trial here.”
“Yes. Sustained. Redirect your witness, Mr. Glenwood.”
“Mrs. Biggs, we are gathered here today because Ms. Brandt is fighting to keep this child in her custody.”
“Sir, I tell you what’s the honest truth. Unless the Lord himself had done touched this lady’s heart, she isn’t doing what you say she’s doing.”
“Objection!”
Judge Sears did not release the witness from her gaze. “I’m going to allow this to go a little further.”
“But she is, Mrs. Biggs. Ms. Brandt has abducted the child and has brought us all here together today.”
“Then she ain’t doing it for the baby’s sake.”
“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.”
When Hamper had subsided into bitter silence, Marcus continued, “Just one more question, Mr. Pierce. Was there anything else which you can identify that would give the local business community reason to dislike my client?”
“Surely can. Back then, most doctors didn’t want to show their face down that side of town. So Mr. Dale set himself up a company clinic. First factory in Wilmington to do anything of the kind.”
“These medical services were available to all factory employees?”
“Them and their families.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pierce.”
But as Marcus was turning toward Hamper Caisse, the foreman added, “Something you said, sir, it needs correcting. The local business people, they didn’t dislike Mr. Dale.”
“But you just said—”
“They despised him. They spit on the ground where he walked. I seen it happen.”
Marcus found himself gripped by how those sightless eyes held steady upon him. “No further questions, your honor.”
“Mr. Caisse, your witness.”
Hamper Caisse bounded from his chair. “What was Mr. Steadman’s response to this supposed attitude?”
The foreman’s sightless eyes remained fastened upon Dale. “He didn’t say. Not to me. But I suppose he felt pretty much the same way ’bout them.”
“Wouldn’t it be fairer to say that it was Mr. Steadman’s dislike for the local authorities that has colored what you’ve said on the stand? Better still, wouldn’t you say this was in fact your own attitude which you have just described for the court?”
“I don’t know what you’re going on about.”
“No. Of course not.” He rustled the pages on his desk to emphasize the point. “You claimed Mr. Steadman had a temper.”
“ ’Cause he did.”
“So you have seen the defendant in a rage.”
Another silent laugh. “Not more than two, three times a day.”
“Describe what that was like, please.”
“Like a bomb going off.”
“Like a bomb,” Caisse repeated. “What could cause him to react like this?”
“Anybody giving him less than their best, that’s what. He paid top dollar and expected the same in return.”
“Did he ever attack his employees?”
“With words. Never his fists.”
“But you’re saying he berated his workers.”
“He laid into some of them. Yessir.”
“He could use some bad words.”
“He attacked them with his fists.”
“I never said that. And he never did it.”
“Not that you saw, in any case. But such a man, with his violent past and his propensity to fly off in unbridled tantrums, isn’t it safe to say that he could have become physically violent when not in your sight?”
“What you’re claiming just never happened.”
“No further questions.”
The judge turned to the witness. “You may step down.”
“Mr. Dale, he was a good—”
“Please step down, sir.”
Angrily the gentleman rose to his feet, muttering, “This ain’t right.”
As the young woman led him away, the foreman called over, “God bless you, Mr. Dale.”
Judge Sears waited until the old man departed to ask, “Do I have all the pertinent evidence to hand at this point?”
Hamper had remained on his feet. “I wish to draw your honor’s attention back to what we discussed on Friday. There has been a drastic change to the agreement which he himself drew up with his wife.” Hamper extracted his copy of the custody agreement, and waved it for effect. “He wrote it out himself, seated at the dining table with his soon-to-be ex-wife.”
Marcus suggested, “You want to add it was done in his own blood? That would heighten your drama.”
“That will do, Mr. Glenwood.”
“Your honor, I have discussed this at length with my client. He claims never to have seen this document before.”
Hamper was ready for that. “We have his signature on a notarized agreement.” He waved the sheaf of papers once more. “Is he claiming he was blind drunk then as well?”
Marcus knew this was the direction Hamper would take, as he would have done himself. But the statement needed to go on record. “Not only that, but an agreement which was not even mentioned in the initial proceedings can’t possibly be considered either binding on this court or enforceable.”
“Not true, your honor,” Hamper responded. “The records will show that there never was a formal custody hearing, merely an uncontested divorce granted in chambers. Anyone in their right mind would know the mother wouldn’t dream of such a thing unless there was something like this arrangement on the side.”
“Where are your signed affidavits of sworn testimony from this woman?” Marcus shot back. “Better still, where is your client?”
“Unclog your ears, counsel. If you’d been listening, I’ve already covered that matter. Furthermore, your honor, there is the unresolved issue of jurisdiction. The child is in Germany. This court has no right to make any order binding upon the government of Germany.”
“But the child was abducted, your honor. Surely—”
“That may be something for a criminal court to consider, which I very much doubt. But this court has no jurisdiction.”
“Not true, your honor. The divorce matter was here. The child was named in the divorce proceedings. That makes for continuing jurisdiction for this court.”
“Only if it is in the best interest of the child. Which this is not.”
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Judge Sears took a long moment to study her own notes, then said, “The original order is valid on its face. It was tried in this court and heard by me. I see no reason at this point to overturn the original court findings. Therefore the original order stands as valid. Mr. Caisse, your motion to set this order aside is denied. Mr. Glenwood, your request for an ex partae order, requiring the mother to present herself and the child before this court on Thursday, is hereby issued.”
Hamper’s face twisted in very real pain. “That presents an intolerable burden to my client, your honor. Her schedule—”
“If her schedule will not permit her to appear before this court, perhaps she is also not able to find the time to properly see to a child.” She leaned across the bench. “We are going to have a hearing so that I can listen to live testimony from both sides. Your client has until this Thursday to comply. Is that clear, Mr. Caisse?”
“Yes, your honor.”
“It better be.” Rachel Sears’ face was as unyielding as Marcus could ever recall. “In every single case where I’ve issued an ex partae order, live testimony has revealed that the situation is nothing close to what was represented initially.”
Hamper did his best to look affronted. “I have given you nothing but the absolute verified facts of the matter, your honor.”
“Save it. You both know the court’s standing at this point. I am legally obliged to put the child’s welfare before everything else. I therefore expect you both to be here, with your respective clients and the child, at nine o’clock Thursday morning.” She applied the gavel with vehemence. “Next case.”