Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

Stone drove to the grocery with ill grace, annoyed at being dispatched on such an errand when they should have been discussing how to save Allison’s life. He was struck by how completely lucid Hewitt was, as compared to their last meeting; the man apparently went in and out of his haze unpredictably. Stone bought the milk and drove back to the cottage, entering through the front door. He went to the kitchen to put the milk in the refrigerator and was surprised to find a full bottle there. Well, he thought, when I’m his age I’ll forget the milk, too. He walked out the back door into the garden and saw Hewitt and Allison deep in conversation on a bench at the bottom of the garden. When they saw him coming, Hewitt had a few more words to say, patted her on the knee, then rose to receive Stone.

“Come into my study, and we’ll begin,” Hewitt said.

Stone fell in alongside Allison. “What were you two discussing so seriously?” he asked.

“Gardening,” she replied.

“Now,” Hewitt said, taking his usual seat at his desk and waving Stone and Allison to a sofa. “Here’s how it will go on Monday: the judge will select a jury, which should take an hour or so, then the prosecution will make an opening statement, probably a very long and passionate one, if I know Winston Sutherland, and I have since he was a lad. The jury will be very impressed. Then I will make an opening statement, which will be equally passionate, but very much shorter, for which the jury will be grateful, I assure you. That should bring us to lunchtime.

“After lunch, Winston will present his case, which will almost certainly be confined to reading passages from Mr. Manning’s journal, or outline for his novel, whichever way you would like to characterize it. I would be very surprised if he called any other witnesses.”

Stone interrupted. “Isn’t he required to submit his evidence and witnesses to the defense?”

“Oh, no,” Hewitt replied. “Nothing of the sort. Then we will call your writer acquaintance, Mr….”

“Mr. Forrester, from The New Yorker,” Stone said.

“Yes, quite. I should think it would be best if you, Stone, questioned him. I’m sure you already have a complete grasp of what we must get from him.”

“Yes,” Stone said. “I want to…”

Hewitt held up a hand. “No need to go into that; I trust your judgment completely.”

“Thank you very much,” Stone said, “but shouldn’t we go into this in more detail?”

“Completely unnecessary, I assure you,” Hewitt replied with a big smile. “Then we will put Mrs. Manning on the stand, and I think you should question her as well,” Hewitt said. “No need to go over that with me, but I should think that the two of you might go through it once or twice.”

“You may be sure we will,” Stone said. Jesus, he thought to himself, is this the man’s idea of preparation?

“Then there will be cross-examination and redirect, but I urge you to keep redirect to an absolute minimum, since Lord Cornwall is impatient at such times. Then Winston will make his closing statement, which will be annoyingly like his opening one, then I will make our closing statement, which will move the jury very nearly to tears. Juries always love my closing statements. Then we will wait for the jury to make its decision.”

“We have no idea, of course, how long that will take,” Stone pointed out.

“Quite the contrary; I would be surprised if they took more than an hour, two at the most. The jury will, like most juries, have already made up their individual minds before the proceedings are finished. They will just. Need time to chat a bit to be sure they’re all in agreement.”

“That has not been my experience with juries,” Stone said.

“Oh, I am sure that in your country there is extensive deliberation before the jury decides what it has already decided,” Hewitt said, chuckling, “but in St. Marks, it is considered rude to keep anyone waiting, especially on so important a matter as Mrs. Manning’s life.”

“That will be very nice of them,” Stone said dryly.

“Of course it will, and we will be spared the suspense.”

“I hope we are spared a great deal more,” Stone said.

“You may certainly hope,” Hewitt said. He looked at a gold pocket watch that he produced from his Bermuda shorts. “Well, I see that time is getting on. We will meet at the court at ten o’clock on Monday morning and all do our very best.” He rose and left the room without so much as a good-bye. Stone reflected that Hewitt had not offered them the promised tea, for which he had obtained the unnecessary milk.

Allison turned to Stone. “You know, sometimes I think he’s not entirely all there.”

Stone certainly could not disagree with her. “What did you two talk about while I was shopping for milk?”

“I told you,” she said. “Gardening.”

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