“Good point. I’ll call you if I find out anything new.”
“Thanks, Bob. Take care.” He hung up.
“I’m not the cops,” Stone repeated to himself. “I’m her lawyer, and if she’s guilty, she won’t be the first guilty client I’ve represented.” Still, he wanted her to be innocent.
Chapter
24
Stone hung up the phone and returned to his lunch. He wasn’t the cops, granted, but he was still bothered by what he was hearing about Paul Manning’s affairs. He was about finished with lunch when Jim Forrester pulled up a chair.
“Mind if I join you?” the New Yorker reporter asked, settling his lanky frame and waving to Thomas for a drink.
“Not at all. I wondered what had happened to you; I was afraid my star witness had gotten shipped out with the other reporters.”
Forrester shook his head. “Nope. I ducked into the men’s room when I saw the cops, and they missed me. My luggage went, though; I’ve been shopping for the necessities.”
“Good; can we talk about your testimony?”
“Sure.”
“I don’t see any need to rehearse, but I do want to be reassured
that you’re willing to testify that, on the occasion you met them, they were happy together, affectionate, and glad to be in each other’s company.”
“No problem with that.”
“I think we’ll skip the argument they had about their routing later in the evening; it doesn’t seem germane.”
“I think you’re right; I’ve been married, so I know how those little spats can arise over nothing.”
“Yeah,” Stone replied, as if he knew what the reporter was talking about. It occurred to him that he and Arrington had never had that sort of spat in their time together. He hadn’t heard from her since she had arrived in L.A., and he wondered how she was.
“Let’s see,” Stone said, “you first met Paul Manning in the bar at the yacht club in Las Palmas?”
“Well, no; I had met him earlier, much earlier.”
“You didn’t mention that,” Stone said.
“Well, it was a long time ago. I went to Syracuse University, and Paul went to Cornell at the same time. The towns are not far apart, and we had an interfraternity basketball league. I played against Paul two or three times. I just knew him to speak to, though; at the time, I don’t think we ever had a conversation that didn’t involve who fouled who.”
“I guess we can use that; it gives you some sort of history with Paul, however slim. What were your impressions of him in those days?”
“Pretty much the same as in Las Palmas: cheerful, outgoing, good company.”
“Not the sort who might commit suicide?”
“No, absolutely not. In Las Palmas he was enthusiastic about getting back across the Atlantic; said he had an idea for a new novel based on their trip, and he was anxious to get started on it.”
“That we can use,” Stone said. “He apparently kept some notes in a leather-bound book; did he mention that at all?”
“He said he had made a lot of notes; he didn’t say anything about a leather-bound book.”
“That will be helpful, nevertheless. Sir Winston is taking Paul’s notes as complaints about Allison; it’s the most damning evidence he has.”
“Look, I don’t want to get you into some sort of ethical quandary here, but if you want me to mention the leather-bound book, I’ll be glad to do it. It’s not as though the other side is playing anything like what we would call fair.”
“I think it’s best to play this straight,” Stone said. “The difference in the effect of your testimony would be small, and anytime you start deviating from the straight and narrow, you open yourself up to getting caught lying. I wouldn’t want to end up with a perjury charge against you.”