And so it went. In that steamy courtroom, ripe with the smell of sweat and Rose of Sharon eau de toilette, the good people of the Eudora Quarters took the stand and swore to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. And they did. And then Maxwell Lewis ripped them apart.
One by one, Loophole Lewis plowed his way through our witness list. Whether defiant or docile when they took the stand, every one of those witnesses eventually stepped down looking foolish, stupid, or wrong.
It happened every single time.
At last Jonah stood up.
“If it please the court, the people call Miss Moody Cross to the stand.”
Chapter 113
MY GOD. She was dressed like a grown-up.
I had never seen her wearing anything but one of the three identical white jumpers she rotated through the laundry basket so that she always appeared to be wearing the same spotlessly clean dress. Today she looked like a grown woman: a formal blue skirt, a neat white blou
se. On her feet were lace-up boots polished to a high shine. She wore white gloves and a straw hat.
Last night we had gone over and over the questions we would ask. “Just tell the truth,” Jonah kept saying, “and everything will be fine.”
“What are you talking about?” she scoffed. “In that courtroom the truth ain’t worth a bucket of piss.”
“Charming,” I said. “Try not to say that.”
Jonah said, “The truth is the only weapon we have, Moody. So we have to use it.”
“Maybe so,” she said.
I should have listened more carefully to that phrase of hers.
Under Jonah’s patient questioning, Moody told the same story her grandfather had told. The same story Cosgrove told. The same story every one of the witnesses from the Quarters had told.
By the time Jonah turned to Maxwell Lewis and said, “Your witness,” the gentlemen of the jury looked about ready for some dinner and a nice nap.
Lewis said, “Miss Cross, are you a permanent resident of the house where your grandfather lives, over there in the Quarters?”
“Yes, sir, that’s right. I live with him and take care of him.”
All morning I had been noticing that Moody sounded more mature. She had managed to hide the edge of anger that so often came into her voice. She was speaking carefully, politely.
“I wouldn’t really call it a house, though,” she added. “It’s more like a shack. But we do all right.”
“Now, would you say your first notice of the alleged intruders on that night was when they rode up, supposedly shooting their weapons and yelling?”
“Oh, no, sir,” she said in a very clear voice. “I would say my first notice was when Mr. North there, and Mr. Stephens, knocked on the door and showed me their search warrant.”
Chapter 114
SWEET JESUS IN heaven! Jonah and I had never discussed this with her. We had certainly never planned for her to say such a thing. But say it she had:
“… and showed me their search warrant.”
With those words Moody changed the whole atmosphere of the courtroom and the direction of this entire murder trial.
Jonah looked at me wide-eyed. Together we stared at Moody on the witness stand.
I thought I detected a hint of amusement behind her serious expression. She watched Loophole Lewis swivel all the way around to shoot a goggle-eyed look at my father. She heard the defendants whispering frantically among themselves. She was aware that her words had set off a buzz of confusion in the gallery. Even the jurors had snapped to wakefulness.
And Moody was enjoying every minute of it. Maybe she knew our cause was lost, and she was out to confound everybody. To confuse us. To throw the whole trial up in the air and see where the pieces came down.