Rage Of Angels Part 18

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!"

"The compet.i.tion's going to be fierce. New York's a tough state."

"It doesn't matter. No one can stop you." And Jennifer knew it was true. Adam was intelligent and courageous, willing to fight the battles he believed in. As he had once fought her battle.

Jennifer took his hand and said warmly, "I'm so proud of you, darling."

"Easy, I haven't been elected yet. You've heard about cups, lips and slips."

"That has nothing to do with my being proud of you. I love you so much, Adam."

"I love you, too."

Adam thought about telling Jennifer of the discussion he had almost had with Stewart Needham, but he decided not to. It could wait until he had straightened things out.

"When will you start campaigning?"

"They want me to announce that I'm running right away. I'll have unanimous party backing."

"That's wonderful!"

There was something that was not not wonderful tugging at the back of Jennifer's mind. It was something she did not want to put into words, but she knew that sooner or later she was going to have to face it. She wanted Adam to win, but the Senate race would be a sword of Damocles hanging over her head. If Adam won, Jennifer would lose him. He would be running on a reform ticket and there would be no margin in his life for any scandal. He was a married man and if it was learned he had a mistress, it would be political suicide. wonderful tugging at the back of Jennifer's mind. It was something she did not want to put into words, but she knew that sooner or later she was going to have to face it. She wanted Adam to win, but the Senate race would be a sword of Damocles hanging over her head. If Adam won, Jennifer would lose him. He would be running on a reform ticket and there would be no margin in his life for any scandal. He was a married man and if it was learned he had a mistress, it would be political suicide.

That night, for the first time since she had fallen in love with Adam, Jennifer had insomnia. She was awake until dawn battling the demons of the night.

Cynthia said, "There's a call waiting for you. It's the Martian again."

Jennifer looked at her blankly.

"You know, the one with the story about the insane asylum."

Jennifer had put the man completely out of her mind. He obviously was someone in need of psychiatric help.

"Tell him to-" She sighed. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself."

She picked up the telephone. "Jennifer Parker."

The familiar voice said, "Did you check the information I gave you?"

"I haven't had a chance." She remembered she had thrown away the notes she had made. "I'd like to help you. Will you give me your name?"

"I can't," he whispered. "They'll come after me, too. You just check it out. Helen Cooper. Long Island."

"I can recommend a doctor who-" The line went dead.

Jennifer sat there a moment, thinking, and then asked Ken Bailey to come into the office.

"What's up, Chief?"

"Nothing-I think. I've had a couple of crank calls from someone who won't leave his name. Would you please see if you can find out anything about a woman named Helen Cooper. She's supposed to have had a large estate on Long Island."

"Where is she now?"

"Either in some insane asylum or on Mars."

Two hours later, Ken Bailey walked in and surprised Jennifer by saying, "Your Martian has landed. There's a Helen Cooper committed at The Heathers Asylum in Westchester."

"Are you sure?" Ken Bailey looked hurt. "I didn't mean that," Jennifer said. Ken was the best investigator she had ever known. He never said anything unless he was positive of it, and he never got his facts wrong.

"What's our interest in the lady?" Ken asked.

"Someone thinks she's been framed into the asylum. I'd like you to check out her background. I want to know about her family."

The information was on Jennifer's desk the following morning. Helen Cooper was a dowager who had been left a fortune of four million dollars by her late husband. Her daughter had married the superintendent of the building where they lived and, six months after the marriage, the bride and groom had gone to court to ask that the mother be declared incompetent, and that the estate be put under their control. They had found three psychiatrists who had testified to Helen Cooper's incompetency and the court had committed her to the asylum.

Jennifer finished reading the report and looked up at Ken Bailey. "The whole thing sounds a little fishy, doesn't it?"

"Fishy? You could wrap it up in a newspaper and serve it with chips. What are you going to do about it?"

It was a difficult question. Jennifer had no client. If Mrs. Cooper's family had had her locked away, they certainly would not welcome Jennifer's interference, and since the woman herself had been declared insane, she was not competent to hire Jennifer. It was an interesting problem. One thing Jennifer knew: Client or not, she was not going to stand by and see someone railroaded into an insane asylum. "I'm going to pay a visit to Mrs. Cooper," Jennifer decided.

The Heathers Asylum was located in Westchester in a large, wooded area. The grounds were fenced in and the only access was through a guarded gate. Jennifer was not yet ready to let the family know what she was doing, so she had telephoned around until she had found an acquaintance with a connection to the sanatorium. He had made arrangements for her to pay a visit to Mrs. Cooper.

The head of the asylum, Mrs. Franklin, was a dour, hard-faced woman who reminded Jennifer of Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca. Rebecca.

"Strictly speaking," Mrs. Franklin sniffed, "I should not be letting you talk to Mrs. Cooper. However, we'll call this an unofficial visit. It won't go in the records."

"Thank you."

"I'll have her brought in."

Helen Cooper was a slim, attractive-looking woman in her late sixties. She had vivid blue eyes that blazed with intelligence, and she was as gracious as though she were receiving Jennifer in her own home.

"It was good of you to come and visit me," Mrs. Cooper said, "but I'm afraid I'm not quite sure why you're here."

"I'm an attorney, Mrs. Cooper. I received two anonymous telephone calls telling me you were in here and that you didn't belong here."

Mrs. Cooper smiled gently. "That must have been Albert."

"Albert?"

"He was my butler for twenty-five years. When my daughter, Dorothy, married, she fired him." She sighed. "Poor Albert. He really belongs to the past, to another world. I suppose, in a sense, I do too. You're very young, my dear, so perhaps you're not aware of how much things have changed. Do you know what's missing today? Graciousness. It's been replaced, I'm afraid, by greed."