Undue Influence Read Free Page B

focused in the eyes. She makes several false starts on an answer. Then suddenly a smile.
    Resolution has descended like a chariot from the heavens. “Necking,” she says. “We were necking.” She settles back in her chair, satisfied with this. “Necking.” Hemple says this, nodding her head as if she understands.
    “Can you describe this necking to us, or is this just another of your expressions?”
    “We were kissing,” says Melanie.
    “Kissing?”
    “And hugging,” she adds.
    “Kissing and hugging.” More nodding from the understanding lawyer. “And can you describe to the court your attire? How were you dressed when you were doing all this kissing and hugging?”
    “I don’t understand the question.”
    “Isn’t it a fact that the first time you met Laurel Vega you were completely naked on the carpet of her living room floor, engaged m full-blown sex with her husband?” This brings a lot of forced indignation to Melanie’s expression, a prim posture in the box that speaks loads of denial. “No. That’s not true,” says Melanie. “I can state categorically, for a fact, that is untrue,” she says. “Because Jack didn’t like it by mouth.’ There’s a second of dead silence, then open laughter from the audience as it settles in. Vega’s head is in his hands. Melanie looks out wide-eyed. Clearly she’s misunderstood something. “Who told you that?” she says. A lot of fluster and denial, what Shakespeare said about protest.
    In a voice marked by uncertainty almost inaudible: “Jack didn’t like it, she says, as if maybe this will clear up any confusion. It begins another swell of laughter. The judge raps his gavel and this subsides to little tiflfs, a contagion of muffled barks and hacks. “We just didn’t do that.” Melanie puts moral tone to her voice this time, leaving it unclear whether like Shakers they didn’t do the act at all, or if it’s just the oral stuff they shunned. In her eyes I can tell Melanie’s still wondering what it is that she’s gotten wrong. “Well, thank you for that insight,” says Hemple. She starts to move on.
    With points like this you don’t press. For the most part, the two days of hearings over contested child custody have been like a legally sanctioned gang bang. While Hastings is not likely to give much credence to the likes of Melanie, a legion of experts hired by Jack have been beating up on Laurel with professional jargon, enough syndromes of dependence to cause real problems for her case, to leave Hastings with a serious doubt as who is best to now take the children. “How much more do you have for this witness?” The judge cuts Hemple off. She asks for a couple of seconds to confer with her client. Hemple’s at the counsel table talking with Laurel. Clearly they are concerned about this latest revelation on drugs. Hemple will now have to draw and quarter Jack on the stand to have any chance to get them back to level ground. “An hour,” she says. “Maybe more.”
    Melanie’s expression droops like a basset hound’s.
    “And how many more witnesses?”
    “Just one,” says Hemple. She looks over at Vega like maybe he might wish to marinate parts of his anatomy overnight for the roasting he is sure to get in the morning. “Then we’re going to adjourn for the night. And we’ll finish tomorrow,” says the judge. “Is that understood?” Jack’s lawyer is on his feet, nodding, like the sooner the better. With Jack on the stand, the press will be here in spades. “Your honor, one more thing,” he says. “We would like a conference in chambers with opposing counsel after adjournment.” Hastings slaps the gavel and is down off the bench, trailed by the lawyers to his chambers. Outside the courtroom I am leaning over the water fountain for a drink when he comes up behind me. “I guess we’ve both seen better times,” he says. Jack Vega’s voice has the quality of a wood rasp drawn across the broken edge of a tin can, the vocal