The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(82)

Powell sighed. Bastard probably got away. Peeking through the small window on one of the double doors, he saw Dawn Murphy sitting at the witness stand and the Professor rising to his feet.

“Just tell them to stop, Trish.”

“OK, what about–”

“I got to go, Trish. We’re starting back up here.” He hung up the phone and started to head into the courtroom.

“Hey, boy.”

Powell turned at the sound of the voice. Doolittle Morris glared back at him, wearing navy-blue overalls over a khaki work shirt and chewing on a toothpick.

“You need to tell your secretary that it’s OK to give out your cell phone for emergencies,” Doo said. “You may have just cost me ten dollars’ worth of gas.”

“Doo?” Powell squinted at the man. “What are you doing...”

“Got something for you,” Doo said, taking a folded piece of paper out of the pocket of his overalls. “Went over to Mule’s yesterday to clean his house out. Found this in the boy’s Bible.” Doo unfolded the piece of paper and handed it to Powell. “Mule musta thought it was important, else he wouldn’t a put it there.”

Powell glanced down at the page. When he saw the title, the date and the names, his heart almost stopped. “I’ll be damned.”

“That’s what I said,” Doo chimed in. “Worth the gas then?”

Powell looked up at him, still not believing what he was holding. “Doo–” Powell turned to look back through the double doors “–this might be worth a whole goddamn gas company.”





72


“You were working for Ms Wilcox’s attorney, Rick Drake, at the time of this conversation with Wilma Newton, correct?” Jameson Tyler wasn’t even completely out of his seat before hurling his first question on cross, and Dawn cringed.

“Yes,” she said, trying to sound composed. Just relax, she told herself. She knew the Professor’s direct had gone well, with Dawn hitting all the high points of the conversation with Wilma – Dewey’s schedule forced him to speed, Jack Willistone checked the driver’s logs himself, and Wilma helped Dewey doctor the logs to make it look like he was within the ten hours rule. That was easy, Dawn thought.

Now came the hard part. Jameson Tyler was tall, handsome and his eyes shone with intensity as he walked towards her like a tiger stalking his prey. It was hard not be intimidated, but Dawn knew she had to be strong.

“So you were paid to be there that night, right, Ms Murphy?”

“Right.”

“But you were being paid by Ms Wilcox’s other attorney, Tom McMurtrie, correct?”

Dawn felt heat on her neck. How could he possibly know that?

“Yes.”

“Whom you were also having an affair with, correct?”

“Objection, your honor,” Tom said, bolting to his feet. “The question has no relevance and is meant to harass the witness.

“The question,” Tyler began, looking at the jury before meeting the Judge’s eye, “goes straight to this witness’ bias, your honor. The defense is entitled to the same thorough and sifting cross examination as the plaintiff.”

“Overruled,” Cutler said. “Answer the question, Ms Murphy.”

“No.” Dawn said. “That is a lie.”

“Oh, really,” Tyler said, smiling. “Ms Murphy, you read the Tuscaloosa News, don’t you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Remember seeing your picture on the cover of it with the headline ‘Student Believed to Be in Inappropriate Relationship with Professor Revealed’.”

“Yes, I remember seeing that picture, but those allegations are not true.”

“Isn’t it true, ma’am, that you’re just here trying to help your boyfriend out?”

“What?”

“Oh, come on, Ms Murphy. You honestly expect this jury to believe that you’re here out of the goodness of your own heart?”

“Objection, your honor,” Tom said. “Counsel is arguing with the witness.”

“Overruled,” Cutler said, a hint of impatience in his tune. “Get on with it, Mr Tyler.”

“Which is it, Ms Murphy? Are you here for money or love?”

There it is, Dawn thought, remembering the Professor’s instructions: Answer the leading questions firmly with denials. But if he ever gives you an open-ended question, let... him... have... it. Dawn glared at Jameson Tyler.

“Let me tell you why I’m here, Mr Tyler. I’m here to tell the truth about what I saw and heard when Rick Drake and I interviewed Wilma Newton. I haven’t been paid a dime to be here and I’ve never had a relationship with Professor McMurtrie other than as the Professor’s student assistant and as Rick Drake’s law clerk. I–”

“Ms Murphy, I’m going to stop you right there,” Tyler interrupted, his voice, for the first time, losing its arrogant, sarcastic tinge. “Now–”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Dawn said, standing up from the witness chair. “You asked me why I’m here, and I’m going to finish my answer. You, Mr Tyler, have made false allegations about me and the Professor for three months. The truth is, you have no proof whatsoever that I had an affair with the Professor, because there is none. But you’re trying to mislead this jury by continuing your lies.”