The Scarred Man by Basil Heatter Read Free Book Online

Lane?"
        "Yes."
        "With Mr. Cummings?"
        "No."
        "Oh? Where does Mr. Cummings live?"
        "I don't rightly know."
        "You don't know?"
        "No."
        "Are you divorced?"
        She shook her head.
        "Speak up, please."
        "Not exactly."
        "Separated?"
        "I guess you could say that."
        "What I say has nothing to do with it, Mrs. Cummings. What do you say?"
        "He run off."
        The prosecutor rose to the occasion. "Objection, Your Honor. The marital status of the witness has nothing to do with the case."
        "It is essential to the defense to establish the reliability of this witness, Your Honor. The questions I am putting to her are simply designed toward that end."
        "Mmm, well, all right, objection overruled. Proceed, Mr. Shaw."
        "When did your husband leave you, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "I don't rightly know."
        "Don't know?"
        "I cain't remember."
        "You can't remember when your husband left? Does that mean he made so little impression on you?"
        "Well, he was somethin' I sure wanted to forget."
        Laughter from the spectators.
        "Does he contribute to your support, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "That bum?"
        "Then what do you live on, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "Welfare."
        "And were you on your way to pick up your welfare check at the time of this accident?"
        "Not exactly."
        "But you see we have to be exact, Mrs. Cummings. Criminal charges have been brought against these young men. To obtain justice we must obtain exact answers. Precisely where were you at the time of the accident, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "In town."
        "I know you were in town, Mrs. Cummings. In fact I know more than that. You were having a beer at the bar of the Happy Hour Tavern, is that not so?"
        "What if it is?"
        "And you looked through the window and saw Mr. Gutweiler and his friends proceeding south on Route One on their motorcycles, isn't that so?"
        "Yes."
        "At what speed?"
        "I don't know. Pretty fast."
        "Let us try to be exact again, Mrs. Cummings. How fast is pretty fast? Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, seventy miles an hour?"
        "Around fifty, I guess."
        "Do you own a car, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "No."
        "Why not?"
        "That skunk took it with him, is why not."
        I waited until the laughter had subsided.
        "Do you possess a driver's license, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "It's around somewhere."
        The prosecutor rose again. "Objection, Your Honor. The witness's driving capabilities are not in question. She didn't run down any children."
        "With Your Honor's permission, I would like to establish the importance of this line of questioning."
        "Well, all right, but try to stick to the point, Mr. Shaw."
        "I believe these questions are very much to the point, Your Honor. Now then, Mrs. Cummings, is it not true that your driver's license expired some years ago and has not been renewed?" I was taking a chance on that one but it was a reasonably safe guess.
        "Maybe. I haven't looked at it in a long time."
        "Could you produce it for this court if you were so requested?"
        "I'd have to look around for it. I don't remember offhand what become of it."
        "Do you remember how many beers you consumed on the day in question, Mrs. Cummings?"
        "Objection!"
        The judge gave me a hard look. He was beginning to dislike me intensely. It was perfectly apparent where my line of questioning was leading, but there was not much he could do about it.
        "Overruled."
        "Please answer the question, Mrs. Cummings."
        Baffled, bewildered by the fact that she, the witness, had somehow been placed on trial, she lashed out at me. "I wasn't drunk, if that's what you mean."
        "Did I say you were drunk, Mrs.