Degree of Guilt (64 page)

It was uncanny, Terri thought with apprehension; Sharpe seemed to know what to ask, question after question. ‘Was there a particular reason,’ Sharpe asked, ‘that Ransom went downstairs?’

Linton’s shoulders drew in. ‘He tried to make love to me.’

‘Did you resist him?’

‘No.’ Linton shook her head. ‘I was afraid.’

Sharpe paused. ‘Fearful enough,’ she asked quietly, ‘to act like a lover?’

‘Objection,’ Terri called out. ‘Ms Sharpe is dragging the witness through needless pain, to no point. We’ve already established the act of rape and the fear that it caused. How long does the prosecution intend to spell out the forms that fear can take?’

Sharpe turned to Masters. ‘There
is
a point to this, Your Honor, which the People will make clear if necessary. Even on the record to date, the issue of consent justifies exploring whether Ms Linton’s subsequent actions are truly consistent with rape. But in fairness to this witness, I’ll confine myself to a few more questions.’

Masters nodded. ‘All right, Counsel.’

Terri sat down, appraising Sharpe with concern. ‘There’s nothing you could do,’ Paget whispered. ‘Caroline has to let her cross-examine.’

Terri learned toward him, still watching Sharpe. ‘Marnie knows what happened, and I don’t know how. Marcy hasn’t spoken to her. Or anyone, that I know about.’

Sharpe had turned back to Linton. ‘Did you respond,’ she demanded, ‘as if you and Mark Ransom were lovers?’

Linton stared at her. ‘I didn’t want him to hurt me.’

‘So you pretended?’

‘Yes.’

Sharpe folded her arms. ‘Then why,’ she asked, ‘did you and Mr Ransom not have intercourse?’

Linton hesitated. ‘Because he couldn’t.’

‘Couldn’t what?’

Gazing at Sharpe, Linton seemed to regather strength. ‘Maintain an erection,’ Linton said quietly. ‘That was why he went downstairs.’

Sharpe paused for a moment. ‘Was he embarrassed?’

‘Oh, yes.’ Her voice rose. ‘But it wasn’t just embarrassment. It was fear and anger.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He made me promise not to tell anyone. Told me that he had never failed before.’ Linton’s tone grew bitter. ‘It was as if I’d taken something from him. I suppose he considered his performance on the downstairs couch much more of a success.’

It was, Terri thought, a nice retort. But Marnie Sharpe looked calm enough.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘No further questions.’

Paget glanced at Terri. ‘What was
that
about?’ he asked.

Terri shook her head. ‘I’m going to try something,’ she said, and was back on her feet.

‘Before Mr Ransom raped you,’ she asked Linton, ‘you resisted him, correct?’

‘Yes. I did.’

‘What was his reaction?’

As Linton gazed at her, Terri saw the comprehension in her eyes. ‘It seemed to excite him.’

‘And slapping you seemed to excite him also.’

Linton nodded. ‘His eyes almost glittered. I think that was why he made me watch him and do things for him. He liked
forcing
women, dominating them.’

Terri nodded. ‘And so the second time he wanted sex, you took the line of least resistance.’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t struggle.’

‘No.’

‘He had no excuse to slap you.’

‘No. I didn’t want to give him one.’

Terri paused. ‘Instead you reached out for him, correct?’

‘I was frightened.’ Linton’s voice fell. ‘So I put my arms around him.’

‘And what happened?’

‘He lost his erection.’ Linton shook her head. ‘It was so strange.’

‘Is it? Isn’t the only difference between the two incidents that the rape – when he achieved penetration – involved violence and abuse? Whereas the time that he failed, you pretended to be his lover by consent?’

Linton was silent for a time. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That is the
only
difference. But then Mark Ransom hated women.’

‘But then Mark Ransom was a
rapist
,’ Terri answered. ‘It seems that when you reached for him, you saved yourself from more than just a beating.’

Masters raised an eyebrow. ‘Was that a question, Ms Peralta?’

Terri turned to her. ‘It was a
comment
, Your Honor. I
have
no further questions.’

Masters looked from Paget to Terri. ‘Is Ms Linton your final witness?’ she asked.

Terri glanced at Paget. ‘Yes. Pending the court’s decision on the admissibility of the testimony we tendered in chambers.’

Caroline Masters nodded. ‘I’ll hear argument on that at nine tomorrow morning.’ Turning, she faced Marcy Linton. ‘You’re excused, Ms Linton. And speaking for the court, your appearance here is very much appreciated.’

Nodding, Linton stepped down. To Terri’s hopeful eyes, she looked no worse – perhaps better – than when she had come. And then, as she had the night before, when Terri had told her of Steve Urbina, Marcy Linton put her arms around Teresa Peralta.

Terri parked her car in front of Mary Carelli’s hotel.

It was dusk, the end of a silent drive from the courthouse. From the passenger seat, Mary looked out at the cluster of reporters, waiting for some final comment. ‘I wonder if I’ll ever see them the same,’ she said. ‘Let alone be one of them.’

Terri was exhausted, she realized: partly by Linton, partly by the tension of preparing to argue that Rappaport and Caldwell should be heard in open court. After a time, she said, ‘At least they should be friendly.’

Mary nodded. ‘It was a good day – my best, probably. Thank you for that.’

‘You’re welcome. But it wasn’t me. It was Marcy Linton.’ Terri paused. ‘It’s hard to feel elated. From Sharpe’s questions, she’s saving a surprise for us.’

‘Still, you
did
find Linton. Despite my considerable doubts.’ Mary turned to her. ‘You had something you wanted to ask me about?’

Terri waited for a moment. ‘The missing tapes,’ she said finally.

Mary’s eyes narrowed. ‘What about them?’

Terri’s stomach felt tight. ‘I’d like to know where they are.’

Mary stared at her. ‘Why do you care?’ she asked coolly.

‘Because we need to find them before Sharpe does. And because I don’t want Chris or Carlo hurt even more.’

‘Did Chris send you on this mission?’

Terri shook her head. ‘Chris has had to shut everything out, just to be able to defend you. This is for me.’

Mary smiled faintly. ‘I thought as much. Do you have any ideas?’

Terri nodded. ‘Two, actually. One general and one specific. My general theory is that you got rid of them.’

Mary’s face turned hard. ‘And your specific theory?’

Terri felt herself take a deep breath. ‘That after Mark Ransom died, you put them in an envelope and dropped them down the mail slot.’

For a moment, Mary was quiet. ‘You give me great credit for presence of mind.’

‘Yes. I do.’

‘Too much, and yet not enough.’ The mirthless smile returned. ‘What, for example, did I do for postage? Which, incidentally, pretty much rules out any foreign destination.’

Terri looked at the reporters. A group of four hovered in the half-light a few feet from the car. ‘You had stamps in your purse,’ she said finally. ‘Or Ransom had some.’

‘Really? And after I picked Ransom’s pockets for stamps, to whom did I address it? Myself?’

Terri shook her head. ‘The police would have found it.’

‘True, I’m not
that
foolish. But then where did it go? Surprisingly, I’d forgotten my address book. And any address I knew by heart probably would be somewhere Sharpe would think to look.’

The conversation was becoming murky, unreal. Despite the sardonic edge in Mary’s voice, her eyes were curious and quite intent; Terri could not tell whether this curiosity was about Terri herself, with whom she was playing some abstract game of mental chess, or about something else.

‘That’s what worries me,’ Terri answered. ‘Where you sent it.’

Mary gave a short laugh. ‘Here’s what would worry
me.
If I addressed an envelope in my handwriting, and then stuck the tapes inside, it would be like a signed confession. All Sharpe would have to do is find it.’

‘The tapes,’ Terri asked. ‘Plural?’

Mary shook her head. ‘It was
you
who said “tapes.” I just repeated it. But it does point out another small problem with your theory: motive. The only tape that really hurts
me
was found at Mark Ransom’s home.’ She paused, still watching Terri. ‘Is there anything else?’

Terri shook her head.

‘No? Then thank you for the ride.’ Mary put her hand on the door handle, and then turned back. In a cold, quiet voice, she said, ‘Don’t
ever
assume that I haven’t thought of Carlo.’

She snapped open the door and got out, closing it behind her with fearful gentleness. Then she walked toward the hotel, smiling at reporters as she answered their questions.

The lawyers sat clustered in Caroline Masters’s chambers, awaiting her decision on Rappaport and Caldwell.

Glancing around her, Terri saw dark circles under Marnie Sharpe’s eyes. The media reaction to Marcy Linton’s testimony had been to present Mark Ransom as a sexual predator: whether because of that, or private qualms, Sharpe looked as if she had not slept. Pensive, Terri turned back to Caroline Masters, the conversation with Mary Carelli still echoing in her mind.

Caroline nodded to the stenographer, then to Terri. ‘The witching hour has arrived, Ms Peralta. Let’s hear your argument.’

Terri paused to compose herself. ‘This issue is critical to our defense,’ she began. ‘Because the relevance of both witnesses,
and
of the Laura Chase tape, is now very clear.

‘First, Ms Rappaport.

‘Our defense is not simply that Mark Ransom attempted to rape Mary Carelli, but that he was impelled by a serious personality disorder: an obsession with Laura Chase, and a need to demean and dominate women which was so strong that it seems to have driven his sexuality.

‘The man that Mary Carelli describes was sexually stimulated by a tape of Laura Chase engaged in sex with two men. The man that Melissa Rappaport describes was aroused by a
videotape
involving precisely the same thing.’

Pausing, Terri saw that Caroline Masters listened with care, felt Sharpe intently watching. ‘Melissa Rappaport,’ she went on, ‘describes a man who required fantasies of bondage and rape to assure sexual performance. The man
Mary Carelli
describes was a rapist who beat her. And the bridge between these two women is Marcy Linton, whom Mark Ransom beat and raped and with whom, when she later feigned consent, Mark Ransom could not perform.’

Terri’s voice became quiet. ‘By the time he got to Mary Carelli, Mark Ransom knew what worked for him. But his “journey of discovery,” as it were, began with Melissa Rappaport.

‘Finally, Melissa Rappaport proves the relevance of the Steinhardt tape of Laura Chase to Mark Ransom’s sexual
modus operandi
. The videotape had pictures, the Steinhardt tape words – Laura’s own voice. But that was the only difference.’

Sharpe, Terri saw, was scribbling furiously. She felt herself gaining confidence.

‘Last,’ she said, ‘there is Lindsay Caldwell.

‘Ms Caldwell has shown great courage. Like Ms Rappaport, she is willing to come forward, at whatever cost, because what she has to say is important.’

Pausing, Terri saw Caroline’s troubled look. Terri’s voice became stronger, more emphatic. ‘Mary Carelli says Mark Ransom tried to blackmail her. So does Lindsay Caldwell.

‘Mary Carelli says Mark Ransom wanted sex. So does Lindsay Caldwell.

‘Mary Carelli says Mark Ransom hated women.’ Terri slowed her words, softened her tone. ‘And so does Lindsay Caldwell.

‘Ms Sharpe says that Mary Carelli is not credible. Can she say that about Melissa Rappaport? She cannot. Can she say that about Lindsay Caldwell? Again, she cannot. And then Mary Carelli
will
be credible, well beyond Ms Sharpe’s ability to argue otherwise.’

Terri turned to Sharpe. ‘With respect, Ms Sharpe’s only hope is to bar their testimony – both here and, if necessary, at trial. Because if those two women testify, and become part of the record in
People v. Carelli
, the People will lose.’ Terri faced Masters again. ‘Except that, in reality, the
people
win only if Ms Carelli wins. Because only the testimony of these two women can present a true account of who Mark Ransom was. And that is what the
people
deserve.’

Pausing, Terri felt the passion in her voice. ‘The problem with proving rape, Your Honor, is that too often there are no witnesses. The victim faces the rapist alone, and then must face the trial alone. And so, too often, cannot carry the burden of proving what was done to her.

‘That need not be. It is time for the law to acknowledge that every woman abused by a rapist can bring us closer to the truth.’ Terri paused again. ‘As can, so clearly, Melissa Rappaport and Lindsay Caldwell. The court should let them be heard.

‘Thank you, Your Honor.’

From the corner of her eye, Terri saw Paget smile; even more encouraging was Caroline Master’s seeming introspection. And then Caroline said to Sharpe, ‘I won’t need argument,’ and Terri, stunned, knew that she had lost.

Caroline leaned forward. ‘That was ably presented, Teresa. I regret having to rule against you. But I must.’

Stricken, Terri listened as Caroline went on. ‘Let us start with the Laura Chase tape. No privilege protects it, so that the only question is relevance. I’ve permitted Ms Carelli to testify generally as to what is on those tapes.’ She paused, adding quietly, ‘Without naming names.

‘Here, I should digress. I’m appalled by the contents of that tape. And I’m personally appalled that its protagonist, a man who sought the presidency, was so lacking in humanity as to disqualify him from an office which requires – or should require – empathy for the pain of others.’