If he did call her to the stand, he ruined his chances for anything.
But it was his sworn duty to uphold justice. It wasn’t his fault her husband had been a crook. If he didn’t do what he knew he should, wouldn’t he be as guilty of dereliction of duty as the defendants?
“Your Honor, I call Mrs. Kari Stewart Wynne to the witness stand.”
A murmur rose from the spectators. Everyone knew her from television and unless they had been living under a rock for the past month, they were well acquainted with her connection to this case.
“Do you think she’ll cooperate?” Guy asked out of the side of his mouth.
“No,” Hunter answered as he watched her making her way to the witness box.
“Then, why call her?”
“If she won’t cooperate, the jury will wonder why, won’t they? They’ll automatically think ‘guilty.’ ”
“She’s not on trial.”
“No, but whether she wants to think so or not, her late husband is.”
Guy gave Hunter a respectful nod, but Hunter didn’t see it. He was watching Kari being sworn in. The hand resting on the large black Bible looked as delicate as porcelain. He could see the faint blue veins, each fragile bone. He remembered holding her hand against his chest. It had weighed virtually nothing, yet it had left a lasting impression there that his imagination could conjure up at will.
She took her seat and calmly met his gaze. His heart went into double time. Why did she have to be so damned beautiful? And why did he have to rip her to shreds? With a gesture of frustration, he put on his eyeglasses. “State your full name, please.”
“Kari Elizabeth Stewart Wynne.”
“You were married to Thomas Wynne?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
She showed the first flicker of emotion. She seemed surprised by the question but answered it calmly. “Two years.”
Of course the question had no real bearing on the case. Hunter had a personal reason for wanting to know. “Are you acquainted with Mr. Parker and Mr. Haynes?”
“Yes.”
“To what extent?”
“They served on the city council with my husband … before his death.”
Clever, this woman. She had slipped that in to make him look like the tormentor of hapless widows. Which was exactly what he felt like. If they weren’t already, the members of the jury would soon be eating out of her hand. He couldn’t let her get away with such sly tricks or even he himself might succumb to her charm.
“While your husband served on the city council, did he often take trips?”
“Yes.”
“Business trips, pleasure trips? What kind of trips, Mrs. Wynne?”
“My husband is dead. How can he be on trial?”
Score two for her. Hunter addressed the judge. “Your Honor, would you please direct the witness to answer the question.”
“Her husband isn’t on trial, Mr. McKee,” the judge reminded him.
“No, Your Honor, he isn’t. But were he still alive I have no doubt that he would be. However, that is irrelevant. I do believe that this witness’s testimony could be relevant to the involvement of Mr. Parker and Mr. Haynes in the alleged misappropriation of funds.”
“Very well. Proceed. Mrs. Wynne, you will please answer the question.”
She wet her lips. “He often took business trips.”
“Alone?”
“I think so.”
“But you’re not sure?”
“Yes, alone,” she said with a conviction he knew was counterfeit. He was certain the jury knew it, too.
“You never went with him?”
“Not on business trips, no.”
“Never?”
“Not on business trips,” she repeated.
He turned away from her abruptly and went to the table where Guy was ready with a file. He opened it and began shuffling through a stack of receipts. “You went with him on vacations, I suppose.”
“Of course.”
“Pleasure trips.”
“Yes. Vacation trips, pleasure trips, whatever you want to call them.”
He could tell by the way she shifted in her chair that she was growing impatient with this questioning that seemed to be going nowhere. But every time she glanced at the file he was consulting, he could discern her unwilling interest in it.
“Would you consider the chartering of a private airplane to be the kind of luxury associated with a pleasure trip rather than one taken for business purposes?”
The question was planned to confuse her, and as he had anticipated, she was unprepared to answer it. Weighing her answer in her mind, she stammered, “I’m not sure I understand—”
He jumped in. “If a commercial airline is available to fly you from point A to point B, would you consider it a luxury to charter a private jet? A simple yes or no, Mrs. Wynne.”