The Last Innocent Man

Julie Webster was incapable of loving anyone but herself, and Thomas Gault was similarly afflicted. By the time the novelty of working their way through theKama Sutra wore off, the couple realized that they could not stand each other. Gault’s drinking, which was excessive in the best of times, got worse. Julie started wearing high-neck sweaters and sunglasses to cover her bruises. Then, one evening, someone beat Julie Gault to death in her bedroom on the second floor of their lakeside mansion.

The police arrested Gault. He swore that he was innocent. He told them he had been sleeping off a drunk when screams from his wife’s bedroom awakened him. He said he found Julie lying in a pool of blood and had knelt to take a pulse. A sudden movement behind him had made him turn, and he had seen an athletically built man of average height with curly blond hair standing above him. The intruder struck him on the head, Gault told the police, and he was unconscious for a few moments. When the police arrived, there was blood on Gault’s hands and bathrobe and a bruise on the left side of his face.

Whether Thomas Gault or a mysterious stranger had taken Julie Webster Gault’s life was the subject of a two-month trial. Famous writers and movie stars took the stand, either recounting the Gaults’ marital battles or coming to the writer’s defense. As the case neared its end, David was worried. Then Gault took the stand.

During the time that David represented him, Gault had not shown a single sign that his wife’s death disturbed him. To the contrary, he seemed happy to be rid of her. But Gault was a great actor, and his performance as a witness had been superb. He emerged from two days of direct and cross-examination as a sympathetic figure. He had even broken into tears once while testifying. The jury had been sent from the room and never saw how quickly Gault recovered his composure.

Gault was like that. He had an innate ability to tune in on, and manipulate, the feelings of other people. David found him a fascinating yet frightening man. An original in whom he sensed a quality of evil. Everything he knew about Gault made him believe that the writer’s detachment was genuine. Nothing appeared to touch him. Still, he wondered how Gault would react if the jury found him guilty.

FLASHBULBS EXPLODED, ANDa thin, attractive woman from NBC just missed David’s lower lip with a hand-held mike. David made a brief comment to the press as he elbowed his way through the crowd toward the courtroom. Gault followed, laughing and chatting with the reporters.

A local photographer asked Gault to pose for a picture, and Gault paused, sweeping his stylishly long brown hair backward to reveal his handsome profile. At a little under six feet, with a figure kept trim by constant exercise, Gault produced a good photograph.

Cameras clicked and the courtroom doors swept open. A stir of almost sexual excitement filled the courtroom when Gault entered. David watched the faces of the women. They wanted Gault. Wanted the thrill of lying next to him and wondering if his gift would be love or death.

Gault headed down the center aisle toward the low gate that separated the spectators from the bar of the court. A man dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt said something to Gault, which David missed. Gault laughed and raised his hand in a clenched fist salute.

David followed Gault to the counsel table. Norman Capers, the district attorney, was already in place. He looked tired. The bailiff was talking to a courtroom guard. David nodded to him as he sat down. The bailiff went into chambers to tell the judge that the parties were ready. A moment later he left to get the jury.

David felt dizzy. He turned toward Gault, curious to see if his client was showing any signs of tension. He was surprised to see the writer’s eyes riveted on the door that led to the jury room. There was complete silence in the spectator section.

The door to the side corridor opened and David watched the jurors walk in. They moved silently, in single file, into the jury box. There were no smiles, and they scrupulously avoided looking at Gault or the lawyers.

David felt slightly nauseated. These were the worst moments. He scanned the box for the foreman. The folded white paper was in the left hand of juror number six, a middle-aged schoolteacher. He tried to remember back. How had she reacted to the testimony? Was it a good or bad sign that she had been chosen foreman?

The noise in the courtroom stopped. The bailiff pressed a button on the side of the bench that signaled the judge’s chambers. Judge Mclntyre entered from a door behind the dais.

“Be seated,” the judge said. His voice trembled slightly. He, like Capers and Nash, had been worn down by the grueling trial.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

“We have,” the foreman replied, handing the verdict form to the bailiff.