Just Take My Heart - Mary Higgins Clark [55]
“I wasn't looking at anyone that day. It was cold and windy. On days like that everyone who is jogging or running is bundled up. Some people have headphones on. The point is it's not a social get-together. People are into themselves.”
“Would you say that you were into yourself for two and a half hours on a cold, windy March day?”
“I used to run the November marathon. And I have clients were professional football players. They tell me that no matter how frigid the weather, the adrenaline would start pumping when they were on the field and they simply didn't feel the cold. I didn't either on that morning.”
“Mr. Aldrich, let me ask you if this scenario is true. I suggest that your adrenaline was pumping that Monday morning when, by your own admission, you had decided that your wife, Natalie Raines, lost to you. I suggest that knowing she would be home at sometime that morning, you got in that rental car, made the thirty-minute drive to Closter, picked up the hide-a-key you knew was there, and waited inside her kitchen. Isn't that what happened?”
“No. No. Never.”
Emily, her eyes blazing, pointed her finger at the witness stand. Her tone loud and sarcastic, she said, “You killed your wife that morning, didn't you? You shot her and then you left her, thinking that she was already dead. You drove back to New York and then maybe jogged around Central Park, hoping you'd be seen. Isn't that right?”
“No, it is not!”
“And then a little while later, you returned the rental car that you had used to spy on your wife. Isn't that right, Mr. Aldrich?”
Gregg Aldrich was now standing up and shouting. “I never hurt Natalie. I could never hurt Natalie.”
“But you did hurt Natalie. You did more than hurt her. You killed her,” Emily shouted back at him.
Moore was on his feet. “Objection, Your Honor, objection Counsel is badgering the witness.”
“Sustained. Prosecutor, lower your voice and rephrase the ques?tion.” Judge Stevens's tone left no doubt that he was irritated.
“Did you kill your wife, Mr. Aldrich?” Emily asked, her voice now gentle.
“No ... no ... ,” Gregg Aldrich protested, his voice breaking. “I loved Natalie, but. . .”
“But, you had admitted to yourself. . .” Emily began.
“Objection, Your Honor,” Moore thundered. “She won't let him complete his answers.”
“Sustained,” Judge Stevens said. “Ms. Wallace, you are directed to allow the witness to complete his answers. I don't want to have to admonish you again.”
Emily nodded in acknowledgment of the judge's instructions. She turned back to Aldrich. Her voice lowered, she said, “Mr. Al?drich, didn't you go to Cape Cod because Jimmy Easton had backed out of the deal to kill your wife for you?”
Gregg shook his head hopelessly. “I met Jimmy Easton in a bar, had a few minutes' conversation with him, and I never saw him again.”
“But you had paid him to stalk and kill her. Isn't that the way it happened?”
“I didn't hire Jimmy Easton and I could never hurt Natalie!” Gregg protested, his shoulders shaking, his eyes filled with tears. “Can't you understand that? Can't anyone understand that?” His voice cracked and he broke into dry, racking sobs.
Your Honor, may I request a recess?" Moore urged.
“We will take a fifteen-minute break,” Judge Stevens ordered, “to give the witness a chance to compose himself.”
A short time later, court resumed. Gregg had calmed down and re?turned to the witness stand. He appeared pale and seemingly re?signed to enduring more of Emily's scathing cross-examination.
“I just have a few more questions, Your Honor,” Emily said as walked past the bench toward the witness stand. She stopped directly in front of it and, for a long moment, looked at him intensely.
“Mr. Aldrich, you acknowledged on direct examination that in the living room of your apartment in New York, you do have a side table with a drawer that, when it is opened, emits a loud and distinctive squeak.”
“Yes, that is true,” he answered faintly.
“And would it be fair to say that Jimmy Easton accurately de?scribed that table