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“Do you know the time?”
“It was four minutes past six. She got in a car with Janice and they drove off together.”
“Again, how can you be so sure of the time?” asked DuBose.
“In the summer I keep my little TV out on the porch. Run the cord through the window. Run my fan cord through there, too. Walter Cronkite had been on four minutes when I saw them leave. I’m a stickler for time and punctuality. As a traveling salesman, you had to be. Never missed a train or a bus or an appointment in over forty years.”
“But how do you know she didn’t leave before then?”
“She couldn’t have. I was out on the porch the whole time.”
“You never went inside from one to six?”
“Whatever for?”
“To eat, to use the facilities?”
“I have a large breakfast and an apple for my lunch. And I have a very regular constitution,” he added primly. “So after breakfast, and my apple at twelve fifty, I sit on my porch and watch the world go by. And then I watch Walter Cronkite for thirty inspiring minutes. And then I prepare and have my dinner, and then I take my walk at seven thirty.”
“Might she have earlier gone out a back door and then returned the same way?”
“There are no back doors in those places. Other rowhouses on the rear side are connected to them. One has to come out the front.”
“So from around one o’clock to four minutes past six o’clock, Pearl Washington was in that house on June fourteenth?”
“Yes, she was.”
DuBose turned to the jury. “You have heard sworn testimony that the Randolphs were killed between three and five p.m. You have also heard testimony that the police arrived at the house at a few minutes past six, while Pearl Washington was at least fifteen miles away during all of that time, and would have had no opportunity to do any of the things the commonwealth alleges she did.” She looked back at Clancy. “Thank you, no further questions.”
Battle stood but stayed behind the counsel table. “I see you wear glasses, sir.”
“I do.”
“Did you have them on that day?”
“Oh yes,” replied Clancy.
“So your eyesight is not that good?”
“It’s excellent with my glasses on. That’s why I always wear them.”
“How far would you say it is from your front porch to the house across the way?”
“Oh, I would say no more than fifty feet or so. It’s a narrow street.”
Battle marched off some distance toward the back of the courtroom.
“About here?”
“Yes sir. About that.”
Battle held up three fingers. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Three. And I’m afraid you also have a spot of grease on your left lapel, sir.”
Battle wiped at the spot while some of the spectators chuckled. “No further questions,” he said in a dispirited voice.
CHAPTER 85
