She said, “Why, that’s almost exactly what the deputy district attorney told me I’d have to do.”
I said, “Sure it is. They see lots of witnesses who have suffered mental shock, and they understand what has to be done.”
She said, “I don’t want to do that. It seems unfair. They’ve been so nice to me in the district attorney’s office — I’d have to change the story afterwards when I got on the witness stand. You wouldn’t want me to commit perjury, would you?”
I said, “Don’t you see, Marian? If you tell them this, it will give me more time. They don’t want you to sign that written statement until you have everything in it. If you sign it and then something else comes up, a smart criminal lawyer might trap you. He’d ask whether you’d signed a statement and ask you what was in it — demand that it be produced in court. For that reason the district attorney’s office doesn’t want to break the case until they’re sure you’ve thought of everything.”
“Then they’d incorporate this in that statement, and I’d have to sign it?”
“No. You wouldn’t have to sign it,” I said. “I need the time that can be gained while they’re making out a new statement, that’s all. If you sign that statement this afternoon, they’ll break the case tonight, but if you tell them this, they’ll dictate some more stuff to go in the statement and ask you to come back tomorrow to sign it.”
She hesitated.
I heaved an audible sigh and said, “Forget it, if it bothers you. I’m in a jam. I thought perhaps you could help me out. I didn’t realize how it would seem looking at it from your angle. I’ll work out something else.”
I got up and started for the door. I’d made two steps when I heard the sound of quick motion behind me, and her arms were around my neck. “No, no, don’t go away! Don’t be like that! Of course I’ll do it for you. I told you I would.”
I said, “I’m afraid you aren’t the type who could make it stick. You would get trapped somewhere.”