A: (from Miss Weed) I have nothing to hide.
Q: Mr Kahn? May I take that as permission to continue?
A: Sure, go ahead, it's always the same old story.
Q: Miss Weed, when did you first meet Arthur Schumacher?
A: January a year ago.
Q: That would've been . . . what's this?
A: (from Mr Carella) July thirty-first.
Q: So that would've been . . . what does that come to? Eighteen, nineteen months?
A: (from Mr Carella) Eighteen.
Q: Is that right, Miss Weed?
A: A bit more.
Q: How did you happen to meet him?
A: His wife bought a dog from me. For a Christmas present. He came in a month later to ask about a collar.
Q: And that was the start of your relationship.
A: I didn't have a relationship with him. He was a customer.
Q: Nothing more than that.
A: Nothing.
Q: Then how do you explain these letters?
A: I didn't write those letters.
Q: You do know, do you not, that under the Miranda guidelines . . .
A: (from Mr Kahn) Here comes First-Year Law again!
Q: We are permitted to take your fingerprints, for example . . .
A: (from Mr Kahn) I would strenuously object to that.
Q: Yes, but it wouldn't change the law. Are you aware of that, Miss Weed?
A: If you say that's the law . . .
Q: I say so.
A: Then I guess it's the law.
Q: Are you also aware that whereas a great many people have already handled the originals of these letters . . .
A: I didn't write those letters.
Q: Whoever wrote them, the writer's fingerprints may still be on the originals, are you aware of that?
A: I don't know anything about those letters. I don't know whose fingerprints are on those letters.
Q: Have you ever seen the originals of these letters?
A: No.
Q: You're sure about that.
A: (Silence)
Q: Miss Weed?
A: Yes. I'm sure I never saw them.
Q: Then your fingerprints couldn't possibly be on them, isn't that so?
A: They couldn't.
Q: What if they are! What if we find fingerprints on the letters and they match yours? How would you explain that, Miss Weed?
A: (Silence)
Q: Miss Weed?
A: (Silence)
Q: Miss Weed? Would you please answer my question?
A: (Silence)
Q: Lieutenant, I'd like this prisoner's fingerprints taken, please.
A: (from Mr Kahn) Hey now, wait just a minute. There's nothing in Miranda that says you can . . .
Q: Can someone please get him a copy of the guidelines?
A: (from Mr Kahn) Now wait just a minute!
A: (from Lt Byrnes) Somebody go down to the desk, see if there's a copy of the Miranda book behind it. Miss, you want to come along now? Steve, take her prints for me, will you?
A: (from Mr Carella) Let's go, Miss.
Q: (from Ms Brand) Miss Weed?
A: (Silence)
Q: Miss Weed?
A: I loved him so much.
I didn't know he'd found someone else. I thought he'd just lost interest. That happens, you know. People fall out of love. And I was willing to accept that. If a person doesn't love you anymore, then he just doesn't. It had been a year - well a little less than a year, actually. He came into the shop that first time on the twenty-third, that was our anniversary, the twenty-third of January. So we'd had a good run. Nowadays, a year is a long time, believe me. I have girlfriends, if a man stays with them for six months they consider themselves lucky. This was almost a year. The day he told me he wanted to end it was the fifteenth of January. I'm good on dates. That was almost a year. So …
You know.
I …
I said okay.
I mean, what can you do? If a man doesn't love you anymore, you just have to let him go, don't you?
I kept remembering the things we did together.
The letters were fun, but that only lasted a little while, it was a hot summer.
Every now and then I'd get this other girl for him. Well, for us. I used to go to college with her. Marian. A blonde, like me . . . well, he liked blondes. But that was when I was still sure of him. I mean, it was the three of us, sure, but it was still really just the two of us, do you know what I mean? It was him and me calling the tune. Marian was just there to please us.
We had good times together.
But when something's over, it's over, am I right? I mean, I'm not a child, I know when to call it a day. And even though I was lonely . . .
I was very lonely.
I loved him so much.
Still I … I figured I could live with it. I had the shop, I love animals, you know. I kept myself busy. And I guess I would have been able to manage if I hadn't . . .
It was one of those things where I thought I was looking at myself in a mirror, a younger version of myself, walking up the street toward me, hanging on Arthur's arm, head thrown back in a laugh, long blonde hair and blue eyes, it was me and Arthur all over again. Only it wasn't me. It was another woman, a girl really, she couldn't have been older than twenty, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek, I turned away before he could see me. Turned my back. Started to cross the street against traffic. Horns blowing, it was terrible. When I turned back again, they were gone. Lost in the crowd. Lost.
I thought Well well.
I thought The son of a bitch already has somebody new.
It's only a month . . .
This was February the twelfth, I'm very good on dates . . .
