Invisible Boy (40 page)

“What,” I said, “you people never heard of Western Union out in Queens?”

B
ost stood up. “The prosecution calls Elsie Underhill.”

The courtroom’s side entrance opened, and Teddy’s great-

grandmother stepped forward into the courtroom. She had a little halo of hat perched on her head, dark red, with a greenish
black feather pinned to one side.

Elsie took her seat, gripping the upright purse in her lap with both hands.

I watched her glance at the jury, then at her granddaughter.

Bost approached the stand. “Mrs. Underhill, to start off, I’d like to ask you to tell us a little bit about your great-grandson,
Teddy. Was he an outgoing boy, or more shy?”

“
Out
going, definitely,” she said. “He was the most cheerful little person you can imagine.”

“Can you tell us a bit about your plans for Teddy’s third birthday?”

“I was planning to cook Teddy his favorite lunch. Spaghetti and meatballs. And a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting. The
weather was supposed to be fine that day. We were going to visit the zoo after lunch. Up in the Bronx.”

“When was the last time you’d seen your granddaughter, Angela, before that day?”

“The day before.”

“What happened during that meeting?”

“I gave her money. And a new outfit of clothes for him to wear—matching shirt and little overalls, with those shoes he had
his heart set on.”

“What was the money for? To buy presents?” asked Bost.

“No, dear.” Mrs. Underhill shook her head. “That money was for drugs.”

“Why would you give your granddaughter money for drugs?”

“Because she told me she’d let me have Teddy, for the right price. And I knew I had to get him away from her, and Albert Williams.”

“And how much money did you give her?” asked Bost.

“A thousand dollars.”

“I see,” said Bost. “And did Teddy come to visit you with his mother the day you gave her that money?”

Mrs. Underhill clutched her purse tighter. “Yes. Teddy came with Angela that day.”

“How long had it been since you’d seen him?”

“A little more than six weeks.”

“How did Teddy seem the afternoon before his birthday? Was he excited about it?”

“He wasn’t feeling very well.”

“Was he sick?” asked Bost.

Mrs. Underhill looked down, fiddling with the catch of her purse. “No. He wasn’t sick.”

“Can you tell us why Teddy wasn’t feeling well?”

“He’d gotten hurt.”

“Hurt how, Mrs. Underhill?”

“Burned. On a hot iron.”

“Did you see this burn?”

“I did. I took him upstairs and put some ointment on it, and some gauze.”

“Where was the burn, Mrs. Underhill?”

“In the middle of his back.”

“Mrs. Underhill, Teddy didn’t do that himself, did he?” asked Bost.

Elsie Underhill raised her head. “Of course not, Ms. Bost.”

“And was this the first time you’d come across evidence of such a serious injury to your great-grandson?”

“No.” She raised a fist to her mouth, pressing the knuckle of her index finger against the center of her lips.

“Can you tell us about any other injuries you’d seen before finding the burn mark on Teddy’s back that day?”

Elsie covered her mouth and wept.

Bost tried again. “Had Teddy been hurt when you’d last seen him six weeks earlier?”

Cate gripped my hand, her fingernails digging into my palm. It hurt but I didn’t care.

Bost’s voice was quiet. “I know this must be incredibly painful for you, but you have to answer the question.”

Mrs. Underhill dropped her hand from her mouth and hugged the black purse tight to her chest with both arms. “I
begged
her.”

“Angela?” said Bost.

“I told her, ‘I have not raised my hand to a child. Never to your mama, never to you. Don’t let this boy get hurt again. Leave
him safe with me.’ ”

Bost waited.

“I got down on my knees.” Elsie turned in her seat, addressing her granddaughter directly. “Honey, you
know
I did—just the same as when I begged your mama to let me keep
you
.”

“When did you ask Angela to let you have Teddy?” asked Bost. “Was it during their visit to you, the day before his third birthday?”

“That was the last time.”

“But not the only time?” asked Bost.

Elsie shook her head. “You asked whether I’d seen the boy injured before that day.”

“Yes,” said Bost. “I did.”

“The truth is, I had seen him hurt over and over again.”

“How had Teddy been hurt on those other occasions?”

“One time he had a black eye. One time his little arm was all swollen. Then his leg was too sore to walk. It was always something.”

“When did Teddy’s injuries first come to your attention, Mrs.

Underhill?”

“After Angela and Teddy moved in with Albert Williams,” she said.

“Did you ever ask your granddaughter about what had happened when you saw Teddy with a black eye, or a swollen arm?”

“I didn’t have to. I knew.”

“And when did you first ask her to let Teddy move in with you?”

“When she met that man.” Mrs. Underhill pointed at Williams.

“Albert Williams?” asked Bost.

“Yes. When Angela told me she planned to live with him, I asked her to leave Teddy with me. Just for a while. Let them get
on their feet together.”

“Did she agree to do that?”

Mrs. Underhill shook her head, looking like she was going to cry again. “I was so afraid.”

“Of what?” asked Bost.

“That I’d lose her, just the same way I lost her mother—because I didn’t fight hard enough to keep her safe when she was a
little girl.”

“You were concerned about how Williams might treat Angela?”

“I saw that man, and it was like the whole thing starting up again. I
knew
him, all the ones like him. Won’t look you in the eye, won’t even bother to come up the front steps—just sit in the car out
front. Waiting to be waited upon, and angry about it. You don’t let a man like that around your baby.”

I wondered which baby she meant: Teddy, or his mother, or
her
mother. Probably all three.

“But Angela took Teddy with her, didn’t she?” asked Bost.

Mrs. Underhill dropped her head and nodded, in defeat. “And then, when I saw how he
was
being hurt… so soon after?”

“You asked her again to let you have the boy?”

“That man got Angela on the drugs. I’d ask her to let me see Teddy, and she’d only come for money. If I told her no, she’d
steal it. I knew it was the only way I’d get to spend time with him, so I let her do it.”

“But you gave her a thousand dollars, that last day before Teddy’s birthday?”

Elsie dropped her chin to her chest, eyes closed.

“Mrs. Underhill?” asked Bost.

The woman’s voice was just above a whisper. “She said she’d let me keep him.”

“In exchange for the money?”

“She was so filthy—nothing but rags and bones. All she did was pace around, scratching herself. Teddy just lay on the davenport,
staring. They smelled like animals. When I tried to pick him up, to take him for a bath, he started screaming. That’s when
I saw the burn mark.”

“What happened then?”

“I gave her the money. I took it out and got on my knees right there, laid it out on the floor in front of me. I told her,
‘You take this, and you leave the boy with me.’ ”

“What was her response?” asked Bost.

“She snatched up the money and counted it.”

“Did she say anything?”

Mrs. Underhill’s face crumpled up. “ ‘
This all you got
?’ ”

“Then what happened?”

“She pulled Teddy to his feet and dragged him to the front door.”

“And did she speak again before she left?”

“She looked at me and said, ‘Give me more tomorrow, maybe I let you have him for real this time.’ ”

“What happened the next day?”

“The next day? The next day was too late. They’d killed him.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Underhill,” said Bost.

Then she looked up at the judge. “Your Honor, nothing further.”

G
alloway was up next.

She got right to the point. “Mrs. Underhill, did you ever actually
witness
Albert Williams hitting your great-grandson, or harming him in any way?”

“I saw the results.”

“Yes or no, Mrs. Underhill. Did you ever see Albert Williams hit Teddy?”

“No.”

“Did you ever see him cause any
other
injury to the boy?”

Mrs. Underhill raised her chin.

“Answer the question, please,” said Galloway. “Yes or no?”

“No.”

Galloway nodded. “And did you ever see him taking drugs with your granddaughter, Angela?”

“I know a junkie when I see him.”

“Yes or no?” asked Galloway.

“No.”

“You do know that for the entire time he and your granddaughter lived together, Albert Williams held down a full-time job?”

“I’d heard that. From Angela.”

“She was alone with Teddy all those hours that Albert spent at his job, wasn’t she?”

“I only know that the times she came to see me, it was always when he was working.”

“So it was when Albert Williams was
working
that you saw your great-grandson had been injured, every time?”

That got an objection from Bost.

“Withdrawn,” said Galloway. “Angela always wanted money on those visits, is that right? Money you presumed she would spend
on drugs?”

Mrs. Underhill bowed her head. “Yes.”

“In fact, your granddaughter as much as offered to sell you her own child for drug money, didn’t she, Mrs. Underhill?”

“I don’t—”

“And isn’t it true that Teddy’s injuries first appeared when his mother,
Angela
, began using drugs?”

Mrs. Underhill didn’t answer.

Galloway kept on. “In fact, you have no idea
who
hurt Teddy, do you? For all we know, Angela beat him just to soften you up whenever she needed more cash.”

Hetzler jumped up this time.
“Objection!”

“No more questions, Your Honor.”

Hetzler waited for Galloway to get back to the table and take

her seat.

He stood up slowly, taking time to button his jacket before he approached the witness stand.

His first question surprised me. “You’re a widow, Mrs. Underhill?”

“I am.”

“How long were you married?” he asked.

“Twenty-five years. Edward passed just after Angela was born.”

“Did you and your husband know who Angela’s father was?”

Mrs. Underhill dropped her eyes. “We suspected.”

“Your husband was greatly displeased when he found out your daughter was pregnant with Angela, wasn’t he?”

“He was
disappointed
. We raised our daughter in the church.”

“In fact, when he found out he threw her out of the house, didn’t he?” asked Hetzler.

Mrs. Underhill looked away.

“How old was your daughter at the time?”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen years old. Pregnant. Living in the street. Is that when she started using drugs?” he asked.

“She wouldn’t do that to her baby.”

“As far as you
know
,” said Hetzler.

“She
loved
that child.”

“But she got into drugs later?”

“It was with that man, Butchie. He got her started.”

“A lot of families have been ravaged by drug abuse, haven’t they?”

Mrs. Underhill nodded. “In those days, it was heroin. Now it’s the crack.”

“How old was Angela when she came to live with you?”

“She was nine years old.”

“What kind of impact did her mother’s death have on her?” asked Hetzler.

“She was devastated. She didn’t speak for two months. I kept her home from school.”

“Do you think she ever fully recovered following that tragedy?”

“Would
you
have recovered, Mr. Hetzler, if you’d lain with your dead mother’s body all night in the dark, wondering whether her killer
was going to come back gunning for you?”

“No, Mrs. Underhill,” he said. “I can’t imagine that I would have.”