Free A Respectable Actress by Dorothy Love

acting company such as ours could thrive. But he
had a long patch of bad luck.”
    â€œDuring which time he was dependent upon you for his support.”
    Her face went hot. Though she had often resented her grueling schedule, giving eight
performances a week to support her father, living in cheap, flea-infested hotels,
eating bad food, and fending off the unwanted attentions of men of ill repute, and
even though she silently railed at having to be the parent instead of the child,
she loved her father desperately. It hurt to admit to anyone that he had so often
failed her, and himself. “He did his best.”
    Philip consulted his notes. “But he sold his theater company to a rival.”
    â€œHe knew he was dying, and he thought he was protecting my interests. After he died
I discovered he had been cheated, and the promises made to him regarding my welfare
were broken.”
    â€œYou were left destitute. And—”
    â€œEnough!” Her cup rattled in her saucer. She set it aside, then rose and walked to
the rain-streaked window. “Must we dwell on this? I don’t see that my father’s troubles
have any bearing on what happened to Mr. Sterling.”
    â€œIndia.” He came to stand beside her at the window. “I don’t want to cause you any
unhappiness. But you must realize that a trial, especially one of this nature, is
its own kind of theater. Lawyers, witnesses, judge, and jury all have a part to play.
The outcome often hinges upon who tells the most compelling story. My job is to
paint as complete a picture of your life as I can. To let the jury get to know you
as an individual. Not simply as the accused.”
    India watched rivulets of rain sliding down the window pane.
    â€œThe other side will try to paint you as a spoiled, impulsive, self-centered woman
who was willing to commit murder for her own selfish purposes.”
    â€œWhat selfish purposes? I didn’t like Mr. Sterling. I thought him vain and arrogant,
but I didn’t intend him any harm.”
    â€œWe must prove that to the gentlemen of the jury,” Philip said gently.
    She looked into his eyes. They were kind eyes, the color of warm honey. “I want to
testify. Please, Philip. I’m not afraid to tell the truth in court.”
    â€œThat won’t be possible. The interested-party rule expressly prohibits criminal defendants
from testifying. It will be up to me, and to whomever we can find as witnesses, to
prove that you had no motivation to murder a man you hardly knew.”
    â€œSeveral people knew he had upstaged me on opening night and that we quarreled over
it. Suppose they think I killed him for that reason?”
    â€œDid you?”
    She gaped at him. “If that’s what you think, then you have no business defending
me.”
    â€œIt’s my job to ask. Even if you did intend harm, there are mitigating circumstances
a jury might consider. Heat of passion, momentary loss of reason, mistaken—”
    â€œI’ve told you what happened. Someone must have substituted my gun for the prop.
I picked it up and aimed it, as Mr. Philbrick had commanded me to do, under threat
of losing my job, and it went off.”
    He sighed and consulted his pocket watch. “All right. Enough for today. I’m due at
the lumber mill at ten. Mr. Dodge has some preliminary drawings of our proposed resort
to show me.”
    She let out a long breath, grateful for the change of subject. “Is it worth going
out in this rain?”
    He relaxed then. “It’s nearly stopped, and it isn’t far to the bluff.”
    â€œAmelia says the lumber operation is off to a good start.”
    â€œI hope so, for the sake of everyone on the island.” He started for the door. “I’m
taking the steamer to Savannah this afternoon to consult with another of my clients.
I’ll be back late tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll need a list of anyone you can think
of who