Read Ed McBain_Matthew Hope 12 for Free Online Page A

reflecting mirrors,” Nettleton said wearily.
    “Well, those are eyeglasses hanging around the bear’s neck, aren’t they?”
    “No. They couldn’t possibly serve as a tool for correcting or improving vision.”
    “They look like glasses to me.”
    “Your Honor,
please,
” I said.
    “Sustained.”
    “Would you agree that they
look
like eyeglasses?”
    “Yes, but they’re
not
eyeglasses. That is not their purpose.”
    “But the basic design is similar to the one in the magazine, isn’t it?”
    “No, the designs are not at all similar.”
    “You know, of course, that Miss Commins submitted your specifications together with her application for copyright?”
    He’s trying to invalidate the copyright, I thought.
    “Yes, I know that.”
    “How did you come by this information?”
    “She told me.”
    “Did
you
tell
her
that the eyeglasses for which she was seeking copyright as part of her design were not entirely original with you?”
    “They
were
original!”
    “Did you tell her that a design for similar eyeglasses had been published in 1987?”
    “I didn’t know that. And besides, they’re
not
similar.”
    “But a few minutes ago you described those published drawings as specifications for the use of corrective lenses in the treatment
     of strabismus, didn’t you?”
    “You asked me to read the title of the article…”
    “But you agreed, didn’t you, that the glasses were designed to do exactly that?”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “And you also agreed that
your
glasses were also designed to…”
    “In the loosest possible
sense,
is what I…”
    “In
whatever
sense, you agreed…”
    “Objection, Your Honor.”
    “Sustained. Get off it, Mr. Brackett.”
    “Tell me, Dr. Nettleton, you said earlier that Miss Commins came to you in April to show you her
original
drawings for a bear she’d designed.”
    “Yes.”
    “How do you know they were original?”
    First the eyeglasses, I thought, now the bear itself.
    “Well, they were signed by her,” Nettleton said.
    “Yes, but how do you know they weren’t drawings premised on some
other
person’s idea?”
    “Objection, Your Honor!”
    “I’ll allow it, Mr. Hope. He earlier described the drawings as original. Answer the question, please.”
    “Well, I didn’t know where her
idea
came from,” Nettleton said. “She told me it was
her
idea, I had to assume…”
    “The same way you told her…”
    “Objection!”
    “…that the eyeglasses were
your
idea, when in fact…”
    “Objection, “Your Honor!”
    “When in fact the design for them…”
    “Objection!”
    “…had already been published as far back as…”
    “Your Honor, I
object
!”
    “Sustained,” Santos said.
    “Your witness.”
    The windows, three of them, were on the far side of the building, facing east, away from the parking lot. There was a view
     of a strip mall across the way, mini-market in it, video shop, Laundromat, dry cleaners, and bar. Two blond bronzed gods looking
     like beach bums in tank top shirts and baggy shorts were standing outside the bar, maybe waiting for it to open. A woman in
     a bathing suit and sandals walked into the Laundromat carrying a bundle of wash. It was still sunny and glaring bright outside.
    Warren looked at his watch.
    All right, let’s get to work here, he thought.
    He took the cushions off the sofa, opened the bed—so simple a child of five could do it—hoping to find it neatly made, finding
     instead a tangled mare’s nest of sheets, pillow and a single blanket. The bed gave off a faint whiff of sweat and something
     else, he didn’t know what. He pulled back the sheets, looking for whatever might tell him he was right or wrong about what
     she was doing here in this apartment, but there was nothing he could see, so he closed the bed, and put the cushions back
     in place and turned to look around the room again.
    Bright sunlight streamed through the windows behind him.
    The air conditioner was off, the place was pitilessly