“I’m not certain he said must. I think he said he might have lost the charm that night.”
“But he did admit to being in the study during the hours Mr. Chapman was most likely killed?”
“Yes, sir.”
Strong’s satisfaction hadn’t lasted long. It reminded him he would need to address the reason Muir had been in the victim’s study that night. Without calling him as a witness, if he could help it.
“Do you have any questions for re-cross?” the judge asked him.
“No, Your Honor.”
“Call your second witness.”
“I call Mr. Franz Dietrich.”
The portly man lumbered to the witness stand and was sworn in.
“Mr. Dietrich, will you please tell the court about the meeting you attended last month at Mr. Muir’s home?”
“Ja. Mr. Muir had asked several of us to his home to discuss founding a yacht club in Whitby. He thought it would be a good attraction for the town and a way of keeping the New York Yacht Club from controlling regattas held in the Boston area.”
“And did Mr. Muir and Mr. Chapman have an argument at this meeting?”
“They sure did. Both of them wanted to be commodore of the yacht club. They argued loudly about it.”
“Would you say they exchanged hostile words during this argument?” Garner asked.
“Very hostile.”
“Did the two men have another argument that evening?”
“Ja. The meeting was over, but the two of them wanted to talk further. They left the drawing room, and uh, went elsewhere. I happened to stop in the hall outside that room.” His face reddened slightly, and Titus suspected his dalliance had been intentional.
“Mr. Chapman saw a cuckoo clock hanging on the wall of the room they went to. He got even angrier than he already was and accused Mr. Muir of stealing the clock. Their voices were belligerent. Both of them sounded pretty hot under the collar. In fact, Mr. Strong there had to intervene to keep them from coming to blows.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dietrich.” Garner turned toward him. “Your witness.”
“Mr. Dietrich, were Mr. Muir and Mr. Chapman the only men who were interested in becoming commodore of the new yacht club?”
Dietrich looked uncomfortable and squirmed as if he was sitting on an ant’s nest. Finally, he said, “No.”
“Isn’t it true that you wanted to be commodore as badly as Mr. Muir did?”
The man glanced at Titus’s client before bringing his eyes back to the attorney. “I don’t think it was as much as the other two men.”
“Hmm…” Titus said. “Were you in the room when the argument over the cuckoo clock took place?”
“Uh… no.”
“In fact, hadn’t the meeting already broken up by the time that argument happened?”
“Yes, but my shoe had come untied, and I paused to tie the lace before going out into the dark. I just happened to be within earshot of the room they had gone to after the meeting.”
“Do you know how the issue of the cuckoo clock was resolved?”
He stiffened and his hands gripped the edge of the witness stand. “I didn’t know it was.”
“It just so happens that Mr. Muir returned the clock to Mr. Chapman once he produced his purchase receipt. There was no further disagreement about the ownership of the clock once that was done.”
“Mr. Strong, you are not testifying in my courtroom,” Crane thundered. “I will ignore your statement about the cuckoo clock.”
“Your Honor,” Titus began, but immediately stopped. He’d already antagonized the judge by reciting what he knew about the situation rather than producing a witness. But he didn’t dare put Arthur Muir on the witness stand and allow Garner to cross-examine him. Especially since the disputed timepiece was no longer hanging on Chapman’s wall. To the best of Titus’s knowledge, it wasn’t hanging on Muir’s wall either, but there were too many unknowns to bring that situation up in court.
“Any re-direct, Mr. Garner?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“Call your next witness.”
“I call Dr. Wesley Wood.”
CHAPTER 34
Once the physician and de facto medical examiner for the town of Whitby was sworn in and seated, Garner began his questioning.
“Dr. Wood, were you called to the home of Warren Chapman on the morning of April 30, 1895?”
“I was.”
“And were you asked to perform an examination of the deceased?”
“Yes.”
“Would you summarize your findings for the court?”
“Chief Morgan was primarily concerned that I fix the time of death. Based on the state of rigor mortis, Mr. Chapman had been killed at least eight hours before I arrived, which would mean sometime around midnight.”
“So it was about the time that Mr. Muir paid a visit to Mr. Chapman?”
Titus rose to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor!”
“Sustained.” Crane scowled at Garner.
“Did you also determine the cause of death?”
“The chief pointed out that a device, a thin metal spike attached to a wooden base, was protruding from the wound in Mr. Chapman’s neck. From the quantity of blood on his clothing and the rug beneath him, it was clear the victim had died from loss of blood.”
Garner picked up the spike from his desk and showed it to the doctor. “Is this the device you saw that day?”
Dr. Wood studiously examined the item, then said, “It is.”
“I introduce this invoice spike as people’s exhibit 2.”
“Any objections, Mr. Strong?” the judge asked.
“No, Your Honor.”
“So ordered.”
The clerk of the court took the gadget and attached a tag to it.
“I have no further questions at this time,” Garner said. He turned to Titus. “Your witness.”
Titus picked up the spike and turned it over in his hands as he approached the witness stand. Holding it by the base, he extended it toward the physician. “Dr. Wood, how large would you say is the diameter of this spike?”
The doctor cocked his head as he took another look at the device. “Perhaps a quarter of an inch.”
“Thank you. And approximately what was the diameter of the wound in Mr. Chapman’s neck?”
“As I recall, it was almost a half inch wide.”
“Would you think it reasonable that a quarter-inch diameter rod would make a half-inch diameter hole?”
“Well, it could if there were multiple strikes of the thing.”
“Wouldn’t that result in a somewhat irregular edge to the wound?”
Wood looked thoughtful. “I suppose it would.”
“And, to the best of your recollection, was the edge of Mr. Chapman’s injury irregular?”
“No. No, it wasn’t.”
“Is there another way the wound might have been enlarged?” Titus asked.
“Well, I suppose the operator could have moved it from side to side.” He illustrated the movement with his hand as he spoke.
“In that case, wouldn’t the skin have shown the effects of that action?”
“It would. I’d expect it to appear both stretched and pressed together at different parts of the wound’s margin.”
“And did Mr. Chapman’s injury show any indications of that?”
The doctor shook his head. “No.”
Titus went back to the defense table and retrieved the lace parasol from Elisabeth, who had unwrapped it from the piece of canvas she’d used to protect it from the weather. Holding it by the handle, he returned to the witness stand and showed the ferrule to the doctor. “I ask you, for comparison’s sake, to look at the metal ferrule on this parasol. What would you say the diameter of it is?”
“Mr. Strong,” Judge Crane growled.
Titus mentally crossed his fingers and responded, “As I said to Dr. Wood, it is only for comparison’s sake.”
“I’ll allow it in that case,
but be careful where you’re going with this.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Titus turned back to Wood. “Do you need me to repeat the question?”
“No, Mr. Strong. The diameter of the ferrule goes from a point at the tip to almost exactly one-half inch at its base.”
“And how can you be so certain of its size?”
“Because I measured it when you brought it to my office this morning.”
“Objection!” Garner bellowed. “Your Honor, it is obvious that the defense attorney is trying to skirt around your instructions as to relevance.”
Judge Crane looked thoughtful. “I think I’ll allow the testimony… for now. I assume you’ll connect this parasol to the matter at hand expeditiously?”
“That is my intention, Your Honor.”
“Very well. You may continue with your cross-examination.”
“Now,” Titus said as he redirected his attention to the witness, “Did you observe anything else about this parasol when you examined it?”
“I did. There is an irregular brown stain on the material at the base of the ferrule.”
“Would you indicate that stain for the court’s benefit, please?”
The doctor unfurled the parasol and pointed to the discolored fabric.
“Prosecution would like to inspect the so-called stain Mr. Strong is questioning the witness about.”
“You may approach,” the judge said.
Garner stood and made his way to the witness stand. He gave the mark a cursory examination and then returned to his seat.
“Were you able to determine what caused the brown stain?” Titus asked.
“I was. I put a few drops of hydrogen peroxide on the stained portion of the parasol, which immediately foamed. This indicates the presence of hemoglobin, one of the components of blood.”
Several spectators gasped, and the judge forcefully pounded his gavel.
Having elicited this essential information, Titus concluded, “I have no further questions for this witness.”
“Re-direct, Your Honor?”
Crane nodded at the prosecutor.
“Dr. Wood,” Garner said, “were you able to determine if the blood came from the victim?”
“That is not scientifically possible at this time. I cannot say for certain that the blood is even human.”
Garner pounced. “And so it might have come from a dog or a rodent or some other creature?”
“That is conceivable, although not likely.”
“No further questions.” The prosecutor gave Titus a smug look as he returned to his seat.
Although Titus had previously asked Dr. Wood some of the same questions, he had hoped his opponent wouldn’t be quite that astute. He’d been more concerned over whether the judge would allow him to pursue this line of questioning.
CHAPTER 35
“Do you have any more witnesses?” Judge Crane asked Assistant District Attorney Garner.
“I would like to recall Officer Kelley,” Garner said.
“Officer Kelley to the stand,” the court clerk announced.
Titus would have liked to have avoided this, since he could easily guess what the prosecutor was going to do, but there was no legal reason for him to object.
“Remember, you are still under oath,” the judge reminded the policeman when he’d taken the witness stand.
“Officer Kelley, I would like you to examine the parasol presented to Dr. Wood by Mr. Strong.” Garner handed it to the police officer.
“Have you ever seen this parasol before?”
Tim Kelley flicked a sidelong glance in Titus’s direction before answering. “No, I haven’t.”
“Specifically, was this white lace parasol in Mr. Warren’s study when you collected the relevant evidence?”
“No, sir. It was a very manly room, and I certainly would have noticed a bit of frippery like this.” A slight tremor in his voice betrayed his unease.
“Thank you, Officer Kelley.”
Titus didn’t wait to be called on. “Is the murder weapon always found at the scene of the crime?”
“No, it isn’t,” Kelley declared.
“As a matter of fact, it wouldn’t be unusual for the murderer to take the means of death with him, would it?”
“More usual than not, I’d say.”
“Can you think of any reason why this parasol should be excluded as the potential means of death in the case of Mr. Chapman?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Garner cried out.
“Withdrawn,” Titus responded. He’d made his point.
Elisabeth’s heart pitter-patted. She knew what Titus was going to do next, but she had no idea if he’d be successful. Or if the judge would even allow it.
“Your Honor,” Titus Strong said, “In light of previous testimony regarding the white lace parasol, I would like to call additional witnesses.”
“Witnesses? May I remind you that the parasol has not been admitted into evidence.”
“I am fully aware of that, Your Honor. I believe my witnesses will give testimony that will not only allow it to be admitted, but that will prove it was the murder weapon. I will then proceed to illustrate who wielded that weapon, and that it was not Arthur Muir.”
“I will allow further witnesses in that case, but tread lightly, Mr. Strong. The slightest deviation from your task will result in a disqualification of all testimony presented by the defense witnesses.”
The secretary felt the dampness of perspiration on her upper lip and touched her tongue to it without thinking. She knew how clever Titus was, but this judge wasn’t the same as the previous ones. She had no idea how far he’d let the lawyer go before eliminating all suggestion of their client’s innocence.
She was also worried about how the next witness would comport herself.
“I call Annie Cullwick to the stand,” Titus intoned.
Her young maid-of-all-work walked up the aisle tentatively, her eyes darting from side to side, then up and down, in awe of the courtroom atmosphere. Titus opened the gate to admit her to the bar and led her to the witness stand. You could barely hear her say “I do” after the clerk recited the oath.
“Miss Cullwick,” Titus began, “do you recognize the white lace parasol in my hands?”
“Yes, sir. It’s mine.”
“And when did it become yours?”
“It was on Sunday, the fifth of May.”
“In other words, less than a week after Mr. Chapman’s demise. And can you tell us how you came to be in possession of it?”
“I found it at the church rummage sale. It was on a table with other women’s accessories.”
“Did you buy it?”
“I did, sir. It was so pretty, prettier than anything I’d ever owned before, and the price was so reasonable, I spent the portion of my pay that I’d been setting aside for the jumble without hesitating.”
“Did you notice the bloodstain on it when you bought it?”
“No, sir. It was all folded up on the table, and when I opened the parasol, I didn’t look at the top of it. I raised it over my head right away and watched the way the patterns of light and dark moved as I twirled it.”
And probably watched for Hathaway’s reaction to her carrying it. Elisabeth was sure the girl was more than distracted by his presence at the rummage sale.
“Thank you, Miss Cullwick,” Titus said.
“No questions, Your Honor,” Garner said carelessly, as if he was so confident in the case he’d presented that there was no reason to address the parasol at all.
“I call Eileen Murphy to the stand,” Titus said.
The middle-aged woman in her black dress with a white lace collar, and her hair parted in the center and pulled back in a severe style, looked more like she was attending a funeral than testifying in court. Elisabeth wondered if Mrs. Murphy had never been to a hearing before, which might explain her attire.
“Mrs. Murphy,” Titus began, “did you play a role in organizing the church rummage s
ale?”
“I did. I was in charge of gathering donations.”
“And what did that entail?”
“About two months before, I approached the ladies of the congregation to encourage them to go through their closets and pantries to see if they had any items they’d like to donate. We collected them at the church, in one of the basement rooms, and myself and a few others sorted through the contributions to make sure they were in suitable condition to be sold. You’d be surprised at how many people give us their trash, as if we were an annex of the town dump.” She almost growled the last words, then, remembering where she was, composed herself.
“And what did you do with these items?”
“Before the sale, I separated them into categories. See, a woman searching for a soup pot isn’t likely to want to look at someone’s cast off jewelry.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Titus said as he picked up the parasol.
“Was this one of the things that was donated to the rummage sale?”
Mrs. Murphy barely glanced at it. “It was.”
“Did you notice the stain on it at the time it was given?”
“Well, no. That wasn’t contributed at the church after services like everything else. Miss Baumann brought it to my house the day before the sale herself. I was so busy, I just told her to toss it in a box I kept by the door to bring with me on Sunday.”
Elisabeth wondered if the judge had caught the name buried in the middle of the woman’s dissertation. She needn’t have worried.
“To be clear,” Titus said, “what person brought the parasol to your residence the day before the rummage sale?”
“Miss Susanna Baumann.” She sniffed. “It was downright inconsiderate of her to bring it at the last minute, expecting me to haul it halfway down Shipwreck Point for her.”
“No further questions.”
Titus made sure Owen Campbell was still barring the door at the back of the courtroom. He’d moved to that position as soon as the lawyer had called Eileen Murphy, knowing the testimony she was going to give. His quarry had started toward the rear half-way through Mrs. Murphy’s statement, but the bulk of the former Pinkerton blocked the exit. She’d slunk back to her seat and crumpled, hugging herself as if she feared she might fall apart.
The Case of the Troubled Tycoon: A Gilded Age Historical Cozy Mystery (Shipwreck Point Mysteries Book 5) Page 18
