The Arcanum of Beth

by Mary Jane Russell

  “We’re tough old birds, we can handle it. It’s not going to be a pretty story any way you look at it.”

  “No. There were still so many that didn’t know her lifestyle, just her professional side. But I don’t think it makes as much difference anymore.” Janet sighed. “It’s just that Beth was so private. She would be the last person to want headlines. I can identify with that.”

  “I keep thinking about Keith. You know how I mean this, but thank God she’s not here to know all of this…to lose Beth and see Will’s true nature. Good Lord.”

  “What a mother’s nightmare.” Janet surprised them both by chuckling. “I bet Keith would have kicked Patti’s butt at the thought of her hurting Beth by taking up with Lou and Will’s for allowing his wife to run rampant.”

  “And yet,” Ellen thought aloud, “Keith knew to make Beth promise to look out for Will. Who else would have taken on Patti?”

  “I keep thinking back to what I could have said or done differently. Then I catch myself…what foolishness. I know it was the way Beth’s life had to play out, none of us could have changed any of it to amount to anything. What a harsh ending to such happiness. She had finally come into her own. That’s what bothers me so much, what drives me.”

  “You became her second mother.”

  Janet finally allowed the tears. All the frustration of Beth’s death, of the nagging questions, and of the months it had taken to figure it all out eased down her cheeks. “I would just as soon not have known it was anything other than a tragic accident. Maybe I should have…”

  “That’s early morning gibberish. Don’t even try to go there. It was a wrongful death. It’s up to the system now.”

  “I wish you hadn’t put it that way.”

  “The law is your constant.” Ellen looked at her questioningly.

  “But remember the blindfold. ‘Justice is blind’ can have more than one meaning.” Janet pulled away from Ellen. “I’m going to start coffee. Want a late dinner while I have an early breakfast?”

  Buddy’s tail thumped on the floor next to his bed at the prospect of food.

  “Yes, you too. Come on, my loves.” She pulled on the robe she had decided not to save for a hospital stay. “Let’s break bad and do waffles.” They beat her to the kitchen.

  Chapter Thirty

  Janet closed her eyes against the dull pain along her jaw from grinding her teeth together. She would be down to her gums and soft food by the time this trial was over. As always, Ellen sensed her mood and reached for her hand. Ellen had not left her side since Lou’s trial began a week earlier. Janet felt as though she was giving birth to this verdict. She knew Ellen’s hand was bruised by now as much as she squeezed it.

  Once again, Janet checked the players—Judge Daphne Henderson at the bench, Howard Mills at the prosecutor’s table, and Richard Tyler at the defendant’s table. She and Ellen sat on the first bench—made by a local church pew manufacturer—behind the railing separating them from the prosecutor’s table midway on the right side of the courtroom. Janet could almost read Howard’s notes, depending on how he left the file on the table. Will sat directly behind Rich and Lou.

  They were in the main gallery of the courthouse constructed in 1855 that was gradually being phased out of use due to accessibility issues. The ceiling was twenty feet high and tied into the understructure of the domed roof. The walls were painted an off white to highlight the details of the handcrafted plaster. The room had the smell of over a hundred and fifty years of trials—that slightly musty smell of stored paper, human nervousness, and too many humid summers with no central air conditioning. Luckily, the cross-ventilation and early April temperatures made the room comfortable.

  Judge Henderson had exercised her ability to bifurcate the trial, separating the proceedings into guilt and sentencing phases.

  To the initial shock of all involved, Patti Candler had admitted her guilt and entered into plea bargaining.

  Jury selection had taken twice as long as usual—Beth was too well-known in the community. The group of twelve sat crowded in the tight grouping of chairs on a platform to the far right front of the room. It was a good mix of age, race, and sex. Their faces remained neutral as they listened to the whittling down of the jury pool.

  Janet watched Judge Henderson observing Lou and Will. Lou appeared subdued, her hair bobbed neatly and clothing in neutral colors. Her face registered no emotion. Will appeared a shadow of himself, slumping in the pew and unable to sit still. A haircut and shave only made Will look worse for wear. Janet had silently given thanks when she found out which judge the case was to be tried before. Daphne Henderson was a force to be reckoned with—a practitioner of family law until appointed to the bench. Daphne had made a career out of helping decent people out of untenable situations.

  Howard Mills bowed slightly to the bench and introduced himself to the jury. He was a compact black man of extreme intelligence and minimum ego, who dressed sharply yet understated. Fully clothed, he might weigh in at 125 pounds. Janet knew that Howard’s opening statement would be true to his character—not one word extra or the court’s time wasted.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, my job is relatively simple. I’m responsible for what is called the burden of proof…to establish the guilt of Louise Stephens for the first-degree murder of Elizabeth Candler.” Howard carefully explained the primary elements of the crime that he was going to prove. The jury members listened intently. He concluded with, “Beth Candler died after a farm tractor rolled over her and crushed her. Her death was caused by the woman before you on trial.” He finished his statement beside his table and with a slight nod to the judge, took his seat.

  Rich Tyler looked at his opposing counsel as though waiting for more and smiled as though he had the best car on the lot for the lowest price. He easily weighed close to four hundred pounds and was slightly less than six feet tall. His round face was topped by combed over, thinning hair that clung to his scalp. “If only it was that simple or easy. Mr. Mills neglected to tell you that he must prove his case beyond a reasonable doubt. It’s my job to refute the so-called evidence that the state has gathered at the urging of Ms. Candler’s friends.” His implication clearly reflected the unavoidable headlines when the indictment was announced—that this was a matter of dirty laundry being aired in the gay community and what else could be expected. “My argument is very straightforward.” He paused for the groans. Rich countered each element Howard had mentioned, while managing to include negative overtones about Beth. “Beth Candler was killed in a tragic accident. Beth Candler had family problems the same as everyone else. This woman,” he pointed to Lou, “is not guilty of any criminal act.” He smiled at the jury and returned to his table, leaning sideways to listen attentively to his client.

  Howard began the painstaking process of calling experts and witnesses and introducing physical evidence.

  The county sheriff explained the initial accident report filed by his office that detailed the layout of the small farm, contained photographs of the tractor and the accident scene, and concluded while no mechanical failure was apparent, there was carelessness on the part of the operator.

  Rich Tyler saw no need for cross-examination.

  Experts from the local community college, as well as the John Deere dealership, were called in to explain farming techniques and the particular John Deere tractor used.

  At the end of the third day of actual testimony, Deputy Bo Watson was called to the stand.

  “So the report was filed stating death by operator carelessness and the matter closed?” Howard asked.

  “Yes, sir. Until we received a call from the commonwealth attorney with regard to additional evidence.”

  “You returned to the scene of the accident?”

  “Yes, sir. We tagged and bagged a socket wrench located in the tractor shed as noted on the exhibit photograph taken on December 5. The photographs from May and July corroborate the wrench in the same location and position.”

  �
�What size was the socket on the wrench?”

  “One-half inch.”

  “What size are the bolts on the box on the front frame of the tractor?” Howard aimed the laser pointer at the bottom front of the large green tractor in the photograph on the projection screen.

  “One-half inch.”

  “The box,” Howard pointed again, “was opened and noted as empty during the initial investigation?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What else did you find during your follow-up investigation?”

  “We established a grid out from the house and searched until we found thirty-six cast iron window weights partially buried in the original property owner’s trash dump in a hollow approximately eight hundred feet northwest of the back corner of the house and as shown on the site drawing.” Bo nodded toward the screen.

  “Window weights.”

  “Yes, sir. In older homes, wooden casement windows were hung using sash cord and pulleys with a weight on either side for raising and lowering each section. Each weight is thirteen inches long, one-and-one-half inch in diameter, and is solid cast iron weighing six pounds.”

  “So thirty-six of them are a fair amount of weight?”

  “Yes, sir. Two hundred and sixteen pounds, not including the weight of the box itself.”

  “Forensically speaking?”

  Bo smiled. “Yes, sir. I was getting to that. According to the lab work, the wrench had fingerprints from Louise Stephens as did the window weights and the box on the front of the tractor. There was residue in the box on the front of the tractor that matched the scaling from the weights. The thirty-six weights fill the box.”

  Howard nodded to Bo. “Thank you, Deputy Watson.”

  Rich Tyler stood and approached Bo. “You found a socket wrench in a tractor shed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Rich shrugged. “And you found old window weights in a private trash dump?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Covered with the fingerprints of one of the owners of the property?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And that changed your report how?”

  Bo did not blink. “With additional evidence that requires us to further examine the cause of Beth Candler’s death.”

  Rich quickly said, “That’s all, Your Honor,” and sat down.

  They began the next morning on a grim note. Dr. Jordan Meadows, the trauma doctor who attended Beth after the accident, summarized her injuries. He appeared too young and too fresh to be an experienced doctor but spoke with the mannerisms of an old soul. He followed Howard’s technique and kept his testimony in layman’s terms.

  “On Saturday morning, Beth Candler suffered a severe closed head injury and numerous crush injuries to the head, chest, and pelvis. She had borne the full weight of the tractor rolling over her body and lain unattended for several hours. We conducted tests and performed surgery for burr holes to relieve the pressure on the brain. By Sunday afternoon, her vital signs stabilized, then became erratic before plummeting as the brain herniated. There was nothing we could do to save her considering the extent of her injuries and the time before we initiated treatment. She was pronounced dead at 5:15 p.m.”

  Howard guided Dr. Meadows through a series of questions that detailed each stage of Beth’s injuries to ensure that the jury fully comprehended the extent of the damage done to Beth Candler by the tractor.

  A compassionate silence settled over the courtroom.

  Rich reluctantly approached the doctor. Even he was subdued when he asked his questions. “Was Beth Candler’s family in attendance at the hospital?”

  The doctor nodded. “Her partner, Lou Stephens, her brother, Will Candler, and sister-in-law, Patti Candler, as well as several of her friends were in attendance.”

  “As a physician, what was the family’s medical state?”

  “Shock, disbelief, and grief.”

  Howard did not redirect. Nothing had been said that damaged his case.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Ellen leaned against Janet. This was the day they had dreaded.

  “The state calls Janet Evans.”

  Janet looked at Greg and Andy in the row behind her and Ellen. The boys wore dark suits with purple ribbons for Beth on their lapel. Greg briefly touched Janet’s hand as she passed in front of him on her way to the aisle.

  This was Janet’s first stint as a witness in a criminal trial. She would much rather be in Howard’s place. Howard caught her attention and winked at her with his right eye so Judge Henderson wouldn’t see.

  Janet glanced at Daphne and knew her friend would remain stoic throughout her testimony. Janet took a calming deep breath and focused on Howard.

  In as unemotional a voice as she could manage, Janet described her duties as Beth’s executrix and the terms of Beth’s will and codicil, entering the documentation as evidence.

  “How do you manage all the items in an estate such as Beth’s?”

  Janet smiled. “With painstaking detail, greatly enhanced by the use of a digital camera. Before I tag items for distribution, as directed by the client, I take a photograph.”

  “As part of Beth’s estate, you went to the tractor shed with Ms. Stephens accompanying you?”

  “Yes. I prefer having family members present to witness the process after they have been notified of the contents of the will. Ms. Stephens and I went to the tractor shed to document a wooden wheelbarrow that Beth Candler’s great-grandfather made by hand and the Farmall Cub tractor that had belonged to Beth’s father.”

  Howard nodded his understanding. “Taking photographs of those items, as well as anything else in their proximity?”

  “That’s correct. Two items came to my attention upon later examination of the photographs…a socket wrench left lying exposed in the shed and the box on the front axle of the John Deere tractor. These items were previously mentioned by Deputy Watson.”

  “I take it you knew Beth Candler well?”

  “Yes, indeed. She was one of my closest friends. I was at the hospital when she passed.”

  “You actually saw Beth operate the John Deere tractor on one of your visits to her home?”

  “Objection. Mrs. Evans is not a tractor expert.”

  “But she observed the operation which is in question.” Howard waited.

  “Overruled.”

  “That’s correct. I teased Beth about the makeup box so handily located on the front of the tractor.” Janet paused for the brief laughter that passed through the crowd. Judge Henderson silenced the audience with a single look. “Beth explained that Lou had designed a system of using window weights in the box to add weight and improve the performance of the tractor, allowing her to loop around the pastures instead of backing up and driving down the steep slopes.”

  “Beth’s words?”

  “As exact as I am able to remember.”

  Howard checked his notes more to give Janet a breather than refresh his memory.

  “You received a telephone message from Beth Candler on Friday, April 28, before she died on Sunday, April 30?”

  “Yes.”

  “With the court’s permission?”

  The judge nodded and the taped message was played.

  Beth’s rich contralto voice floated across the courtroom. “I guess you’re not home yet, Janet, and Ellen is doing her usual ignoring the telephone. I heard them, Janet, I heard them talking about what it would take to be together. Lou and Patti. It’s all been a sham. I don’t care about me anymore, but oh, my God, Janet, they were trying to figure out how to be rid of Will and me so they wouldn’t lose any of the cash or real estate. Both of us. Both of us. I promised Keith to look after Will.” Beth’s last sentence was whispered in agony.

  Shock registered on all faces in the courtroom, including the defendant.

  “It was a week before you heard the message?”

  “Yes.” Janet explained her previous message system and her difficultly with using it, accepting the entire fault for no
t hearing the recording promptly. No one laughed about her earrings.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Evans.” Howard returned to his table and waited for the cross-examination to begin.

  Janet watched Rich Tyler stand and idly wondered if the chair was coming up with him stuck to his wide hips. She realized that she was grabbing at any comic relief available because she knew Rich was coming after her as advised by Patti’s legal counsel.

  “My goodness, Mrs. Evans, you seem to know everything about Beth Candler and have such wonderful recall.”

  “Beth was a dear friend.”

  “Where do you live, Mrs. Evans?”

  “I am co-owner of ten acres with a nineteen hundred-square-foot brick ranch in western Bedford County.”

  “No close neighbors?”

  “Not to mention.”

  Rich nodded. “I understand the need for that. In fact, was not Beth Candler introduced to Lou Stephens at one of your parties?” Rich’s insinuation when he said “parties” was clear.

  “Yes, she was.”

  “A bonfire party at your home attended by all women?”

  “Yes.”

  “The home you co-own and share with Ellen Harris, your partner for more than twenty years, who we are to hear from later?” He asked the question so casually that it took everyone a moment to realize that Janet Evans had finally been outed as a lesbian.

  Howard started to object and Janet caught his eye and shook her head.

  “That is absolutely correct.”

  Rich seemed disappointed with Janet’s lack of emotion. “You never approved of Lou’s relationship with Beth, did you?”

  Howard ignored Janet. “Objection.”

  “Sustained.”

  “I’m done.” Rich nodded to the judge and squeezed into his chair.

  “You’re excused, Mrs. Evans.”