“At any rate, our list of curious circumstances continues to grow. Number three: Miranda Shaw left the house with the dog a couple of hours earlier than usual. Number four: she was the last person to see Iris Young alive.”
The District Attorney paused again to wipe the sweat off his forehead and take a drink of water from the pitcher on the table in front of him. He was suffering from a sudden attack
of nerves in addition to the heat. Although he’d reminded the grand jury—somewhat
unnecessarily—that this was the first case of homicide to be brought before them, he had neglected to inform them that it was also his first. Since grand jury proceedings were always secret, and the transcripts often sealed afterward by order of a judge, he was more or less flying blind. It was small consolation that the jurors were in the same plane.
“Most of you, if you have heard at all of the crime lab in Sacramento, may think of it as a remote place where obscure research is carried on which has no connection with you personally. Well, it is no longer remote and its work no longer obscure. The lab, in fact, has moved right into your lives in the form of the document I am now holding in my hand. It contains the results of the tests made on the material taken from the scene of Iris Young’s death. This covered a wide range of things, the most important being the blood and tissue samples from Iris Young’s body. Among the items salvaged from the ruins—the wood splinters and pieces of glass and other rubble—two specific items stand out, a cane and a candlestick.
“Each of you has been furnished with a list of exhibits I will offer you in support of my case. The first is the document I’m now holding in my hand. Many people, scientists and lab technicians, contributed to it, but it’s signed by Dr. Gustave Wilhelm, acting head of the arson division. Dr. Wilhelm cannot be here to testify until later in the week, so I will take the liberty of presenting to you an outline of his report in order to answer the first of the three significant questions in this case: Was a murder committed? What were the reasons behind it? Who had these reasons? It would be illogical to proceed with the last two questions until we’ve established a definite answer to the first. Was a murder committed? Yes. This document in my hand is, in fact, the story of a murder, written in the language of science instead of literature and having as its leading character not a person but a cane.
“The cane belonged to Iris Young. According to a statement by her husband, she purchased it merely as an artifact used by an African chieftain in certain tribal rites. Later it became her constant companion. It is made of zebrawood with an ornamental head of copper and the remnants of it are on the table to your left wrapped in plastic and identified by a red tag. Even without my unwrapping it you can see that it’s been badly burned. What you can’t see is that at the head, where the copper has been hammered into the wood, there are bloodstains. The fact that any of Iris Young’s blood was found on this cane is enough to suggest foul play. Microscopic tests have made the suggestion a fact. Let me clarify.
“A by-product of any fire is carbon monoxide, a colorless, odorless gas which has a strong affinity for the red blood cells of the body. Its presence is easily detected not only in the bloodstream but in the respiration passages and the lungs, where small granules of carbon can be found if a person has breathed in smoke. Tissues taken from Iris Young’s nasal and bronchial passages and lungs contained such granules. Also, samples of her blood indicate that carbon monoxide had forced the vital oxygen out of her red cells and caused death by asphyxiation. So what she died of is clear. How it happened is another matter.
“It was at first believed that Iris Young while leaning over in the act of lighting the gas log lost her balance and fell, that she struck the upper area of her face hard enough to cause bleeding and to render her unconscious. But now let’s ask some basic questions:
“Was blood found on the gas log? No.
“Anywhere near it? No.
“Any place in the room at all? Yes. On the head of the cane.
“What type of blood was it? AB negative.
“Did it, in fact, come from Iris Young’s body? Yes.
“Did it contain evidence of carbon monoxide? No. I repeat, no. The blood on the cane came from a woman who had not breathed in any smoke at all.
“Is it possible that Iris Young’s head wound was the result of her falling on her own cane? No. The force of such a fall would not have been enough to cause the kind of injury she sustained.
“How, then, did she die? She was struck. She did not fall and strike anything, she was struck with her own cane.
“Could this blow have been an act of impulse and the fire a desperate attempt to cover up the attack? No. I believe that the fire was, in fact, the main event, premeditated, carefully planned even down to the date, July Fourth, when the sound of an explosion would be nothing unusual. The holiday also made it easier to get the other people out of the house—Admiral Young to watch a fireworks display with his daughters, and the housekeeper to babysit her grandson while his parents went out celebrating. Oh yes, it was carefully planned, all right, except that explosions and fires are not predictable whether they’re arranged by an amateur or a professional. As many prisoners are painfully aware, arson doesn’t necessarily burn up evidence of itself.
“Iris Young was meant to be cremated in that fire. Perhaps that would have happened if she’d been fatter, since body fat acts as a fuel, but Iris Young was a thin woman. Her cane was meant to be destroyed and it was, but only partially. The part that was left provided the blood samples to compare with those taken from her body.
“There is still another object which was intended for destruction, or at least for damage enough to render it useless as evidence.”
He walked over to the table where the exhibits were displayed and picked up a candlestick wrapped, like the cane, in transparent plastic.
“Here it is. An antique silver candlestick, ten inches high, bent, as you can see, by the force of the explosion and somewhat discolored by smoke. According to the housekeeper and the members of the family, it’s one of a set of four always kept on the buffet in the dining room. How did it get from the buffet in the dining room to the floor of Iris Young’s sitting room? The obvious explanation is that she took it there herself. But let me read a couple of sentences from a statement given to one of my deputies by the housekeeper, Mrs. Norgate:
“ ‘Miranda Shaw liked to use candles on the dinner table because she thought they made her look more youthful. But lately Mrs. Young had gotten so she couldn’t stand them. She said flickering lights gave her a headache.’ There’s no reason to doubt Mrs. Norgate’s word. Moreover, the same observation has been made by other members of the household, that Mrs. Young hated candles. Yet this candlestick was found in her room. Without her fingerprints on it, without, in fact, any fingerprints on it at all. I have lost count of the curious facts in this case but this must be number five or six. Or ten. Or fifteen. More questions arise:
“What was the candlestick doing in Iris Young’s room? It was doing what came naturally, holding a candle.
“And what was the candle doing? Committing a murder.
“And what does all this add up to? The following sequence of events: Iris Young was struck with her own cane, the candle was lit and its holder wiped clean, the gas was turned on and the murderer left the house.”
The District Attorney paused again, not for effect but because one of the jurors, a retired librarian, had raised her hand.
“Yes, Mrs. Zimmerman?”
“Why don’t you bring in some witnesses?”
“I will, of course. But in order to save both time and the taxpayers’ money—two important advantages of the grand jury system—I’m calling only enough witnesses to present my case without the kind of detail and repetition necessary in a criminal trial.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
Th
e foreman intervened. “The calling of witnesses—who, when, how many—is up to the District Attorney, Mrs. Zimmerman.”
“But he’s just standing there telling me what to think.”
“He’s giving you material for thought. That’s an entirely different matter . . . Please continue, Mr. District Attorney.”
“Thank you, Mr. Foreman. I would like to go back for a minute to the results of the autopsy performed on Iris Young. Tissue removed from her air sacs and breathing passages showed carbon particles which indicated that she died of asphyxiation caused by the inhalation of smoke. Tissue removed from other areas, especially the abdominal cavity, showed traces
of other chemicals, in particular flurazepam hydrochloride. This is a crystalline compound readily soluble in either alcohol or water and rapidly absorbed and metabolized by the body. It’s a commonly used sedative sold, by prescription only, under the name Dalmane. That Iris Young, a semi-invalid, should have taken something to induce sleep is not surprising. But the circumstances are peculiar. Dalmane is a very quick-acting drug meant to be administered only after the patient has retired or is about to retire. Iris Young was in her sitting room, fully clothed. So we have another curious fact to add to our growing list.
“And on the heels of that one we come to still another. Dalmane, as I said before, is available by prescription only in fifteen-milligram orange and ivory capsules or thirty-milligram red and ivory. Dr. Albert Varick, Mrs. Young’s personal physician, is attending a medical conference in Puerto Rico this week but we have his sworn statement available for you to read. The gist is as follows: From time to time Dr. Varick has prescribed various medications for Iris Young, mainly Indocin, to alleviate the pain of her chronic arthritis. But according to his records and Iris Young’s medical file, Dr. Varick never issued her a prescription for Dalmane. Yet there was such a prescription in that house. A police sergeant will give you the details about it later.
“Now, before calling my first witness, Admiral Cooper Young, I feel you should be told in advance that Admiral Young did not wish to testify and so stated when he was served with a subpoena. He cannot by any means be called a hostile witness, but he is a reluctant one, agreeing to testify only because he believes it’s his duty to assist in the enforcement of the law. Please bear this in mind as you listen to him.”
The Admiral moved to the witness stand with the brisk no-nonsense walk he’d learned at Annapolis fifty years previously. He gave the appearance of wearing a uniform, though it was only a dark grey suit with a white cuff-linked shirt and black tie and shoes. His face had the slightly jaundiced color that accompanies a fading suntan.
His reluctance to testify would have been apparent to the jury without any previous warning. He glanced at them with obvious distaste before responding to the District Attorney’s first question.
“Will you state your name and address for the record, please?”
“Cooper Randolph Young, 1220 Camino Grande, Santa Felicia.”
“And your occupation?”
“Vice-Admiral, United States Navy, Retired.”
“What was the nature and duration of your relationship with Iris Van Eyck Young?”
“She was my wife for thirty-five years.”
“Was it a happy relationship?”
“Yes.”
“Would you say that your household was, by and large, a congenial one?”
“Yes.”
“I realize this must be a painful experience for you. I wouldn’t have asked you to go through it if it weren’t necessary. Do you understand that?”
“I hear you talking.”
“I can’t very well apologize for doing my duty, Admiral.”
“No. Such an apology would not be accepted anyway.”
“Very well, let’s proceed. Would you tell the jury where you were in the late afternoon and early evening of July the Fourth of this year?”
“At home with my family—my wife and my two daughters.”
“Anyone else in the house?”
“Mrs. Norgate, our housekeeper, who was cooking dinner.”
“And Mrs. Shaw?”
“Yes.”
“What was Mrs. Shaw doing?”
“I’m not sure, but she was probably fixing the table for dinner, arranging the centerpiece, the flowers, and so on.”
“And candles?”
“And candles, yes.”
“Were your dinners usually formal?”
“Yes, as part of my daughters’ social education.”
“Was there anything different about the dinner that night?”
“It was quite a bit earlier than usual because Mrs. Norgate had an engagement and I had promised my daughters to take them to a display of fireworks at the club. Mrs. Shaw was invited to go along but she refused.”
“She refused on what grounds?”
“She didn’t want to leave Mrs. Young alone.”
“But she did leave her alone.”
“Only to walk the dog.”
“That was long enough, wasn’t it?” The D.A. glanced pointedly at the table of exhibits. “Wasn’t it?”
“Mrs. Shaw is not responsible for what happened. She was always very gentle and kind to my wife.”
“And vice versa?”
“And vice versa, yes.”
The District Attorney had been sitting back in his chair until this point in the questioning. Now he leaned forward and wrote on the legal pad in front of him And vice versa?!
“Did you know Mrs. Shaw before you hired her, Admiral?”
“Yes. She and her husband were members of the same beach club my wife and I belonged to. All four of us knew each other, though not very well.”
“What was the name of the club?”
“The Penguin Club.”
“That’s pretty well restricted to people in the upper financial brackets, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Was Mrs. Shaw still a member when she came to you seeking employment?”
“She was not a member and she didn’t come to me seeking employment. The possibility of such a job was suggested to her by Miss Brewster, the club secretary, who then spoke to me about Mrs. Shaw’s predicament.”
“Predicament?”
“Her husband had died leaving a great many debts.”
“And so you took her into your house, like a good Samaritan?”
“No, not like that at all. My wife and I needed help with our daughters.”
“Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“No.”
“All right. Now—”
“Am I permitted to make a statement?”
“Go ahead.”
“I want to protest my two daughters’ being given subpoenas to testify.”
“Do you have any reason to object to their testimony, Admiral?”
“I simply feel they’re not equipped to deal with stressful situations like this.”
“They’re of legal age, are they not?”
“Yes.”
“And represented by legal counsel?”
“Yes, but they won’t listen to his advice.”
“I talked personally with both your daughters and they exhibited no signs of stress and no aversion to testifying. Your paternal concern is admirable but perhaps not justified in this instance.”
“I have registered my protest.”
“It will be on the record, Admiral . . . Now, when did Mrs. Shaw start working for you?”
“Sometime in January.”
“Did she fit in well with the other members of your household?”
“Yes.”
“Right from the start?”
“There was the usual period of adjustment under such circumstances.”
“What was you
r own relationship with Mrs. Shaw?”
“Relationship?”
“Was it strictly one of employer and employee?”
“She was an employee certainly but I considered her more like a friend. And vice versa, I believe.”
“You were friends?”
“Yes.”
“More than casual friends?”
“We were friends.”
“Close friends?”
“No, I wouldn’t say we were—look, she lived in my house, we saw each other every day, we talked, we ate at the same table. What does that make us?”
“A good question, Admiral.”
Once again the District Attorney leaned forward to write on the yellow pad in front of him What does that make us? He didn’t hurry. He wanted to be sure the jury had plenty of time to supply their own answer to the Admiral’s question.
“Tell me, Admiral, did Mrs. Shaw go out socially?”
“What exactly do you mean?”
“Did she have dates?”
“I don’t know.”
“What percentage of her evenings would you say she spent at home? Fifty percent?”
“I didn’t keep track.”
“Seventy-five percent? Ninety percent?”
“She spent most of her evenings in the house with the family. Dinners usually lasted until quite late because they were, as I said before, part of my daughters’ social education.”
“You and your wife, your two daughters and Mrs. Shaw, was this a happy group?”
“Happy is a pretty strong word.”
“I agree, happy is a pretty strong word. I’ll amend the question. Did the five of you get along in a reasonably civilized manner?”
“Yes.”
“That will be all, Admiral.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have no more questions. You’re free to leave.”
The Murder of Miranda Page 21
