Eureka

by William Diehl

  Pennington, of course, jumped all over me for not tipping him off.

  Schyler and Riker sat at the table on the opposite side of the aisle from our side. Craddock took the cuffs off Riker and sat him down in the chair with a firm shove on the shoulder. He went behind the railing and sat directly behind Riker, with a .38 revolver in his lap, covered by his fedora. I liked Craddock. He was all business.

  At exactly 10:00, the governor’s representatives arrived. They entered the room single file. These were the power boys. First was Alan Templeton, a pretty-boy, six-two, steel gray hair, a three-hundred- dollar tailor-made suit, a jaw squarer than Dick Tracy’s, and the morals of an alley cat. The ladies loved him. Three times attorney general, he could run forever and never lose. Behind him was Mike Butcher, a lean man with leathery skin and small, hooded eyes—state director of correctional facilities, former San Francisco chief of police, and onetime warden of San Quentin, who had weathered two investigations into brutality and inhumane conditions in the state prison system. The last one in was State Supreme Court Judge Thomas Levy, a little man with puffy hands, thick lips, and a face blotched with liver spots. Levy had been one of California’s most feared hanging judges until appointed to the high court when he was two years past retirement age.

  They sat at the table facing the room, with Templeton in the middle.

  “Gentlemen,” Templeton began, rapping his gavel for order, “this is a hearing to determine whether the woman known as Verna Hicks Wilensky, recently deceased, and the late Wilma Thompson, are, in fact, one and the same person. We are not concerned with facts regarding Mr. Riker’s trial. If there were crimes committed against Mr. Riker or violations of the law, they will be brought before a grand jury and handled in the prescribed manner.

  “We are aware that Mr. Riker was convicted of the felony murder of Miss Wilma Thompson. We are not interested in Mr. Riker’s background prior to his arrest. We are not interested in any facts involving that trial. We are not interested in how Mrs. Wilensky died. We are only interested in the writ presented to this body by attorney Sidney Schyler, to wit: “That Mr. Riker has been wrongfully confined in state prisons for the past nineteen years for the murder of Wilma Thompson; that Miss Thompson was not the victim of a homicide in 1922, but instead she changed her name to Verna Hicks, moved to L.A. in 1924, married Frank Wilensky, and has lived here ever since, until her death ten days ago; that you, Mr. Schyler, will present physical evidence proving that the late Mrs. Wilensky was, in fact, Miss Thompson; that therefore Mr. Riker should be released forthwith from confinement in Wesco State Prison; and that the findings of the court in 1922 be vacated. Are these conditions true and acceptable to you, Mr. Schyler?”

  “Yes, sir, they are,” Schyler said.

  “And do you intend to make an opening argument on Mr. Riker’s behalf?” Templeton asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Keep it brief, and don’t stray from the limited scope of this tribunal or I will cut you off. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there opposing counsel present?” Templeton asked.

  Cannon stood up. “Sir, I’m Arthur Cannon, the city district attorney. I am simply here to represent the city’s interest in this matter, since one of our detectives is involved in the case. Actually, most of these events happened outside the city’s jurisdiction.”

  “Then you have no objection to the proceeding itself?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Alright, Mr. Schyler, get on with it,” Templeton said tersely.

  Schyler stood up, took off his glasses, and walked slowly back and forth in front of the three men, tapping his spectacles in the palm of his hand as he spoke.

  “We are prepared to produce witnesses and evidence that will prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that my client, Arnold Riker, was convicted and has been incarcerated for nineteen years for the murder of Miss Wilma Thompson, a murder which we contend never occurred. A non-murder. We are not interested at this time in pursuing what really happened in 1922. Obviously, my client was framed, but it is up to the attorney general and the governor to instigate an investigation into that matter. Our purpose here today is to clear my client’s name and to secure his immediate release from prison. If you find the evidence concurs with that conclusion, then I am presenting a writ demanding that the governor order Mr. Riker’s immediate and unconditional release from Wesco State Prison, where he is presently incarcerated. For Mr. Riker to spend one more day in prison would be an outrageous miscarriage of justice. Thank you.”

  “How many witnesses do you plan to introduce, Mr. Schyler?” Judge Levy asked.

  “Three, your honor. Possibly four.”

  “Any other questions?” Templeton asked, looking at Butcher, who shook his head.

  “Alright, Mr. Schyler, you may proceed.”

  Schyler was a crafty attorney. He first set up an easel in front of the tribunal. His agenda was simple. First, he called Dr. Tyler and, after the dentist was sworn in, established his credentials as a dentist and oral surgeon. Tyler then described in detail the oral surgery he had performed on Wilma Thompson in 1921. Tyler’s charts and diagrams showing the extent of the injuries had been blown up and placed on the easel. As Tyler described in detail the procedures he had performed on Thompson, Schyler used a pointer to illustrate the work on the charts and diagrams. Tyler also had taken two photographs of Thompson, a full-face close-up and a shot of her right profile showing the bruises on her jaw.

  “Now, Dr. Tyler,” Schyler said, “did you also examine the corpse of the woman who called herself Verna Hicks Wilensky?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And did you make this examination in concert with Dr. Jerome Wietz, the county coroner?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “And did you recognize the corpse?”

  “It was difficult. Mrs. Wilensky was bloated as a result of being submerged in bathwater for about twenty-four hours prior to being discovered. She also had had some cosmetic surgery performed on her nose. Her hair was natural. It was bleached blond when I knew her. And she had put on thirty, forty pounds. But my conclusion is that Mrs. Wilensky and Miss Thompson are and were the same person.”

  “This was a visual determination?” Butcher asked.

  “Yes and no. I studied the diagrams and charts that Dr. Wietz prepared, and we made an overlay of Dr. Wietz’s work and mine. They were identical, allowing for some gum shrinkage, which is normal over that period of time. I also saw comparative photographs of Thompson and Wilensky, and the drawing of Mrs. Wilensky with her nose reshaped. Considering that I had not seen Thompson in roughly twenty years, and allowing for the cosmetic surgery to her nose, it is my opinion that Thompson and Wilensky are one and the same.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Schyler said. “Does the tribunal have any questions?”

  “I am curious about something,” Judge Levy said. “Were you able to recognize the bridgework as your own work, when you examined Mrs. Wilensky?”

  “Not in an aesthetic sense,” Tyler said. “By that, I mean a dentist does not do anything in constructing bridgework that would identify it as his own work. The procedure is common, sir. However, I will say that the bridgework in both women was identical, allowing for some degree of wear.”

  Templeton asked, “Was it possible to ascertain the extent of the surgery on Wilensky’s nose?”

  “I’d prefer you direct that question to Dr. Wietz,” Tyler answered. “My expertise is limited to the field of dentistry. He did, however, make copies of my photos of Thompson to make a drawing showing her nose before and after the surgery, and it was a significant visual aid.”

  There were no other questions.

  Schyler called Bones and he was sworn in. Schyler had the diagrams and charts that Bones had prepared and several grisly photographs of the corpse. There was also a tracing Bones had made using the full-face photograph Tyler had taken of Thompson. On the drawing, Wietz had reshaped the nose to show how it loo
ked after the cosmetic surgery.

  Bones described the autopsy in general terms, then zeroed in on the dental work and cosmetic surgery in detail.

  Bones said, “I think it’s significant that my description of the bridgework and filling was precisely the same as Dr. Tyler’s description at the time he did the work.”

  “Well, sir,” Schyler said, “since the bridgework is a common procedure, wouldn’t that always hold true?”

  “I am referring specifically to the cause of the injury. We both had concluded that the injuries Miss Thompson had suffered were the result of a blow to the right side of her jaw.”

  “Why is that significant?”

  Bones walked over to the exhibits.

  “The nature of the injuries indicated that there was a sharp blow here.” He made a fist and placed it against his own jaw. “The blow was made by a fist, which shattered the first molar and second bicuspid on the lower jaw. They were literally jammed against the upper jaw, which resulted in the chipping of the first molar on top and also a hairline fracture to the jaw. The photos of Miss Thompson also indicate this is true.”

  He picked up the photo of Thompson’s right profile. “Notice the bruise on the jawline. You can see impressions of two knuckles here and here.”

  Then he picked up the diagram drawn by Tyler in 1921 and placed a sheet of tracing paper with his own sketch of the injuries over it. The match was virtually identical.

  “Making allowances for gum shrinkage due to aging, it is my opinion that they are identical and were caused by a blow to the side of the jaw. What that means is both women had the identical jaw profile. Both women were the same size. Both injuries were caused by a blow with a fist to the same spot. And the injuries in both cases were identical.”

  He picked up the full-face photo of Thompson shot by Tyler and the overlay showing how Thompson’s nose had been altered.

  “Miss Thompson’s nose was thick in the bridge between her eyes and it was too long. The cosmetic surgery narrowed her nose and shortened it.”

  “What is your conclusion?” Judge Levy asked.

  Bones said, “It is my opinion, based on the evidence presented to me and my investigation, that Wilma Thompson and Verna Hicks Wilensky are and were one and the same person.”

  “And do you concur with that opinion, Dr. Tyler?” Levy said.

  “Yes, I do, Your Honor,” Tyler said, nodding vigorously.

  Bones and Tyler were excused.

  “I have one more witness to question,” Schyler said.

  “Call your witness,” Templeton said.

  “Sergeant Zeke Bannon, L.A.P.D.”

  It was a shock to me. Although my presence had been requested, I had not been subpoenaed. I walked through the gate and was sworn in.

  “Good morning, Sergeant,” Schyler said with a grin. “I have just a few questions. You are the investigating officer in the death of Verna Hicks Wilensky, are you not?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “How long have you been investigating Mrs. Wilensky’s homicide?”

  Templeton interrupted. “Mr. Schyler, I think I made it clear that the details of Mrs. Wilensky’s death were immaterial to this procedure.”

  “Yes, you did, sir, and I assure you this line of questioning is apropos to the matter at hand.”

  “Alright,” Templeton said. “But I caution you, proceed with care.”

  “Of course.”

  He repeated the question.

  “Ten days,” I said.

  “Now, Sergeant, in the course of your investigation, did it become necessary to check into Mrs. Wilensky’s background. By that, I mean to determine such things as date and place of birth, et cetera?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And please tell this tribunal what you learned about her personal history.”

  “We couldn’t establish anything prior to 1924.”

  “No date of birth?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Place of birth?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Where she worked previously?”

  “Sir, as far as we can determine, Mrs. Wilensky had no personal history prior to moving to L.A. in 1924.”

  “In short,” Schyler said, “Mrs. Wilensky did not exist prior to 1924.”

  “That is correct.”

  “Is that a normal situation, Sergeant?”

  “No.”

  “And what conclusions, if any, did you draw from that?”

  “That she changed her name prior to moving here.”

  “And have you drawn any conclusions from these facts.”

  “Not yet,” I said.

  “So yours is a continuing investigation?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Oh yes, one other question. When did Mrs. Wilensky die?”

  “May 25, about 7:30 p.m.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” He turned to the tribunal.

  “Any questions, gentlemen?” Schyler asked the tribunal.

  Schyler had played it smart. Now it was up to the tribunal to ask the key question. The three men huddled together for a moment, then Templeton asked me, “Just for the record, Sergeant, what were the circumstances surrounding Mrs. Wilensky’s death?”

  “She was murdered, sir, and it was made to appear as an accident.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. You are excused.”

  I returned to my seat in the first pew.

  “I call Harvey Craddock,” Schyler said.

  The big guard was a little befuddled at first. He held the hat over his gun and sneaked it back into its holster, then left his hat, and went to be sworn in.

  “Mr. Craddock, where are you employed?”

  “Wesco State Prison. I am captain of the guard.”

  “So you know my client, Mr. Riker.”

  “Oh yes, for the last six years.”

  “Has Mr. Riker ever discussed the Wilma Thompson murder case with you, Captain?”

  “Only every other day or so.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He’d just go over the whole night, picking out things he said proved he was set up.”

  “Did you believe him?”

  “Nobody believed him.”

  “Would you consider him a dangerous prisoner?”

  “Well, he’s what we call a firecracker. Got a short fuse. Light ’em and they blow up in your face.”

  “And how many times did he blow up, Captain?”

  Craddock paused for a few seconds before he answered.

  “None.”

  “Ever create a scene, argue with other prisoners?”

  “No, sir.”

  “In fact, he was the librarian, correct?”

  “That is correct. Read four newspapers a day and could quote some of the stories almost word for word. Has an amazing memory.”

  “Even taught some of the other inmates to read and write, did he not?”

  “Yes, sir, about six of them as I recall.”

  Templeton cut in.

  “Mr. Schyler, is this testimony pertinent to anything?”

  “Well, sir, my client here has been accused of a vicious crime. I think it is pertinent that he never gave any of the wardens in the prisons where he served time—San Quentin, Folsom, and Wesco—any problem. In fact, he was a model prisoner, helped other cons, was an avid reader.”

  “You made your point, counselor.”

  “Yes, sir,” Schyler said. He dismissed Craddock, went to his table, took a swig of water, and dabbed his lips with his handkerchief. Then he turned to the tribunal and said:

  “Gentlemen, it is the opinion of Wilma Thompson’s dentist and the coroner of this county that the woman known as Verna Hicks Wilensky was, in reality, Wilma Thompson. Think about that, gentlemen. You have heard from the investigating officer in the case of Mrs. Wilensky’s murder that she appeared here in L.A. in 1924, more than a year after my client’s conviction for murdering Wilma Thompson, and that he and his investigators cannot establish any trace o
f her prior to 1924. She had to come from somewhere, gentlemen. I would suggest that Wilma Thompson was not murdered in 1922, a non-crime for which my client, Arnold Riker, has served nineteen years’ hard time in state prisons. I would also suggest, gentlemen, that the probability of Miss Thompson and Mrs. Wilensky not being the same person is infinitesimal. Think about it: two women of the same size with the same bridgework, the same scars, the same surgery to the nose; and, finally, the opinion of two expert witnesses that the two women are the same person. And possibly the most profound evidence of all—Miss Thompson’s body never was recovered.

  “Mr. Riker does not fit the usual profile of a cold-blooded killer. In nineteen years, he never created a disturbance. He taught fellow prisoners to read and write. Ran the library. His character, therefore, is not in contention. I therefore argue that Mr. Riker is absolutely and undeniably not guilty of murder, manslaughter, or anything else, and thus should be released immediately from incarceration. We appeal to you to determine that Mr. Riker may walk out of this courtroom today a free man. Thank you.”

  The tribunal excused itself and went into an anteroom.

  “What happens now?” I asked Cannon.

  “They’ll make their decision, call the governor, and make a recommendation. If the gov agrees, they’ll come back in and announce that decision. If he doesn’t agree, then Riker will have to sue the state and go through a retrial.”

  I went outside for a smoke. The first person I saw was the last person I wanted to see. Jim Pennington.He came across the hallway.

  “Thanks a lot, pal,” he said. “I was supposed to have the inside on this story, or did you forget that?”

  “I couldn’t stop Schyler from handing out the story that there would be a hearing, but the judge issued a gag order relating to the evidence.”

  “He told everybody you were partners.”

  “That’ll be the damn day.”