by Stuart Woods
“What was Mr. Manning’s height and weight?”
He consulted his notes. “Six feet, two inches, two hundred and nineteen pounds.”
“Did the examination include a test for serum blood cholesterol and triglycerides?”
“Yes, it did.”
“What was the result?”
Stendahl checked his notes again. “His cholesterol count was one hundred ninety-nine, and his triglycerides were one hundred forty-seven.”
“Did your company consider these to be within the normal range for a man of Mr. Manning’s size?”
“Yes. We would expect the cholesterol count to be under two hundred and twenty, and the triglycerides to be under one hundred and fifty, in order to be insurable. Mr. Manning qualified on both counts.”
“Did your company’s medical examiner think of Mr. Manning as a heart attack waiting to happen?”
“Certainly not. If he had thought that, we would never have insured him.”
“Mr. Stendahl, has your company paid the death benefit of the insurance policy?”
“Yes, we have.”
“In full?”
“Yes.”
“Without investigation?”
“Oh, we investigated, all right; we’d never pay a sum that large without an investigation. We sent a man down here to talk to Mrs. Manning last week.”
“And he found all was in order?”
“He did, but there was something he didn’t know until later.”
“What was that?”
“That Mrs. Manning was about to be tried for the murder of her husband.”
“She didn’t tell your investigator that?”
“No. He learned about it from the newspapers, but by that time we had already paid the money into Mrs. Manning’s bank account.”
“And is that money still in her account?”
“I am advised that it is not.”
“Where is that money now?”
“I am advised that it was wire-transferred into an account in the Cayman Islands, so by now it could be in any bank in the world.”
“I have no further questions for this witness, Your Lordship,” Sir Winston said, then sat down.
The judge turned to the defense table. “You may cross-examine.”
Stone stood up. “Your Lordship, may I have a recess for a few minutes in order to consult with my client?”
The judge stifled a yawn. “You may not.”
Stone looked at Allison, who sent him a sympathetic glance. He was going to have to wing it with this witness.
Chapter
51
Stone took some papers from a file folder and rose to address the witness. “Mr. Stendahl, how long ago did Paul Manning undergo the physical examination for his insurance policy?”
Stendahl consulted his notes. “Two years ago last week.”
“And did your company’s doctors see Mr. Manning after that date?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Had they seen him before that date?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He had no earlier policies with us.”
Stone was getting into shallow water now, and he hoped he would not run aground. “Did he have any earlier policies with any other company?”
Stendahl consulted his notes. “None.”
“Mr. Stendahl, when you are investigating an applicant for life insurance, is there a central record of health history you can consult?”
“Yes. If the applicant has had medical problems, we can usually find out about them.”
“But if he hasn’t had health problems, and if he hasn’t previously applied for life insurance, there would be no record of his height, weight, or blood studies, would there?”
“No.”
“Did you find any earlier medical records of Paul Manning?”
“No.”
“So you don’t know what occurred with regard to Mr. Manning’s weight and various blood studies either before the examination or between the date of that examination and the date of his death?”
“No.”
Stone breathed easier. He held up the documents for the bailiff. “May the witness read from these, Your Lordship?”
“He may.”
The bailiff took the documents and handed them to Stendahl.
“Mr. Stendahl,” Stone continued, “what are the documents you have just been handed?”
Stendahl flipped quickly through them. “They appear to be the results of another physical examination taken by Mr. Manning.”
“On what date?”
“A year after our company’s doctors examined him.”
“Would you read the first paragraph, which has been highlighted?”
Stendahl found the paragraph. “‘Paul Manning is a forty-year-old author who has come in for a physical examination prior to an extensive sea voyage. Mr. Manning has no complaints, but he is desirous of being examined and taking a copy of his medical records on his journey. Mr. Manning is six feet, two inches tall and weighs…’” Stendahl paused.
“Go on, Mr. Stendahl.”
“‘…weighs two hundred and sixty-one pounds, rather too much for a man of his frame. The results of blood tests show a serum cholesterol count of three hundred twenty-five and serum triglycerides are four hundred and ten. These are both dangerously elevated, the high end of normal being two hundred and twenty for cholesterol and one hundred and fifty for triglycerides. Because of these numbers, in conjunction with Mr. Manning’s lack of regular exercise, I have advised Mr. Manning to immediately undertake a program of exercise, a diet low in cholesterol and other fats, and to bring his weight down to a maximum of two hundred pounds.’”
“Does this sound like the man your doctors examined?” Stone asked.
“No. It would appear that Mr. Manning changed his eating habits after our exam.”
“Do you think it possible that Mr. Manning might have lost weight and watched his consumption of fats prior to your examination, so that he would have been insurable, then reverted to his old ways after the exam?”
Sir Winston was on his feet. “I object, Your Lordship. This calls for a conclusion on the part of the witness.”
“Sustained,” the judge said.
“Let me put it another way, Mr. Stendahl,” Stone said. “Would you think that the man described in this later exam was, and I quote, ‘a heart attack waiting to happen’?”
Sir Winston was up again.
“I withdraw the question, Your Lordship,” Stone said, cutting him off. “We would like the medical examination report to be Exhibit Number One for the defense.” Now he had to wade further into shallow water, violating the rule of every trial attorney: He was going to ask a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Mr. Stendahl,” he said, “was there a provision in Mr. Manning’s insurance policy covering double indemnity?”
Stendahl hesitated a moment, then answered, “Yes, there was.”
Thank God, Stone thought. “Would you explain to the court the meaning of the term ‘double indemnity’?”
“It means that if the insured suffers accidental death, then the death benefit is doubled.”
“So if Paul Manning had died accidentally, the death benefit would have been twenty-four million dollars?”
“That is correct.”
“Now, Mr. Stendahl, I ask you to imagine the circumstances surrounding Paul Manning’s death: he is alone with his wife in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Let us say, merely for the purposes of argument, that Mrs. Manning has decided to kill her husband. Having done so, would it not then be very profitable for her to claim that he had died as a result of an accident at sea?”
“Yes, I suppose it would.”
“Profitable to the extent of an additional twelve million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“But instead, she has asserted that he died as the result of a heart attack, has she not?”
Sir Winston was up. “Objection; no testimony to that effect thus far.”
>
“Sustained,” the judge said.
“Let me put it this way, Mr. Stendahl. In your experience as an insurance investigator, would a person who had decided to murder an insured do so under conditions of maximum profitability?”
“Yes.”
“Not under conditions which would pay only half the available money?”
“No.”
“Then, as an experienced investigator, when determining the facts of this case, would you say that Mrs. Manning is more likely or less likely to have murdered her husband?”
Stendahl sighed. “Less likely.”
“One final question, Mr. Stendahl,” Stone said. “As a witness in this trial, you are not entirely objective, are you?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“What I mean is, you have an ax to grind in this case, do you not?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” But he looked as though he knew exactly what was meant.
“Mr. Stendahl, can a person murder another, then collect on his life insurance?”
“No. A murderer is not legally entitled to benefit from his crime.”
“So if Mrs. Manning should be convicted in this court, what would be the next action of you and your company?”
The ax fell on Stendahl. “Ah, we would of course endeavor to recover the money already paid.”
“So, you and your company have a twelve-million-dollar ax to grind, do you not?”
“I, ah, see your point,” Stendahl said softly.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Thank you, Mr. Stendahl; no further questions.” Stone sat down and gripped the edge of the table so that his hands would not be seen to tremble. Now the playing field was better than even; it was tilting his way.
Sir Winston had no redirect. He was not looking happy. He called his next witness. “The prosecution calls Captain Harold Beane of the St. Marks Constabulary.” A well-starched officer took the stand and the oath.
Now, Stone thought, we find out what, besides the diary, the police might have found on the Expansive.
Chapter
52
Sir Winston shuffled some notes, then addressed his witness. “Captain Beane, in the pursuit of your duties did you have occasion to visit the yacht Expansive at the marina in English Harbour?”
“I did.”
“For what reason?”
“I received a call from the customs officer at English Harbour saying that a death had occurred on a yacht which had just sailed into the harbour.”
“What did you find when you arrived at the marina?”
“I found Mrs. Allison Manning alone on the yacht. She told me that her husband had died aboard while they were en route from the Canary Islands to St. Marks.”
“Did she mention a cause of death?”
“She said he had died of natural causes; she strongly suspected a heart attack.”
“Did you later have occasion to search the yacht?”
“I did, after the preliminary questioning of Mrs. Manning.”
“Did you find any evidence aboard the yacht to support Mrs. Manning’s contention that her husband had died of natural causes?”
“No, I did not.”
“Did you find any evidence aboard the yacht to suggest that Mr. Manning might not have died of natural causes?”
“I did.”
Sir Winston held up the leather-bound diary for the jury to see, then handed it to the officer. “Did you find this book?”
“I did.”
“After comparing it with other documents aboard the yacht, did you find the book to be in the handwriting of Paul Manning?”
“I did. Mrs. Manning confirmed that.”
“In what form is the book written?”
“In the form of a diary.”
“A diary written in the hand of the murder victim?”
Stone was on his feet. “Objection; no evidence has been offered to indicate that a murder took place.”
Sir Winston turned on him. “The man is dead, isn’t he?”
The judge intervened. “I am sorry, Sir Winston, but Mr. Barrington is right. The objection is sustained.”
Sir Winston nodded, then turned back to his witness. “A diary written in the hand of the deceased?”
“Yes.”
“Captain, would you turn to page three and read the passage marked, please?”
The officer found the page. “‘They had been on the boat together for months now, and she had been the perfect bitch. She had always had a temper, but now she frightened him with the intensity of her anger.’” He looked up from the book.
“Now please turn to page seven and read the marked text.”
The officer found the passage. “‘They argued one day as she was making lunch. She had a chef’s knife in her hand, and for a moment, he thought she might use it on him. He slept badly that night, waking often, expecting to feel the blade in his back.’”
“Thank you, Captain,” Sir Winston said, taking back the book. “Your Lordship, we wish the diary to be recorded as Exhibit Number One for the prosecution. Now, did you find on the yacht any weapon that might be used to commit a murder?”
“There were no firearms, except a flare gun which had never been fired,” the officer replied, “but there were many knives aboard—several in the galley and two on deck in scabbards, secured to parts of the yacht.”
“Was any of these knives of sufficient size and strength to be used to kill a man?”
“They were, all of them.”
Sir Winston paused dramatically and looked at the jury as he asked his next question. “And did you find any other weapon?”
“Yes, I did.”
Sir Winston reached into his briefcase, brought out an object, and held it up for the jury to see. Without taking his eyes from the jury, he addressed his witness. “Did you find this item?”
“I did,” the officer replied.
Sir Winston handed it to the bailiff, who handed it to the witness. “And what did you determine this object to be?”
“It is a spear meant to be fired at fish by a gun operated by compressed air.”
“Could this spear be fired out of the water?”
“Indeed it could.”
“With sufficient force to penetrate and kill a man?”
“Yes, indeed. I believe it would be effective from a distance of as much as twenty feet.”
“Is any particular strength or skill required to load and fire such a spear gun?”
“No.”
“Could a woman do it?”
“A child could do it.”
Sir Winston produced a spear gun from his briefcase. “Would you demonstrate the weapon for the court?”
“I would be glad to.”
Sir Winston turned to the judge. “May the witness leave the box for the purpose of a demonstration, Your Lordship?”
“He may,” the judge replied.
The captain stepped down from the box, and another officer entered with a sheet of plywood, leaning it against a wall. The captain loaded the spear gun, aimed it at the plywood, and fired. The spear buried itself solidly into the wood with a loud thunk. There was a stirring in the jury box as the members imagined the spear entering Paul Manning’s body.
“The defense wishes the spear recorded as Exhibit Number Two for the prosecution,” Sir Winston said. “I have no further questions for the witness at this time.”
“Mr. Barrington?” the judge said.
Stone rose. He wanted to address the spear first. “Thank you, Your Lordship. Captain Beane, have you had occasion to go aboard other yachts at English Harbour?”
“On many occasions,” the officer replied.
“Did any of them have knives aboard?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did all of them have knives aboard?”
“I suppose so.”
“Did any of them have spear guns aboard?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“So knives and spear guns are quite commo
n, if not universal equipment aboard yachts, are they not?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Did you find any specific evidence that the spear or any of the knives aboard the yacht Expansive was used in the commission of a murder?”
“Well, no.”
“No blood on the spear or any of the knives?”
“No.”
“No blood on the decks?”
“Well, blood could have been washed off.”
“Did you find any evidence that blood had been washed off anything?”
“No.”
“Then what made you conclude that a murder had taken place at all?”
“Oh, the diary,” the captain replied. “I found the diary very incriminating.”
“Have you read the diaries of any other men besides Paul Manning?”
“One or two.”
“Were they written in the third person?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Mr. Manning’s diary was written to say, ‘He did or she did,’ not ‘I did,’ is that not so?”
“That is so.”
“So it was written in the third person?”
“Ah, yes, I see. Yes, the third person.”
“Were any of the other diaries you read written in the third person? Or were they written in the first person, where the diarist describes himself as ‘I’?”
“They were written in the first person.”
“In your experience as a police officer, would you say that diaries are generally written in the first person?”
“Generally, I suppose.”
“Are you aware of how Mr. Manning earned his living?”
“Yes, he was a writer.”
“Do you know what his specialty was as a writer?”
“No.”
“We have heard evidence that he was a writer of thrillers and mystery stories. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Have you ever before seen the notes a writer makes before he begins writing a book?”
“No.”
“Can you understand how a writer might write notes and scenes that he might later incorporate into a book?”
“Yes, I suppose.”
