“Very well, Dr. Hewlitt. Thank you.” Beaudoin glanced at the judge. “Your Honor, I have no further questions at this time.”
Judge Hazledine nodded. “Mr. Kilgore?”
Kilgore rose ponderously for his cross-examination. He came slowly toward the stand and stared at the watery-eyed doctor. After a long moment he said, “Are you a graduate of an accredited medical school, Dr. Hewlitt?”
“Yes, I am. St. Louis Medical School. Class of Seventy-seven.”
“That’s in Missouri?”
“Now, Jake,” said Hewlitt in a whining voice, “you know damn well that St. Louis is in Missouri. I don’t see any call for that sarcastic tone of voice.”
“You might be right,” Kilgore agreed amiably, and a glint came to his smoldering eyes. “Does the year 1885 mean anything to you in connection with the magnificent state of Missouri?”
Hewlitt licked his lips. “Not especially.”
Beaudoin sensed a dangerous question. “Now what kind of a thing is that to ask?”
“It doesn’t register, Doctor?” Kilgore said.
“Not at the moment,” Hewlitt replied.
Kilgore nodded sardonically. “Would it refresh your recollection if I were to suggest that it was not the year of Halley’s Comet? That it was the year your license to practice medicine in that state was withdrawn? Oh, now, don’t look to Mr. Beaudoin! This is one signal he can’t give you.”
“Your Honor!” Beaudoin began.
“The witness will answer!” Hazledine said curtly.
Hewlitt tugged his collar uneasily. “They only suspended my license. They didn’t revoke it.”
“Might I ask why this action was taken?”
“Your Honor, I respectfully object!” Pete Beaudoin declared. “This attempt to smear my witness is unwarranted!”
“Overruled,” Hazledine said crisply. “Proceed, Mr. Kilgore.”
Kilgore turned stolidly. “Will you answer my question, Dr. Hewlitt?”
“All right, yes,” Hewlitt said uncomfortably. “They lifted my license. They had no right, none at all—”
“Now that interests me,” Kilgore said indulgently. “For what reason did they lift your license?”
“Objection!” Beaudoin arose. “It’s been established that the license was suspended. There’s no need to go behind the record.”
“Sustained,” the Judge ruled.
Kilgore shrugged. “Very well. If the court feels that the witness’s past career as an abortionist is inadmissible, then I withdraw my question.”
“I move that be stricken!” Beaudoin howled.
“The jury will disregard Mr. Kilgore’s remark,” Judge Hazledine said. “And Mr. Kilgore will refrain from similar tactics in the future.”
Kilgore said equably, “I apologize to the court. Dr. Hewlitt, after the suspension of your license in Missouri for abortion, you came to this Territory?”
“I went to Colorado first. I’ve been in New Mexico eight years.”
“Practicing medicine?”
“That’s right. I’m medically trained. My disagreement with the Missouri authorities doesn’t disqualify me from practicing here.”
“Where such matters are conducted more informally,” Kilgore said. “Very well. You testified that you had examined the late Honey Morgan and found her to be in good health. Would you consider the presence of an enlarged heart a sign of good health?”
“I said it wasn’t a serious matter. Nothing requiring treatment.”
“Mmm. Would you mind telling the court how you came to examine Honey Morgan?”
“Well, she just came to me for a checkup.”
“Is that all? Are you sure you’re not being too vague?”
“She was worried about her health. I checked her out.”
“Specifically, what was worrying her?”
“She was run down and tired.”
“Nothing beside that.”
‘Well—”
“Could it be, Doctor, that she suspected that she had contracted a venereal disease? To be precise, a syphilitic infection?”
A murmur went through the spectators at Kilgore’s statement. Pete Beaudoin said, “Your Honor, I don’t see what this has to do with—”
“One of the intentions of the defense,” Kilgore said strongly, “will be to demonstrate the promiscuous character of the deceased. In view of the gratuitous insinuations as to rape, I think the question is admissible.”
“You are directed to answer,” Hazledine told Hewlitt.
Hewlitt paused. “She thought she might have syphilis, and wanted me to look at her.”
“Your Honor, the counsel for defense is guessing! Just because he’s lucky doesn’t mean we can let hearsay and speculation stand!” Beaudoin declared.
Hazledine shrugged. Kilgore said, “If you mean that I have no first-hand knowledge of the girl’s condition, you’re right. I may be the only man in San Carlos who can make that statement, but it’s true. However, the girl’s mother confided to me—”
“Objection! Objection!”
Hazledine looked angry. “Mr. Kilgore, this is despicable. You are directed to drop the subject of such diseases.”
Kilgore bowed graciously and went on. “Since you were willing to conceal one illness the girl had, perhaps you are concealing others, Doctor. You now admit she had syphilis, an enlarged heart, dental caries, and anemia. Does her history include any other little ailments you may be keeping from us?”
“It does not,” Hewlitt said.
“Very well. Now, you conjecture she was raped. I presume you made a thorough examination of the vaginal tract?”
“Well, yes—”
“Including tests for the presence of semen?”
“I tested, yes.”
“Microscopic examination?”
“Yes. I also used chemical tests.”
“Which proved positive.”
“That’s right.”
“So the girl had sexual relations before her death. She also had bruises on her body. You link these two unrelated factors and conclude she was raped.”
“I do, indeed,” Hewlitt said.
“You admit you’re merely guessing.”
“Well, yes. I’ve already said that three or four times. Seems to stand to reason.”
“Murder itself does not stand to reason, Dr. Hewlitt. I am through with questioning you, sir.”
“You may step down,” Judge Hazledine said. “Does the Territory have its next witness ready?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Beaudoin said. “We intend to call Sheriff Duer to the stand.”
“I request a recess, Your Honor,” Kilgore said.
Hazledine nodded. “Request granted. It’s now ten past noon. The court will recess until one thirty.” The judge arose, went along the bench and out back into his chambers. Kilgore turned about wearily and suggested that the defense take refuge in the clerk’s private office, a room set aside as a courtesy for his use. The hammering in his ear was remorseless.
There was a better mood as the group gathered to consider the position. Even Dan McCandless looked more cheerful. Battle was joined, and it did not look hopeless.
Kilgore said, “Somebody’s got to get up to Denver right away.”
“Denver?” Carlotta asked.
Kilgore lit a cigar and waited for his thoughts to clear. It was the autopsy protocol, he explained, and the testimony given by Dr. Hewlitt. His own claim of surprise had been a stage effect for the benefit of the jury—known to be such by Hazledine and Beaudoin and not too seriously intended. The issue would not turn on the medical issue—but on the identity of the criminal. However, a line of cuttlefish tactics had suddenly opened up.
“I wasn’t expecting that enlarged-heart testimony,” he said, “but it gives me ideas. If I can talk about heart failure, I might confuse the jury. More justice, more substantial justice, that is, has been reached by confused juries than they get credit for. It’s the clear-minded jury I mistrust. They use their heads, not
their hearts, and that’s dangerous. I want those twelve men to give me an answer based on instinct—because instinct is sound. It’s like a jackass out in the hills. He ain’t got the brains of a desert rat, but his instinct can bring you to water. Who wants to improve on that?”
Dan McCandless broke in on Kilgore’s prolix ruminations. “Jesus, Kilgore! Will you get down to it? What’s to be gained in Denver?” he cried out in torment.
Kilgore looked hurt. “There’s a pathologist in Denver,” he said slowly. “Connected with that new free hospital they’ve got there. One of the most eminent pathologists in the world. Knows almost as much forensic medicine as Kilgore. Name is Arthur Vance, and I’d like to get him down here for a consultation. I’ve got total recall, and if I get a glimpse of that autopsy protocol, I’ll commit it to memory—and give it to Vance. Who knows? There’s a wild chance a big fee can get Vance to muddy the issues.”
“You mean he might testify that the girl died of heart failure?”
Kilgore said stolidly. “Let me talk to Vance first, fix an adequate fee, and then we’ll know. I never yet saw a case where a monetary consideration couldn’t get one expert to call another expert a liar. And Hewlitt’s qualifications are about as low as medical science can get. Heart failure? Who knows? Who knows? Trouble is,” he added slowly, “I need Clem to stick with me. I’m having a little trouble in that courtroom.”
“I’ll go!” Dan McCandless cried.
Kilgore shook his head. “You’ll mess it up, McCandless! And besides, Beaudoin will raise a howl about bribery and the McCandless millions—”
“The McCandless millions!” McCandless said bitterly.
Carlotta said quietly, “Let me go, Mr. Kilgore. I don’t think Mr. Beaudoin would make any such accusations against me. It would make a very bad impression for him.”
Kilgore paused to consider the matter. Carlotta had called attention to a principle of importance—the good name of a decent woman. In a swiftly evolving society, that principle, like all other principles, was vanishing, but it still prevailed in the West. He nodded slowly and it was a decision.
“It’s worth a try,” he agreed. “And I know Vance is a topflight man. If you leave right away, you can be back here by Saturday. I don’t think you’ll miss much. I’ll hammer that enlarged-heart idea until we know definitely that it can be ruled out. And don’t say a word to anyone about where or why you’re going. Hear?”
As they returned to the courtroom, hope seemed to dawn for the first time on the face of Dan McCandless.
15.
MIKE DUER took the stand after the recess. Kilgore sat back, relaxing now, starting to forget his private pain as he involved himself in the dialectical interplay going on between the sheriff and the attorney general. Efficiently, briskly, the series of questions and answers brought out the details of the discovery of the body: Father Crespin’s visit, the ride to the hills, the finding of the corpse. Kilgore did not interrupt until Duer came to the part about the fraternity pin.
“And then Charlie Bear bent down and picked up the pin,” Duer said.
“Is this it? Do you recognize it?” Beaudoin said.
“Yes, thats the one. Harry McCandless’ fraternity pin. It was lying right next to—”
“Objection!” Kilgore said. “What’s the materiality? We’ve got nothing to connect that bauble to the defendant!”
“Yes,” Hazledine said. “Sustained. Mr. Beaudoin, you’ll have the pin tagged for identification. It can then be admitted merely as a pin found on the body of the deceased girl.”
A moment of formalities passed.
Beaudoin came back to the same line of questions. “Did you question the defendant about this pin?”
“I did.”
“Did he say anything about the pin?”
Duer said grimly, “He said it was an Amherst fraternity pin. I asked how he could be sure. He said he was briefly a student at Amherst before he was kicked out for some prank—”
“Objection!” Kilgore said.
Duer amended his answer. “Before he was kicked out. I asked if it was his pin. He said he couldn’t be sure.”
Kilgore arose. “In that case I move that this entire line of testimony be stricken.”
Hazledine turned to the witness. “What did he say about ownership of the pin?”
Duer turned a cold glance to the white-faced defendant. “First he entirely denied it was his pin. Then he admitted it was identical with a pin he once gave the little girl. Finally he admitted that nobody else in the Territory had such a pin except himself. For all practical purposes, he admitted it was his pin.”
Beaudoin glanced significantly at the jury. “After first denying ownership?”
“Exactly.”
“Did you ever see Harry McCandless wear such a pin?”
Duer said stolidly, “I guess everybody in this room, one time or another, saw Harry McCandless sporting that pin— or its twin.”
Beaudoin sat down with a flourish. “Your witness, Mr. Kilgore.”
Kilgore put one question. “Mike, I’ll ask this question, fair and square. After two days and two nights of fiendish torture, all you got from this boy was the information that he gave the pin to that young woman—” He paused and repeated the word “woman” as though it were an ultimate term of opprobrium—“at least two months before her unfortunate demise. So it don’t prove a thing.”
“Objection!” Beaudoin shouted. “If there’s any fiend in this case, it’s Harry McCandless! Not this peace officer—”
“Order, order!” Judge Hazledine warned.
Kilgore’s flourish of disdain was magnificent. “No further questions for this witness!” he said with contempt and loathing. With an air of disgust, he began to trim his nails with a gold-handled pen knife. Duer’s testimony had been strictly factual, and there was nothing to be gained by giving it further emphasis.
Charlie Bear now came to the stand. The Indian corroborated all that Duer had said, dwelling at some length on the condition of the ground, the tracks, and other technical matters. He mentioned the plaster stuffing the girl’s mouth.
Beaudoin said, “Do you happen to know if this is a custom among your people, to stuff a dead body’s mouth with plaster or any such substance?”
“No, sir. Apaches don’t do such things.”
“What about other Indian tribes?”
Charlie Bear shrugged. “Not that I know of.”
“So it’s fair to say, then, that no Indian would have done such a thing.”
“Objection!” Kilgore said wearily. “The witness is not an expert on the customs of every Indian tribe.”
“Overruled,” said the judge. “The witness is an Indian. Let it be understood that he’s answering to the best of his knowledge.”
Beaudoin said, “Answer on those terms, Charlie.”
“As far as I know, no Indian tribe around here has any kind of custom of stuffing the mouth.”
Kilgore could not object to the statement so phrased, nor did he wish to cross-examine. The Territory’s next witness was Father Crespin, who described his discovery of the body and his colloquy with the campesino. Kilgore was crisp enough as he said, “Father Crespin, you made your discovery of the body on the night of December third, correct?”
“Es verdad.”
“But the girl disappeared on November thirtieth, so the body had been exposed for three days before you found it. However, you were not the first to find it?”
“I have said not. Sanchez found it first.”
“When, Padre?”
“He said he had found it the third day before. Which would be November thirtieth.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Beaudoin said. “This will all be brought out by the next witness.”
“One moment more,” Kilgore pleaded. “I’m trying to establish something.”
“Overruled,” Hazledine sighed. “But establish it quickly, Mr. Kilgore. It grows later.”
Kilgore said, “Do you hap
pen to know, Padre, why Sanchez waited three days after discovering the body and did not report it to anyone?”
“Yes. He was afraid to report it. He is a simple man.”
“Your Honor,” Beaudoin objected, “why should we waste time on this line of inquiry when Sanchez himself is our next witness?”
Kilgore turned with a grin. “You’re slipping, Pete. You’ve got a better objection than that! Why not object on the ground that he ain’t qualified to testify to the operation of another man’s mind? That would be a legal objection. For you that would be making history.”
A titter of laughter went around the courtroom. Kilgore’s chest swelled with gratification, and he bowed to his discomfited opponent.
“I withdraw the question,” he said handsomely. “Nobody can be expected to figure out what goes on in the mind of another man—”
“That includes your client,” Beaudoin said nastily. “What was in his mind that night?”
Harry McCandless half-rose and sank back, white and staring, as the barb went home. And then the gavel restored order to the noisy courtroom.
Beaudoin said, “Mr. Kilgore is a privileged clown, Your Honor. I don’t think these taunts are appropriate where murder is the issue.”
“Proceed!”
Kilgore turned back to the witness soberly. “One more point, Padre. Did you move the body at all after discovering it?”
“I pulled down the skirt to cover the nakedness. Otherwise I left the body exactly as I found it, and ordered Sanchez to do the same.”
“No further questions,” Kilgore announced.
Manuel Sanchez was next to the stand, and a court interpreter came forward. Sanchez was plainly terrified of being in court, the Anglo court. Beaudoin was alternately suave and peremptory as he extracted the campesino’s testimony. Sanchez declared, in many fits and starts, that on the night of November 30, after midnight, he had seen a buckboard bearing the crux ansata insignia drive up, had seen a man wrapped in sheepskins carry out a bulky, blanket-wrapped object, deposit it in the thicket, and drive away. He further testified that he had known that there was a dead body in the blanket, but that he had not gone to look at it until the third day, shortly before the priest’s arrival on the scene.
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