Beware the Curves

Chapter 23

Court reconvened in the afternoon. The prosecutor recalled Steven Beardsley to the stand.

Beardsley testified that the expert employed by the defense and he had examined the weapon in question, that they had both come to the conclusion the weapon he referred to as the second weapon was in all probability the one with which the murder had been committed. Beardsley testified also, however, that, while our expert had removed some samples of soil from that second weapon, enough soil remained embedded so that it was possible to obtain a soil classification.

This soil was entirely different in character from the soil found at the hedge and the soil which adhered to the gun which had first been introduced in evidence, the gun which he referred to as the Ansel gun. The second gun he referred to as the Manning gun.

There could, therefore, be no question but that the Manning gun had been buried for some period of time at a place other than in the hedge, that it had then been dug up relatively recently and placed in the hedge, that he could not of course state who had done this, but it had been done by someone.

The witness looked at Mrs. Endicott. She met his gaze with steady eyes and an expressionless poker face.

“You are satisfied that this weapon which you now refer to as the Manning weapon was the weapon from which the fatal bullet was fired?”

“Yes, sir. That is my opinion.”

At the risk of being rebuked by the Court, I scribbled a note and had the bailiff deliver it to Barney Quinn.

The note said simply, “No cross-examination and rest your case at once!”

Quinn read the note, turned around and looked at me, frowned, thought for a moment, glanced at Irvine.

Irvine bowed sardonically. “Your witness, Counselor,” he said.

“No questions,” Quinn said.

“That’s our case. The prosecution rests,” Irvine said.

“The defense rests,” Quinn snapped.

Irvine was taken manifestly by surprise. “Your Honor,” he said, “I... I am completely taken by surprise at this turn of events.”

“There’s no reason why you should be,” Judge Lawton said. “I feel that a veteran prosecutor should have been able to have anticipated such a move. Do you wish to proceed with your argument?”

“Very well, Your Honor,” Irvine said.

Irvine made a great opening argument.

Quinn followed and talked about the peculiar circumstances in the case, the fact that the murder weapon had been brought home to the witness Manning, that while there had been an attempt by innuendo to show that Mrs. Endicott had buried something in the hedge, the prosecution had not shown what that was.

It was, Quinn pointed out, incumbent on the prosecution to prove its case beyond a reasonable doubt. It couldn’t prove that Mrs. Endicott had buried something, and that at a spot nearby other people had dug something up. It was incumbent on the prosecution to dig up every bit of earth in that hedge and show beyond all reasonable doubt that there was no other article buried there.

Moreover, he asked how could Mrs. Endicott have had possession of the murder weapon? She had not been in the house. If Ansel had wanted to kill Endicott, he would have killed him with the Ansel gun, not with the Manning gun. He certainly wouldn’t have thrown his own gun out of the window in order to walk into the bedroom on the chance of finding a gun in the bedroom.

Quinn challenged the district attorney to reconstruct the crime. He said that he dared Irvine to show exactly how that crime had been committed.

Irvine grabbed a pencil and made notes. He was grinning.

Quinn sat down.

Irvine got up slowly, in a dignified manner. He announced that he would accept the challenge the defense had made in such a foolhardy manner. He said he would show exactly what happened.

He sketched Ansel, emotionally upset, blowing hot and cold. First he intended to kill Endicott; then he intended not to. He had thrown his gun away and had intended to leave the house. Then opportunity had presented itself and he had snatched the gun from the bureau and had killed Endicott.

Irvine stood up close to the jury box. His expressive eyes gazed into those of the women on the jury. He pulled out all the stops.

Judge Lawton instructed the jury that they had several forms of verdict: that they could find the defendant not guilty, that they could find the defendant guilty of first-degree murder, that they could find him guilty of second-degree murder, or they could find him guilty of manslaughter.

Judge Lawton defined murder in the first degree as being that which is perpetrated by means of poison or lying in wait, torture, or by any other kind of willful, deliberate and premeditated killing, or which is committed in the perpetration or attempt to perpetrate arson, rape, robbery, burglary, mayhem or any act punishable under Section 288 of the Penal Code.

He instructed the jury that all other kinds of murders were murders in the second degree.

He instructed the jury that manslaughter was the unlawful killing of a human being without malice, that it was voluntary — upon a sudden quarrel or heat of passion.

He instructed the jury to select a foreman immediately upon retiring and to deliberate upon a verdict, and to have the foreman advise the Court when a verdict had been reached.

The jury retired at four-fifteen.

Quinn came over to consult with me.

“I don’t get your strategy, Lam,” he said.

“The court reporter took down the district attorney’s closing argument,” I said. “The district attorney walked into the trap. He claimed that regardless of what intent Ansel had had when he went to the house, he threw the weapon which he had with him out of the window. That constituted a renunciation of any attempt to commit premeditated murder.

“If the killing was committed with the gun lying on the dresser, the Manning gun, it had to be manslaughter.”

“Well, that’s exactly the way I feel about it,” Quinn said, “and I’m afraid, terribly afraid, Lam, despite your optimism, that’s the way the jury is going to feel.”

“So what?” I said. “If the jury convicts him of first-degree murder, you can go to the appellate court and get the conviction reduced to manslaughter.”

“And suppose the jury convicts him of manslaughter?”

“Then,” I said, “wait until the Court discharges the jury and then come to the rail for a whispered consultation with me.”

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing,” he said. “I’d like to have gone after Hale. There’s no question in my mind but what Hale went up the stairs after the defendant left, saw Endicott there in the bedroom, saw the gun on the dresser, shot Endicott in the back of the head, took the large sum of money that Endicott had with him, and which Endicott had apparently intended to use in paying off the twenty-thousand-dollar bonus he’d promised Ansel.”

“Sure,” I said, “we know what happened, but how the hell are we going to prove it?”

“Hale killed Endicott. He’d probably learned about the double cross Endicott had given his wife. He blackmailed Endicott for that. Then Helen Manning spilled the beans. Endicott would pay Hale no more blackmail.

“Hale tiptoed upstairs to listen. After Helen Manning left, after Ansel left, Hale stepped into the room, picked up the Manning gun, killed Endicott and took the twenty grand.

“Hale buried the gun someplace. After he learned Ansel had admitted throwing his weapon out of the window, Hale dug up the murder weapon he’d used and planted it in the hedge where it would be found. Then he said Mrs. Endicott buried it.

“We can’t prove it, and we don’t dare to try. Hale is a reputable banker now. He’s used the capital he acquired to put himself across. He’s a big toad in a small puddle. The district attorney has thrown the mantle of respectability over Hale’s shoulders. He’s the key witness for the prosecution. If you tried to prove he was the murderer, the jury would bring in a verdict of first-degree murder against Ansel. Then you couldn’t do a damn thing about it. By fighting the case along this line, the worst they can give Ansel is manslaughter.”

“They can put him in state’s prison for ten years for manslaughter,” Quinn said gloomily.

“Maybe,” I said.