The D.A. Breaks a Seal

18

The courtroom was hushed with an atmosphere of tense expectation. The Clarion’s story of Inez Stapleton’s connection with the murdered man, and her sudden trip to Los Angeles to see him had created a profound impression.

Judge Fairbanks ascended the bench, and court was called to order amid a silence of sheer tension. There was no whispering because spectators were afraid to take their eyes from the actors in the courtroom drama long enough to make even a whispered comment.

Inez Stapleton arose and said, “Your Honor, I move at this time to associate Major Douglas Selby as one of counsel for the contestant, Barbara Honcutt.”

“Any objection?” Judge Fairbanks asked, as a matter of perfunctory courtesy.

Carr, all smiles, was on his feet. “No, your Honor, not in the least. In fact, I may say, off the record, but for the record, that it is a pleasure to have so distinguished and able an opponent.”

Selby bowed and smiled, and Carr returned his bow with an air of grave sincerity.

“Franklin L. Dawson was on the stand,” Judge Fairbanks said, “and I believe you were about to examine him, Miss Stapleton?”

“Mr. Selby will examine him,” Inez said.

“Very well. Take the stand,” Judge Fairbanks said to Dawson.

Dawson, a tall, heavy-boned individual with high cheekbones, a long, firm mouth, and an air of rugged sincerity, adjusted himself on the witness stand.

“As I understand your testimony of yesterday,” Selby said, “you were in Mr. Carr’s office at the time Eleanor Preston and Martha Otley entered.”

“That’s right.”

“You had been there for some time?”

“Four or five minutes.”

“Did you have an appointment with Mr. Carr?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with it,” the witness said.

“I think I am entitled to know all of the surrounding facts. Besides, it may be important,” Selby pointed out.

Carr smiled, waved a gracious hand. “No objection, your Honor. None whatever. Let the witness answer the question.”

“Yes, I had an appointment with him.”

“Made over the telephone?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember what time it was, then, when you entered his office?”

“Around three o’clock in the afternoon.”

“And what time was your appointment?”

“For three o’clock.”

“And Eleanor Preston and Martha Otley were there when you came in?”

“No, they came in later. I told you that before.”

“That’s right. So you did. About five minutes later, would you say?”

“Yes.”

“So your appointment was for three o’clock, you arrived at three o’clock, and about five minutes later were still seated in Mr. Carr’s outer office — the reception room?”

“I guess so. I guess that’s right.”

“And then these two women came in and sat down?”

“Yes.”

“Close together?”

“Side by side, I believe, on a settee at the far end of the room.”

“You couldn’t hear their conversation then?”

“No.”

“Yet, as I understand it, you have testified that Eleanor Preston told Martha Otley to wait there in the office; that she didn’t want her in the inner office when she signed the will.”

“I certainly did. She said her relatives had greedy fingers and would clutch at any straw.”

“You heard that?”

“Yes.”

“Heard that very distinctly?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t hear any of the other conversation?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“How did it happen that you heard this particular bit of conversation? Did Eleanor Preston raise her voice so that you could hear it?”

“I guess she must have. I heard it.”

“And were they both sitting close together when Eleanor Preston made that statement?”

The witness shifted his position, glanced at Carr, said, “I think Eleanor Preston was standing up.”

“And how about Martha Otley? Was she standing up or sitting down?”

“She was... I guess she was sitting down.”

“So Miss Preston got up to deliver herself of that statement, at the same time that she raised her voice so that you could hear what she said?”

“Not exactly.”

“Now where was she standing, right by the side of this settee on which Martha Otley was seated?”

“No, she was in the door of Carr’s office then.”

“But weren’t you all three in Carr’s office?”

“I mean Carr’s private office.”

“Oh, then Mr. Carr must have opened the door of the office.”

The witness coughed, glanced at Carr again, then said, “I guess he did, yes, sir.”

“And Miss Preston was then standing in the door of the office?”

“Yes.”

“And Martha Otley was seated?”

“That’s right.”

The witness began to show signs of restlessness.

“In the same position she had taken on the settee when the two women had first entered the office?”

“Yes.”

“Then there was no occasion for Miss Preston to raise her voice and advise Martha Otley to remain where she was, was there?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Martha Otley hadn’t made any attempt to follow her into Carr’s private office, had she?”

“Of course, your Honor,” Carr said suavely, “I want to give counsel the utmost latitude in this matter. We welcome having all the facts brought to light, but it occurs to me that this is, after all, something of an attempt to cross-examine his own witness.”

“The Court thinks the examination perfectly in order,” Judge Fairbanks said. “The witness is obviously hostile and was called largely as a matter of necessity. Proceed with your questions.”

“How about it?” Selby asked, smiling. “Did Martha Otley make any attempt to follow?”

“Well, I guess she would have.”

Selby’s smile broadened. “We don’t want to know what you guess, and we don’t want to know what you think Mrs. Otley might have done under certain circumstances. What I am interested in finding out is whether Martha Otley actually did make any attempt to follow Eleanor Preston into Mr. Carr’s private office.”

“Well, no, I guess she didn’t.”

“So then, this remark of Eleanor Preston’s which was conveniently made in a tone of voice loud enough for you to hear, was uncalled for so far as any of the circumstances were concerned.”

“Objected to,” Carr said, “as calling for a conclusion of the witness.”

“I will sustain the objection on that ground,” Judge Fairbanks ruled. “The facts are before the jury, and the conclusion is for them.”

“But,” Selby persisted, “you are positive that Eleanor Preston told Martha Otley not to try to follow her into Carr’s private office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, that up to the time that statement had been made, Martha Otley had made no attempt to follow her into the office?”

“Well, no, I guess not.”

“But had sat perfectly still.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So that that purely gratuitous remark which was made in such a loud voice that you could hear it, was made after Eleanor Preston had gone to the door of Carr’s office, after she had turned around, and after she had seen that Martha Otley was still seated in the same position en the settee.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t that impress you as being rather incongruous at the time? Don’t you think, in searching your recollection, that there is perhaps some error there? Don’t you think that a remark so obviously uncalled for would have impressed you as being utterly unnecessary?”

“That, of course, is argumentative,” Carr said.

“I’ll stipulate that it is,” Selby said. “I’m merely pointing out to the witness an inconsistency in his testimony and asking him if he can explain it.”

“No inconsistency,” Carr snapped. “It’s the same thing he has said all along.”

“It’s an inconsistency with the facts,” Selby observed.

Judge Fairbanks said, “Counsel will reserve their argument for the jury, but I will let counsel point out to the witness the fact of any seeming discrepancy between the facts as he has testified to them and his recollection of the conversation.”

“Well, if I’ve got to tell all that happened,” the witness blurted, “at first they both went into Carr’s office, and then after a minute or two, Martha Otley came out and went back to where she’d been sitting on the settee, and then Eleanor Preston came to the door and told her not to try to be in the office with her when she signed the will.”

Selby smiled.

“So that Martha Otley had already gone into the office and tried to be present when the will was being signed?”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

“But she did go into the office with Miss Preston?”

“Yes — the first time.”

“And then she returned?”

“Yes.”

“And then, after she had resumed her position on the settee, Eleanor Preston stood in the doorway of Carr’s private office and made this little speech to her.”

“I guess that’s right, yes.”

“Talking clear across the office?”

“Clear across the office.”

“And Mr. Carr was standing beside her in the doorway?”

“Yes.”

“And at the time, she told Martha Otley not to follow her, Martha Otley had already tried to follow her, actually had followed her, and had been sent back, and was then sitting on the settee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So that this little speech of Eleanor Preston’s could very well have been made at the suggestion of our esteemed contemporary, the Honorable A. B. Carr?”

“I object, your Honor,” Carr said in a tone of wounded dignity, but his objection was drowned in laughter from the courtroom.

Judge Fairbanks frowned at Selby. “I think, Major Selby,” he said, “we’ll leave those conclusions for the jury to draw.”

“Very well, your Honor,” Selby said, and then turned to the witness.

“Now, right after this speech had been made, Mr. Carr invited you into the office to witness the execution of this will?”

“Well, yes.”

“And you did so witness the execution?”

“Yes.”

“In the presence of Mr. Carr’s secretary, who was the other witness?”

“That’s right.”

“And in the presence of Miss Preston?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And then what did you do?”

“I went out.”

“Out of Carr’s private office and back to the outer office?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And out of there to the street?”

“Yes, sir.”

Selby said with some surprise, “I thought you had an appointment with Mr. Carr?”

“I did.”

“On a business matter?”

“Well, Mr. Carr asked me to drop in.”

“When had that conversation taken place?”

“The afternoon before.”

“So Mr. Carr asked you to drop in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did he say why?”

“Well... he said I’d be doing him a favor if I, well... He said he’d like to have me come in. He wanted to — he asked me to come.”

“Indeed, yes. And you were under some obligation to Mr. Carr?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You owed him money, perhaps for a fee?”

“Yes.”

“He had performed some legal services for you?”

“Yes.”

“What was the nature of those services?”

“Your Honor, I object,” Carr said. “This is absolutely and utterly incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

“It goes to show the bias of the witness,” Selby pointed out.

Judge Fairbanks said, “I think I will sustain the objection as to the exact nature of the services.”

“Generally,” Selby asked, “had Mr. Carr been your attorney when you were accused of a crime?”

“Your Honor,” Carr protested in a pained voice, “I renew my objection. I...”

“Sustained.”

“So,” Selby said, “Carr invited you to come to his office for the sole and specific purpose of being a witness to that will, so that in the event of a contest you could get on the witness stand and testify just as you are now testifying.”

“That also is a conclusion of the witness,” Carr objected. “And I may state, your Honor, that I consider this examination most unfair.”

“It may be a conclusion of the witness,” Judge Fairbanks said, “but counsel can reach it in another way.”

“Thank you, your Honor, I will,” Selby said. “Did you have any business which you discussed with Mr. Carr at the time you went to his office that afternoon?”

“Well... I...”

“Yes or no.”

“No.”

“You entered the office with a three o’clock appointment. You waited until about five minutes past three until two women came in. You made no objection when those women were received an Carr’s private office ahead of you at a time when you had an appointment. You waited until Mr. Carr called you, then you went in and executed the attestation clause of the will as a witness and then you went out. Is that right?”

“Well, I guess so, yes.”

“And Miss Eleanor Preston was still in Carr’s office when you went out?”

“Yes.”

“And Martha Otley was seated in the outer office?”

“Yes.”

“And there was no other business which you had to transact with Mr. Carr that afternoon?”

“No.”

Selby smiled. “I think that is all.”

Dawson, running his hand over his perspiring forehead, scrambled from the witness stand with eager alacrity.

“Of course, your Honor,” Carr said, “I protest that the examination of this witness was handled in such a way, a shrewd, skillful way, if you wish, but nevertheless in such a way it was made to seem that this witness had been accused of a crime. I think the jury should be admonished that counsel had no right to ask that question and that the jury are not to consider it as evidence.”

Judge Fairbanks said, “I ruled the question out. Of course the witness cannot be impeached by showing he was accused of crime. But when it comes to showing bias, I am not so certain...”

“But, your Honor,” Carr protested, “that’s the very crux of the matter. Counsel has...”

Judge Fairbanks cut him off. “I think, Mr. Carr, that any obligations of the witness to counsel may be irrelevant. I...”

The judge looked up as a commotion in the back of the courtroom caused him to frown.

For a moment there was a swirling among the spectators who were standing in the back of the courtroom, and then Sheriff Brandon came pushing through, and there was that in his manner which caused proceedings to come to a halt. Even Judge Fairbanks, pausing in mid-sentence, watched in silence as the sheriff proceeded with set fixity of purpose to the bar where Selby was sitting.

The sheriff bent over Doug Selby. “Can you get out of here, Doug?”

“What is it?” Selby whispered.

“That little old woman, Mrs. Irwin, the one with the flower.”

“What about her?”

“She’s been poisoned.”

Selby was on his feet beside Rex, unconscious of the fact that every eye in the courtroom was fixed on them.

“Serious?” he asked. “Fatally?”

“No, it’s arsenic. Her stomach’s been pumped out and I think she’s going to make it all right. Can you get a continuance or get away from here somehow?”

Selby reached a sudden decision. “Sit down, Rex, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Selby turned to address the court. “May it please the Court. I have just learned that there has been another poisoning case at the Madison Hotel. The sheriff has asked me to accompany him. Might I ask for a brief continuance, perhaps an hour or so.”

Carr said suavely, “Your Honor, I dislike to object, but after all, Major Selby’s connection with the County is no longer official. It’s merely a matter of friendship for the sheriff. In the meantime, the rights of my client...” here Carr paused to bend deferentially over the demure Anita Eldon, “certainly are entitled to some consideration.”

Judge Fairbanks nodded.

“In that event,” Selby said in a ringing clear voice, “the next witness for the contestants will be Hattie M. Irwin.”

“Is Mrs. Irwin in court?” asked Judge Fairbanks.

“Unfortunately she is not,” Selby said. “She is a witness for the contestants and I understand that she has been poisoned.”

The reaction of the spectators was a collective gasp of startled surprise.

“Your Honor,” Carr thundered, “I resent that. I resent the imputation. I resent the manner in which counsel has presented that to the court.”

Selby said, “I am stating facts.”

“You have no right to state such facts.”

Selby said, “I want Hattie M. Irwin to take the stand.”

“Was Mrs. Irwin subpoenaed by you?” Carr asked.

“She was.”

Carr couldn’t conceal his surprise. “When?” he asked, and the question was almost an ejaculation of incredulity.

“At approximately seven-fifteen this morning,” Selby said.

The courtroom was silent, watching the battle of wits between these two men — Carr feeling his way, a past-master in the art of ring generalship, Selby, fighting mad, belligerently insistent.

“As I understand it,” Carr said, “under those circumstances, counsel may make a motion for continuance, and, as a part of that motion, may state what he expects the witness to swear to. Then the other side has the option of stipulating that if the witness were called she would so testify.”

Selby took the bull by the horns. “I can’t state what this witness would testify to,” he said, “because I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Carr asked with just the right expression of profound surprise. “Then why on earth did you subpoena her?”

“Since you’ve asked the question,” Selby said, “I’ll answer it. I subpoenaed her because I know that she knows something that is such a vital fact in this case that someone has tried to seal her lips by administering poison — and I want to find out what it is before she dies.”

“I object,” Carr roared. “I cite that as prejudicial misconduct.”

“You asked me a question and I answered it. Stand up there and ask me some more questions and I’ll answer them.”

“Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” Judge Fairbanks said. “This is neither the time nor the place for an altercation such as this. Do I understand that the witness who is incapacitated has been subpoenaed by the contestants, but that the contestants are not in a position to state what they expect her to testify to?”

“That is correct.”

“Over the objection of counsel,” Judge Fairbanks said, “I hardly feel that a continuance should be granted under those circumstances. The Court will, however, take a fifteen-minute recess, during which it is possible that some agreement may be reached by counsel. Court will take a fifteen-minute recess.”

Selby gave hasty instructions to Inez Stapleton. “Keep away from Carr. Don’t let him pump you. The Court probably won’t grant the continuance. Put your next witness on the stand. Do the best you can with him. Just stall for time. I’m going to rush out there and see if I can find out what she knows.”

“You think she knows something, Doug?”

“You bet she knows something,” Selby said, “and I’m going to find out what it is.”