Calamity Town (22 page)

Under oath, J.P. Simpson, proprietor of Simpson's Pawnshop in the Square, Wrightsville, testifies that in November and December last James Haight pledged various items of jewelry at Simpson's Pawnshop.

Q
.—What kind of jewelry, Mr Simpson?
A
.—First one was a man's gold watch—he took it off his chain to pawn it. Nice merchandise. Fair price—

Q
.—Is this the watch?
A
.—Yes, sir. I remember givin' him a fair price—

Q
.—Placed in evidence.

Clerk:
People's exhibit thirty-one.

Q
.—Will you read the inscription on the watch, Mr Simpson?
A
.—The what? Oh. ‘To—Jim—from—Nora.'

Q
.—What else did the defendant pawn, Mr Simpson?
A
.—Gold and platinum rings, a cameo brooch, and so on. All good merchandise. Very good loan merchandise.

Q
.—Do you recognize these items of jewelry I now show you, Mr Simpson?
A
.—Yes, sir. They're the ones he pawned with me. Gave him mighty fair prices—

Q
.—Never mind what you gave him. These last items are all women's jewelry, are they not?
A
.—That's right.

Q
.—Read the various inscriptions. Aloud.
A
.—Wait till I fix my specs. ‘N.W.'—‘N.W.'—‘N.W.H.'—‘N.W.'

Nora's jewelry is placed in evidence.

Q
.—One last question, Mr Simpson. Did the defendant ever redeem any of the objects he pawned with you?
A
.—No, sir. He just kept bringing me new stuff, one at a time, an' I kept givin' him fair prices for 'em.

Judge Martin waives cross-examination.

Donald Mackenzie, President of the Wrightsville Personal Finance Corporation, being duly sworn, testifies that James Haight had borrowed considerable sums from the PFC during the last two months of the preceding year.

Q
.—On what collateral, Mr Mackenzie?
A
.—None.

Q
.—Isn't this unusual for your firm, Mr Mackenzie? To lend money without collateral?
A
.—Well, the PFC has a
very
liberal loan policy, but of course we usually ask for collateral. Just business, you understand. Only, since Mr Haight was Vice-President of the Wrightsville National Bank and the son-in-law of John Fowler Wright, the company made an exception in his case and advanced the loans on signature only.

Q
.—Has the defendant made any payments against his indebtedness, Mr Mackenzie?
A
.—Well, no.

Q
.—Has your company made any effort to collect the moneys due, Mr Mackenzie?
A
.—Well, yes. Not that we were worried, but—well, it was five thousand dollars, and after asking Mr Haight several times to make his stipulated payments and getting no satisfaction, we—I finally went to the bank to see Mr Wright, Mr Haight's father-in-law, and explained the situation, and Mr Wright said he hadn't known about his son-in-law's loan but of course he'd make it good himself, and I wasn't to say anything about it—to keep it confidential. I would have, too, only this trial and all—

Judge Martin:
Objection. Incompetent, irrelevant—

Q
.—Never mind that, Mr Mackenzie. Did John F. Wright repay your company the loan in full?
A
.—Principal and interest. Yes, sir.

Q
.—Has the defendant borrowed any money since January the first of this year?
A
.—No, sir.

Q
.—Have you had any conversations with the defendant since January the first of this year?
A
.—Yes. Mr Haight came in to see me in the middle of January and started to explain why he hadn't paid anything on his loan—said he'd made some bad investments—asked for more time and said he'd surely pay back his debt. I said to him that his father-in-law'd already done that.

Q
.—What did the defendant say to that?
A
.—He didn't say a word. He just walked out of my office.

Judge Martin cross-examines.

Q
.—Mr Mackenzie, didn't it strike you as strange that the Vice-President of a banking institution like the Wrightsville National Bank, and the son-in-law of the President of that bank, should come to
you
for a loan?
A
.—Well, I guess it did. Only I figured it was a confidential matter, you see—

Q
.—In a confidential matter, without explanations or collateral, on a mere signature, you still advanced the sum of five thousand dollars?
A
.—Well, I knew old John F. would make good if—

Mr Bradford:
Your Honor—

Judge Martin:
That's all, Mr Mackenzie.

Not all the evidence against Jim Haight came out in the courtroom. Some of it came out in Vic Carlatti's, some in the Hollis Hotel Tonsorial Parlor, some in Dr Emil Poffenberger's dental office in the Upham Block, some in Gus Olesen's
Roadside Tavern
, and at least one colorful fact was elicited from the bibulous Mr Anderson by a New York reporter, the scene of the interview being the pedestal of the Low Village World War Memorial, on which Mr Anderson happened to be stretched out at the time.

Emmeline DuPré heard the Luigi Marino story through Tessie Lupin. Miss DuPré was having her permanent done in the Lower Main Beauty Shop where Tessie worked, and Tessie had just had lunch with her husband Joe, who was one of Luigi Marino's barbers. Joe had told Tessie, and Tessie had told Emmy DuPré, and Emmy DuPré…

Then the town began to hear the other stories, and the old recollections were raked over for black and shining dirt. And when it was all put together, Wrightsville began to say: Now there's something funny going on. Do you suppose Frank Lloyd was right about Carter Bradford's being the Wrights' friend and all? Why doesn't he put Luigi and Dr Poffenberger on the stand? And Gus Olesen? And the others? Why, this all makes it plain as day that Jim Haight wanted to kill Nora! He
threatened
her all over town!

Chief Dakin was tackled by Luigi Marino before court opened one morning when the Chief came in for a quick shave. Joe Lupin listened from the next chair with both hairy ears. ‘Say, Chefe!' said Luigi in great excitement. ‘I been lookin' all over fora you! I just remember something hot!'

‘Yeah, Luigi? Once over, and take it easy.'

‘Las' Novemb'. Jim-a Haight, he come in here one day for I should cut-a his hair. I say to Mist' Haight, “Mist' Haight, I feel-a fine. You know what? I'm-a gonna get hitched!” Mist' Haight he say that's-a good, who's-a the lucky gal? I say: “Francesca Botigliano. I know Francesca from the ol' countree. She been workin' by Saint-a Louey, but I propose-a in a lett' an' now Francesca she's-a comin' to Wrights-a-ville to be Mrs Marino—I send-a her the ticket an' expense-a mon' myself. Ain't that something?” You remember I get-a married, Chefe…'

‘Sure, Luigi. Hey, take it easy!'

‘So what-a does Mist' Haight say? He say: “Luigi, nev' marry a poor gal! There ain't-a no per-cent-age in it!” You see? He marry that-a gal Nora Wright for her mon'! You get-a Mist' Bradford put me on-a stand. I'll tell-a dat story!'

Chief Dakin laughed. But Wrightsville did not. To Wrightsville it seemed logical that Luigi's story should be part of the trial testimony. It would show that he married Nora Wright for her money. If a man would marry a woman for her money, he'd poison her for it, too…Those ladies of Wrightsville who were so unfortunate as to have lawyers in the family heard a few pointed remarks about ‘admissible' testimony.

Dr Poffenberger had actually gone to Prosecutor Bradford before the trial and offered to testify. ‘Why, Haight came to me last December, Cart, suffering from an abscessed wisdom tooth. I gave him gas, and while he was under the influence of the gas he kept saying: “I'll get rid of her! I'll get rid of her!” And then he said: “I need that money for myself. I want that money for myself!” Doesn't that prove he was planning to kill her, and why?'

‘No,' said Bradford wearily. ‘Unconscious utterances. Inadmissible testimony. Go ‘way, Emil, and let me work, will you?'

Dr Poffenberger was indignant. He repeated the story to as many of his patients as would listen, which was practically all of them.

Gus Olesen's story reached the Prosecutor's ears by way of Patrolman Chris Dorfman, Radio Division (one car). Patrolman Chris Dorfman had ‘happened' to drop into Gus Olesen's place for a ‘coke'
(he
said), and Gus, ‘all het up,' had told him what Jim Haight had once said to him, Gus, on the occasion of a ‘spree.' And now Patrolman Chris Dorfman was all het up, for he had been wondering for weeks how he could muscle into the trial and take the stand and get into the papers.

‘Just what is it Haight is supposed to have said, Chris?' asked Prosecutor Bradford.

‘Well, Gus says Jim Haight a couple of times drove up to the
Tavern
cockeyed and wanting a drink, and Gus says he'd always turn him down. Once he even called up Mrs Haight and asked her to come down and get her husband, he was raisin' Cain, plastered to the ears. But the thing Gus remembers that I think you ought to get into your trial, Mr Bradford, is when one night Haight was in there, drunk, and he kept ravin' about wives, and marriage, and how lousy it all was, and then said: “Nothin' to do but get rid of her, Gus. I gotta get rid of her quick or I'll go nuts. She's drivin' me nuts!”'

‘Statements under the influence of liquor,' groaned Cart. ‘Highly questionable. Do you want me to lose this case on reversible error? Go back to your radio car!'

Mr Anderson's story was simplicity itself. With dignity he told the New York reporter: ‘Sir, Mr Haight an' I have quaffed the purple flagon on many an occasion together. Kindred spirits, you understand. We would meet in the Square an' embrace. Well do I recall that eventful evening in “dark December,” when “in this our pinching cave,” we discoursed “the freezing hours away”!
Cymbeline
, sir; a much-neglected master work…'

‘We wander,' said the reporter. ‘What happened?'

‘Well, sir, Mr Haight put his arms about me and he said, Quote: “I'm going to kill her, Andy. See ‘f I don't! I'm going to kill her dead!”'

‘Wow,' said the reporter, and left Mr Anderson to go back to sleep on the pedestal of the Low Village World War Memorial.

But this luscious morsel, too, Prosecutor Bradford refused; and Wrightsville muttered that there was ‘something phony,' and buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.

The rumors reached Judge Lysander Newbold's ears. From that day on, at the end of each court session, he sternly admonished the jury not to discuss the case with anyone, not even among themselves.

It was thought that Eli Martin had something to do with calling the rumors to Judge Newbold's attention. For Judge Martin was beginning to look harried, particularly in the mornings, after breakfast with his wife. Clarice, who served in her own peculiar way, was his barometer for readings of the temper of Wrightsville. So a fury began to creep into the courtroom, and it mounted and flew back and forth between the old lawyer and Carter Bradford until the press began to nudge one another with wise looks and say ‘the old boy is cracking.'

Thomas Winship, head cashier of the Wrightsville National Bank, testified that James Haight had always used a thin red crayon in his work at the bank, and produced numerous documents from the files of the bank, signed by Haight in red crayon.

The last exhibit placed in evidence by Bradford—a shrewd piece of timing—was the volume Edgcomb's
Toxicology
, with its telltale section marked in red crayon…the section dealing with arsenic. This exhibit passed from hand to hand in the jury box, while Judge Martin looked ‘confident' and James Haight, by the old lawyer's side at the defense table, grew very pale and was seen to glance about quickly, as if seeking escape. But the moment passed, and thenceforward he behaved as before—silent, limp in his chair, his gray face almost bored.

At the close of Friday's session, March the twenty-eighth, Prosecutor Bradford indicated that he ‘might be close to finished,' but that he would know better when court convened the following Monday morning. He thought it likely the People would rest on Monday. There was an interminable conversation before the Bench, and then Judge Newbold called a recess until Monday morning, March the thirty-first.

The prisoner was taken back to his cell on the top floor of the Courthouse, the courtroom emptied, and the Wrights simply went home. There was nothing to do but wait for Monday…and try to cheer Nora up. Nora lay on the chaise longue in her pretty bedroom, plucking the roses of her chintz window drapes. Hermy had refused to let her attend the trial; and after two days of tears, Nora had stopped fighting, exhausted. She just plucked the roses from the drapes.

But another thing happened on Friday, March the twenty-eighth. Roberta Roberts lost her job. The newspaper woman had maintained her stubborn defense of Jim Haight in her column throughout the trial—the only reporter there who had not already condemned ‘God's silent man,' as one of the journalistic wits had dubbed him, to death. On Friday Roberta received a wire from Boris Connell in Chicago, notifying her that he was ‘yanking the column.' Roberta telegraphed a Chicago attorney to bring suit against News & Features Syndicate. But on Saturday morning there was no column.

‘What are you going to do now?' asked Ellery Queen.

‘Stay on in Wrightsville. I'm one of those pesky females who never give up. I can still do Jim Haight some good.'

She spent the whole of Saturday morning in Jim's cell, urging him to speak up, to fight back, to strike a blow in his own defense. Judge Martin was there, quite pursy-lipped, and Ellery; they heard Roberta's vigorous plea in silence. But Jim merely shook his head, or made no answering gesture at all—a figure bowed, three-quarters dead, pickled in some strange formaldehyde of his own manufacture.