Calamity Town (27 page)

Judge Martin glanced earnestly at what his witness had written, and then, with a smile, passed the sheet around the jury box, together with the photostat of Jim's undisputed handwriting. From the amazement on the jurors' faces as they compared the photostat with Grenville's forgery, Ellery knew the blow had told.

On cross-examination, Carter had only one question to ask the witness. ‘Mr Grenville, how many years has it taken you to learn the art of forging handwriting?'

It seemed Mr Grenville had spent his whole life at it.

Victor Carlatti to the stand. Yes, he is the owner of a roadhouse on Route 16 called the
Hot Spot
. What sort of establishment is it? A night club.

Q
.—Mr Carlatti, do you know the defendant, James Haight?
A
.—I've seen him around.

Q
.—Has he ever visited your night club?
A
.—Yeah.

Q
.—Drinking?
A
.—Well, a drink or two. Once in a while. It's legal.

Q
.—Now, Mr Carlatti, there has been testimony here that James Haight allegedly admitted to Mrs Haight that he had ‘lost money gambling' in your establishment. What do you know about this?
A
.—It's a dirty lie.

Q
.—You mean James Haight has never gambled in your night club?
A
.—Sure he never.
Nobody
ever—

Q
.—Has the defendant borrowed any money from you?
A
.—He nor nobody else.

Q
.—Does the defendant owe you a single dollar?
A
.—Not a chip.

Q
.—As far as you know, has the defendant ever ‘lost' any money in your establishment? Gambling or any other way?
A
.—Maybe some broad may have took him to the cleaners while he was feeling happy, but he never shelled out one cent in my place except for drinks.

Q
.—You may cross-examine, Mr Bradford.

Mr Bradford murmurs, ‘With pleasure,' but only Judge Eli hears him, and Judge Eli shrugs ever so slightly and sits down.

Cross-examination by Mr Bradford:—

Q
.—Carlatti, is it against the law to operate a gambling parlor?
A
.—Who says I operate a gambling parlor? Who says?

Q
.—Nobody ‘says,' Carlatti. Just answer my question.
A
.—It's a dirty frame. Prove it. Go ahead. I ain't gonna sit here and take no double-cross—

Judge Newbold:
The witness will refrain from gratuitous remarks, or he will lay himself open to contempt. Answer the question.

A
.—What question, Judge?

Q
.—Never mind. Do you or do you not run roulette, faro, craps, and other gambling games in the back of your so-called ‘night club'?
A
.—Am I supposed to answer dirty questions like that? It's an insult, Judge. This kid ain't dry behind the ears yet, and I ain't gonna sit here and take—

Judge Newbold:
One more remark like that—

Judge Martin:
It seems to me, Your Honor, that this is improper cross. The question of whether the witness runs a gambling establishment or not was not part of the direct examination.

Judge Newbold:
Overruled!

Judge Martin:
Exception!

Mr Bradford:
If Jim Haight did owe you money lost at your gambling tables, Carlatti, you'd have to deny it, wouldn't you, or face prosecution on a charge of running a gambling establishment?

Judge Martin:
I move that question be stricken—

A
.—What is this? All of a sudden all you guys are getting angels. How do you think I been operating—on my sex appeal? And don't think no hick judge can scare Vic Carlatti. I got plenty of friends, and they'll see to it that Vic Carlatti ain't going to be no fall guy for some old goat of a judge and some stinker of a D.A.—

Judge Newbold:
Mr. Bradford, do you have any further questions of this witness?

Mr Bradford:
I think that will be quite sufficient, Your Honor.

Judge Newbold:
Clerk, strike the last question and answer. The jury will disregard it. The spectators will preserve the proper decorum or the room will be cleared. Witness is held in contempt of court. Bailiff, take charge of the prisoner.

Mr Carlatti puts up his dukes as the bailiff approaches, roaring: ‘Where's my mouthpiece? This ain't Nazzee Goimany!'

When Nora took the oath and sat down and began to testify in a choked voice, the court was like a church. She was the priestess, and the people listened to her with the silent unease of a sinning congregation confronted by their sins…Surely the woman Jim Haight had tried to do in would be against him? But Nora was not against Jim. She was for him, every cell in her. Her loyalty filled the courtroom like warm air. She made a superb witness, defending her husband from every charge. She reiterated her love for him and her unquestioning faith in his innocence. Over and over. While her eyes kept coming back to the object of her testimony, those scant few feet away, who sat with his face lowered, wearing a dull red mask of shame, blinking at the tips of his unpolished shoes.

‘The idiot might be more cooperative!' thought Mr Queen angrily.

Nora could give no factual evidence to controvert the People's case. Judge Martin, who had put her on the stand for her psychological value, did not touch upon the two poisoning attempts preceding New Year's Eve; and in a genuine act of kindness, Carter Bradford waived cross-examination and the opportunity to quiz her on those attempts. Perhaps Bradford felt he would lose more in good will by grilling Nora than by letting her go.

Mr Queen, a notorious sceptic, could not be sure.

Nora was to have been Judge Martin's last witness; and indeed he was fumbling with some papers at the defense table, as if undecided whether to proceed or not, when Pat signalled him furiously from inside the railing, and the old gentleman nodded with a guilty, unhappy look and said: ‘I call Patricia Wright to the stand.' Mr Queen sat forward in the grip of a giant tension he could not understand.

Obviously at a loss where to begin, Judge Martin began a cautious reconnaissance, as if seeking a clue. But Pat took the reins out of his hands almost at once. She was irrepressible—deliberately, Ellery knew; but why? What was she driving at?

As a defense witness, Pat played squarely into the hands of the People. The more she said, the more damage she did to Jim's cause. She painted her brother-in-law as a scoundrel, a liar—told how he had humiliated Nora, stolen her jewelry, squandered her property, neglected her, subjected her to mental torment, quarrelled with her incessantly…Before she was half through, the courtroom was sibilating. Judge Martin was perspiring like a coolie and trying frantically to head her off, Nora was gaping at her sister as if she were seeing her for the first time, and Hermy and John F. slumped lower and lower in their seats, like two melting waxworks.

Judge Newbold interrupted Pat during a denunciation of Jim and an avowal of her hatred for him. ‘Miss Wright, are you aware that you were called as a witness for the defense?'

Pat snapped: ‘I'm sorry, Your Honor. But I can't sit here and see all this hush-hush going on when we all know Jim Haight is guilty—'

‘I move—' began Judge Martin in an outraged bellow.

‘Young woman—' began Judge Newbold angrily.

But Pat rushed on. ‘And that's what I told Bill Ketcham only last night—'

‘
What!
'

The explosion came from Judge Newbold, Eli Martin, and Carter Bradford simultaneously. And for a moment the room was plunged in an abyss of surprise; and then the walls cracked, and Bedlam piled upon Babel, so that Judge Newbold pounded with his third gavel of the trial, and the bailiff ran up and down shushing people, and in the press row someone started to laugh as realization came, infecting the whole row, and the row behind that. ‘Your Honor,' said Judge Martin above the din, ‘I want it to go on record here and now that the statement made by my witness a moment ago comes to me as an absolute shock. I had no faintest idea that—'

‘Just a moment, just a moment, Counsel,' said Judge Newbold in a strangled voice. ‘Miss Wright!'

‘Yes, Your Honor?' asked Patty in a bewildered way, as if she couldn't imagine what all the fuss was about.

‘Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you told
Bill Ketcham
something last night?'

‘Why, yes, Your Honor,' said Pat respectfully. ‘And Bill agreed with me—'

‘I object!' shouted Carter Bradford. ‘She's got it in for me! This is a put-up job—!'

Miss Wright turned innocent eyes on Mr Bradford.

‘One moment, Mr Bradford!' Judge Newbold leaned far forward on the Bench. ‘Bill Ketcham agreed with you, did he? What did he agree with you about? What else happened last night?'

‘Well, Bill said Jim was guilty, all right, and if I'd promise to—' Pat blushed—‘well, if I'd promise him a certain something, he'd see to it that Jim got what was coming to him. Said he'd talk to the others on the jury, too—being an insurance man, Bill said, he could sell anything. He said I was his dream girl, and for me he'd climb the highest mountain—'

‘Silence in the court!' bellowed Judge Newbold.

And there was silence. ‘Now, Miss Wright,' said Judge Newbold grimly, ‘are we to understand that you had this conversation last night with the William Ketcham who is Juror Number 7 in this trial?'

‘Yes, Your Honor,' said Pat, her eyes wide. ‘Is anything wrong with that? I'm sure if I had known—' The rest was lost in uproar.

‘Bailiff, clear the room!' screamed Judge Newbold.

‘Now, then,' said Judge Newbold. ‘Let's have the rest of it, if you please!'—so frigidly that Pat turned
café au lait
and tears appeared in the corners of her eyes.

‘W-we went out together, Bill and I, last Saturday night. Bill said we oughtn't to be seen, maybe it wasn't legal or something, so we drove over to Slocum to a hot spot Bill knows, and—and we've been there every night since. I said Jim was guilty, and Bill said sure, he thought so too—'

‘Your Honor,' said Judge Martin in a terrible voice, ‘I move—'

‘Oh, you do!' said Judge Newbold. ‘Eli Martin, if your reputation weren't…You there!' he roared at the jurist. ‘Ketcham! Number 7! Get up!'

Fat Billy Ketcham, the insurance broker, tried to obey, half hoisted himself, fell back again, and finally made it. He stood there in the rear row of the jury box, swaying a little, as if the box were a canoe.

‘William Ketcham,' snarled Judge Newbold, ‘have you spent every evening since last Saturday in the company of this young woman? Did you promise her to influence the rest of the jury—Bailiff! Chief Dakin!
I
want that man!
'

Ketcham was trapped in the main aisle after knocking over two fellow jurors and scattering the people inside the rail like a fat tom charging a brood of chicks.

When he was hauled up before Judge Newbold, he chattered: ‘I didn't m-mean any harm, J-Judge—I d-didn't think I was doing wrong, Judge—I s-swear to you—everybody knows the s-sonofabitch is guilty—'

‘Take this man in custody,' whispered Judge Newbold. ‘Bailiff, station guards at the doors. There will be a five-minute recess. Jury remain where you are. No one now present is to leave the courtroom!' And Judge Newbold groped for his chambers.

‘That,' said Mr Queen while they waited, ‘is what comes of not locking juries in. It's also,' he added to Miss Patricia Wright, ‘what comes of scatterbrained brats meddling in grown-up people's affairs!'

‘Oh, Patty, how could you?' wept Hermione. ‘And that impossible Ketcham man, too! I warned you he'd make improper advances if you encouraged him. You remember, John, how he used to pester Patty for dates—'

‘I also remember,' said John F. wildly, ‘where my old hair-brush is!'

‘Look,' said Pat in a low voice. ‘Jim was in a bad spot, wasn't he? All right! So I worked on Fat Billy, and he drank a lot of Martinis, and I let him make a pass or two at me…Go ahead and l-look at me as if I were a loose woman!' And Miss Wright began to cry. ‘Just the same, I did something none of
you
has been able to do—watch and see!'

‘It's true,' said Ellery hastily, ‘that we had nothing to look forward to but a conviction.'

‘If only…' began Nora, a great bright hope on her pale face. ‘Oh, Patsy, you're mad, but I love you!'

‘And is Cart's face r-red,' blubbered Pat. ‘Thinks he's smart…'

‘Yes,' pointed out Mr Queen dryly. ‘But look at Judge Martin's.'

Old Eli Martin came over to Pat and he said: ‘Patricia, you've placed me in the most embarrassing position of my life. I don't care about that, or the ethics of your conduct, so much as I do about the fact that you probably haven't helped Jim's chances, you've hurt them. No matter what Newbold says or does—and he really hasn't any choice—everybody will know you did this deliberately, and it's bound to bounce back on Jim Haight.' And Judge Martin stalked away.

‘I suppose,' said Lola, ‘you can't scratch an ex-judge without stuffiness leaking out. Don't you worry, Snuffles! You gave Jim a zero-hour reprieve—it's better than he deserves, the dumb ox!'

‘I wish to state in preamble,' said Judge Newbold coldly, ‘that in all my years on the Bench I have encountered no more flagrant, disgraceful example of civic irresponsibility. William Ketcham!' He transfixed Juror Number 7, who looked as if he were about to faint, with a stern and glittering eye. ‘Unfortunately, there is no statutory offense with which you can be charged, unless it can be shown that you have received property or value of some kind. For the time being, however, I order the Commissioner of Jurors to strike your name from the panel of jurors, and never so long as you are a resident of this State will you be permitted to exercise your privilege of serving on a jury.'