The judge’s eyebrows made an inquiry, but he didn’t say anything.
“It’s not a sudden decision. I’m planning to live on my ranch in Wyoming.” In response to another wiggle of the judge’s eyebrows, he added, “I expect my retirement to be permanent. If an appeal is necessary in this case, it can be handled by the appeal firm of Esterhaus and Lowry.”
“Is your wife going with you?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She’s not and I’m not. There’s no one else to consider.”
The judge leaned his back against the hood of his car, his arms crossed. “You know, Donnelly, I’ve been hearing rumors about you for years. I never took them seriously.”
“Maybe you should have,” Donnelly said. “Good night. Why not?”
“Because I figured you as the kind of person who had enough guts to come out of the closet years ago.”
“You were wrong,” Donnelly said.
In spite of an almost sleepless night, Judge Hazeltine was in good spirits and opened the day’s session exactly on time, ten o’clock.
He addressed the jury.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an extraordinary situation on our hands which must be dealt with in an extraordinary manner. Mrs. Pherson’s green case has been found but remains locked. Since neither prosecution nor defense is willing to accept it as evidence until its contents are revealed, I am therefore taking it upon myself to have it unlocked in the presence of everyone in the courtroom.
“Mr. Lorenzen, the locksmith I’ve called in, has nothing to do with the trial and is not a witness, will not be sworn. As a nonwitness Mr. Lorenzen is not obliged to answer any questions. His job is to open the case as quickly as possible and go back to his own work. Bailiff, will you bring Mr. Lorenzen in, please?”
The bailiff escorted into the well a small, alert man in his forties carrying a worn black satchel. He nodded at the judge, whom he knew from the judge’s habit of locking himself out of his car.
“Your job,” the judge told Lorenzen, “is to unlock the green case on the small table between the bench and the jury box. Give the case a perfunctory examination, and make comments if you like, but don’t ask questions.”
“It appears to be a jewel case, or a makeup case, with a covering of fine old leather. It has obviously been exposed to some dirty water containing oil among other things. In contrast with the leather covering the lock is new. It’s made of stainless steel and is considerably sturdier than the small locks usually found on jewel cases, pieces of luggage and the like. Even a novice burglar could open this in a couple of minutes.”
“And a nonnovice locksmith?”
“Seven seconds ought to do it. It’s one of those locks that are installed to reassure the owner more than for real protection.”
From his satchel he took a long, thin instrument, which he inserted in the lock.
“Five seconds,” Lorenzen said. “Shall I open the lid?”
“No, I prefer to do it myself. You’re free to go. Thank you for coming, Mr. Lorenzen.”
The judge waited for Lorenzen to leave the courtroom before he lifted the lid of the case. Then he stepped back to give Owen and Donnelly their chance to see the contents.
Owen looked and turned pale. “Why, it’s just dirt,” he said. “Just plain dirt.”
“It’s not dirt,” Donnelly said. “It’s ashes.”
“What do you mean, ashes? Like from a fireplace? My God, you can’t mean it’s a person?”
“I think so. I could be more positive if the bench and the prosecution doesn’t object to my feeling the ashes with my hand.”
No one objected so Donnelly put his hand in the ashes, using his fingers as a kind of sieve. He found a small shard of bone and a tooth, a molar badly discolored but still identifiable. He gave both these items to the judge, who in turn passed them down to Owen.
Donnelly said, “This is or was a human being.”
The Judge returned to the bench, tapped his gavel and declared a ten-minute recess while the counselors met in his chambers.
In chambers the judge sat in the swivel chair behind his desk. He looked at the one-eyed owl on top of the bookcase. Then he turned his gaze on Owen.
“Your case has just been blown out of the water, Mr. Owen.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Do you believe that a man would murder a woman for a box of ashes?”
“He didn’t know they were ashes. He thought they were jewels.”
“What would lead him to that conclusion?”
“She told him.”
“That’s not in character for a woman like Mrs. Pherson.”
“Mrs. Pherson was doing a lot of things that weren’t in character.”
It was the judge’s decision to recall to the witness stand Dr. Woodbridge to establish whether the ashes belonged to a person. Woodbridge was not available until afternoon. Another delay. The rest of the morning was declared a recess. Donnelly spoke for the first time. “I intend to ask Your Honor for dismissal of all charges against my client.”
“Don’t waste your breath. I shall deny it.”
Dr. Woodbridge was the first witness of the afternoon. He sifted through the ashes, using his fingers as a kind of sieve. He testified that the ashes were those of a small, thin person. In addition to the molar and shard of bone found by Donnelly, he discovered another shard of bone and a lady’s wristwatch and gold wedding ring, initialed on the inside, R. M., B. K. It was obvious that neither watch nor wedding ring had been through the cremation process but had been added after the process was finished.
Tylor Pherson was recalled to the stand. Asked to identify the ring and wristwatch, he testified that they both belonged to his wife’s mother, Ruth Maddox, who had died at the beginning of spring.
“Where were Mrs. Maddox’s ashes usually kept?”
“In a large Chinese vase in my wife’s sitting room. I wanted proper interment in the cemetery, but Madeline wouldn’t hear of it. I didn’t realize until now how deeply her mother’s death had affected Madeline. She always put on a good front for the world. She said she hated to spread sorrow.”
“Where did Mrs. Pherson usually keep the green leather case?”
“In a floor safe in her main clothes closet.”
“Since her death have you had occasion to open that safe?”
“No.”
“Would you say it’s a fair guess that the jewels are in the safe right now?”
“It seems like a fair guess, yes.”
“Do you know the combination of your wife’s safe?”
“No. Madeline and I had a good deal of respect for each other’s privacy and belongings.”
“Who does know the combination?”
“Her attorney.”
“Where does he practice his profession?”
“Bakersfield.”
“Would he be in his office right now?”
“I believe so. He’s not a trial lawyer, so most of the time he spends in his office.”
“If you were to phone him during afternoon recess, do you think he’d be willing to go over to your house and open Mrs. Pherson’s safe to ascertain the presence or absence of the jewels?”
“Yes.”
“Would you do that, Mr. Pherson.”
“All right.”
Richie Arnold was the last recall witness of the day. He appeared with his father during the recess. The two sat side by side in the front row. Instead of the court clothes his father had bought him for his first appearance, Richie wore his beach outfit, tight jeans and a muscle shirt. He and Harry had been arguing about it ever since the district attorney had called in the morning.
“You look like a bum,” Harry said.
“I’m not a bum.”
“Well, you look like one. How are people to know the difference, whether you look like one or are one?”