“At the time you first examined her body, Dr. Cushman, how long would you say she had been dead?”
“’Bout three hours.”
“And your examination took place at what time?”
“’Tween five and five-thirty, thereabouts.”
“Go on.”
“Saw right off it was a case of homicide. Fierce multiple blows on top of the head, compound and complicated fractures of the skull — it was cracked in several places like a dropped squash and the gray matter’d been smashed right into. Worst head injuries I’ve ever seen outside some bad auto accidents.”
“Could these frightful wounds, in your opinion, have been self-inflicted?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Could Mrs. Adams have lingered after being struck?”
“Instantaneous death.”
“What did you do then, Doctor?”
“Phoned the county coroner in Cudbury, then waited beside the body till Coroner Barnwell got there. We agreed an autopsy wasn’t necessary, as the cause of death was so plain to see. I signed the death certificate, then I went back to Comfort leavin’ Coroner Barnwell there.”
“When you first examined the body, Doctor, did you see anything that might have been the weapon lying near the body?”
“I did. A heavy iron poker. It was spattered with blood and bits of brain tissue and it was bent out of shape a bit.”
“Is this the poker you saw?” Ferriss Adams held it up, and the room was deathly still.
“Aya.”
“You mean yes, Dr. Cushman?”
“Yes.”
“Is there the slightest doubt in your mind that this poker was the instrument of Fanny Adams’s death?”
“No.”
“Have you any additional reason for that opinion, Dr. Cushman, besides the bloody appearance of the poker?”
“Fracture lines in the cranium, and the shape and depth of the wounds in the brain, were just such as would have been produced by an instrument of this kind.”
“Exhibit A, your honor... Your witness, Judge Webster.”
Andy Webster tottered forward. Two or three of the women murmured resentfully. Judge Shinn had to rap on his table with the darning egg he had filched from Aunt Fanny Adams’s sewing basket.
“You have testified, Dr. Cushman,” said Cudbury’s oldest legal light, “that when you examined the deceased she was dead about three hours, and you have also testified that the time of your examination was ‘between five and five-thirty.’ Can you be a little more exact about the time?”
“Time I examined?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t know’s I can. Got there, I said, a bit after five, finished with the body around five-thirty.”
“Was she dead three hours figuring from ‘a bit after five,’ or three hours from ‘around five-thirty’?”
“Now I can’t answer that,” said Dr. Cushman indignantly. “Mighty hard to put your finger on an exact time of death. Lots of considerations — temperature of body, rigor mortis, post mortem lividity, temperature of room, whether the body’s been moved — don’t know how many questions come up. You couldn’t get it to the minute, anyway. Most times you’re lucky if you can get it to the hour.”
“Then it’s your opinion that if other evidence indicated the time of death as having been, say, thirteen minutes after two on the afternoon you saw the body, that would square with your guess as to the time of death?”
“Yes!”
“Dr. Cushman, did you form any opinion as a result of your examination regarding the relative positions of the deceased and her attacker during the commission of the crime?”
The boiled eyes blinked. “Pa’don?”
“Would you say,” said Judge Webster, “that the blows were struck as Mrs. Adams faced her murderer, or as she was partly turned away from her murderer, or as she had her back turned to her murderer?”
“Oh! Facin’ him. Dead on.”
“That’s a fact? The blows were all frontal?”
“That’s right.”
“She was facing her murderer. He could not have crept up on her from behind?”
Ferriss Adams leaped to his feet with a display of fury. The question, he shouted, was not within the witness’s competence, it was improper cross-examination, and so forth. Andy Webster shouted back with surprising vigor. Judge Shinn allowed them to shout for some time. Then he calmly overruled the objection and directed the witness to answer.
“Crept up on her from behind?” Dr. Cushman shrugged. “Might, might not have. If he did, she must have heard him and turned round in time to get whacked from in front.”
Ferriss Adams grinned ferociously at Andy Webster, and Andy Webster made a fine show of chagrin. He was about to sit down when Johnny got out of his campchair and said, “Your honor, may I say something to defense counsel?”
“Certainly, Mr. Shinn,” said Judge Shinn cheerfully.
Johnny came around and whispered to Andy Webster for a moment. The jury whispered, too, angrily. Rebecca Hemus made an audible remark about “interferin’ furriners.”
The old man nodded, and Johnny went back to his seat.
“Dr. Cushman,” said Judge Webster, “what was the height of deceased, do you know?”
“Five foot five. Good height for an old woman—”
“Would you say that the wounds on Fanny Adams’s head, five feet five inches from the floor, are such as could have been inflicted by a man only five feet seven inches in height?”
“Objection!” roared Ferriss Adams; and again they went at it. And again Judge Shinn directed the witness to answer.
“I couldn’t form such an opinion,” said Dr. Cushman, “without knowin’ in exactly what position she was when she was hit. If her head was bent forward, it’d make all the difference.”
“Nevertheless, assuming deceased was standing erect with her head in the normal position, isn’t it true—”
“Objection!”
In the end, the Judge had the question struck. He was gauging his rulings, Johnny thought, more or less by the measure of the expressions on the face of the jury. Peague was writing away furiously, looking awed.
Andy Webster waved and sat down and Ferriss Adams jumped up again.
“Just to get this one point clear, Dr. Cushman. It is your opinion that a man five feet seven inches in height could have inflicted the wounds in question?”
“Object!” yelped Andy Webster.
“Overruled.” It seemed to Johnny that Judge Shinn’s reason for this ruling had little or nothing to do either with proper examination or his overall plan to foul up the record. He simply wanted to hear the answer.
“Could, if her head was in a certain position. Couldn’t, if it wasn’t.” Dr. Cushman was eying old Andy with great hostility. “Just can’t say. Expect nobody could.”
The Comfort physician was excused.
The next witness called by Ferriss Adams was the bailiff himself. In all gravity the presiding justice rose, came around his “bench,” picked up the Bible, and administered the oath. Then he went back to presiding.
“You found the body of Fanny Adams, Constable Hackett?”
“Yep.”
“Tell us what happened on the afternoon of July fifth — how you happened to find the body and what happened afterwards.”
Burney Hackett told his story. How at ten minutes after three on Saturday afternoon he had left his house to walk over to the Adams house to see Aunt Fanny about an insurance plan for her valuable paintings, how he had arrived a few minutes later to find the kitchen door open and the rain beating in, and how he had discovered Aunt Fanny’s dead body on the floor of her “paintin’ room” next to the kitchen. He identified Exhibit A as the poker he had found beside the body.