Birdie's Nest (30 page)

Judge Tyler pounded the gavel on the sound block. “Mr. Douglas and Mr. Johnson, I suggest we postpone calling the two victims until first thing in the morning. Is that agreeable?”

“Yes, your honor.”

“Fine by me.”

“Good. Then court is adjourned until eight thirty in the morning.”

Detective Ethan walked her out of the courthouse. “Do you have time for lunch?”

“Sure, as long as it’s a short one. I have several other stops to make today before heading home. Tad has threatened to come looking for me if I’m not home by seven.”

“I can’t blame him in the least.”

After a quick lunch at a café on the square, the detective walked her to the livery stable to pick up Strawberry. An hour later she left Dr. Floyd’s office in a state of shock. She was pregnant. Her baby would be born sometime in the middle of February, a little more than a year since Nathan’s birth. The doctor assured her all was as it should be, though what they knew about a woman’s health in the nineteenth century she didn’t have a clue. But, she did know being active helped with labor and delivery and she’d always been the picture of health. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction. She couldn’t wait to share the news with Tad.

In her state of distraction, she almost forgot to stop by the architect’s office. Mr. Teague had her plans ready. They spent an hour going over them. She asked for several changes. Yes, they were different from her original home but would allow for modernization to be much easier. They left space in the ceilings for air conditioner ducts, space in the walls for insulation, added three small bathrooms and a larger one by the master suite, and she insisted it be wired for electricity even though it might be several years before it would be available to them.

Mr. Teague shook his head. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Lockhart, but the expense is adding up.”

“I understand. And if the money is not there to add the bathroom fixtures and indoor running water, the space and plumbing will be there for later.”

“Do you know when you’ll have the funds to begin?”

“I have enough for clearing the land and beginning the foundation. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Yes, that will get us started.”

She stood and shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Teague. I’m so pleased with the plans. You’ve done an excellent job.”

He beamed. “My pleasure, ma’am. I’ll have a copy of the adjusted plans next week if you want to stop by.”

* * *

Tad found excuses to stay close to the barn after lunch in case Birdie came home early. His attention wandered to the road from town more than it should have. Suddenly, there she was, flying down the road. She pulled Strawberry to a stop just outside the barn. Before he could help her down, she’d swung herself from the saddle and threw herself into his arms.

“Congratulations, my love. You’re going to be a papa again!”

He caught her to his chest. “Birdie, you’re sure?”

“Well, Dr. Floyd said so. How much surer can I get?”

Words escaped him. He tried to talk but a roaring in his ears drowned out his words. The ground was suspiciously moving around him.

“Hey, don’t you faint on me, mister.” She pulled Strawberry close and propped him up against her.

“Me…faint? Never.” But his knees threatened to buckle and he grabbed the saddle horn to steady himself.

“Take some deep breaths. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

He was already feeling better. “I did not almost faint.” With his free hand, he cupped her face. “Are you pleased, Birdie?”

She turned her face into his palm and pressed a kiss there. “I’m ecstatic, husband.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tad insisted she learn to handle the surrey and until she did he’d be driving her into town. She’d humor him and then do what she wanted. He slid in beside her at the courthouse. Fortunately they’d arrived early enough to get a good seat. Detective Ethan nodded as they settled in their seats.

The DA stood. “Your honor, I’d like to offer into evidence several items, all of which were found in Mr. Samuelson’s home.”

“Proceed, Mr. Douglas.”

The DA raised each item as he set them on the table. “This is a bottle of cologne, a package of Duke of Durham cigarettes, a knife with blood evidence on it, a gray wool suit with a button missing and a receipt from an exclusive men’s shop in town.” He allowed the jurors to get a good look before he laid them down.

“Now, I wish to introduce items found at the crime scene and show you their relationship to the articles presented earlier.”

He carefully opened the bags they’d taken such care in keeping contamination free. With a pair of tweezers he lifted the cigarette butt out and carried it to where the jurors could see the connection. When he came to the small scrap of paper they’d found, he held it to the corner of the receipt found in Samuelson’s suit pocket. Jurors leaned forward to get a close look. “I think you can all see the two pieces are a perfect match.” Some nodded in agreement, others didn’t alter their expressions of reservation. He put each item back in its bag.

“Now, your honor, I’d like to call Lila Sanders to the witness stand.”

A bailiff opened the door and Lila, wearing a hooded cloak, walked haltingly through the group of gaping people in the courtroom. One man said quite clearly, “Whore,” with an ugly sneer on his face. Lila stopped midway along the aisle, as if frozen in indecision.

Another male voice barked out, “Slut!” in a threatening tone. “You got what you deserved.”

Birdie’s heart jumped into her throat.
No, don’t back out now, Lila.

Judge Tyler hit the sound box once and the
crack!
resounded around the room. Lila appeared to take a steading breath and continued forward.

The judge turned to the bailiff, standing to his side. “Did you see who made those remarks?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Escort them from the courtroom immediately.” The bailiff dragged a resisting man from a bench and hustled him toward the door. The other fella, face flaming, stood on his own and walked out.

The judge peered over his glasses at those present. “You will keep your remarks to yourself. This is my courtroom and when I say no talking, I’ll enforce my mandate to the letter. If you want to get kicked out of here, just open your mouth.”

Lila entered the witness box and was sworn in. The judge studied her intently. “Miss Sanders, I apologize for the uncouth behavior of those two men.” She turned to him and nodded. “Now, I need you to do two things for me—speak a little louder, and please lower your hood. It’s important that the jurors be able to see you when you testify.”

She lowered the hood. The scars on her cheeks had healed but left large, ugly welts. Muscle had been damaged on one side, making her mouth slant downward. Big tears rolled down her face and Birdie could see by the movement of her shoulders she struggled not to sob out loud. Women in the courtroom gasped and at the sound of the gavel striking again, covered their mouths to stifle their cries. The men shook their heads or looked away.

Birdie glanced at John Samuelson to watch his reaction. He didn’t look up, just doodled on a pad of paper.

“All right then,” said Judge Tyler. “You may begin, Mr. Douglas.”

He approached the witness box and stood to the side so as not to block anyone’s view, but at his close presence, Lila sat a little straighter. “Miss Sanders, will you relate the events as they occurred on the night of February 3, 1891.” She told how she was grabbed from behind, beaten and then while unconscious, slashed across her face.

“Were you able to see the man’s face?”

“No, sir. He wore a mask.”

“What do you remember most about him?”

“His height, that he wore a bowler hat and the smelly cologne he wore.”

Mr. Douglas produced a bottle and using one of the cards provided by the store, touched it to the opened bottle. He waved it in the air before handing it to Lila. “Is this the scent?”

She held it to her nose, shuddered and quickly thrust it away. “Yes!”

The sample was passed to the judge. He took a whiff. “Nasty stuff.” Samuelson’s ears reddened at the judge’s remark. Judge Tyler t turned to Lila. “Are you positive this is the right cologne?”

Lily raised her chin. “Yes, sir. One hundred percent sure.”

Judge Tyler nodded and then waved for the DA to continue.

“I might add, judge, the bottle here came from John Samuelson’s home.”

“Get on with it, Douglas.”

“Did he say anything to you, Miss Sanders?”

“Yes. He called me a bitch, whore and a child of Satan.”

“Were you conscience when he cut your face?”

“No, sir. He hit me all over my body and face. My head hit something and when I woke up he was gone. It was then I realized my face was bleeding bad.” Lila visibly trembled. Birdie wanted to do something to ease her distress but stayed seated.

Mr. Douglas patted her hand. “You’ve done very well, Miss Sanders. Thank you for being brave enough to face the courtroom and bear witness against the accused.”

Judge Tyler cleared his throat. “Mr. Johnson, would you like to question the witness?”

The pompous man rose and tugged on his vest as he strutted forward. “Yes, indeed I would, judge.” He leaned on the witness box. “Now, Miss Sanders, why should we believe anything you say?”

For a minute Birdie thought Lila would crumble. But her expression hardened and she glared at him. “Look at my face, Mr. Johnson. Do you think this is makeup I’m wearing? Do you think I’d expose myself to the ridicule of the community for a lie?”

“Well now, how do we know it wasn’t a purchaser of your… unseemly commodities who did this to you and you’re just trying to blame it on this good man?”

“If I’d been treated like this in the house, Madam would’ve seen to it that he didn’t rough up another one of her girls. She takes care of her own.”

“Are you saying he’d have been murdered?”

“No, I’m just saying he wouldn’t be able to frequent our neighborhood again…if you know what I mean.”

Face pale, he said, “No more questions, your honor.” He walked back to his table, looked at Samuelson for a moment and then at his notes before sitting down.

The DA rose. “The defense calls Miss Rose Means to the stand.”

After escorting Lila out of the courtroom, the bailiff returned with Rose. Her body shook so, he took her elbow to help her make the short walk down the aisle. Mr. Douglas met her and patted her hand reassuringly as he led her to the witness box. The bailiff swore her in.

“Now, Miss Means, would you describe the events of February 17, 1891?”

Rose raised her head so all could see her scars. Fortunately they weren’t as bad as Lila’s as muscle and nerves hadn’t been severed. She spoke clearly as if supported by an unseen force. Pride in the girl swelled Birdie’s heart.

The DA turned to the jury. “You can see her facial scars, but Miss Means has other scars, ones you can not see.” He turned back to Rose. “I hate to ask, but the jury needs to know. Please describe the hidden scars.”

Rose took a deep breath. “He cut me across the top of my breasts and down to my pelvis.” With her hand she mimicked the direction the knife had taken.

One of the ladies in the courtroom fell into the aisle in a dead faint. Doctor Franks rushed forward with smelling salts. A few minutes later her husband and the doctor helped her from the room.

“Carry on, Mr. Douglas,” ordered the judge.

“Your honor, with your permission, we’re going to conduct a smelling experiment to further solidify the importance of the fragrance in this case against Mr. Samuelson.”

Mr. Johnson rose. “I object, your honor.”

“On what grounds, counselor?”

“The district attorney is resorting to theatrics.”

“Overruled, counselor. You may proceed, Mr. Douglas.”

Mr. Douglas moved a folding screen to separate the table he’d moved perpendicular to the judge’s bench and the witness stand. He lined up bottles of all the colognes they’d presented to the two ladies before they found the Fougere Royal. “I’d like for one of the ladies in the courtroom to come up and help.” He gazed around the room. “Do I have a volunteer?” Several hands went up. “You ma’am, at the very back with the green hat.”

She stood and walked forward. “Thank you, Mrs...? ”

“Hoover, Lydia Hoover.”

“Mrs. Hoover, do you know Mr. Samuelson?”

“Yes. Mr. Hoover and I attend the same church as the Samuelsons. Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all. Are you related to anyone on the police department?”

“No, sir.”

“What does Mr. Hoover do for a living?”

“He’s a journalist.” She nodded toward a gentleman on the second row. He raised a hand in greeting.

“One last question. Have you ever met me before?”

“Not that I recall.”

“So, it’s safe to say you and I have not collaborated on this experiment prior to today.”

Her jaw dropped, her expression indignant. “Of course not!”

“Fine then.” He took her elbow and led her to the table. “If you’ll change these bottles into a different order and then one at a time, dab a little sample of each on one of these cards. Use this pencil to number each one. Don’t open another bottle until the witness has had a chance to smell the first one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. Let’s get started then.”

Mrs. Hoover rearranged the five bottles and then dabbed a small amount on the first sample. Mr. Douglas took it, waved it in the air, rounded the screen and handed it to Miss Means. She smelled the card and shook her head. The cycle continued with negative results until they came to number four.

“This is the one.”

“Are you positive, Miss Means? There is another sample.”

She waved the card. “No doubts. This is it.”

He returned to Mrs. Hoover. “Would you please tell the court the name of the fragrance?”

She picked up the bottle, read the name and giggled. “I don’t think I can pronounce it, but it is from France.”

“I realize it’s hard to pronounce.” He raised his voice. “Anyone in here speak French?”

Birdie glanced around the room. When no one raised his or her hand, she raised hers. “I speak a little.”