Wishful Seeing (23 page)

“Well,” said Ashby. “There you have it. So what do we do now?”

“I think we should have some cake,” Thaddeus said. “I wasn't hungry for it before, but I think what we all need now is a big piece of cake to go with our tea. Don't you agree, Mr. Ashby?”

“By all means, Mr. Lewis.”

Martha bustled into the pantry and retrieved the cake. She set it in the middle of the table and cut off a large piece for Caroline and smaller pieces for the rest of them.

“Now that's what I call a proper midnight lunch,” Thaddeus said. “Nothing but cake,” and was rewarded with a small smile from the still-sniffling girl.

By the time they had finished, Caroline was yawning.

“Would you like to go back to bed now?” Martha asked. “You've had enough excitement for one day.” The girl nodded and slipped off her chair.

They waited to speak again until they heard her footsteps along the upstairs hall, although, Martha realized, it didn't really make any difference. Caroline would hear them anyway, if she wanted to. She'd been listening all along. It had taken her a long time to trust them, that was all.

“The Palmer clan knew Howell was there,” Thaddeus said. “If Leland Gordon could figure it out, so could they. They were watching the whole time. That's why I kept meeting the old man on the road. Howell went back to the farm to get Caroline, and he couldn't get out again.”

“But they couldn't turn him in,” Ashby said. “They didn't know what he'd done with the agreement.”

“And they didn't know if he saw who fired the shot,” Thaddeus pointed out. “But all they had to do was keep him bottled up at the farm until the trial was over and Ellen took the blame. Then they'd let him go if he handed over what they wanted.”

“The cave-in upset all their plans, didn't it?” Martha said. “There were too many people around. We'd have noticed them.”

“And Howell jumped at the opportunity to get away. A horse all saddled up and ready to go — I expect he just rode into the middle of the construction and blended in with the work crew. Even if someone questioned it, he could pretend he didn't speak English and no one would think twice about it. Even if the Palmers were watching, he could fall in with the wagoners and ride right out of there.”

“That explains why he didn't take Caroline with him,” Ashby said. “She'd have given the game away.”

“Caroline wouldn't have gone anyway,” Martha said. “Not until she'd rescued her dog.”

“The question is,” Thaddeus said, “how do we prove any of this?”

“No,” Ashby said, “the question is: how do I introduce any of this in court?”

It was the first time Martha had ever seen him look unsure.

Ashby's first witness the next morning was Mrs. Beecroft, a local dressmaker. He held the stained blue dress aloft for the jury to see once more, and then handed it to Mrs. Beecroft for examination.

“This dress has been altered,” she said after she had made a show of looking at it. “It has been taken in and the skirt shortened to fit someone smaller than the last owner.”

“Is this a common practice?” Ashby asked.

“Oh my, yes — in, out, up, down. Some dresses, particularly those that are originally of high quality like this one, can be passed around ten or fifteen times before they finally wear out.”

“And, in your opinion, would the dress in its current state fit the accused?”

“I would say not, though it's hard to tell unless you hold it up against a person.”

“With your permission, Mr. Justice?” And when Stephens nodded, Ashby helped Ellen Howell down from the prisoner's box and over to the witness stand. She must be having a bad day, Thaddeus thought, or the pervasive dampness of the gaol cell was taking its toll, for her limp was quite noticeable. She looked frail and vulnerable, and he could see two or three of the jury members frowning in thought.

Mrs. Beecroft shook out the dress and held it up against her.

“Now, you see, this waist would never go around her,” she said. “And the skirt ends just below the knee. No lady would go out in a dress this short.”

And again, every head in the room swivelled to the front row bench where Caroline was sitting.

Thaddeus glanced at the prosecutor. He looked furious. Martha was right — it was the sort of detail that would never occur to a man, but one that had the potential to sink Garrett's entire case.

Constable Miller was called next and confirmed that he had arrested two men who had attempted to break into the Methodist Episcopal Manse the night before.

“And could you tell the court the identities of these men?” Ashby asked.

“Donald Dafoe and Jack Plews.”

“And could you read for the court, please, the list of their personal effects that you catalogued at the time of arrest?”

Constable Miller took out his notebook and cleared his throat. “Mr. Plews — one key, one handkerchief, one piece of string …” This caused a small titter in the room. “Three American nickels, four halfpenny Bank of Canada tokens, twenty dollars in Northumberland Bank notes. Mr. Dafoe — one handkerchief, one comb, one English pound, one hundred dollars in Montreal Bank notes, and a return passage steamer ticket from Burlington to Cobourg, Canada West, dated September tenth.”

“Objection!” Prosecutor Garrett was on his feet. “This has no relevance.”

“I will show relevance with my next witnesses, if it pleases the court.”

“Please do, Mr. Ashby, or I'll strike the testimony.”

Thaddeus was surprised when Ashby next called James Small, but on reflection he supposed he shouldn't have been. Small had no connection with the case and would make an ideal witness to the events of the night before.

Small kissed the Bible and swore his oath in a firm voice, Adam's apple bobbing up and down at an alarming rate.

“Mr. Small, would you please recount, in your own words, the events of October twenty-first.”

“I was riding the eastern portion of Hope Circuit.”

“You are a minister, sir?”

“Yes, I am on a probationary appointment for the Methodist Episcopal Church. I had just finished leading a prayer meeting in Sully and was headed south when I met my supervising minister, Mr. Thaddeus Lewis, and his granddaughter.”

There was a slight stir in the crowd. Many apparently recognized his name, but whether this was because of his fame as a preacher or the rumours that had spread about him, Thaddeus had no way of knowing.

“Mr. Lewis indicated that he was on his way to George Howell's farm,” Small went on, “in order to leave some food on behalf of Howell's neighbours, who were concerned about the welfare of the Howell daughter. While there, a railway crew working at the rear of the farm uncovered a small cave, which had collapsed during the excavation of building materials.”

James told the story of the dog rescue in a straightforward manner, but elicited a laugh from the crowd when he related how he had come to with a wad of banknotes plastered to his head.

“And what did you do with these notes after you were taken home?”

“Mr. Lewis instructed me to give them to you, which I did.”

Ashby strode to his table and held aloft the handful of blood-stained notes.

“I would like to offer these in evidence,” he said. “I should also like to present with them an affidavit I obtained from the auditor of our local Bank of Montreal stating that they are not legal tender. They are, in fact, counterfeit.”

A gasp and a ripple of comment went through the crowd.
There's probably not a single one of them that hasn't been stung by a bogus note,
Thaddeus thought. He glanced at Ellen Howell, who had managed to sink even lower in the box as her husband's reputation was blown to tatters.

“I would also like to point out that insofar as the serial numbers on the notes are legible, they appear to be part of the same series as the note discovered on Spook Island.” He turned again to Small. “And now would you please tell the court about your experience last night.”

“I haven't been sleeping well since my accident, so I was up reading my Bible when I heard a dog barking next door. There was a nearly full moon last night, so I was able to see that a man was attempting to force a ground floor window at the manse next door.”

“This is the manse where Mr. Thaddeus Lewis resides?”

“Yes. My first concern, of course, was for the safety of Mr. Lewis's granddaughter.”

Martha made a face.

“Stop it,” Thaddeus whispered.

“But …”

“Shh.”

“By the time I reached the yard,” Small went on, “Mr. Lewis had wrestled the man to the ground. At that point I realized that there was a second man at the bottom of the garden, and I was able to hold him until some members of my family arrived to help subdue him. Then we sent my brother for the constable, who searched the men and took them away.”

“It was Digger who stopped him,” Martha said.

“Ssh.”

Had the circumstances not been so serious, Thaddeus would have laughed at the look on the prosecutor's face as he rose for cross-examination. He seemed at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Mr. Small,” Garrett said. “You stated that you were struck on the head when the cave collapsed. Could this not have affected your memory?”

“It did for a time, but it was only temporary. I have since regained my full faculties.”

“You stated that you first noticed the banknotes when you recovered your senses.”

“No, sir. I first noticed them when we were removing debris in an attempt to retrieve the dog. There were a number of loose notes mixed in with the rubble.”

“And you didn't remark on this at the time?”

“No sir. At the time we were all engaged in attempting to dig through a wall of dirt without bringing it all down on ourselves.”

“I see.” It was clear that Garrett was unhappy with Small's answers. He changed course.

“Do you normally keep such a close eye on the Methodist manse?”

“Yes, I do. When Mr. Lewis first agreed to come on the Hope Circuit, he stated that his granddaughter would be keeping house for him, and as she is still quite young, he wondered if our family could assist her should any emergency arise. I have taken this responsibility very seriously.” He looked at Martha as he said it.

“Wonderful,” Martha whispered. “Now everybody knows that Small is sweet on me.”

“I see,” the prosecutor said. “Is it fair to say that you would do anything for this young lady?”

And bless James Small, Thaddeus thought, in spite of the fact that the question was a blatant attempt to discredit him, he gave the perfect answer.

“I would do anything within my means and the bounds of my conscience, yes,” he said. “But I am a man of God and I therefore hold myself to a high moral standard.”

Garrett gave up. “No further questions.”

His expression became even gloomier when Ashby re­­call­­ed Donald Dafoe. Two constables brought Dafoe into the courtroom. He was in handcuffs.

Ashby held in his hand the yellowed document Caroline had given them the night before, although he didn't immediately refer to it. Dafoe seemed to know what it was and he couldn't take his eyes from it.

“Mr. Dafoe,” Ashby began, “could you please state your relationship to Mr. John Plews?”

“He's my cousin.”

“Are you aware that your cousin, Mr. Plews, has filed a suit in the Court of Chancery against Paul Sherman and his brother Daniel?”

“What Jack does is his business.”

“And who, please, is Josiah Palmer?”

“He was our grandfather.”

“And is it not true, Mr. Dafoe, that if your cousin's suit against the Shermans is successful, you and your family would gain control of some lands that have become very valuable?”

Dafoe mumbled his answer. “I suppose so.”

“Mr. Dafoe, according to the documents filed in Chancery, the case hinges on an agreement between Mr. Sherman's grandfather and your own, which was thought to be lost and has recently been recovered. Can you tell me where and when, exactly, this elusive agreement was found?”

“Objection. Mr. Ashby is referring to documents that have not been presented to the court.”

“I apologize, Mr. Justice Stephens. This evidence has come to light so recently that copies of the court documents have not yet arrived. However, as prosecution's own witness has acknowledged the existence of the suit, I fail to understand Mr. Garrett's objection.”

Justice Stephens mulled this over, his eyes narrowed. Then finally, he said, “For the time being, Mr. Ashby, you may proceed.”

Ashby turned to Dafoe again. “Were you aware of the sudden discovery of this long-lost agreement?”

Dafoe squirmed and hesitated.

“I will remind you that you are under oath, Mr. Dafoe. You have already stated that you would be a beneficiary if the case was successful. I don't see how you would know that unless you were aware of the agreement.”

“Yes. Jack told me about it.”

“Did he mention how it came to be found?”

“He said it turned up.”

“And yet, even though your cousin had discovered a document that would mean a significant improvement in both your fortunes, you didn't think to ask him where he found it or what he had done with it? It wasn't filed with the suit. Didn't you think that was odd?”

“Objection. Counsel is leading the witness.”

“Overruled, Mr. Garrett. Mr. Dafoe is a hostile witness and I have already allowed the cross.”

Ashby positively beamed. “Well, Mr. Dafoe, did you not think this was odd?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“And what was even odder, and I really don't know why you didn't question this, is that it was in the possession of Mr. George Howell.”

“Objection!” The prosecutor was on his feet again, but Dafoe answered before the judge could rule. “Jack said we could trust the Major to look after it.”

“Did you personally trust Mr. Howell? Weren't you afraid that he would double-cross you by attempting to blackmail Paul Sherman?”

Silence. “Answer the question, Mr. Dafoe,” the judge instructed.

“Jack trusted him.”

“Were you aware that Mr. Howell had been passing counterfeit money in the Cobourg area?”

“How would I know that?” Dafoe growled.

“Mr. Ashby!” the justice cautioned.

Ashby forged ahead in spite of the warning. “Did it not occur to you that the agreement might be a forgery?”

“Objection!” Garrett howled.

“I'll withdraw.”

At that moment Thaddeus looked at Ellen Howell, whom everyone seemed to have forgotten in the unfolding drama. There were tears streaming down her face.

Ashby paused for a moment, as if in deep thought.

“Constable Miller has testified that he found you with a great deal of money last night. Where did it come from?”

“I just had it.”

“And he also found a Burlington steamer ticket.”

“Yes. I went there last month to see my cousin.”

Ashby walked over to the table and picked up the three heavy ledgers that Martha had searched. “And yet, Mr. Dafoe, your name does not appear on any passenger lists.” He handed the ledgers to the clerk.

Then he turned back to Dafoe.

“When did you realize that it was Caroline Howell, and not Ellen Howell, on the island that day?”

“I didn't see either of them.”

“Did she see you rifle Sherman's pockets?”

“Objection. Mr. Dafoe has no way of knowing what someone else saw.”

“I withdraw. What were you going to do if you found her at the manse?”

“I just wanted to know if she had the piece of paper.”

“And one last question, Mr. Dafoe. Do you own a Baker rifle?”

“Yes.”

And the courtroom erupted in a commotion that went on for several minutes, until Justice Stephens finally threatened to clear the room.

Thaddeus expected the prosecutor to question Dafoe again after this, but Garrett evidently felt that enough damage had been done, and was reluctant to let his witness dig an even bigger hole in his case. He had formulated one last salvo, though. He stood. “I call reply evidence.”

“Fair enough, I'll allow it,” Stephens said.

“I call Mr. Thaddeus Lewis.”

“Objection!” Ashby was on his feet. “Mr. Lewis has not been sequestered as a witness. He has been present throughout the proceedings.”

Stephens fixed Ashby with a glare. “Based on the evidence presented so far, Mr. Lewis appears to have been instrumental in furnishing a great deal of your defence. He could scarcely be categorized as a witness for the prosecution. Objection overruled.”