“I’m not sure how the bills have been paid.”
“You know that you haven’t paid them; isn’t that correct?”
“I have not paid them.”
“You have assumed, have you not, that Mr. Anderson has been paying . . . Wait.” Micah stopped himself and held up a finger. “Let me rephrase that,” he said. “You have assumed, have you not, that the bills have been paid for your rooms and your meals for some four months now by the office of the county attorney?”
Eggers didn’t respond.
“Isn’t that true, madam?”
“Yes,” she finally said.
“Thank you.” Micah scanned the notes he had taken during Mrs. Eggers’s direct examination by Thomas Blythe. “Let me see here. I believe you said your husband passed on some fifteen years ago?”
“That’s right.”
“And you have been employed in one fashion or another ever since that time?”
“I have.”
“Are you employed now?”
“Well, no.”
“And you have not been employed since you left Dr. Hedstrom; isn’t that true?”
Mrs. Eggers raised her chin. “I did not leave Dr. Hedstrom. I was dismissed and thrown into the street.”
“Ah, yes, you were dismissed. You didn’t think the doctor was very fair in the way he handled that, did you?”
“I most certainly did not.”
“He was rather brusque, wasn’t he?” Micah fired off this question as soon as Mrs. Eggers had answered his last.
“To say the least.” She answered just as fast.
Immediately he asked, “Rude?”
“Very.”
They were speaking with such speed there was a stream of scratching from the court reporter’s pencil.
After the last answer, though, Micah paused. Finally, he said, “Yes, very rude,” and paused again. “You were spending considerable time with the doctor, weren’t you?”
“As his housekeeper and nurse, yes, a great deal of time.”
“All day in his clinic,” said Micah, “and all afternoon and evening in his living quarters?”
“That’s correct.”
Micah turned from the witness and faced his client. “The truth is, Mrs. Eggers, Dr. Hedstrom is a truly strange man, isn’t he?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“Well, let’s face it,” Micah said, still looking at Chester, “this fella is one odd duck; isn’t he?” He turned back to Mrs. Eggers. “I’ve known him since we were children. I expect I know him as well as anyone, and I’ll say right here on the record, this man is the weirdest sack of beans I’ve ever run across.”
Laughter filled the auditorium.
With a smile, Chester stood and shouted, “I object, Your Honor.”
There was more laughter, this time even from the judge.
“Would you like to tell me where you’re going with this, Mr. McConners?” Walker asked.
“Yes, Your Honor, I’d be glad to. Mrs. Eggers came to know the defendant well over the course of more than a year. She not only knew him in his professional capacity as his nurse, but from working as his housekeeper she knew him in his private life as well. I was wondering if she would agree with me that Dr. Hedstrom is—” Micah searched for a word “—well, that he’s peculiar.”
“I’ll allow you to continue with that.” The judge turned to Chester. “I guess I’ll have to overrule your objection, Doctor. Sorry.”
Chester gave Walker a little salute as he sat down. “That’s all right, Judge.”
“So, Mrs. Eggers,” continued Micah, “would you agree that the doctor here is a bit peculiar in his ways?”
Now even Eggers seemed to be enjoying herself. “I’m not sure peculiar’s the word. But I would go along with what you said earlier.”
“What’s that?”
“That he’s the weirdest sack of beans I’ve ever run across.”
Micah’s smile widened. “His view of the world is different than yours and mine; would you agree with that?”
“I’d say he views the world different than everybody.”
“Tell us more about that, Mrs. Eggers.”
“Well, he’s filled his house with machines, for one thing. He has gadgetry of every kind and description. He even has electricity wires running into the library. And he’s always cranking up that—what do you call it—that big engine thing outside?”
“The generator?”
“Right. That thing sends electricity right into the house. I tell you, it’s scary. You don’t ever know what that stuff is going to do.” There were rumblings of agreement from the spectator section. “I lived in constant fear that it was going to shoot out at me like lightning every time I passed by the library. And also, it’s the way the man talks, the things he talks about. He’s always trying to predict the future. He thinks he’s some kind of fortune-teller or something—always talking about the twentieth century this and the twentieth century that. How grand it’s all going to be. How human beings will be able to be something better than they’ve ever been before.”
Micah nodded. “It gets a bit tiring,” he said, not without some conviction of his own, “wouldn’t you agree?”
“He’s a know-it-all, is what he is.”
“The truth is you don’t like Dr. Hedstrom very much, do you?”
She leaned forward in her chair and said in a hard, even voice, “I have never liked that man.” But seeming to realize how that sounded, she sat back and added, “I mean as an employer, of course. As an employer, he was not a pleasant man to work for.”
“Particularly at the end,” Micah said.
“Yes.”
“I take it the doctor was harsh in his behavior when he let you go.”
“He was indeed.”
Again Micah thumbed through his notes. “I believe you told Mr. Blythe you felt the primary reason the doctor hired you was because of your nursing skills; is that correct?”
“That is my belief from what he said.”
“How extensive is your training, Mrs. Eggers?”
“Well, I can claim no formal training, sir, but I have had considerable training on-the-job, you might say.”
“And where might that have been, Mrs. Eggers?”
“At the home for girls.”
“Yes, you mentioned that place earlier. What exactly did you do there, ma’am, in terms of nursing?”
“Everything that was needed to be done. We had close to eighty girls, and there was always something or other that needed to be done. It was there I gained some training in the surgery as well, although it’s true I’ve received most of my training for that from Dr. Hedstrom.”
“What caused you to leave that position at the home?”
“I wished to return to Wyoming. I was sad to leave the girls. They had all become like my own daughters. The girls, the other staff members, the director, they all begged me to stay because we had become so much like family. But I missed Wyoming, and finally I gave my notice and left.”
“I expect the rudeness of your dismissal by Dr. Hedstrom was difficult for you, particularly since your previous position had ended on such a high note.”
“Yes, it was. I had never been fired in my life. Nor—” She glared at Chester. “—have I ever been treated the way that man treated me on that night.”
“I believe you said that the home for girls was in Omaha; is that correct?”
“I don’t think I said it was in Omaha,” Eggers said. Her brow wrinkled.
“Perhaps you didn’t.” Micah reached in his file folder and removed a set of papers held together with a paperclip. “I have here, Mrs. Eggers, a transcript of a statement you gave the county attorney some months ago. Have you had an opportunity to see this?” he handed her the transcript.
“Yes, I have seen it. Mr. Blythe showed it to me last week.”
Micah took the papers back and returned to the lectern. “You say in here that you were
employed at the Bowen Home for Wayward Girls; is that correct?”
Mrs. Eggers turned to the bench. “Judge,” she asked, “what does this have to do with anything that Dr. Hedstrom did to that poor girl?”
“Please answer the questions, madam,” Walker said. “If the prosecutors feel they need to make an objection, I’m sure they will.”
“Was the home for girls in Omaha?” Micah repeated.
“Yes.”
Micah pulled another sheet of paper from his folder and approached the witness. “I have here a carbon copy of a letter dated September 24, 1897. It carries the letterhead of the Bowen Home for Wayward Girls, Omaha, Nebraska. It is signed by Mr. Emerson Bowen. Can you tell me, Mrs. Eggers, to whom that letter is addressed?”
“It is addressed to me.”
“Do you remember receiving it?”
Mrs. Eggers’s eyes widened and she looked across the stage to Blythe. Blythe didn’t move. “I believe I’ve seen this at one time, yes.”
“The letter itself has been typed, but if you will notice, there’s a handwritten notation at the lower right-hand corner. Would you read that, please?”
Mrs. Eggers shifted in her seat. “ ‘Original letter hand-delivered to Mrs. Jane Eggers, September 25, 1897.’ ”
“I would like to offer this as Defendant’s Exhibit A, Your Honor.”
Blythe stood. “May I see it, Your Honor?”
Walker looked to Micah, jerked his head toward the prosecution table, and Micah handed the letter to Blythe.
Blythe took his time reading it. When he finally spoke it was in a tone that communicated it was silly that the letter should even be offered. “Your Honor,” he said, “we would object. This has no relevance whatsoever.”
“Let me see it,” said the judge. He read it much faster than had Thomas Blythe. “Overruled,” he said. “Defense Exhibit A’ll be received.”
Micah took the letter back to the witness stand and handed it to Mrs. Eggers. “Madam,” he said, “would you be so kind as to read this document to the gentlemen of the jury?”
The woman gave Micah a scowl over the top of the paper, but after a moment, she lowered her eyes and began to read. “ ‘To Mrs. Jane Eggers,’ ” she began.
“I believe you’ll need to speak up, ma’am. The jurymen seem to be having a difficult time hearing you.”
She began again, a little louder this time. “ ‘To Mrs. Jane Eggers. Dear Mrs. Eggers, this is to inform you that as of your receipt of this writing your services as dorm maid and dishwasher at the Bowen Home for Wayward Girls will no longer be required.’ ”
Mrs. Eggers stopped. Her face had turned scarlet, and a vein bulged at her temple.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” said Micah in a soft, polite tone, “but the letter goes on. Would you please continue?”
Mrs. Eggers cleared her throat and read on. “ ‘I feel as though I have done more than is required of any employer to assist you in maintaining your employment here at the home. I have overlooked your petty disputes with coworkers, your deleteriousness in the performance of your duties, and your prevarications to your superiors. I shall not, however, overlook your stealing the home’s supplies and selling them on the streets of the city. Hence, your dismissal will be effective immediately. Signed, Emerson Bowen, Director, The Bowen Home for Wayward Girls.’ ”
Micah crossed and took the letter from Mrs. Eggers. He made a show of scanning its contents. “I may be wrong, Mrs. Eggers, but I don’t believe Mr. Bowen mentioned that you had any duties as a nurse; am I right about that? Does this say anything about duties as a nurse?”
He handed the letter back to her, but she answered without looking at it. “No.”
“And despite what you said earlier, I believe this letter indicates that you were dismissed from your position at the home for girls; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
The woman muttered her answer, but Micah didn’t ask her to repeat it. He knew the jury had heard. “Thank you,” he said, and the theater was as still as a stone.
Micah took the letter to the court reporter’s desk and placed it there. Jeb Blake was in charge of the exhibits once they were admitted into evidence.
“Let’s move on to something else, Mrs. Eggers,” Micah said as he crossed the stage to where there stood an easel that held a large pad of white paper. He carried the easel over to the witness stand, took his Conklin Crescent Filler fountain pen from his inside coat pocket, and unscrewed the cap. “On the day of the abortion, you saw a horrible sight; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Micah cupped his hand around his ear. “I’m sorry?”
“Yes,” she said, “I did.”
“You saw, if I understood your testimony, the doctor using that instrument—what did you call it?”
“The curette.”
“Right, the curette. You actually saw him using the curette to scrape the fetus from the uterus of Polly Pratt.”
“I did. It was dreadful.”
“I can only imagine,” said Micah. “Perhaps you can refresh my recollection and explain to the members of the jury how the doctor’s clinic is laid out. Could you do that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you can enter the clinic both from Main Street—” Micah drew two parallel lines on the far right-hand side of the paper.
“That’s right.”
“—as well as from inside the house.”
“Yes.”
He drew a large rectangle that nearly filled the page. “We’ll let this represent the house, okay? Are you still with me so far?”
“Yes.”
He drew two horizontal, parallel lines along the bottom of the page. “Let’s let this be Sixth Street.”
“All right.”
“Now I don’t care how the living quarters of the house is laid out, Mrs. Eggers. All I’m interested in for the sake of our discussion this afternoon is the clinic.” Micah drew a smaller rectangle within the larger rectangle. “Let’s say this area is the clinic, all right?”
“All right.”
“Now how many rooms comprise the clinic?”
“There’s the waiting area and the doctor’s office with the small examination table in it. There are examination rooms one and two. And, of course, the surgery.”
“So, what, five rooms make up the clinic itself; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’ll tell you what, Mrs. Eggers, rather than me standing here and trying to guess how all of those rooms are positioned, why don’t you step down to the easel and within the smaller of these two rectangles show us how it all fits together? Would you do that?” Micah turned to the judge. “With leave of the court, of course.”
“Go ahead,” said Walker.
Mrs. Eggers hefted her ample frame from the witness chair and came over to where Micah stood. Micah handed her his pen and said, “Now, madam, please, take your time and draw in the rooms as you know them to exist in Dr. Hedstrom’s clinic.” Micah stepped back and watched as the woman drew in lines to represent the various rooms.
“There,” she said when she was finished, “that looks about right.”
Micah took the pen from her. “All right, I assume the room where you show the door going to the street would be the waiting area.”
“Yes.”
Micah wrote “waiting room” on the paper. “And this one?”
“Examination room one.”
He wrote that in and pointed to the next place she had drawn.
“Examination room two. Next to that is the surgery and next to that is the doctor’s private office.”
“All right,” said Micah, “and the area you have drawn here would be the hallway connecting everything to the rest of the house; is that correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Very good. Thank you, ma’am. You may resume the stand.” Mrs. Eggers started back to her chair. “Oh, excuse me, Mrs. Eggers, before you go, please draw in
the surgical table in the surgery and show how it is situated in the room.”
He handed her the pen once more, and she did so.
“Thank you. Now show the door in examination room two where you were standing when you watched the procedure.”
She drew that as well.
“Excellent,” said Micah. “Now you may resume the stand. I promise not to have you draw another thing.” Micah turned his attention to the drawing. “May I assume, madam, that as you watched the procedure take place you were standing right here?” He pointed to a spot next to the door she had placed between examination room two and the surgery.
“That’s right.”
He marked an X at that location. “And as I understand the way it works—and I realize this is quite indelicate, Mrs. Eggers, so please forgive me—the patient is on the table and her legs are placed in what you earlier referred to as stirrups; is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And these stirrups are located at the end of the table closest to the door at which you were standing.”
“That’s right.”
Micah spent a long moment eyeing the diagram. “Well,” he said, nodding, “if you were standing at this door right here, that, as I see it, would allow you a clear, straight-line view of this end of the surgical table itself.” He tapped the paper indicating where he meant.
“Yes, perfect.”
“How far away would you say you were standing from the end of the table where the stirrups were located?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not too good with distances, but I would guess less than ten feet.”
“Maybe as far away as I am from you?”
“I would say so,” the woman agreed.
Micah marked “Defense Exhibit B” on the diagram and said, “I would like to offer the diagram at this time, Your Honor.”
Blythe said, “No objection.”
“It will be received,” said Walker.
Micah screwed the cap on his pen and returned it to his coat pocket. “It must have been a horrible, horrible experience to watch something like that at such a proximity.”
Mrs. Eggers looked down at her hands. “Yes,” she said, “it was.”
“All right,” Micah said, “thank you, madam.” He picked up his notes and tapped them into alignment on the lectern. Sliding the papers into the file folder, he walked to counsel table, placed the folder on the table, and said, “Oh, I guess I do have one more question. There’s something I don’t quite understand.” He walked back to the easel. “We have you, Mrs. Eggers, standing right here, correct?” He pointed to the X. “And you were facing this end of the table, the end with the stirrups; isn’t that right?”
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