“And Arthea was to lend,” I emphasized, “the money to buy the furs to begin the business?”
“Yes.”
“Now, these checks which Arthea Simpson gave you to buy the furs, were these the same checks which Mr. Curtis, the banker, testified that Miss Simpson gave you, and which you endorsed and cashed?”
“They were the same checks,” Ivy agreed.
“At this time, you had not yet started to operate the little rental business?”
“Not yet. You see, we had only half a dozen furs which really weren’t enough.” Ivy thought that she was to marry Robert Knox and lost interest in the idea of the business—because Knox wouldn’t approve, and she wouldn’t have the time. According to Ivy, Arthea didn’t care to continue it alone. Consequently, Ivy paid Arthea Simpson a thousand dollars for one fur which she kept for her own use, sold two others through advertisements for a total of five hundred dollars, and returned the remaining three stoles to Arthea Simpson—who planned to give them as presents to friends.
I stressed the facts which Ivy had given me, and pounded them home to the jury. “So, of the twenty-six hundred and seventy-five dollars which Arthea Simpson had advanced to you, you repaid her fifteen hundred dollars in cash, and returned the remaining three fur stoles which she accepted in lieu of money. Is that correct?”
“Yes!” Ivy nodded earnestly. “I paid her back completely!”
All right, I thought to myself—there it is. It’s so simple the jury has to believe it. But, also, I realized that there were still holes in Ivy’s story. After Willard had torn at them, perhaps I’d be able to put them back together again in my summation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
During the two days in which Ivy Lorents was on the stand in her own defense, Cyrus March sensed a degree of sympathy beginning to return to the jury. Ivy made a good witness, answering March’s questions simply and directly, and replying in a quietly contained tone. The strain of her efforts, however, was occasionally apparent in the white tenseness of her face. At the close of court, the afternoon of the second day of her testimony, March completed his direct examination.
The following morning, the prosecution took over on cross-examination. Joe Willard was aware that Ivy’s beauty was not lost on the male members of the jury, and he was equally aware that he must not appear, to the women on the jury, to be using bullying tactics. But the D.A., in a methodical manner, calmly attacked the many apparent holes in Ivy’s story. Ivy, however, held up well under his questioning and did not break down. Consequently, Willard was unable to alter the general pattern of the story which she had told to the jury, although he did uncover several points of embarrassment to the witness. How damaging these points were or how important they might become in the minds of the jury, March did not know. He was not surprised by them as he had been prepared by Tim Nordeen’s report and Ivy’s later confession about her fictitious family background. Humiliation was often in Ivy’s manner as she looked helplessly at March for support. Willard’s line of questioning became clear when he began his examination.
“Now,” Willard stated, “you have said your name is Ivy Lorents. Is that correct?” Willard continued his probing until Ivy was forced to admit that her legal name was Iverlene Lauritz. Willard asked her deliberately, “Were you ashamed of your real name?” Ivy attempted to explain that she had changed it for professional reasons.
“And does your family still continue to use the name Lauritz?” Willard prodded.
“Yes.”
“What is your brother’s name?”
Ivy hesitated, then replied. “Thomas Lauritz.”
“When your brother was arrested, did he use that name?” March thundered out his objection, and it was sustained by the court.
“Has your brother Thomas Lauritz ever been arrested?” Willard rephrased.
Ivy nodded her head.
“Please speak up—yes?”
“Yes.” Ivy’s answer sounded faint in the silent room.
“Your brother has been arrested and convicted?”
March turned angrily to Raleigh. “Thomas Lauritz, please Your Honor, is not on trial here—although Mr. Willard would like to make it appear so!”
Raleigh handled his gavel threateningly as he regarded Willard. “I warned you, Mr. Willard…”
Willard broke in smoothly. “Your indulgence, please. There is a reason, which will soon be apparent to the court, for this line of questioning.”
“There’d better be!” Raleigh told the D.A. darkly.
“Did your brother, Thomas, ever own a revolver?” Willard resumed.
“I… don’t know…”
“Didn’t he ever offer you a revolver?”
“No.”
“Did you take… or steal… his revolver?”
“Objection!” March shouted the word in his anger, his fists clenched, as he glowered at Willard.
“Sustained!” Raleigh agreed quickly. “Mr. Willard this has continued far enough.” He addressed the clerk, “Strike all the testimony about the revolver from the record,” he directed.
Willard raised his eyebrows and glanced knowingly at the jury. He had attempted to plant the idea that Ivy came from a criminal background, and he might well have succeeded. Willard continued with circuitous questions until he reached the subject of possible immoral relations between Ivy and Arthea Simpson. “Now,” he said quietly, “you have previously told the jury that you knew about Arthea Simpson’s relationship with other women. Knowing her reputation, did you ever permit her to embrace you?”
“No!”
“Did you ever permit Arthea Simpson to kiss you… perhaps on meeting, or saying goodbye?”
“No.”
“Isn’t it… usual for women to kiss each other, publicly, when meeting each other?”
“Sometimes… I suppose,” Ivy told him.
“You suppose? Don’t you know?”
“It depends. If they’re old friends…”
“But weren’t you and Arthea Simpson old friends?” Willard pressed.
“Not that old!” Ivy denied with hot vehemence.
“But weren’t you good enough friends… old enough friends… that Arthea Simpson was willing to give you over two and a half thousand dollars?”
“She didn’t give it to me. She lent it.” Ivy said in desperation.
“But she still let you have it, didn’t she?”
“Yes…”
“And she was willing to make this… loan, with no enticement from you?” Willard’s voice held disbelief.
“She was willing to do it.”
“You didn’t lead her on… make her believe that you would be her lover?”
“No! No!” Ivy shook her head, at the point of tears. She glanced at March hoping for escape from Willard’s questions. March could only incline his head, in silent support, and he prayed under his breath that Ivy could continue her denials—not give in to the temptation to end her ordeal by surrendering to what Willard was attempting to force her to say.
“You never gave Arthea Simpson the opportunity to place her hands intimately on your body… to fondle you?”
“I object!” March stood by the table. He was helpless to stop Willard at this point, and he knew it.
“This line of questioning has been established,” Willard replied.
“Yes,” Raleigh agreed. “Continue, Mr. Willard.”
Willard’s tone became sharper as he again faced Ivy. “Do you mean to tell the jury that you never permitted Arthea Simpson to fondle you, or caress you?” He paused for emphasis, “To make love to you by unnatural methods?”
Ivy’s hands gripped the arms of her chair for support. “No…” she breathed.
“You never spent the night with her in the same room?”
“No.” More strongly.
“In the same bed?”
“No. No!”
“Yet you permitted her to take you away, as her guest, for weekends?”
“Yes. Sometimes�
��”
“You traveled together?”
“Yes.”
“And you were away together overnight? On occasion… two or three nights?” Willard was pounding his questions, although the quiet tone of his voice belied his savagery.
“Once in awhile…”
“And Arthea Simpson was just a friend? You say you didn’t give in to her physical demands… you didn’t kiss her, or permit her to put her hands on your body, or sleep with her as a lover?” Willard shook his head scornfully. “Do you actually expect the jury to believe that?”
“Yes!” Ivy clung grimly to her reeling emotions. “It’s the truth!”
The jury listened with set expressions as Willard tenaciously continued to try to force Ivy to admit to an immoral relationship. She clung stoutly to her denials.
Eventually, Willard switched to another line in an attempt to establish that Arthea Simpson had been jealous of Ivy’s engagement to Robert Knox. Although he was met by firm denials again, from Ivy, and over March’s continuing objections, Willard struggled to inject the inference that Ivy, blackmailed by Arthea’s threats to disclose their relationship, had killed her Lesbian lover to protect her engagement to the heir of a fortune.
The cross-examination consumed an additional two days, and then the trial was nearly over. After Willard had concluded his cross-examination, both the state and the defense rested. Technically, there was a brief rebuttal by the prosecution, and a rejoinder by the defense.
In summation, the state proceeds first because it carries the obligation of proof, and for that reason it is also permitted to appear for a last summation, after the defense counsel has made his plea.
Willard faced the jury. The D.A. was wearing a gray suit, of light material, and a white shirt with a maroon tie bearing a small figured pattern. He began speaking in an explanatory tone as if he were a business man describing a situation to a board of directors. “You have all listened, patiently and with interest,” he began, “to the evidence and testimony which has been presented here. From this material you will soon be asked to determine the facts, and based on the facts reach a decision and a verdict. During the past days, and weeks, much of what you have seen and heard would appear to be of a contradictory nature… particularly the story as presented by the defendant.”
Willard paused and looked straight into the attentive faces regarding him. “Let us begin,” he continued, “by considering the facts which we have already established, beyond all reasonable doubt, which were present the night when Ivy Lorents shot and killed Arthea Simpson. For over a year, preceding the shooting, the defendant had been a friend… a very close and intimate friend… of Arthea Simpson’s, and she was cognizant of the slain woman’s unsavory reputation. Yet the defendant continued to see her, to go away with her on weekends, to attend parties with her, and was the daily recipient of telephone calls from her. We also know that Ivy Lorents received a considerable sum of money… two thousand, six hundred and seventy five dollars… perhaps even more, from her sponsor, or protectress, Arthea Simpson. And although the defendant claims, weakly, that this money was repaid, she had produced no proof that it ever was returned… even in a small part.”
Willard removed his glasses, and slipped them in his pocket, gently massaging the bridge of his nose, as if deep in thought. “Now, during this year’s period of friendship with Arthea Simpson, Ivy Lorents met and became engaged to a man who would make a very desirable husband…” Willard paused for emphasis, then stated, “His name was Robert Knox. Socially, professionally, financially, Mr. Knox possessed everything that a woman could hope to find in a husband. From a life of insecurity, Ivy Lorents could suddenly find a life—a far better life—through this most desirable marriage. Is it any wonder that she began to spurn the attentions and affections of her old friend Arthea Simpson?”
The attention of the jury was riveted on Willard’s words. “Mr. Knox, a man of high morals, has testified that he would not have tolerated the unnatural attachment, from his fiancée, if he had known about it. And certainly he would have terminated any plans for marriage if such a scandal became known. Ivy Lorents knew this, and attempted—unsuccessfully—to break off her relations with Arthea Simpson. But Arthea Simpson would not give Ivy Lorents her freedom, and threatened to reveal the vice… their immoral relations… to Robert Knox unless the defendant continued to see her.”
Willard walked slowly past the jury box, addressing himself to each of the jurors in turn. “So the defendant, to protect her future… a future possessing millions of dollars… planned to eliminate the threat of Arthea Simpson. Ivy Lorents shot and killed Arthea Simpson, knowing well who she was shooting, and shooting three times to be sure she was dead!” Willard remained silent, letting his point drive home, then continued. “Arthea Simpson had a key, and access, to Ivy Lorents’ apartment; Arthea Simpson was there the night that Robert Knox returned the defendant to her apartment. Fortunately, for the plans of Ivy Lorents, Mr. Knox did not come inside the door. Within the apartment, Ivy Lorents and Arthea Simpson became involved in a heated argument, and Arthea Simpson again threatened to tell her story to Robert Knox… unless Ivy Lorents returned to her arms.”
Willard again took up his position, facing the jury box. His voice was quiet, and he spoke with earnest concentration. “Let’s see what happened next. Ivy Lorents, the plan to kill Arthea Simpson already worked out in her mind, went to her bedroom, undressed and took a shower, while Arthea Simpson waited in the living room… perhaps listening to the music. After her bath, the defendant returned to the living room and took the revolver, already conveniently placed at hand in the chest by the stairs, and approached Arthea Simpson… who was standing at the window awaiting her return. Arthea Simpson was staring out the window, and with the music, the soft carpeting, and Ivy Lorents’ slippers, the doomed woman did not hear the approach of her determined killer… who crept to within just a few feet and then shot her in the back. With the shot, Arthea Simpson turned around, wounded, to face her attacker. It was then that Ivy Lorents shot two more times… one shot wounding Arthea Simpson fatally.”
Silence wrapped the courtroom. “Now… how do we know this, how can we be sure?” Willard continued. “Well, there exists the logical law of probabilities. No one actually saw this happen, because no one—besides Arthea Simpson and Ivy Lorents—was present, but by considering the facts which we do know, we can logically reach a conclusion… beyond doubt… of what did happen, because only in this way can we explain the presence of the facts. We… you… have heard the report of the medical examiner who testified that the course of the bullets proved they were fired from a standing position level with the dead woman… not on steps above her; that the bullets were fired from a distance of approximately five feet. You have heard an expert ballistics man testify that a woman unused to firing a hand gun, could not in conscious probability hit a limited area of a human body, three times in succession at a distance of thirty feet!”
Willard gestured in disparagement. “And particularly a woman who is extremely nearsighted. You have heard another expert witness testify that the defendant, Ivy Lorents, can see only blurs at a distance of twenty feet. What do you, as intelligent men and women, think she could possibly see at a distance of thirty feet in a dark room?” Willard smiled cynically. “The answer, of course, is practically nothing…”
The D.A. continued his summation for the rest of the day, returning to the detailed evidence, and reading parts of it back to the jury. Realizing that most juries are reluctant to impose a death penalty, and in particular they are most reluctant to reach such a verdict regarding a woman, Willard did not ask for one. Just before the hands on the wall clock reached four o’clock, he said, “So now I leave it in your hands. You must do your duty and not be swayed by any other considerations than facts… and the facts as they relate to the law. Ladies and gentlemen, there is only one verdict which you can find.” He paused, “Ivy Lorents is guilty of the murder of Arthea Simpson.” Willard no
dded to the jury, and sat down.
The next morning, March began the summation for the defense. Casual, at ease, he smiled at the individual jurors as he started to speak. The jurors, still impressed with Willard’s speech, returned March’s regard with some reservation, except for Claude Piersall, who smiled back broadly at March; the boat salesman, it would appear, was more than willing to listen to the defense. For some reason, however, Piersall’s readiness was not too reassuring to March. Ivy, tense, but attempting to conceal her nervousness, was seated at the defense table beside Bert Taylor.
March began to speak calmly and with a touch of amusement. “As I listened to Mr. Willard yesterday,” he began, “I couldn’t help but be—well, amazed that an intelligent man, such as the prosecutor, should use a premise, and most unsuccessfully, to establish… guilt by association. Among all classes of bureaucracy today, this is a common practice, and one which we all condemn. The reasoning goes something like this… if a person associates with someone else, then… rightly or wrongly… he must be like the person with whom he associates. Now this is ridiculous.” A few of the jurors, including Claude Piersall, began to nod their heads.
“Now,” he continued, “Mr. Willard has referred to the unsavory reputation of Arthea Simpson. Let us say… at best, if Miss Simpson deserved this reputation, it was nothing of which to be proud. But in great centers of population… with large creative and artistic groups living in them, such persons… with such reputations… do exist. As a rule, such a person pretty much leads his or her own life, and does not infringe on the lives of more normally inclined citizens. What Mr. Willard has failed to say, and also to point out in fairness to you for your understanding, is that these homosexuals, both male and female, can often be good friends, and interesting companions, to persons of natural sexual behavior. Many of these abnormally inclined persons are highly creative, talented in many fields of endeavor, are generous with material goods, and are witty and gifted conversationalists.”
Not I, Said the Vixen Page 19