Wishful Seeing

by Janet Kellough

  “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.”

  Thaddeus was aware of much craning of heads as he walked to the stand. He knew that his name had been bandied about in connection with the case, but he was less well known here in Cobourg itself than he was in the backcountry, and everyone wanted to get a look at this preacher who seemed to have played such a large part in the story. He stood as straight as he could while he took his oath, and avoided looking at Ellen Howell as he wondered what he was about to be asked.

  “Mr. Lewis, your assistant stated that when he met you on the road on October twenty-first, you were on your way to George Howell’s farm.”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “What were your reasons for going there?”

  “My granddaughter and I were visiting Mr. Leland Gordon and his mother at their farm near Sully. During the course of this visit, Mr. Gordon expressed some concern as to the well-being of the Howells’ daughter. As Mr. Howell’s whereabouts were unknown and her mother was here in Cobourg, there was an uneasiness that the daughter had been left alone on an isolated farmstead. She’s only twelve.”

  “And why had Mr. Gordon not attended to this himself if he was so concerned?”

  “Because the girl ran away whenever anyone went near the farm. Mr. Gordon thought that, as I am a minister and Caroline had met me previously at a meeting, I might have more success in reaching her.”

  “Wasn’t that an odd thing for you to do?”

  “Not really. We were going by on our way home, so it was no inconvenience. I told Mr. Gordon that I would at least try to talk to her.”

  “And you were successful?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though Mr. Gordon himself, and no doubt countless other neighbours, couldn’t get near her.”

 
“I doubt that I would have either, had the cave not fallen in on her dog.”

  “Are the Howells members of your church?”

  “No.”

  “And yet you managed to retrieve the girl when no one else could. And not only that, but you took her into your own home.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Mrs. Howell a close friend?”

  “No.”

  “And yet, Mr. Lewis, you went to a great deal of trouble to find a barrister to represent her.”

  “Yes.” Thaddeus felt his face grow stony and tried to will it to relax.

  “And the keeper at the gaol tells me you have faithfully attended Mrs. Howell and that you spend your time reading to her.”

  Thaddeus should have realized that a gaoler named Palmer would repeat everything he saw to his sprawling family, and that any tidbits concerning Ellen Howell would have been repeated many times.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “These were spiritual readings, designed to comfort her in her time of need?”

  Thaddeus wanted to say yes, because that’s what it was, for her — a reminder of home and happier times.

  “No.”

  “What exactly did you read, Mr. Lewis?”

  “A book called Mansfield Park. By a Miss Jane Austen.”

  “And what kind of book is Mansfield Park?”

  “Well … it’s a work of literature. A story.”

  “Would it be fair to say that it’s a romance, Mr. Lewis?”

  “I suppose.”

  “So, for this woman whom you claim you barely know, you retrieve her child, scurry around and find a lawyer, and spend hours reading a romantic novel for her amusement?”

  It sounded so ludicrous and silly the way Garrett presented it. In spite of himself, Thaddeus felt his face grow hot.

  “Yes.”

  “You have quite a reputation for solving crimes, do you not?”

  Thaddeus could see that Ashby was about to leap up and object, but he knew how to answer this.

  “I have no idea what my reputation is,” he said. “That’s for other people to decide.”

  “But will you confirm that in the past you were involved in two rather infamous cases?” Garrett consulted his notes. “A peddler who was convicted of killing a number of women, and a case of murder and fraud involving a farmer?”