City of Angels (The Trials of Kit Shannon #1)

by James Scott Bell

  "What are you doing to my aunt?" Kit said quickly.

  "This is no business of yours!" he said.

  "Aunt Freddy, are you all right?"

  "Oh, dear!" said Aunt Freddy.

  "Leave now!" Sloate said.

  "I will not!" said Kit. "This is not court, and you do not have a judge to hide behind. I will not let you hurt my aunt anymore."

  There was a chilled silence that hung between them. And then, as quick as lightning, Heath Sloate slapped Kit across the cheek.

  Kit put her hand to her face. She was too stunned to say anything.

  Sloate glared at her. "How dare you insult me! Leave us!"

  Kit looked at Aunt Freddy. Her poor face seemed a battlefield of contrary emotions. For an instant Kit feared for her aunt's heart.

  Then, as if a general had amassed his chaotic troops and formed them into a resolute line, Aunt Freddy's face turned hard.

  "No," she said to Heath Sloate. "You leave us."

  If thunder had clapped at that moment, Kit would not have been more shocked. Nor, apparently, would Sloate have been. His mouth fell open, and his upper lip began to curl. "What are you saying?"

  "I don't ever want to see you again," Freddy said.

  "But, Freddy . . ."

  "Bosh! You may call me Mrs. Fairbank!"

  "And what of our arrangement? What of the park you wish to see arranged in your departed husband's honor?" His voice was honey smooth as he seemed to regain his confidence.

  "Jasper would jump in his grave if he knew it came at the price of turning against family. It would be a memorial of shame, should I turn away from my niece in order to get it."

  "Then what about us?" he said.

  Freddy hesitated then. Kit could feel the struggle inside her aunt.

  "No," Freddy said finally. "There is no more us."

  Sloate looked at Kit, and in his eyes she saw a certain panic, as if all his carefully laid plans had been blown apart. He quickly recovered and bore in on Kit.

  "You. You are the cause of all this." His voice rang with pure hatred. "You have been nothing but trouble ever since you came here." He looked at Freddy. "And you, you silly old woman! Why I wasted my time on you is beyond me. By the time I finish with you, you won't be able to show your face anywhere in town. You have crossed the wrong man."

  He spun around, and Kit suppressed the urge to stick her foot out and trip him down the steps.

  "Oh, dear," Aunt Freddy said, her hand on her chest.

  Kit, without a moment's hesitation, put her arm around her aunt and said without any qualm, "You leave everything to me."

  "But Heath! He will do what he says! We must get Madame Zindorf to tell us—"

  "No! You listen to me." Kit took Aunt Freddy's shoulders in her hands and looked her in the eye. "God is who we will depend on. Not Madame Whosit and no magic spells. Do you understand? The Lord is our light and our salvation; whom shall we fear? Sloate can't hurt you anymore. God will be our strength. Agreed?"

  Aunt Freddy nodded her head meekly. "All right," she whispered.

  "Good."

  "But Heath . . . what will you do?"

  "I don't know," Kit said. "Yet."

  Chapter Thirty-two

  THE NEXT MORNING, Heath Sloate called Rita Alonzo to the stand. She seemed nervous, but with Sloate's gentle prodding, she walked through what Kit knew was a well-rehearsed story.

  The jurors looked as if they had no qualms that Rita herself was a prostitute. Who else would they expect to have seen things in that neighborhood?

  But Kit and Rogers were prepared for cross-examination.

  "Miss Alonzo," said Rogers, treating the witness with gentle tones, "you testified that you saw my client, Mr. Fox, running from the room of the victim."

  Rita looked warily at Rogers. "Yes, that is what I say."

  "You also told this jury that you saw no blood on the clothes of my client."

  "No. No blood."

  "You are sure about that?"

  "Sure, yes."

  "As sure as you are that it was my client that you saw?"

  Rita Alonzo nodded, but appeared to be leery of Rogers and where he was leading her.

  Rogers maintained his deferential tone of voice. "By the way, Miss Alonzo, you said that you saw all this from your own doorway, is that correct?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "Across Alameda Street."

  "That is right."

  "How far is that view, Miss Alonzo?"

  "How far?"

  "Yes, if you know."

  Rita shook her head, as if thinking. Then she pointed to the back of the courtroom. "Here to there," she said.

  "I see. So we can say that someone standing in the far corner of this courtroom would be approximately the same distance as my client was from you that night?"

  Rita shrugged her shoulders.

  "Is that right, Miss Alonzo?"

  "Yes, right, yes." She cast a quick look at the jurors.

  "Your Honor, if I may," said Rogers.

  "May what?" said Judge Ganges.

  Turning to the gallery, Rogers nodded his head. John Barrymore stood and walked to the far corner.

  "My colleague, Mr. John Barrymore, is now standing approximately the same distance from Miss Alonzo as she alleges my client was on the night she says she saw him."

  Barrymore smiled, causing one woman in attendance to sigh loudly, and waved to the jury.

  "Will the court accept that?" said Rogers.

  Ganges looked toward Sloate, then quickly back at Rogers. "What is your point?"

  "I'm getting to that." Rogers nodded at Kit and, as planned, she walked to the large courtroom window and pulled the slatted blinds shut. Before the judge could say anything, Rogers signaled the bailiff, who turned off the lone electric light illuminating the room.

  The courtroom was now in virtual darkness.

  "Miss Alonzo!" Rogers said loudly. "Can you see my colleague now?"

  "Objection!" Sloate's voice.

  But the damage was done. There was no way the jury could ignore what was in front of their eyes.

  "Give me the light back right now!" the judge bellowed. Kit quickly opened the blinds and the bailiff switched on the light. "Mr. Rogers, that was outrageous."

  "But, Your Honor, I merely wanted to re-create the scene for the jurors. It was the dead of night on Alameda Street when the witness says she could see my client. The jury is entitled to see for themselves."

  As Kit sat down she watched Judge Ganges closely. Rogers had cleverly placed him between the proverbial rock and hard place. The judge could admonish the jury to disregard what they had just seen, but that would be futile. There was no way they would be able to disgorge the vivid memory. Yet if he left it alone, the image would have tremendous impact—and the judge was clearly not there to help Earl Rogers.

  Then the solution came. Judge Ganges looked at Rita Alonzo and said, "Miss Alonzo, how were you able to see the defendant that night? Wasn't it dark?"

  The witness sat up straight. "No. The moon was full. Very bright light. Not like in this room!"

  Satisfied, the judge nodded and said, "You may resume, Mr. Rogers, but no more tricks."

  Earl Rogers paused to let his consternation be known. Having the judge accuse him of trickery was tantamount to telling the jury that he was trying to deceive them. Kit had no idea what the jurors might be thinking now.

  To Rita Alonzo, Rogers said, "There are no streetlamps on Alameda, are there, Miss Alonzo?"

  "No, but the moon."

  "Yes, we have heard about the moon."

  "Very bright."

  "So you have said." Rogers turned and walked to the rail. Kit handed him the booklet she had been holding all the while.

  As everyone in the courtroom watched him, Rogers slowly thumbed through the booklet until he reached a certain page. "If I may, Your Honor. I have here a copy of Farmer's Almanac. I'm sure Your Honor will take judicial notice of its authority."

  Jud
ge Ganges scowled.

  "What relevance?" Sloate said.

  "Good question," said the judge.

  "Only this," said Rogers. "On August ten of this year, the moon was only in its first quarter!"

  A wave of muttering voices passed through the courtroom. Kit felt the effect, and it thrilled her. As a girl she had read Abraham Lincoln's famous cross-examination of Charles Allen. Allen had testified he saw Lincoln's client commit murder by the light of a full moon. But Lincoln had produced an almanac, proving the moon was nowhere close to full. If it was good enough for Abe Lincoln . . .

  Heath Sloate barked, "Your Honor, this is outrageous. Mr. Rogers has testified! He is not a witness. I demand that his remarks be stricken from the record."

  "But I ask," Rogers said, "that the Farmer's Almanac be entered into evidence!"

  Judge Ganges banged the gavel for order. Then he pointed the gavel at Rogers, making it look like a weapon. "I have warned you, Mr. Rogers! I have warned you repeatedly! I am going to hold you in contempt of court!"

  Rogers did not back down. "And I shall appeal."

  "That is your privilege," said the judge. Then he looked to the jury. "Gentlemen, you will disregard what counsel for the defense has said here. His remarks about the almanac are ordered stricken from the record, and you will not take anything he has said into consideration when you deliberate. And counsel's motion to move the almanac into evidence is denied. The court levies a fine of one hundred dollars on Mr. Rogers for contempt."

  The judge paused to catch his breath. "Now, do you have any more questions for this witness?"

  Keeping composed, Rogers said, "Yes. Who told you to lie under oath?"

  "Objection!" cried Sloate.

  "Two hundred dollars, Mr. Rogers," said the judge. "Now sit down, sir!"

  Rogers returned to his chair.

  "May this witness be excused?" Judge Ganges asked.

  "Just one more thing," Sloate said, standing. As he did, Kit got the terrible feeling that Sloate had something up his sleeve.

  "Miss Alonzo," he said. "Did you know the victim, Millie Ryan, well?"

  "Oh yes," she said. "She was my friend."

  "Did she wear any distinctive jewelry?"

  Without hesitation, Rita said, "Yes. She wore, how you say, a locket?"

  "Can you describe this locket?"

  "It was very pretty. Gold. With a cross on it."

  "A cross?"

  "Yes."

  "If you saw this locket, would you be able to recognize it?"

  "Oh yes. It was very pretty, as I say. She would let me look at it always."

  Sloate walked to the witness stand, reached into the pocket of his coat, and pulled out a gold locket on a chain. He laid it on the rail in front of Rita Alonzo. "Is this the locket?"

  Rita picked it up. "Yes! This is the one!"

  "Thank you," said Sloate. "You may step down."

  Kit saw Rogers turn toward Ted, then look at her as if to say, "What do you know about this?" Kit shook her head. It was Millie's necklace! She remembered seeing it when she had talked to Millie at the jail.

  Her eyes rose to meet Ted's blank expression. Kit was unable to hide the disappointment that she knew must be evident on her face. Without a word, Ted dropped his head as if signaling defeat.

  What did Sloate have up his sleeve?

  She could tell from the look on Rogers' face that he also had no idea.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  "THE PROSECUTION CALLS Chief of Police Orel Hoover," Sloate said.

  From the back of the courtroom, the stolid chief sauntered down the aisle, came through the swinging gate, and stood in front of the witness stand. The court clerk approached with a Bible. Hoover placed his left hand on the book, raised his right, and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, "so help me God."

  What was this? Kit and Rogers never had any idea that the Chief of Police himself would be a witness. What could he possibly offer that was relevant? He was an administrator, not a witness. Anything he might say that recounted conversations would be hearsay, inadmissible evidence. Then again, the way Judge Ganges was going, anything might happen.

  Rogers leaned forward in his chair, his intense concentration on the witness.

  Sloate began with Hoover's qualifications and years of service. And then he asked him if he had been to the scene of the crime.

  "I was the first to arrive after the report came in," said Hoover.

  "Did you conduct an investigation of the scene?" asked Sloate.

  "I did."

  "What, if anything, did you find?"

  "A young woman's body and lots of blood."

  "What did you do next?"

  "I ordered the officer with me to keep people out of the room and then dispatched a message to the coroner's office."

  "All routine, is that correct?"

  "Correct, sir."

  Sloate paced in front of the jury box as he asked the next few questions. "You ordered the arrest of the defendant, did you not?"

  "I did, yes."

  "On what basis?"

  "The description supplied by the witness Rita Alonzo."

  "Now, after the arrest, what did you do relating to the investigation?"

  "I secured a search warrant for the defendant's residence."

  This was news to Kit, and obviously to Rogers, who was sitting up rigidly.

  "And did you lead the search?"

  "I did."

  "Were there any other officers with you?"

  "Yes. Two others."

  "What, if anything, did you find?"

  Before he stated it, Kit knew the answer. It all fit so neatly.

  "A gold locket," said Chief of Police Orel Hoover.

  Now there was no restraining the noise in the courtroom. All around Kit, voices chattered and mumbled and made outright exclamations of surprise. A man behind her said, "He's as good as hanged."

  Her heart sinking like a rock, Kit could find no voice inside herself to disagree.

  Sloate's nail was not fully in the coffin. He took up the locket that Rita Alonzo had identified and showed it to Hoover. "Is this the locket you found at the residence of the defendant, Theodore Fox?"

  Barely looking at it, Hoover said, "It is."

  "Nothing further," Sloate said triumphantly. He returned to his chair, the locket dangling from his fingers. The jury seemed mesmerized by the gilded pendant.

  "Take the witness, Mr. Rogers," Judge Ganges said.

  What would he do? He and Kit had not prepared anything for Hoover. It was an intentional deceit by the prosecution which, Kit knew, had no obligation to reveal whom it would call. It was the defense's job to anticipate who would be on the stand.

  If ever there was a moment for Earl Rogers to demonstrate his courtroom wizardry, this was it.

  Lorgnette in hand, Rogers gave Hoover a long, long look. There was no hiding his derision. This would not be a gentle cross-examination.

  "Chief Hoover," Rogers began at last, "it is quite unusual for a Chief of Police to take an active role in an investigation, is it not?"

  "Not so unusual," the Chief said. "I have done it before."

  "When was the last time?"

  "Let's see . . . maybe a few months ago."

  "What case?"

  "I can't recall at the moment."

  "We'll give you more time. Think about it," Rogers urged.

  Hoover scowled. "I cannot recall."

  "You cannot recall, yet you are sure it was only a few months ago."

  "Yes, sir."

  "How many months is a few?"

  "I . . . four, five."

  "Your office would have records of this alleged investigation, would it not?"

  Heath Sloate said, "Objection. Relevance."

  "Sustained," said the judge.

  "All right," said Earl Rogers. "You have political ambitions, don't you?"

  "Objection!" Sloate cried.

  "Of what relevance is this, Mr.
Rogers?" Judge Ganges said.

  Rogers turned to the judge. "Credibility, Your Honor. I believe this testimony is politically motivated, and I demand the chance to show it."

  Judge Ganges stroked his chin and looked at the witness. Kit watched closely. Hoover glanced at the judge with an expression that seemed to say "I can handle it." He may even have nodded his head.

  "I'll allow just a few more questions," said Judge Ganges. "Then you will move on, Mr. Rogers."

  "Thank you, Judge." Rogers looked at Hoover. "You may answer."

  "I have no more or fewer political ambitions than the next man. I do my job to the best of my ability, and if I think I can serve the people of this city or state in some further capacity, I will surely consider it."

  The answer seemed to sit well with the jury. Kit saw a couple of the jurors nod.

  "You are married?" said Rogers.

  "I'm a widower," Hoover said.

  "You have a son, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "Where is he?"

  "He's been sent back East."

  "Sent?"

  "I mean, he's gone back there."

  "Why is that?"

  "For his education. College."

  "So you have no family here in the city?"

  "No, sir."

  Judge Ganges interrupted. "That's enough, Mr. Rogers. Change your line of questioning."

  "I just have one more question, Your Honor. Chief Hoover, isn't it true that, to enhance your political reputation, you have injected yourself into this case and made yourself into some sort of hero?"

  Immediately, Hoover's expression turned to outrage. His cheeks reddened. Even as Sloate stood up to object, Hoover spat his answer. "That is a lie! I have an unblemished record as a police officer, and I resent your insinuation!"

  "No further questions," said Earl Rogers. As he turned to sit down Kit thought she saw, for the first time since the start of trial, a look of fear in his eyes.

  As Hoover left the stand, Heath Sloate stood up and announced, "The prosecution rests."

  Ganges said, "We will break for lunch and reconvene at one o'clock, at which time the defense will begin its case."

  "Your Honor!" Rogers said.

  "What is it?"

  "The defense would request a longer recess."