The Fabulous Flying Mrs Miller

by Carol Baxter

  Despite releasing Chubbie and Bill, Hawthorne had too many concerns about the case to announce that the matter was settled. So when he heard that J.V. Haring, an international expert on forgeries and fraudulent documents, was wintering at his Florida home, he asked him to examine the suicide notes and determine if they were genuine.

  For four days Haring studied the two notes along with other samples of Haden’s correspondence. His verdict was summarised in two words: ‘Palpable forgeries.’

  On Monday, 2 May, Hawthorne summoned the two aviators and advised them of Haring’s conclusion. He added that if they had anything else to tell him, it was time to do so.

  After a moment’s silence, Bill began to speak.

  Bill informed Hawthorne that he had previously told the absolute truth about Haden’s death with the exception of his statements about the two suicide notes. He declared, in what became his written voluntary statement, ‘The incidents connected with these two notes are the only incidents which I feel were unworthy, foolish and cowardly of any part I may have played in the investigation.’

  He said that, shortly after his release from custody, he had gone to Attorney Lathero’s house and had told him that he had written the suicide notes—but he hadn’t killed Haden. He asked if Lathero would represent him if it proved necessary. When Lathero agreed to do so, he enquired if he should tell the state attorney or if Lathero would do it for him. Lathero advised him, as attorney to client, that he shouldn’t reveal the information at this time, because Hawthorne might consider it his duty to hold him. Bill agreed to delay doing so, but said that he wouldn’t leave Miami without telling Hawthorne the entire truth. To Hawthorne himself, he added that Mr Lathero would be able to verify the conversation.

  Asked about the suicide notes, Bill responded, ‘When I switched on the light in the room and found Haden Clarke had shot himself, I suppose I was a little panicky. When the full seriousness of the situation sunk in, my first thought was “Chubbie will think I am responsible”. I did not know how seriously Haden was injured. I thought he might die. I sat down at the typewriter and typed the two notes. I typed them as I honestly thought Haden would dictate such notes. They used expressions he had used to me that night in a talk we had earlier in the evening. I picked up a pencil, which was by the side of the typewriter, and went back to the bed where Haden was lying. I spoke to him. I begged him to sign the two notes I had written. He made no sound other than a heavy breathing and gurgling.’

  Bill talked about rousing Chubbie and calling for help and showing her the notes. He asked her to return them to him after she read them, because he wanted to destroy them, but she refused to hand them over. He then forgot about them until the policeman brought up the subject.

  ‘From then on they weighed very heavily on my mind. I realised that they would weigh heavily against me were I suspected of taking the life of Haden Clarke. I can only say that I wrote them in the first place with honesty of purpose, as had Clarke recovered sufficiently to sign them, it would have had the effect of setting Chubbie’s mind at ease concerning his wound. Through events over which I had no control, the contents of those notes became common property.’

  He closed with the avowal, ‘I did not kill him. In no way have I willingly been a reason for his death.’

  With such an admission, Hawthorne knew that if he could establish grounds for motive, means and opportunity he could indict Bill for murder. Opportunity was easy enough. Bill had admitted that he was in the room when Clarke was shot.

  In an attempt to establish means, Hawthorne asked if he had purchased the gun that shot Clarke.

  Bill admitted that he had.

  ‘Where and when did you purchase it?’

  ‘In St Louis, having first gone to the sheriff and obtained his permission to purchase a gun of that type. I told the sheriff that I wanted to purchase a gun to replace one which had been lost by me, and he gave me a certificate of permission.’

  When Hawthorne asked about the gun he had lost, Bill said that Attorney Huston had lent it to him just before he left Miami.

  This brought them to the question of motive. Hawthorne asked about his discovery that Chubbie had fallen in love with Haden.

  ‘I had been told insinuating things by J.F. Russell on the west coast, and I had read letters in St Louis from Chubbie and Clarke, which were honest and straightforward, and told me the exact situation. But I had definitely decided before I returned to Miami that if such love between the two was honest, that I would help them in any way possible for, to me, Chubbie’s happiness was the most important thing.’

  Hawthorne read out Bill’s diary entry written on 9 April, in which he talked about his concerns about Chubbie’s affections and whether Haden could be trusted. The entry also said, ‘Thank goodness for one thing—I have made a firm resolution to end all this mental strain—have it out! Then work for a common good!’ Hawthorne asked if this entry indicated any malice towards Haden.

  ‘It did not. If I had come to Miami and found that Haden had behaved towards Chubbie in a manner that was dastardly, I would have born malice, but when I arrived at Miami I found nothing to indicate this. He may have behaved to me in a manner that was not the way of a gentleman, but this was of secondary consideration, for the affection between them seemed to be mutual and sincere.’

  With the evidence in Bill’s own words of his passion for Chubbie, his purchase of the gun that shot Clarke, and his forgery of the suicide notes, Hawthorne charged him with first-degree murder.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The press had already heard the news by the time a haggard Chubbie emerged from the state attorney’s office that afternoon. When they demanded to know what she thought about Lancaster’s arrest, she said, ‘I am absolutely confident everything will come out all right. I know the truth will be learned and that Captain Lancaster will be cleared. He is innocent and I know it.’

  Bill gave permission for the press to interview him. They were taken to his ten-by-eight-foot cell on the twenty-second floor of the Miami-Dade County Courthouse. Almost cruelly, his window overlooked the quintessence of freedom: white sandy beaches, foaming waves, boats. At least it didn’t overlook an airfield.

  They found him sitting calmly on his cot with two pictures of his beloved pinned to the wall. They asked how he felt about his arrest for murder.

  ‘It came as a great shock to me, the fact that a technical charge of murder has been made against me. I am absolutely innocent, and I know that the outcome will prove this.’

  When they asked what would happen if he was indicted, he said, ‘I should like to act as my own attorney if I am brought to trial. Of course, I know it is not possible to defend myself but I know’—and he thumped a clenched fist on his shoulder in emphasis—‘that I can convince twelve reasonable men that I am innocent of the boy’s death.’ Then he glanced at the two pictures on the wall as if silently swearing the same to the woman he loved.

  Despite Bill’s declarations of innocence, the evidence continued to pile up against him and was presented to the grand jury hearing his case. The St Louis paperwork associated with his gun purchase revealed that he had purchased the gun on 19 April, only thirty-six hours before Clarke was shot. His reason for the purchase? Far from telling the sheriff that he wanted to replace a borrowed gun he’d lost, he had said he was buying it to carry on transcontinental flights. An Oregon newspaper summed up the general reaction to the news: ‘Coil tightens for Lancaster.’

  Fearing that the coil had already tightened too far, Chubbie set about finding funds and retaining counsel. Lathero recommended James M. Carson, an eminent attorney who had long been prominent in South Florida’s legal and political circles.

  When she arrived at Carson’s office, she felt intimidated by the big man looming over her with his bushy eyebrows and round owl-like glasses. She asked if he would consider defending Bill—if he was indicted by the grand jury, of course.

  ‘I wouldn’t touch it,’ was the decisive respon
se. ‘He’s as guilty as hell.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong there. I know you’re wrong,’ she cried. When he looked sceptical, she begged, ‘All I ask you to do is to go down and see him in the gaol and form your own opinion because I am quite sure that when you meet him you will feel as I do that he couldn’t have done it. He is not a coward.’

  She left his office with the promise that he would consider her entreaty. He had no need to make a decision until the grand jury announced its finding.

  As Chubbie and Bill waited nervously for the grand jury’s report, Haden’s mother told the press that she had asked Hawthorne to exhume her son’s body. She wanted to know for certain whether Haden had been struck before his death. Hawthorne said that he would order a disinterment only if he thought it necessary.

  Mrs Clarke also told the press that Bill had said to her, three days after her son’s death, ‘Sometimes I think I did kill Haden.’ And she claimed he had said, ‘Mrs Clarke, I want you to say you know I did not kill your son.’ Her response had been, ‘I hope I may be able to say that someday, Captain, but I don’t know whether you killed Haden or not. The circumstances are very strong.’

  There were remarkable differences between these statements and her reports about their conversations after Bill’s release from custody. At that time, she made no mention of any remark along the lines of, ‘sometimes he thought he killed Haden’. Perhaps it was being recollected out of context, the gist being that he’d been asked the question so many times during his interrogation that the authorities had almost made him think he had killed Haden. Bill’s other words to her—by her own account—had been, ‘I want to tell you that I did not kill your son.’

  It raised the question as to whether a murder indictment might distort other people’s memories as well, whether minds that now viewed events through the prism of a murder charge might transform passing comments or actions into evidence of guilt or wrongdoing.

  On Monday, 9 May, Chubbie heard the dreaded news. The grand jury had indicted Bill for first-degree murder.

  It was like a nightmare she couldn’t awaken from.

  Florida law allowed bail at the court’s discretion; however, the judge appointed to preside over Bill’s case refused to allow it. No one was surprised. A British aviator was a flight risk if ever there was one.

  Two pieces of good news surfaced. Bill’s father sent a small sum through the British Embassy to assist with defence costs. And Carson agreed to represent him.

  ‘It’s going to be tricky,’ Carson told Chubbie. ‘We have got to get him off but it is not going to be easy because of that damned note. He shouldn’t have done that.’

  In Carson’s conversations with Bill before his arraignment, he suggested applying to the court for a disinterment to allow Haden’s body to be autopsied. His medical expert had advised that an autopsy might provide conclusive evidence of suicide . . . or conclusive evidence that the death wasn’t a suicide. Did Bill want him to pursue the matter?

  The medical commission performed the autopsy on Tuesday, 31 May. Carson received their report a short time later. In the aftermath, he decided not to request a dismissal of the charges against Bill.

  Chubbie and Bill were forced to accept the harsh reality. Bill would have to face the whim of a jury. And, if the jury decided against him, he would soon afterwards be strapped to the electric chair.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  James Carson was concerned. A critical witness, the acclaimed Miami neurologist Dr Percy L. Dodge, was in Boston suffering heart trouble. Dodge was supposed to testify in Bill’s trial—which was starting that day—about the physical evidence associated with self-inflicted gunshot wounds. He also had psychological and neurological insights to offer about men like Haden Clarke. However, Dodge’s medical problems would prevent him from testifying unless the trial judge, Justice Henry F. Atkinson, could be convinced to allow a continuance.

  Carson didn’t like his chances of persuading the judge because the trial had already been delayed several times. The previous day, Monday, 1 August, the spacious criminal courtroom on the sixth floor of Miami-Dade’s County Courthouse had been prepared for the trial. For the first time in county history, three international news services had been granted permission to install telegraph instruments in the courtroom itself. The jury pool and witnesses had also been summoned. These costs alone would deter the judge from acceding to the defence’s wishes.

  Carson and Lathero entered the courtroom with their client accompanying them. Bill was dressed in a dark brown suit, grey shirt and tan tie as if it were a normal business day, but his gaol-house pallor betrayed him. As he spotted the press, he switched on an easy-going, not-a-care-in-the-world smile, telling the journalists he was calmly confident of an acquittal. However, his lighthearted mask dropped away as he walked to the defence table, replaced by a look of haunted trepidation.

  Chubbie looked even more nervous than Bill, if that was possible. She was elegantly dressed in a white silk dress and hat, with matching white shoes brightened with yellow insteps. When the press asked for her photograph, she stared blindly in front of her with tightly clenched lips, incapable of releasing the bright smile that normally captivated press and public alike.

  The elderly white-haired judge took his seat at the bench and indicated that he was ready to proceed. Carson introduced his motion asking for a continuance to 15 September. He explained that without Dodge’s testimony Captain Lancaster could not safely go to trial.

  Judge Atkinson denied the motion.

  Carson had already told Bill and Chubbie that the trial would be an uphill battle. Dodge’s absence left the defence at a serious disadvantage.

  For the next two and a half hours, Carson and the prosecution questioned the jury pool. Carson enquired if revelations of moral laxity or sordid living would influence the men’s opinions. He also asked them to affirm that they wouldn’t hold Lancaster’s British citizenship against him (juries tended to treat foreigners less favourably). Hawthorne, with the electric chair in his sights, asked if the men had any compunctions about capital punishment—and bade goodbye to those who had. Ultimately, a panel of salesmen, merchants, contractors, farmers and a meter-checker was sworn in by the judge and settled to hear the opening statements.

  The news that the woman at the heart of the love triangle was to testify brought hordes of spectators to the sixth-floor lobby early on Wednesday morning. The state was to commence its case-in-chief and attempt to prove that Bill had not only killed Haden but had acted with premeditation. As soon as the doors opened at 9 am, dozens rushed into the courtroom. When all available seats were filled, the deputies slammed shut the steel grille barriers, locking out hundreds of people, most of whom were women.

  Justice Atkinson took his seat on the bench at 9.30 am. As the sound of scraping chairs and rustling skirts died away, the state called its first witness, Ernest Huston, the Latin American Airways attorney Chubbie had telephoned immediately after the shooting.

  Hawthorne asked him to describe the events of the morning of 21 April and then questioned him about his conversation with Lancaster regarding the gun that shot Clarke.

  ‘On the way to the Everglades Hotel, I asked Lancaster if it was the gun which I had loaned him. He said that it was not.’ Huston paused at that point and asked how much he could reveal of their conversations because of client–attorney privilege.

  Carson interjected to say that Huston could answer any and every question. The defence was determined to show the court that Bill had no secrets.

  Hawthorne enquired if Lancaster had said anything about the gun that shot Haden.

  ‘He asked me if it would be all right if he said that it was my gun. I said, “No, it would not.” He then said would it be all right if he said that the gun belonged to the Latin American Airways and I said, “No.”’

  ‘Was either you or Latin American Airways indebted to Lancaster at that time?’

  ‘I most certainly was not.’

 
‘Was the Latin American Airways?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  In Carson’s opening statement he had said that Huston, as secretary and treasurer of Latin American Airways, had owed Bill $250 and that Bill had purchased the replacement revolver to ensure that Huston didn’t use the missing gun as a pretext for non-payment. Yet Huston had just told the court that he didn’t owe Bill any money.

  Huston had been one of the first to visit the sleeping porch after the shooting so Hawthorne wanted confirmation of the room’s appearance at that time. Handing Huston some pictures taken by the police photographer, he asked if they accurately depicted the sleeping porch on his arrival. Huston said that they didn’t. Not completely. In the photograph, Lancaster’s pillow was smooth. When he had entered the sleeping porch, it was mussed.

  Hawthorne had previously told the press that Lancaster’s claim to be asleep when he had heard the shot was refuted by the evidence of his smooth pillow, and that his excuse that an ambulance man or physician must have smoothed it was refuted by the men themselves. Carson, in his cross-examination, asked Huston to repeat his comments about the mussed pillow, although he didn’t enquire if he knew how it had been smoothed. He had another witness who would provide the explanation.

  He returned Huston’s attention to the subject of the gun, asking about the model he had lent Lancaster.

  ‘A .38 calibre Colt.’

  ‘Like this?’ Carson picked up the gun that shot Haden.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When you loaned the gun to Lancaster did you loan him any cartridges?’

  Huston agreed that he had.

  Carson then asked him to tell the court about his conversation with Bill in the aftermath of Haden’s death. What had Bill said regarding the gun?

  ‘I had previously told him that my gun had belonged to a friend of mine and that I cared a great deal about it and wanted it back. Lancaster said that he would take the best care of it and if anything happened to it he would replace it. On the way to the hospital he said that he had pawned it and had replaced it.’