The Chemist's Shop

by Richard Brumer

  “Depends. In the end, the choice is gonna be yours. The prosecutor won’t know if you will be on the stand or not, even if she has you on the witness list.”

  Michael took a deep breath. “Why wouldn’t my lawyer put me on the stand? She’ll prepare me anyway.”

  “I dunno. Not much time to prepare you now, unless she comes here later. She definitely won’t put you on if she feels the prosecutor’s cross examination is gonna rip you apart.”

  “You sure you’re not a lawyer?” Michael smiled.

  “I’m no legal lawyer, but I’ve been around.”

  “So, I have the right to refuse if Brenda wants to put me on the stand?”

  “You do, but you’re paying her for her advice. If it were me, and my lawyer wanted me to testify and prepared me, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d be convincing as hell on the stand. I think the jury would trust me. I have a kind face and I speak in a soft voice. You know, Michael, when the defendant goes on the stand and the jury is listening hard, it becomes a personality issue. If you come across sincere and come off honest, you can influence the jury to your side, and in court, winning is everything. There’s no draw.”

  “Well, I think I have a good case, but there are some technicalities involved which may not be in my favor. I want to be honest, Albert. I think my lawyer is going to interpret the facts in a way that bends the truth. I don’t feel good about that.”

  Albert leaned back on his bed with his back against the wall and smiled. “Relax. Sounds like your lawyer wants you to win.”

  ***

  An hour later, Brenda met Michael for a consultation. She looked tired. The harsh lights of the jailhouse brought out the paleness of her face along with the few wrinkles under her eyes, but she had an energy about her that was always present and Michael liked that. She was a fighter. There was no “hello” or “how are they treating you?” She wasn’t smiling, and her first words were about the case.

  “Michael, we have to get you ready in case we put you on the stand. I’m not sure in what sequence, maybe before or after the psychiatrist, or not at all, but we have to be prepared. Let’s talk, just the basics. My job as your lawyer is to guide you on how to answer questions on the witness stand. Answer the questions to the best of your ability. I will interpret the facts of the case and make judgments that I believe will result in a favorable outcome.”

  “Interpret. You’ve said that before.”

  “Look at it this way. Here’s what interpretation is all about. Two people can see the same thing in different ways. Both people can look at a map of the United States. One sees a road map, the other a climate map. Each map looks different, but the fact is they are both maps of the United States.”

  Michael smiled. “Okay, I get it, Brenda. I’m a professor, remember?”

  Brenda shook her head and smiled. “Uh, right. Our witnesses can win the case for us, but I want you prepared. Let’s practice. Did you have a relationship with Harry Sanders?”

  “I did.”

  “And what was the nature of your association with him?”

  “Our pharmacy filled prescriptions for him and I got to know him there.”

  “What do you mean by ‘got to know him’? Did you become friends?”

  “No, we weren’t friends. Not even close.”

  “Did he come to your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see. How did that come about if you weren’t friends?”

  “When we spoke in the pharmacy, he asked questions about his medications. He told me he had trouble staying awake during the day because he had no mental challenges. I gave him some vitamins for his fatigue and we discussed adding activity in his life.

  “He implied that he was a very good chess player and had played chess with a friend. That stimulated him, but his friend had moved away. When he said that, I remembered I hadn’t played for years. I had learned the game from my father, and I told Mr. Sanders that I liked chess. He begged me for a game and I agreed. I was busy and not available to play right away, but we arranged for him to play a game at my house the following week.”

  Brenda moved closer. “I see. So, what happened after he came to your house?”

  “As we played, I was curious about Sanders’s accent. I thought it was German but wasn’t sure.”

  “Don’t say you weren’t sure. Say, ‘I knew it was German.’ After all, Michael...Miklos. You’re from Europe, you know a German accent when you hear it. Go on.”

  “We played chess. He may have thought he was a good player, but he was an amateur. We talked about the war and he asked me where I grew up and if I was in the army. I didn’t want to tell him too many details. I don’t like people to know about my personal life unless they are friends. I avoided his questions. Then I asked him if he was in the service. He said he was an officer in the German army.”

  Brenda pulled her chair closer. “And you never knew any of this before?”

  “No, ma’am. He was very open with me. He said the war was over so long ago, nobody talks about it anymore. I told him I was interested because I never had a conversation with a German officer before. He spoke openly and said he was a major in the army and an SS officer in Auschwitz.”

  “Tell the court, Professor Ross. Were you a prisoner in Auschwitz?”

  Michael looked down at his knees, put his elbows on his thighs, and his hands on his forehead.

  “I was, Ms. Coleman.”

  “Professor Ross, did you recognize this man, Harry Sanders, as Officer Hans Stern from the Auschwitz Concentration Camp?”

  “I can’t do this, Brenda. I don’t feel good.” Michael bit into his lip. “We’ll do it another time.”

  Brenda drew closer and spoke in a low tone. “I understand how you feel. Could you take only a few more minutes? I promise, no more than that.”

  Michael nodded. “Okay. I didn’t recognize him at first until I looked into his eyes. I remembered those eyes, ice cold. I said something that he thought was funny, and it made him laugh. The moment I heard his laughter, it was a dead giveaway. I could never forget that diabolical, high-pitched laugh. It was Stern for sure, no question. He killed my family.”

  “What did you do then? Tell the jury.”

  Michael didn’t answer. He looked down.

  “Then? Then what, Michael? What happened then?” Brenda shook him.

  “I had no feeling. I was numb. There was a blank space.”

  “Blank space? What blank space? What did you do?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what I did. The next thing I remembered was that I was in town in front of a movie house. I looked at the posters. They were showing a World War II movie.”

  “And before that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe that. You’re lying. Damn it, tell me the truth!” She shook him again. “What did you do immediately after you knew Sanders was Stern,” Brenda yelled.

  “Nothing, Brenda. I’m not lying. You have to believe me. Why are you acting so strange? You’re not like that. What happened is that I found myself in town in front of a movie house. I saw a poster in front of me, ‘Coming soon, Where Eagles Dare.’ It was a Nazi movie.”

  Brenda stared into Michael’s eyes. “I still don’t believe you. Tell me the truth. Did you hit Stern? Did you handcuff him? Tell me. Tell me. Did you gas him? The truth, the truth!”

  Michael dropped his head into his hands and sobbed. He looked up at Brenda and whispered, “There was a blank space in my mind where nothing happened, and then I found myself in town.”

  Brenda’s eyes studied her client. Tears rolled down his cheeks and his hands were shaking. “Relax, Michael, everything will work out in the end.”

  They sat silently for a while until Brenda asked him when he’d realized he had killed Stern.

  “Damn! I remembered it when I was in town. Something must have triggered my memory. Is that what you want, Brenda? Damn it, is that what you want?” Michael shouted.

  “I�
�ve never lied to a judge or jury and never will. It’s the truth as I see it,” Brenda replied.

  “Are you going to prepare me for the prosecutor?”

  “I just did. You’re tired, get some sleep.”

  Chapter 24

  After talking to Michael, Brenda realized she had made a big mistake, but felt lucky because she caught it in time. Her original strategy was to put the defense’s psychiatrist on the stand and not ask Michael to testify at all because she felt Weisman would tear him to shreds. He was good at that, especially when a defendant testified.

  When Brenda looked into Michael’s eyes, she saw something in him that was different. He appeared to have a new sense of confidence that helped fortify his resolve. He had to testify.

  Brenda prepared to bring two witnesses to the stand. Michael would testify first, followed by the defense’s psychiatrist, who would support Michael’s testimony. She thought Michael would do well on the direct but was concerned about Weisman’s cross. Would Michael be able to stand up to the scathing challenges from the prosecutor?

  ***

  The next morning, Michael took the stand and was sworn. Brenda Coleman began her questioning.

  “Good morning, Professor Ross. I’m going to ask you some questions so that the jury will better understand the circumstances in this case.”

  She paused and walked closer to the witness stand. “Professor, did you kill Harry Sanders?”

  “I did.”

  “Would you tell the court how much time you spent planning your action?”

  “None. I never planned anything and had no remembrance of what I had done until I walked into town. When I returned home a little later, I told a police officer that I lived there and that I was the one who killed the deceased. Then I was arrested.”

  “I see. Would you describe the circumstances of how you met Harry Sanders to the jury?”

  “I first met him at my pharmacy when he picked up medication for his wife.”

  “And at that time, he was familiar to you?”

  “Well, I noticed his German accent and he looked like an old, worn out man to me.”

  “So, when you first met Harry Sanders, you felt no hostility toward him?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “And what was the nature of your relationship?”

  “He was a customer. We talked about his medications, and he asked for my advice when he had trouble staying awake and active during the day.”

  “And did you advise him?”

  “Yes, I made suggestions for a diet and vitamin regimen.”

  “Do you know if it helped?”

  “He told me it did, but added that he needed some mental activity to stay alert. Then he told me about his passion for chess, and I told him I was on my college chess team. His face lit up and he asked if we could play sometime, and I agreed since I hadn’t played for quite a few years.”

  “Did you play?”

  “Yes, he came to my house the following week for a game.”

  “And it was a friendly game of chess?”

  “Yes, I enjoyed it in the beginning until he began to tell me things I did not want to hear.”

  “What things?”

  “As we played, we both consumed a good deal of liquor, mostly schnapps. We made small talk and discussed events in our lives, things we liked to do and so on. In the course of the conversation, I was startled by the fact that Mr. Sanders opened up more about his life than I could ever have imagined. I was more guarded about my feelings and avoided bringing up the tragic events I experienced to anyone. They were times I never wanted to re-live, but Harry Sanders was different. When we talked about the war, he started bragging about the fact that he was in the German army as a major.”

  “I see. What did he actually say?”

  “He told me he was one of the officers in charge of Auschwitz.”

  “He admitted this?” Brenda asked, surprised.

  “Yes, I was shocked, but as I said, we’d had a lot to drink, he more than I.”

  Brenda paused and paced. “And why is Auschwitz significant?”

  “Because I was a prisoner there with my wife and three young daughters. They were only children. Magda and Roza, the twins, were eight, and little Eva was five.”

  “What happened to your family in the concentration camp with reference to the deceased, Harry Sanders?”

  “Objection, Your Honor!” Mr. Weisman cried out. “The defense counselor is leading the witness, and besides, Mr. Sanders is not on trial here and there is no foundation.”

  Judge Jordan thought for a moment and said, “Objection sustained. Please rephrase your question, Ms. Coleman.”

  “Professor Ross, what did happen during the chess game? What did you talk about?”

  “When he stated that he was a Nazi SS officer, I stared at him with new eyes. I could no longer concentrate on the game. My head was spinning. He took my queen and laughed, mocking me for my failure to protect such a valuable piece. It was a laugh I’d heard before and stood out in my memory. In that instant, there was no doubt in my mind he was the man responsible for gassing my daughters and the reason my wife took her own life. I had no doubt whatsoever that Sanders was SS officer Hans Stern. I knew it was him.”

  “How many times did you see the deceased in Auschwitz?”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” David Weisman called out. “Again, Harry Sanders is not on trial here, and there is no proof that he and Hans Stern are one and the same.”

  Judge Jordan looked directly at Brenda. “Ms. Coleman, you’re getting into unsafe waters here. Please rephrase your question.”

  “Professor Ross, when you said you ‘knew it was him,’ what did you mean?

  “I knew Sanders was Hans Stern.”

  “Michael, what were you feeling when you realized that Harry Sanders, also known to you as Hans Stern, was the man responsible for killing your family and was now sitting across from you?”

  “I was boiling over with anger. It was a rage I’d never felt before. Then, there was nothing. My mind went blank.”

  “You have no recollection of taking his life or causing him any harm?”

  “None, until I found myself in town. I feel terrible about it now. I’m not a violent person. Anybody who knows me would tell you that. I would never think of killing anyone. When I reached Main Street my heart was beating erratically and I ran back to my house, hoping what happened was a dream. But when I saw the police and fire trucks, I knew the truth.”

  “Thank you for your testimony, professor. Your witness, counselor.”

  ***

  Weisman rattled some papers in his hand as he approached the witness stand.

  “Good morning, Mr. Ross. Did you kill Harry Sanders?”

  “Yes, I killed Hans Stern.”

  “Harry Sanders was the victim, not Hans Stern,” Weisman stated.

  “I knew him as Hans Stern.”

  “You perceived him to be Hans Stern?”

  “Objection! Perceived. Leading,” Brenda shouted.

  “Sustained.”

  Weisman shook his head.

  “So, you knew him as Hans Stern?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How much time did you spend planning to take his life?”

  “None. I didn’t plan to kill him.”

  “Mr. Ross, regardless of the name you call him, isn’t it true that you invited the deceased to your home for a game of chess and then, in premeditated cold blood, you lured him to your detached garage, where you bludgeoned him with a bat and shackled him to a pipe. Then you turned on your car, exited the garage, and closed the door, leaving Harry Sanders to die?”

  “Yes, but I don’t remember doing it.”

  “You don’t remember?” Weisman said with a surprised look and glanced at the jury.

  “No.”

  “Mr. Ross. The handcuffs used to shackle the deceased belonged to you. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would a pharmaci
st need a pair of handcuffs? What was your purpose for owning them?”

  “Well, I never bought them, if that’s what you mean. I just had them,” Michael answered.

  “You’re saying you never bought them? Did they just come into your possession by some kind of magic? Do you deny having professional handcuffs in your house?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Come on, Mr. Ross, or professor, or whatever they call you. Handcuffs were found in your home, in your garage. Those same handcuffs were found on Harry Sanders body. How did they get there? Magic?”

  “No, sir.”

  “How did they even get inside your house? More magic?”

  “I bought my house from the estate of a former policeman who had died. He didn’t have any family and the house was sold as it was, including the officer’s furniture, clothing, and other personal belongings, some of which were left in boxes on a shelf in the garage. I believe my lawyer has produced an itemized bill of sale for my house.”

  “Yes, but it did not itemize every item. So, we only have your word that you didn’t purchase the handcuffs yourself.”

  “Yes, sir, but as you said, why would a pharmacist need a pair of handcuffs?”

  Faint laughter rippled through the courtroom. Weisman stood silently for a moment. A hint of red colored his face. He shrugged and said, “Are you saying the handcuffs were already in the garage?”

  “Yes. In one of the boxes.”

  “What else was in those boxes?”

  “One had a few pieces of clothing, a gray sweatshirt with the word ‘Police’ on the back in large letters, and the insignia of a badge on the front. I think I remember seeing a thin leather wallet with an opening for a badge, but there was no badge in it. Also, there was a pair of handcuffs and a key attached with a rubber band, but I remember the handcuffs being open.”

  “You noticed the handcuffs were open?”

  “Yes,” Michael answered, opening his palms and staring at Weisman.

  The prosecutor paced in front of the witness, as if in deep in thought. He took a few steps away from the defendant, then quickly turned to face the witness. Each man caught the eyes of the other.