Sharyn McCrumb - If I'd Killed Him When I Met Him…

“Speculation,” said A. P. Hill.

“I haven’t finished, Powell. Remember that the doctors tested the uneaten part of the beignet and Philip Todhunter’s stomach contents for arsenic, and they found none. But during the autopsy, hair and tissue samples from Todhunter’s body tested positive for arsenic. He had arsenic in his system, but not in his stomach, and not from the pastry he ate on the day of his death. So, where did the residual arsenic come from? I realized that he had to have been taking it on a long-term basis.”

“Maybe Lucy was administering it to him on a long-term basis,” A. P. Hill pointed out.

“No. Otherwise, he would have been exhibiting the symptoms of poisoning long before that final illness. If the major were being poisoned without his knowledge, he would have had a history of gastric attacks, vomiting, lethargy, and all the other symptoms of systematic poisoning. But there’s no evidence of that. His last illness was sudden, violent, and unprecedented. The only theory that fits the facts is the one I gave you: Todhunter, an addicted arsenic eater, was killed because his wife withheld his supply of the drug, thereby triggering an attack that stressed his system so severely that his heart gave out.”

“You still haven’t told us why she did it,” said Edith.

“I know,” said Elizabeth. “If you think it’s difficult to solve crimes after a century has passed, you should try coming up with motives.”

“Don’t you have any idea?” asked Edith.

“Not really. I know there was some talk of his selling her farm, but that seems hardly sufficient.”

“Motives don’t have to be sufficient,” said A. P. Hill. “People have been killed for the most trivial of reasons. Last July, a man in Vinton was convicted of manslaughter for killing his buddy over a tomato . That’s why the law doesn’t require good motives, only good evidence.”

“So she got away with murder, why ever she did it,” said Bill cheerfully. “It happens, we all know that. And she probably lived to a ripe old age on her husband’s money.”

“She died less than a year later,” Donna Jean Morgan replied, perhaps resenting any implicit comparison. “In childbirth.”

“Oh,” said Bill. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Lucy Todhunter was probably resigned to that eventuality,” said Elizabeth. “She had nearly died twice before with miscarriages. She’d had to go away for quite a while to the spa at White Sulphur Springs to recover her health. You’d have thought she’d stop trying to conceive.”

Edith grumbled, “Some men won’t take no for an answer.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “That’s true. They demand an heir. And apparently Major Todhunter was one of those brutal bastards, because he kept getting her pregnant as soon as she could walk again. Ugh. Poor Lucy.”

A. P. Hill looked thoughtful. “I think I’d like to have defended Lucy Todhunter,” she said quietly.

“But I told you, I’m sure she was guilty.”

The lawyer nodded. “I know she was. I would have entered a plea of self-defense.”

The next morning the triumph of saving one client had faded, and despite a slight hangover from overcelebrating, Bill was concentrating on his obligations to the other client: Miri Malone.

“Maybe I should represent the dolphin,” he said to A. P. Hill, who was trying to drink her tea in peace.

“I have a murder trial coming up, Bill,” she said in her most discouraging tones.

“Yes, but you’re not working on it at the moment, Powell, so why don’t you just listen to some of my ideas for this civil-rights case?”

In the outer office the telephone rang, but Edith got it on first ring, and the partners relaxed again and resumed their conversation.

“All right.” A. P. Hill sighed. “I suppose I’d better hear it before you go public with it. Go on-you were thinking of representing the dolphin. Why?”

“Because we’re not trying to transfer ownership from the Sea Park to Miri. We’re trying to prove that Porky is a person, and that no one should own him. Therefore, he needs his own attorney.”

“Have you ever tried billing a dolphin?”

“I see what you mean, but after all, Powell, money isn’t the first consideration. This could be a landmark case in animal rights.”

“You might consider becoming a vegetarian,” his partner advised. “The question is bound to come up in press conferences if you’re defending the civil rights of a dolphin.”

Bill frowned. “I’m not defending cows ,” he said.

“Leave that aside for now, then. So, you’re planning to argue about the legal definition of the word person ?”

“Right. And I thought I’d bring in some expert witnesses to testify to Porky’s intelligence and his ability to communicate. My argument is that sentient beings should be considered persons, even if they’re not our species. After all, if we ever have to deal with any extraterrestrial races, this question will come up.”

“I don’t think bringing up the possibility of flying saucers will strengthen your case, Bill.”

“Okay, maybe not. Anyhow, what do you think of my argument?”

“It’s interesting,” said A. P. Hill. “I can’t say that I can envision a local judge going along with it, but stranger things have happened.”

Edith appeared in the doorway. “I’ve got bad news,” she said. “Do y’all want to finish your breakfast drinks before I deliver it?”

“No,” said Bill, gulping the last ounces of lukewarm cocoa. “We can take it.”

“One of your clients is dead.”

After a moment of uncomprehending silence, A. P. Hill said, “It’s Eleanor Royden, isn’t it? I was afraid she might try to kill herself when she fully realized what she had done.”

“No, it’s not Eleanor,” said Edith cheerfully. “She’s probably busy right now answering all the proposals of marriage that she’s been getting in the mail. No, the deceased is one of Bill’s clients. Miri Malone. That’s why I interrupted you. I don’t think you’ll need all that dolphin defense strategy.”

“Miri is dead?” said Bill. “How? What happened?”

“She drowned at the Sea Park in Florida.”

“She drowned. But that’s impossible! She worked with sea mammals. She was a professional.”

Edith handed him a message slip bearing Rich Edmonds’s name and telephone number and a scribbled message. “You can call him back if you want to. He told me that Miri Malone’s nude body had been found in the dolphin tank, and that the coroner’s office is calling it an accident.”

“What does Rich think?” Bill squinted at Edith’s hastily written message. “What does conj-vs mean?”

“He agrees that her death was an accident,” said Edith. “But he has a better idea of what happened than the coroner does. He thinks Miri was in Porky’s tank on a conjugal visit, and that she ran out of air before they’d finished.”

A. P. Hill shook her head. “Only you, Bill.” She sighed.

“That’s terrible,” said Bill. “Miri was a very nice person. A little strange, I’ll admit, but maybe she was a pioneer in animal rights. Which reminds me-what’s going to happen to Porky?”

“Apparently, nothing,” said Edith, whose cheerfulness was untouched by the tragedy. “According to Rich Edmonds nobody seems very concerned about the dolphin as a threat to human life. He’s as friendly as ever. He did all his shows yesterday, and his appetite is good. The park put a female dolphin in with him to cheer him up, and it seems to be working.”

“That does it!” said Powell. “I’m having tuna fish for lunch.”

“I wonder if I should go on with the lawsuit,” said Bill.