Маргарет Миллар - Spider Webs

“Lieutenant Sommerville of the Coast Guard explained how Mrs. Pherson’s body was cut away from the kelp that entangled her.

“Tyler Pherson, the dead woman’s husband, delineated his wife’s character for you and told you about the close relationship between Mrs. Pherson and her mother.

“The testimony of Angelina Gomez, the hotel maid, is of interest in two ways. It indicates that Mrs. Pherson intended to return to the hotel because she’d left her clothes in the closet. Miss Gomez also provided us with an account of Mrs. Pherson talking to herself about a trip to Hawaii.

“Mr. Elfinstone, the hotel’s assistant manager, detailed the rather mischievous remarks of Mrs. Pherson when she reclaimed her green jewel box. Mr. Elfinstone interpreted these remarks as meaning she was going off with a man.

“I’ve left until last the testimony of Harry Arnold and his son, Richie. It was Harry Arnold who heard a woman scream in the middle of the night and later saw Cully King throwing some clothing overboard.

“Richie Arnold was not a witness to the throwing scene described by his father, but he did hear a woman scream. If he sounded less than positive about hearing the screams, I would suggest that he was just suffering from nervousness at the idea of testifying against a man who was his friend and his employer. Richie also described his meeting with Mrs. Pherson, who gave him a hundred dollars to hide the green leather jewel case. We don’t know why she did this, and we probably never will. But it seems logical to think it had something to do with the amount of alcohol she had drunk at the bar. For a nondrinker like Mrs. Pherson double martinis can be lethal. If Madeline Pherson’s judgment had not been impaired by alcohol, she would never have gone on board the Bewitched with a man like Cully King.

“Let’s take a look at this man, Cully King. First and foremost, he is a murderer, without pity, without remorse, without a spark of humanity that might have saved Madeline Pherson.

“Did he kill her for those diamond stud earrings which he sold to the pawnbroker for five hundred dollars? No. The earrings were only a small part of his motive. The rest was in the jewel box, or what King thought was in the jewel box.

“I wish to repeat now what I said at the beginning of the trial: This is a simple case.

“Most murderers are careless. They leave behind fingerprints or footprints, gum wrappers, matchbooks, cigarette butts. Cully King, both by nature and by training, a meticulous man, erased Mrs. Pherson from the Bewitched with ease. What tripped him up was not carelessness but a forest of giant kelp, something he was unfamiliar with in his area of the world. If Mrs. Pherson’s body had not been caught in that kelp, this case would probably not have come to trial.

“Conducting a murder trial without a body has been done, but it is rare and rarely successful. The people of California ought to be very grateful for that kelp. It will prevent a murderer from walking our streets.

“It is unfortunate that Cully King did not take the stand himself. You would have seen him getting tangled up in his own lies as surely as Mrs. Pherson got tangled up in that kelp.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you do not get a true picture of Cully King by watching him sit here in court day after day, quiet, confident, benign. Benign, yes, he can look benign. But I know what he is. He is a cancer. It is up to you, ladies and gentlemen, to get rid of that cancer before it spreads.”

The gray jail bus with its barred and screened windows arrived to take the inmates back for lunch. The small group that had been waiting for the bus stood under the arched entrance to the sheriff’s department. All wore handcuffs, and one of them had on leg irons.

Richie Arnold had also been waiting for the bus, sitting on the grass in the shade of a lemon tree. When the bus stopped at the curb, Richie got up and approached the driver.

The driver, in uniform, opened his window. “Back off, kid. This is official business.”

“I just want to talk to my father a minute.”

“Against the rules.”

“I know, but couldn’t I talk to him anyway just for a minute?”

“So your father’s one of our jolly group. What’s your name, kid?”

“Richie Arnold.”

“I don’t have any Arnolds riding with me at the moment.”

“Arnold’s the name of my legal father. My real father is Cully King. I am going to live with him when we get back to the islands. I want to start planning the trip, but first I have to talk to him.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you can talk from here to Christmas, but the powers that be wouldn’t approve. You want to lose me my job?”

“No.”

“Then back off, kid.”

Richie backed off as far as he could, which took him as far as the group under the archway. They had lined up in twos and except for their restraints looked like a Scout troop about to leave on a field trip. Cully was handcuffed to the young man in leg irons. The young man’s face was flushed, and he was sweating profusely.

“I have an evil headache,” the young man said to Richie. “Can you help me?”

“Leave him alone,” Cully said. “He’s just a kid.”

“I was just a kid, too, when I refused to let Jesus Christ enter my body and the devil came instead and gave me this evil headache. Help me, boy, help me.”

“I don’t know how,” Richie said.

“Pills. Get me some pills.”

“I have no money.”

“Little blue pills.”

Cully told him to shut up, then turned to Richie. “You get away from here and stay away.”

“I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

“What about?”

“Our plans.”

“We don’t have any plans. There’s no more connection between you and me than there is between me and this pill popper here.”

“Little blue pills,” said the young man in leg irons. “You take three or four and the pain disappears and you are floating on a cloud. It’s like going to heaven. Only then you have to come down again, and that’s where I am now, down.”

No one was paying any attention to him. The prisoners had heard it all before, and Richie’s eyes were fixed on Cully.

“I thought you and me better start planning our trip back home. All it takes to be a family is two people. We can sign on boats together and everything.”

“Stop talking crap.”

“Little blue pills.”

Two deputies came out the door, and almost immediately the line began to move toward the gray bus. As it pulled away from the curb, someone inside waved. Richie couldn’t tell who it was. In case it might be Cully he tried to wave back, but he couldn’t lift his arm. It was as heavy as an iron pig.

Donnelly spent the lunch hour polishing his speech. Deprived of food, his stomach was making sounds of protest, which the loudspeaker at the lectern would pick up and broadcast to the entire courtroom. This speech was to be the last time he would ever address a jury, and he didn’t want it marred by stomach noises, so he bought two chocolate bars at the vending machine outside the jury room and ate them as he walked back down the hall.

Court convened at 2:03, and Donnelly immediately took his place at the lectern.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is not a simple case, as Mr. Owen seems to believe and likes to say. It has been a very difficult one, which is now grinding to a halt. I want to thank you for your attention and your patience. After the judge gives you his instructions, you will go into the deliberating room and decide the fate of a man who is as much a victim as the victim herself. Has he been treated like a victim? Judge for yourself. Denied bail, he has spent many weeks in jail. He has been harassed by the district attorney and his staff; he has been accused by the media and condemned from the pulpits.