Evan Hunter - Lizzie

Knowlton went back to his table. He sorted through the papers there and found the upstairs floor plan one of the police officers had made at the scene.

Studying the sketch, he walked back to the witness chair.

“Where did Mr. Morse sleep?”

“In the guest room, over the parlor in front of the stairs.”

“Right up the same stairs that your room was?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How far from your room?”

“A door opened into it.”

“The two rooms connected directly?”

“By one door, that’s all.”

“Not through the hall?”

“No, sir.”

“Was the door locked?”

“It has been locked and bolted, and a large writing desk in my room kept against it.”

“Then it was not a practical opening.”

“No, sir.”

“How otherwise do you get from your room to the next room?”

“I have to go into the front hall.”

“How far apart are the two doors?”

“Very near. I don’t think more than so far.” She spread her hands.

Knowlton nodded. He went back to his table and found the police sketch of the ground floor of the house. He carried it back with him to the witness chair.

“Where was your father when you came down Thursday morning?” he asked.

“Sitting in the sitting room in his large chair, reading the Providence Journal,” Lizzie said.

“Where was your mother?” Knowlton asked, and then immediately said,”Do you prefer me to call her Mrs. Borden?”

“I had as soon you called her mother,” Lizzie said, and looked him directly in the eye. “She was in the dining room with a feather duster, dusting.”

“When she dusted, did she wear something over her hair?”

“Sometimes when she swept. But not when dusting.”

“Where was Maggie?”

“Just come in the back door with the long pole, brush, and put the brush on the handle, and getting her pail of water. She was going to wash the windows around the house. She said Mrs. Borden wanted her to.”

“Did you get your breakfast that morning?”

“I didn’t eat any breakfast. I didn’t feel as though I wanted any.”

“Did you get any breakfast that morning?”

“I don’t know whether I ate half a banana. I don’t think I did.”

“You drank no tea or coffee that morning?”

“No, sir.”

“And ate no cookies?”

“I don’t know whether I did or not. We had some molasses cookies; I don’t know whether I ate any that morning or not.”

“Were the breakfast things put away when you got down?”

“Everything except the coffee pot. I’m not sure whether that was on the stove or not.”

“You said nothing about Mr. Morse to your father or mother?”

“No, sir.”

“What was the next thing that happened after you got down?”

“Maggie went out of doors to wash the windows, and father came out into the kitchen and said he didn’t know whether he’d go down to the post office or not. And then I sprinkled some handkerchiefs to iron.”

“Tell me again what time you came downstairs.”

“It was a little before nine — I should say about a quarter. I don’t know sure.”

“Did your father go downtown?”

“He went down later.”

“What time did he start away?”

“I don’t know.”

“What were you doing when he started away?”

“I was in the dining room, I think. Yes. I had just commenced, I think, to iron.”

“It may seem a foolish question,” Knowlton said, and smiled. “How much of an ironing did you have?”

“I only had about eight or ten of my best handkerchiefs.”

“Did you let your father out?”

“No, sir. He went out himself.”

“Did you fasten the door after him?”

“No, sir.”

“Did Maggie?”

“I don’t know. When she went upstairs, she always locked the door. She had charge of the back door.”

“Did she go out after a brush before your father went away?”

“I think so.”

“Did you say anything to Maggie?”

“I did not.”

“Did you say anything about washing the windows?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you speak to her?”

“I think I told her I didn’t want any breakfast.”

“You don’t remember of talking about washing the windows?”

“I don’t remember whether I did or not... I don’t remember it. Yes, I remember. Yes. I asked her to shut the parlor blinds when she got through. Because the sun was so hot.”

Knowlton nodded. The first question he had put to Bridget Sullivan this morning had been in regard to her whereabouts all through the morning of Thursday, August 4, up to the time of the murder. She testified that she’d been doing her regular work in the kitchen on the first floor. She had washed the breakfast dishes. She saw Miss Lizzie pass through the kitchen after breakfast time, and the young lady might have passed through again. She said she had finished up her work downstairs and resumed window washing on the third floor, which had been begun the preceding day. She might have seen Mrs. Borden as she went upstairs; she could hardly remember. Mr. Borden had already left the house.

“About what time did you think your father went downtown?” Knowlton asked.

“I don’t know. It must have been after nine o’clock. I don’t know what time it was.”

“You think at that time you’d begun to iron your handkerchiefs?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long a job was that?”

“I didn’t finish them. My flats weren’t hot enough.”

“How long a job would it have been? If the flats had been right?”

“If they’d been hot... not more than twenty minutes, perhaps.”

“How long did you work on the job?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“How long was your father gone?”

“I don’t know that.”

“Where were you when he returned?”

“I was down in the kitchen.”

“What doing?”

“Reading an old magazine that had been left in the cupboard. An old Harper’s Magazine.”

“Had you got through ironing?”

“No, sir.”

“Had you stopped ironing?”

“Stopped for the flats.”

“Were you waiting for them to be hot?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was there a fire in the stove?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When your father went away... you were ironing them.”

“I hadn’t commenced. But I was getting the little ironing board and the flats.”

Knowlton hesitated before putting his next question. This morning Bridget Sullivan had testified under oath that she’d heard Miss Lizzie on the stairs when she was letting Mr. Borden in after his walk downtown. Lizzie had just told him she was down in the kitchen when he returned.

“Are you sure you were in the kitchen when your father returned?” he asked.

“I’m not sure whether I was there or in the dining room.”

“Did you go back to your room before your father returned?”

“I think I did carry up some clean clothes.”

“Did you stay there?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you spend any time up the front stairs before your father returned?”

“No, sir.”

“Or after he returned?”

“No, sir. I did stay in my room long enough when I went up to sew a little piece of tape on a garment.”