Only in New England : the story of a gaslight crime (23 page)

Did he wear padded shoulders, peg-top trousers and button shoes? Or were the newer styles on him—the longer coat; the three-

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Verbatim quote.

inch starched collar that choked the neck, flushed the complexion, and kept the chin angled like the bow of a dreadnaught? I am sure that whatever he wore, his habiliments met the fashion requirements of what in those days was called a "fusser." I imagine, too, that he exuded that faint but aromatic scent of cloves and spice that went with the orange pekoe man. Spice, anyway. A clove in the teeth was a good breath deodorant after a quick drink.

"You solemnly swear mmmmmmm . . . ?" I swear.

"Mr. Bridewell, the State is aware that this is a most painful duty for you—especially with the mourning band for your unfortunate mother still fresh upon your sleeve—and we will confine our questions to recent events only in an effort to abbreviate your ordeal. Will you tell the Court, please, when and how you first heard of your mother's lamented death?"

"I received a telegram about noon of April twelfth, from my brother Earnest, saying she was badly hurt. Would I come at once."

"You repaired immediately to Quahog Point?"

"On the afternoon boat. Soon as I got home they told me she was dead from an accident. I went over to Meck's right away."

"Who is Meek?"

"Horatio Meek, the undertaker. I wanted to see my mother, naturally."

"Naturally. And that same evening, then, you viewed the—the remains?"

"I viewed them. And I didn't like it a damn bit. . . . Excuse me, Your Honor. But, you see, it was mother."

The Judge nods. Lionel blows his nose. Bolivar Dodd, sympathetic, waits. Then—

"Will you state, Mr. Bridewell, what it was that you most particularly did not like? That is, aside from your natural distress at your mother's loss."

"Well, her face looked bruised. She had wounds on her head."

But his brother had already made funeral preparations. He did not quite know what to do about it. He went to see Dr. Hatfield,

who wasn't in. Then he called on neighbor Goodbody. Of course he asked Goodbody about the accident. Wanted to know how the old lady had gotten beaten up like that.

"Did your neighbor voice an opinion?"

"Objection!"

Overruled. The witness is not asked to express an opinion; he is asked to report a conversation. He may reply to the question.

"Well, Goodbody did say that when he saw my mother down the cellar steps ... his words were . . . Tt looked bad.''

"Mr. Bridewell. Were you aware that your mother was planning to pack up and leave the old homestead?"

"Yes, I was. She intended to come and stay with me in Lookout Hill. She wrote me a letter to that effect."

"Mr. Bridewell, what were the relations between your mother and your brother?"

"They weren't pleasant. Earnest was frequently abusive to her. When my father died, he left three thousand dollars. Earnest would often ask mother what she had done with the money. On one occasion she replied, 'The money was given to me by your father to pay the necessary expenses and to provide you with a living.'" *

"What was your mother's attitude toward Earnest?"

"She was very much afraid of him. I have seen her pull down the curtains of the house and then get away from in fiont of the windows when the lamps were lighted." *

"I have here a bag of shot. I ask you if you recognize it?"

"Yes. It belongs to my brother Earnest."

"When and where was the last time you saw it?"

"In his bedroom at mother's house the weekend before she was killed. I saw it lying on the bed. Near the pillow." *

Coulter rises. "Objection! Reference to this bag of shot is irrelevant and immaterial."

Dodd flares, "If the Court please—"

Judge Cottonwood barks, "Sustained."

"But Your Honor, I intend to show that this shot-bag belonging to the defendant—"

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Verbatim quotes from the record.

"The objection is sustained!"

"I bow, of course, to the decision of the Bench. Defense counsel may cross-examine."

"Defense counsel thanks the State's Attorney for this rare opportunity to cross-examine an individual who would appear against his own brother. If the—"

"Your Honor! Defense counsel knows that such deleterious commentary—"

"The defense counsel will address his remarks to this Bench and hereafter the State's Attorney will refrain from advising the Bench in a tone of rebuke or any tone whatever. . . . Proceed with the cross-examination of this witness."

"Mr. Lionel Bridewell, what were your relations with your mother?"

"We got along well."

"And with your brother, the defendant?"

"I didn't like the way he treated our mother."

"Did you ever quarrel with your mother and brother over money?"

"Objection! The witness is not on trial!"

"Sustained."

"Your Honor, defense counsel wishes to show that this witness could have an ulterior motive in appearing against—"

"The objection is sustained!"

"Very well, then. I ask this witness, Mr. Bridewell, did you ever see your brother do physical violence to your mother?"

"No, but she was afraid—"

"I asked if you ever saw him do her violence?" -

"No. But he threatened her."

"Threatened to place her in an institution? Isn't that what you mean?"

"No. One day last November. Earnest says to me, If I had you here in the house and you refused to answer my questions, you wouldn't get out alive.' And my mother said, 'There, you see, Lionel? He's threatening your life as well as mine!'" *

Erasmus T. G. Coulter gives the witness a frozen stare. The dam of silence breaks. Furor floods the scene. Exclamations. Onlookers surging to their feet. Someone calls out, "You tell 'em, Lionel!" Coulter's "No further questions" is drowned out by Judge Cottonwood's gavel. "Order!" the Judge pounds. "Order!"

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Verbatim quote from the records.

No more questions, no more hearing for that day. With a last lusty wallop, Judge Cottonwood brings down the curtain. It falls at five minutes after six, with lengthy shadows of evening reaching into, and englooming, the courtroom.

Perhaps the longest shadow in the courtroom was the one suspended over the head and neck of State Senator Earnest Bridewell.

How did he feel about Brother Lionel's deadly asseverations? I found the answer scrawled in the margin of his scrapbook, opposite an encircled news report of Lionel's testimony.

"Liar!"

CHAPTER 15

"The prisoner was brought into court this morning by Deputy Sheriff Cal Fiske and he presented a much more cheerful appearance than on his last appearance in the courtroom. He was asked how he was feeling, and he replied that he was feeling good."

So had stated the Seaboard Herald of May 3,1911. That was the day it was first "rumored in court circles" that the case against Earnest Bridewell would collapse for want of a shred of evidence. It was that same week that Earnest Bridewell wrote to the Milk Street Orphans' Home requesting that Walter Jones be allowed to remain at Quahog Point as the key defense witness.

As of Saturday, May 27, it seemed the State had assembled all the shreds of evidence needed for the weaving of a ten-foot hang-

man's rope. And Earnest Bridewell stood in want of all the defense anyone could muster. The Seaboard Herald made no mention of his appearance as he entered court that morning. The previous day's climax must have convinced him a trip to the gallows was highly possible, and he doubtless spent that night packing the suitcases under his eyes.

Did young Walter Jones actually hold the key to Earnest's salvation? Privy to the scrapbook letter, I was eager to learn just how the orphan boy might accomplish the Senator's deliverance.

I could imagine Earnest sweating out the approach of that day's courthouse session. Bibbs and Coulter offering him those crisp, impersonal reassurances that surgeons give a patient facing a major operation. Now, now, Senator, don't be too alarmed. You have nothing worse than acromegaly of the corpus callosum of the brainpan with some complications causing tumefaction of the bump of cupidity. If neglected, your case could lead to a fatal separation of the medulla from the spinal column. However, if subornation fails, we shall try cunctation. As specialists, we have every confidence that we can pull you through. . . . No, don't worry about the bill. . . . Later perhaps. . . .

Clinical note: The patient did not eat a hearty breakfast. . . .

Vernon Bibbs, Esq., opens with classic formality.

"Your Honor, the defense moves that the case against the defendant, Mr. Earnest Bridewell, be discontinued on the grounds that the State's testimony has not borne out the charges in the warrant."

Judge Cottonwood replies with the classic retort. "Motion denied."

"The defense calls Norman Purdy."

"Do you solemnly . . . truth . . . whole . . . nothing but . . . ?"

"Yep."

"Did you say yes?" Yep.

"Will you please tell us your occupation?"

"Me? I drive a delivery wagon. Babcock's Store."

"You made grocery deliveries to the Bridewell home over a period of years?"

"Yep."

"Did you ever see the defendant strike his mother?"

"Nope."

"What were their domestic relations, to your knowledge?"

"He was her oldest son."

"But delivering charcoal one Saturday, you heard an argument between them? Mr. Earnest Bridewell protesting her treatment of his father?"

"Objection! Defense counsel leading the witness."

"Overruled. The witness may answer." Yep.

"What was the the argument about?"

"About the old man up in the attic. Why his room wasn't warmer. And such."

"You heard the defendant upbraid his mother? On that score?"

"Yep. The Senator said his father wasn't treated right."

"Your witness, Mr. State's Attorney."

"No questions."

"Will the Reverend Winfield Scott Palding please take the stand."

"Do you solemnly swear . . . ?"

"So help me God."

"Reverend, what is your faith?"

"Millerite by conviction. Used to be Jemimakin. Church at Quahog Point since closed. I also practiced a modicum of faith-healing. My grandfather knew Phineas Quimby."

"Will you state your connection with the Bridewell family?"

"Some years ago, after Captain Nathan was stricken by a stroke, I was called as male nurse for a time. My church had closed, you understand. The old Captain had occasionally attended. He believed in absent treatment. I went there to give it to him."

'Will you describe the defendant's attitude toward his father at that time?"

"The Senator felt his father much neglected. One reason he wanted me to look after him, personal. I did so for about three years. Up to a year before he died."

"Did you notice signs of neglect?"

"Deplorable. His bed was often unmade. He complained to me about the food—said his wife, Abby Bridewell, never gave him enough to eat. One time she wouldn't bring him a pitcher of water. He needed a lot of attention, and he didn't get it."

"Did the defendant protest this deplorable situation?"

"Frequently. I did my best to aid the poor old paralytic. But I was not hired to wait on him. There was a servant girl. I also felt that his wife, with all due respect, God rest her soul, was insufficiently attentive. Absent treatment demands a constant flow of what I call germicidal thoughts and prayers—"

"Yes, of course. And these—ah—emanations did not issue from the mind of Mrs. Abby Bridewell?"

"I did not feel them radiating in the atmosphere."

"But Mr. Earnest Bridewell was concerned about his father?"

"Most. In my presence he adjured his mother on numerous occasions. She did not take kindly. I believe she was influenced by Doctor Hatfield's insistence on materia medica. There were times, too, when she seemed mentally unbalanced. At least to me."

Bolivar Dodd cross-examines brusquely. Is the Reverend Pald-ing a licensed practitioner? No. Is he a reader, Science and Health? No. Is he an ordained preacher? No, Millerite didn't have to be. Isn't it true that one time a Quahog Pointer suggested his incarceration in a mental institution? But that man was an infidel, an atheist, and—

"No further questions."

Defense called Tansy Thorn to the stand. Duly sworn, Miss Thorn testified that she had never, on any occasion whatever, heard a violent exchange between the defendant and his mother. If she heard anything, the name-calling was one sided—by Abby Bridewell. According to Tansy, Earnest was a good, kind, courteous and considerate gentleman. He always tipped his hat to her on Center Square. She had attended school with him as a child. One time at a taffy-pull, and another time on a hay-ride—Miss Tansy became confused. But anyway, Earnest in her opinion was a prince. No cross-examination.

Defense called Lizzie Robinson, dressmaker. I have reported the substance of Lizzie's testimony in simulation of inquest statement. The force of her courtroom story was, in effect, a negation of the implication that Earnest had "bruised up" his mother. Lizzie saw no bruises on Abby Bridewell as of eight P.M., Tuesday, April 11th. The Court recessed for lunch.

The afternoon session began at one o'clock. Now was the time for all good witnesses to come to the aid of the party in the dock. And for the quick brown fox to jump over the lazy dog.

"The defense calls Doctor Lemeul Hatfield to the stand."

"The doctor is already sworn."

"Now, Doctor Hatfield, yesterday you stated that when you first were summoned to the Bridewell house on the morning of Wednesday, April twelfth, you thought Mrs. Abby Bridewell had suffered an accident. If you thought her death accidental, what caused you to change your mind?"

"When I thought over the situation. Earnest Bridewell's attitude toward his mother. I went back to the house next day to examine the cellarway again and—"

"Doctor, not so fast, please. Were you not aware that the defendant's attitude toward his mother was incurred by her neglect