Parlor Games: A Novel Part 37

He released his grip. "Do you hear me?"

I clutched my throat and stepped back, words escaping me.

"Do you understand how strongly I feel about this?"

There is only one thing a woman can say under such circ.u.mstances, and I straightaway gazed meekly upon him and said it: "Yes, my dear."

But I vowed that very instant to plot a way to extricate myself from his increasingly bellicose and dangerous grip. To be anything but cautious would have been foolhardy.

THE TRIAL.

TRIVIALITIES.

MENOMINEE-JANUARY 30, 1917

When, I asked myself, would Frank and her attorney wrap up their case? Sawyer opened the seventh day of the trial by calling another witness to the stand, a neighbor of Frank's parents, who, I might add, was quite far removed from the matters under consideration.

"Mrs. Schultz, I hope you're comfortable," he began, after giving the seventy-plus-year-old plenty of time to hoist her stubby frame onto the witness-box chair.

"Goodness, yes." Mrs. Schultz nodded, jiggling the wattles on her throat.

"Did you know that the friends.h.i.+p between the Baroness and Miss Shaver broke off in 1903?"

"I should say so. Frank told me all about it." The old woman's gaze followed Sawyer's every move, like an underling all too happy to do her master's bidding.

"What was your understanding of the reason for the break?"

"Oh, that brother of May's, Gene. He kept borrowing money from her. Frank didn't think it was at all proper. And neither did I."

"Yes, thank you," said Sawyer. He paused, perhaps groping for some strategy to blunt the gossipy edge of Mrs. Schultz's delivery. "In the years before the Baroness and Miss Shaver reconciled, did you ever see the Baroness?"

"I'd invited her to visit, and she did call on me a few times. Oh, yes, we had some cozy chats, the Baroness and me."

"And what did you talk about?"

"My dog. She loved Snookie, my now departed Boston terrier. He ran crazy circles whenever she visited."

Sawyer nodded to urge her on.

"And the weather, how I was doing, if I'd seen Frank, my prize flowers, and such and so."

My G.o.d, did she imagine the court really cared about all this drivel? Poor Mrs. Schultz had clearly reached her prattling years. I glanced at the judge, who stared vacantly at Sawyer. No doubt he shared my impatience.

Sawyer rushed in to keep her on track. "Please tell us about conversations regarding Miss Shaver. Did the Baroness ever ask about her financial circ.u.mstances?"

"Yes, the last time she visited, after Frank's father died in 1912, she asked how much money Frank had inherited. And when she'd get it."

That seemed to be the nugget Sawyer had been digging for. He explored this a bit further before relinquis.h.i.+ng his witness to my attorney for cross-examination. And cross-examine he did.

Mr. Powers stood no more than three feet from the witness box, brus.h.i.+ng his palms together. "Do you recall the exact words, Mrs. Schultz, that the Baroness used when she asked about the inheritance?"

"Not exactly, just that she asked."

"Was it you who brought up the pa.s.sing of Mr. Shaver?"

"I don't think so. The best I remember, the Baroness brought it up. Of course, it was all over the newspapers, too."

Mr. Powers tapped a finger to his lips, pausing for a moment of contemplation. "Are you absolutely positive the Baroness brought it up?"

"Fairly positive."

"But not absolutely positive?"

"Well, not absolutely."

"Did you talk to any other people about Mr. Shaver's pa.s.sing?"

"Oh, yes. Everybody in the neighborhood was upset. He was a wonderful neighbor. Always kept his grounds tidy as could be."

"Did any of them mention the matter of inheritance?"

"Yes, well, we were all curious. It was such a fancy home they had."

"Exactly which neighbors talked about the inheritance?"

"I don't know that I could say which ones did and which ones didn't. But we all talked about his pa.s.sing for days and days."

"And did the newspapers mention anything about inheritance?"

"It's been so many years now. I can't say for sure."

"So you don't recall if the newspapers mentioned an inheritance; you don't remember which neighbors you discussed it with; and you can't say for certain that the Baroness brought up the matter? Is this all correct?"

"Yes, but I know she asked. I'm almost positive of that."

"That's all I have, Your Honor."

But the charade was not over. Sawyer next called Mabel Owens to the stand. Mabel, a cousin of Frank's, was about as drab as Frank was bl.u.s.tery, much older than Frank, and altogether refined in appearance, if not decorum. Having been widowed at the age of thirty-seven, she had taken to traveling from one relation to another, settling in their homes for months on end. In fact, I first met her while she stopped for a summer at Frank's Chicago-area home.

Sawyer swaggered to the witness box. "Mrs. Owens, when did you first meet the Baroness May de Vries?"

"In August 1913, at Frank's home in Highland Park."

"Did you talk with her about an invitation she had put to Miss Shaver?"

"Yes, May wanted Frank to go on a trip to London, but Frank hadn't accepted."

"Was Miss Shaver there when you talked about this?"

"No, it was just me and May."

"Can you tell us the gist of the discussion?"

"Yes, I told May that Frank didn't feel she could afford such an expensive trip, but May explained that she'd invited Frank as her guest and Frank wouldn't need to spend any money at all. May said she'd treat her to a first-cla.s.s cabin on the Lusitania. I was surprised, because a trip like that would cost plenty. But May said, 'Well, I am very wealthy. Can't you tell?' "

"And did the Baroness attempt to demonstrate her wealth?"

"She showed me a yellow-diamond necklace and said that yellow diamonds were especially rare. And she went on and on about her first string of pearls, which were given to her in j.a.pan in 1891. She said they hadn't even started cultivating pearls at that time and these were perfect, all balanced in size, with smooth, s.h.i.+mmering surfaces. She told me everything anyone would ever want to know about pearls. I believe she wished to impress me with her wealth."

Powers shot to his feet. "Objection, the witness is conjecturing about motive."

"Sustained," said the judge. "The jury will disregard the last remark."

Sawyer continued nevertheless. "Mrs. Owens, did you think that the Baroness was a wealthy woman?"

"Heavens, yes. Very wealthy."

"Did Miss Shaver take this trip with her?"

"She did, in early 1914."

"And did she tell you about it afterward?"

"She said she'd had a grand time, but she'd spent altogether too much money."

"Did this surprise you?"

"It most certainly did."

"Did you talk to Miss Shaver about this?"

"I told her I'd been given to understand that she'd be May's guest, and she just laughed it off. She said, 'When you're in May's entourage, you don't quibble about money. You just live the high life.' Afterward, I warned her to watch out for that woman."

"And did she?"

"No, she was completely in her clutches, and nothing I said deterred her. Until she finally realized May had taken her for all her money."

"And did she talk to you about this?"

"She told me she'd been tricked. She was terribly upset."

And with that, Mr. Sawyer finally announced that he had called all his witnesses, though he reserved the right to reintroduce them should the defense's testimony warrant it. My attorney opted for a brief cross-examination of Mrs. Owens, craftily pointing out how very much she herself had benefited from Frank's beneficence.

Then he called as our first witness my brother Gene, who proved quite adept at corroborating how Frank had, while sipping tea in her bedroom at the Menominee home in 1915, signed a doc.u.ment releasing me from all debt. Not even Sawyer's cross-examination could budge him from his clear testimony on the matter.

I felt well satisfied with how the testimony ended that day. And Sawyer hadn't yet met his match-Daisy, our prize witness.

WHAT ARE THE RISKS?.

LONDON AND MONTE CARLO-19081910

When Ernest and I returned to London, I resolved to prove myself an agreeable companion, which required me to please him unerringly and avoid sparking his ire over even the smallest matter. I only occasionally ventured into London to visit friends, and I always invited Ernest to join me. He typically declined to do so, often discouraging me from going on my own. When I did find a lady friend to accompany me, I made a point of returning at a reasonable hour and informing him of the play or opera I'd attended, placing a great deal of emphasis on conversations with my lady friends.

By the winter of 19081909, our relations had calmed, so I ventured a proposal: "Mrs. Baker has invited me to stay at her home after the opera Sat.u.r.day, should the weather turn to freezing."

Ernest and I were on our way back from London, where we had shopped for a new bedroom set. As Ernest drove the Calthorpe over the somewhat b.u.mpy roads approaching Maidenhead, he replied, without turning his head, "I'd rather you not. We have our Sunday routine, you know."

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't want to disrupt that."

I tried a few similar ploys to see if I might ease my way out of the house by degrees, but they did not meet with success. It became clear to me that I would have to make a clean and clandestine break, but before I could do so, Ernest once again whisked us off to Monte Carlo.

I did not object to the trip, even though Ernest's suspicious watchfulness greatly reduced my leeway and enjoyment of our exotic getaway. I had taken stock of my finances and determined it would be prudent to enhance my holdings in antic.i.p.ation of life after Bray Lodge. Thus, I heaped praise on him for his gambling prowess and begged him to humor me by wagering some of my money-with me as his lucky charm at the table (which had the dual benefits of reducing my boredom and a.s.suring him I was not spending time with other men). And I always had him sign for the amount ventured. His skill at chemin de fer was extraordinary, though he seemed reluctant to pad my pocketbook too much, perhaps sensing that a full purse might bestow on me a dangerous degree of freedom.

So, when I learned Mr. Zaharoff had checked into the Hotel Metropole, I found a private moment to phone him.

"Basil, how nice to hear your voice."

"How are you?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, a little under the weather." I cleared my throat. "The doctor has ordered me to stay in my room for the next few days."