Calamity Town

Then Judge Martin called Lorenzo Grenville.

Lorenzo Grenville was a drippy-eyed little man with hourglass cheeks and a tall Hoover collar, size sixteen, out of which his neck protruded like a withered root.

He identified himself as a handwriting expert.

Mr. Grenville agreed that he had sat in the courtroom from the beginning of the trial, that he had heard the testimony of the People’s experts regarding the authenticity of the handwriting in the three letters alleged to have been written by the defendant; that he had had ample opportunity to examine said letters, also undisputed samples of the defendant’s true handwriting; and that in his “expert” opinion there was grave reason to doubt James Haight’s authorship of the three letters in evidence.

“As a recognized authority in the field of handwriting analysis, you do not believe Mr. Haight wrote the three letters?”

“I do not.” (The Prosecutor leers at the jury, and the jury leers back.)

“Why don’t you believe so, Mr. Grenville?” asked the Judge.

Mr. Grenville went into punctilious detail. Since he drew almost exactly opposite conclusions from the identical data which the jury had heard the People’s experts say proved Jim Haight had written those letters, several jurymen were not unnaturally confused, which contented Judge Martin.

“Any other reasons for believing these letters were not written by the defendant, Mr. Grenville?”

Mr. Grenville had many which, edited, became a question of composition. ”The phrasing is stilted, unnatural, and is not like the defendant’s ordinary letter style at all.” Mr. Grenville cited chapter and verse from Haight letters in evidence.

“Then what is your opinion, Mr. Grenville, as to the authorship of the three letters?”

“I am inclined to consider them forgeries.”

Mr. Queen would have felt reassured, but he happened to know that a certain defendant in another case had written a check which Mr. Lorenzo Grenville just as solemnly testified to be a forgery. There was no slightest doubt in Ellery’s mind about the Haight letters. They had been written by Jim Haight, and that’s all there was to it. He wondered what Judge Martin was up to with the unreliable Mr. Grenville.

He found out at once. ”Is it your considered opinion, Mr. Grenville,” purred Judge Eli, “that it would be easy, or difficult, to forge Mr. Haight’s handwriting?”

“Oh, very easy,” said Mr. Grenville.

“Could you forge Mr. Haight’s handwriting?”

“Certainly.”

“Could you forge Mr. Haight’s handwriting here and now?”

“Well,” said Mr. Grenville apologetically, “I’d have to study the handwriting a while?say two minutes!”

Bradford was on his feet with a bellow, and there was a long, inaudible argument before Judge Newbold. Finally, the Court allowed the demonstration, the witness was provided with pen, paper, ink, and a photostatic copy of one of Jim Haight’s acknowledged samples of handwriting?it happened to be a personal note written to Nora by Jim on the Wrightsville National Bank stationery and dated four years before?and the courtroom sat on the edge of its collective seat.

Lorenzo Grenville squinted at the photostat for exactly two minutes.

Then, seizing the pen, he dipped it into the ink, and with a casual air wrote swiftly on the blank paper.

“I’d do better,” he said to Judge Martin, “if I had my own pens to work with.”

Judge Martin glanced earnestly at what his witness had written and then, with a smile, passed the sheet around the jury box, together with the photostat of Jim’s undisputed handwriting. From the amazement on the jurors’ faces as they compared the photostat with Grenville’s forgery, Ellery knew the blow had told.

On cross-examination, Carter Bradford had only one question to ask the witness.

“Mr. Grenville, how many years has it taken you to learn the art of forging handwriting?”

It seemed Mr. Grenville had spent his whole life at it.

* * *

Victor Carlatti to the stand. Yes, he is the owner of a roadhouse on Route 16 called the Hot Spot. What sort of establishment is it? A nightclub.

Q.?Mr. Carlatti, do you know the defendant, James Haight?

A.?I’ve seen him around.

Q.?Has he ever visited your nightclub?

A.-Yeah.

Q.?Drinking?

A.?Well, a drink or two. Once in a while. It’s legal.

Q.?Now, Mr. Carlatti, there has been testimony here that James Haight allegedly admitted to Mrs. Haight that he had “lost money gambling” in your establishment. What do you know about this?

A.?It’s a dirty lie.

Q.?You mean James Haight has never gambled in your nightclub?

A.?Sure he never. Nobody ever?

Q.?Has the defendant borrowed any money from you?

A.?He nor nobody else.

Q.?Does the defendant owe you a single dollar?

A.?Not a chip.

Q.?As far as you know, has the defendant ever “lost” any money in your establishment? Gambling or any other way?

A.?Maybe some broad may have took him to the cleaners while he was feeling happy, but he never shelled out one cent in my place except for drinks.

Q.?You may cross-examine, Mr. Bradford.

Mr. Bradford murmurs, “With pleasure,” but only Judge Eli hears him, and Judge Eli shrugs ever so slightly and sits down.

Cross-examination by Mr. Bradford:

Q.?Carlatti, is it against the law to operate a gambling parlor?

A.?Who says I operate a gambling parlor? Who says?

Q.?Nobody “says,” Carlatti. Just answer my question.

A.?It’s a dirty frame. Prove it. Go ahead. I ain’t gonna sit here and take no double-cross?

Judge Newbold: The witness will refrain from gratuitous remarks, or he will lay himself open to contempt. Answer the question.

A.?What question, Judge?

Q.?Never mind. Do you or do you not run roulette, faro, craps, and other gambling games in the back room of your so-called “nightclub”?

A.?Am I supposed to answer dirty questions like that? It’s an insult, Judge. This kid ain’t dry behind the ears yet, and I ain’t gonna sit here and take?

Judge Newbold: One more remark like that?

Judge Martin: It seems to me, Your Honor, that this is improper cross. The question of whether the witness runs a gambling establishment or not was not part of the direct examination.

Judge Newbold: Overruled!

Judge Martin: Exception!

Mr. Bradford: If Jim Haight did owe you money lost at your gambling tables, Carlatti, you’d have to deny it, wouldn’t you, or face prosecution on a charge of running a gambling establishment?

Judge Martin: I move that question be stricken?

A.?What is this? All of a sudden all you guys are getting angels. How do you think I been operating?on my sex appeal? And don’t think no hick judge can scare Vic Carlatti. I got plenty of friends, and they’ll see to it that Vic Carlatti ain’t going to be no fall guy for some old goat of a judge and some stinker of a D.A.?