The Trial of Callista Blake

indy darkness of winter streets, a homecoming to solitude a

to drive alone out of the city on quiet side roads, perhaps winding up in a suburban bar for an hour's casual amusement. Not so long ago he would have done it, but last year, after a few near-disast

twenty-five years had grown wrinkled and out of date along with him, dignity and seediness of antiquity together; maybe you couldn't have one without the other. Yes, a nice walk, colored by

churchyard they were bound to be respectable and, through no fault of their own, quaint, like George Washington's wooden false teeth. Leaving there, crossing Quire Street, you passed too suddenly into a splash of gaudy twentieth-century glare, the uptown movie house. Cecil had gone by it last night when the theater was about to close, a late crowd spilling away presumably cheered by a

would have left everything just so before retiring to her world upstairs, except that of course she'd never learn not to put match-cards in ash trays. Some time the long sorrow that Mrs. Wilks lived with upstairs-a husband p

reward of effort-one of the answers his mind had given him during the hours before he could sleep. Perhaps it was the only answer worth remembering out of many. There had been many, some no better than mumblings of fatigue. That one

e detention cell bars. She liked the brilliant days. They would enrich her artist's vision, he supposed, revealing depth and detail that duller eyes saw without seeing. A pleasant day, a good (light) lunch, and T. J. Hunter at the moment engaged in

ll racing unthinking motion of Terence Mann's fingers up yonder reminded him of the last occasion when he had spent an evening at Terence's apartment. Quite a while ago-July,

urrently at concert pitch-no reason, he claimed, except that it satisfied a whim. The reason could lie deeper than that. With only a listener's knowledge, Cecil felt that music might have lost something important when Terence Mann went into the law. Something held ba

h it, O

t in the dark. Yet he was also young, and human. A sidelong glance gave Warner Callista's face, composed, neutral. As usual, too remote. During the police testimony, the jury might not resen

me and occupa

Police. I have been stationed at Emmetville Barr

ed on Monday morning

was not likely to need it. "I was operating State Police Car

uipped with t

s,

estimony-in your own words, Sergeant, please state what you did and what you observed,

e site immediately, arriving at the Chalmers house at 10:40. I knocked, received no answer, saw no one until I walked around to the back. There I found Dr. Herbert Chalmers, who is and was then known to me by sight as a member of the Shanesville Presbyterian Church, to which I belong. He was sitting on the top step of the back porch, and appea

it on this map for

also seen the body and had gone back to the pond after telephoning my headquarters. I followed the path to this spot here, where you see a short spur path leading to the water. There Miss Welsh saw me, from the pond-side, and called to me. I asked her to stay where she was, since I had noticed footprints and other marks that ought not to be disturbed until examined. These marks were all in this area here, along the spur path; none on the main f

n, pl

ond and found the maximum depth to be forty-two inches; a high-water line on the banks indicated that when full the greatest depth would be about five feet. On August 17th, however, the inlet was a mere trickle, the outle

a number of t

ng, swimming accide

ped into

rigor was complete, and post-mortem liv

hose terms for th

may continue from twelve to forty-eight hours. Post-mortem lividity is a discoloration caused by

into the pond cr

rdly a rippl

check the temperat

ening was about like the evening before. The pond w

e water

ers' slacks were quite wet, consistent with what he told me. The body was that of a woman in the early twenties, of slight build, about five feet two. Since there was no question of life remaining,

cance of foam on the

, a medica

ur own experience a

air. Air and water mix with the

athing enters the wate

correc

there was some, bu

'm qualified to say w

on your police experience. You said, I thi

n. I've been with the state police only three years altogether.

was quick and graceful. "Quite right, Sergeant, and maybe I was a bit out of line. Would you

path is going over a rise of ground. The spur itself runs level for about half its distance, then there's a ten-foot slope to the pond, rather steep." Hunter seemed bo

tarily shuddered. He felt suffocated, and as though he too were falling in a darkness, nothing upholding him but a single thread of belief: Callista had no criminal intent. A belief that could never be demonstrated as a truth; never at least by the sort o

ing of the spur, there's a gradual slope as far as the place where the pond's outlet crosses the path-just a little ditch you step over; then another slight rise

e the blocky sandy-haired athlete sitting down. "After lettin

the photographer Sergeant Peterson, Trooper Walter Curtis who brought equipment for making plaster casts, and Trooper Morris. The coroner's physician Dr. Devens arrived soon, and the undertaker's vehicle from Shanesville. However, Dr. Devens directed that the body be taken to the Winchester City morgue, where I underst

same technicality. Common sense says: Who's going to switch bodies on the doctor? The law says: All right, but let's just make sure

, Serg

blunt-toed, the right shoe showing a slightly different sole-pattern from the left. I assisted Trooper Curtis in making casts of the prints, and initialed them as he did. Mrs. Doherty's footprints ended on the spur path, at the top of that slope I mentioned. Where they ended, a blurred mark on the fairly soft ground suggested that someone had fallen. It was not a very clear mark; al

that

d mark where someone had apparently fallen. And this mark told nothing except that whoeve

ne heel

have rested on the hemlock needles and other

her the person was s

'd say standing, bu

the footprints of

e. We found a few other, partial prints of the size six shoes in that area, all partly obliterated by other footsteps. That left bank is the place where access to the water is easiest

spur path were indefinite. But would yo

ep enough for that; or she might have been pushed after she had fallen; or she might even have crawled or dragged herself into the pond. At the bottom of that slope, by the water's edge, the top of a wide flat boulder

your search beyo

right, matching the left one on the body. The footpath ends at a gravel turning circle in front of the Doherty house. There we found a blue and white four-door Pontiac sedan, later identified as belonging to Mr. James Doherty. The front bumper was almost in contact with

drive extend to

car, but found none. That drive would take no m

anything else

and the outside doors of the Doherty house-those doors were all locked at that time, when Sergeant Peterson and I arrived there. On the driveway, near the

he other content

ther, mechanical pencil with chromium finish, single stub from motion picture theater, fifteen dollars in bills, one dollar and fourteen cents in coin in change purse, page torn from a memorandum pad with date

e already identified garments, not quite touching but with the sense of a caress. Co

tag with your initials-is

s,

I show you here, a woman's

n the woods, between the pond and the Dohe

air of hands? Against a voice that by its very restraint compels the subject to cry aloud? Ann's garments, her poor fallen possessio

cause the defen

ness, Mr.

tence of grays between black and white. One dim blur of gray across the clarity of Shields' testimony might stir

polite as he had be

t once and a

polite, and well awa

rence were needed he

ion! This conversation wasn't in

or, I submit that the substance o

cross examination.

ged and let it go.

t, what did Dr

t-loving eyes were kind. A contemplative kindness that could do the defense no

elieve it.' I said: 'I just got here. What's happened?