The Trial of Dr. Kate (26 page)

“That flaming red hair of yours makes you easy to spot, girl. I’m really pissed now. I’m going after that asshole myself. And once I catch the bastard I’m going to pound his head into the asphalt.”

Shenandoah laughed. “If you catch him, call me before you beat him up. I want to help.”

They had reached the Bel Air, and as Shenandoah opened the driver’s door, Bobby said, “After tonight, I really think you might care for me.”

“You think?”

“Actions speak louder than words.”

O
n Wednesday morning, Kate gave Shenandoah a hug in the meeting room, and then said, “I’ve got to meet with Jake and Rebecca today. You promised you’d see Junior this morning.”

“I’m good to my word. I just wanted to wish you luck today.”

“Thanks, Shenandoah. I’m sure I’ll need it. Go on now.”

Shenandoah pushed the button, and Oscar Masterson appeared immediately. “Dr. Kate said you wanted to see your uncle. Come on. I’ll be back in a minute, Doc.”

The deputy led Shenandoah through the big steel door and down a long corridor. At a second steel door, the deputy opened it and they walked into the cell block. All of the cells appeared empty except for the one at the end. When they reached it, Shenandoah saw her uncle sitting on a cot with his back to the wall, staring into space.

It had been fourteen years since she’d seen her uncle. Junior stood a good six feet three and was two hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle, without the big gut one associates with heavy drinkers. His dirty gray hair, combed back from his forehead and nicely parted, was neater than Shenandoah had remembered. When the big man looked up and saw his niece, he smiled, revealing a set of crooked and decaying teeth.

“Well, if it ain’t my long-lost niece. How’s it going, Shenandoah?”

Oscar Masterson inserted a key into the lock of Junior’s cell and opened the door. “I got to take the doc to court, and then I’ll come back and let you out.”

“Thanks, Oscar. Hello, Junior.”

Junior stood and extended his hand. Shenandoah took it and they shook. “Sit here on the cot next to me, Shenandoah, and tell me about yourself.”

“I’m living in Memphis now,” she said. “I work for a newspaper and I came up to cover Dr. Kate’s trial. That’s it for me. When’re you going to quit drinking, Junior? Just look at all the trouble it gets you into.”

“Long as they make it, honey, I’ll drink it. Hell, girl, that’s what the damn stuff’s for. You been out to Beulah Land? Seen Lester or Gilbert?”

“I don’t plan on going.”

“You ought to go see Gilbert’s new boy. He’s just about a month old—named him Jamie. See your aunt Bertha too. She’s always asking about you.”

“How much longer are you going to be in jail?”

“Two more weeks. You ought to go see your kin, Shenandoah. It ain’t right not to see your kin.”

“I’ll think about it. Anything I can bring you?”

“It’s times like this, honey, that I damn near wish I could read. You know, to pass the time and all.”

“It’s never too late to learn. I’m sure someone would be willing to teach you. The state might even have a literacy program.”

“I reckon I’m just too old to do something like that. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. I might think about it, though.”

“You know anybody who might have it in for me?” Shenandoah asked.

“What you mean, honey?”

“Somebody’s been after me. Ran me off the road. Drives a new Dodge pickup.”

“Don’t know anybody that’s got a new pickup. Why would anybody be after you? You ain’t even living here no more.”

Shenandoah shrugged. “Could be somebody from Memphis, but I think it’s a Round Rock redneck. Whoever it is knows the roads up here.”

“I jest can’t help you, honey. Wish I could.”

Just then, Oscar Masterson walked up. “I got to let you out now, Shenandoah, ‘cause I got to get back to the courtroom. We’re damned shorthanded with Deputy Beemer on vacation.”

“Bye, Junior. Think about what I said.”

“Thanks for coming, Shenandoah. Don’t forget to see your aunt and uncles.”

Shenandoah followed Masterson out of the jail and down to the courtroom. She slipped through the door and took her usual seat reserved for the press.

The very moment Judge Grant brought down his gavel, a change occurred in the atmosphere of the courtroom, like the subtle shift of temperature on the cusp of September and October when you know cold air will soon swoop down from Canada and the lightness, warmth, and freedom of summer will be just a vague memory.

Thelonius P. Flatt sat at the prosecutor’s desk sifting through his notes, and Jake Watson leaned against the back of his chair, feet extended, staring into space. Dr. Kate sat with her elbows on the table, her face a blank. Rebecca scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad.

Judge Grant stretched his back and, addressing the bailiff, said, “Seat the jury.”

Thirteen men and one woman entered the courtroom single file and took their seats. There were three farmers, two truck drivers, four businessmen, a barber, a day laborer, and a seamstress from the shirt factory. The two alternates were a traveling salesman and a dockhand from one of the local marinas on Dale Hollow Lake.

Judge Grant directed his attention to the prosecution’s table. “Is the prosecution prepared to state the charge in the case of Tennessee v. Katherine Marlow?”

Standing, Thelonious said, “We are, Your Honor.”

He walked to the jury box and looked each juror in the eye as he spoke. “My friends, the state of Tennessee charges Katherine Marlow with the murder of Lillian Johnson.

“The state will systematically prove that Dr. Marlow with premeditation took the life of her unsuspecting patient by injecting a lethal dose of a barbiturate into her friend’s bloodstream. This woman does not play by the rules of society. No, for some reason, she thinks of herself as above restraints of any kind—even those of the law. She is so irresponsible, so unbelievably arrogant, that she refuses to obtain a simple driver’s license.” He paused here to address the spectators. “All of you, I’d venture to say, take that responsibility seriously. You took and passed an examination to prove you knew how to operate an automobile—but not Katherine Marlow. Is she somehow exempt? Exempt from the rules of society? Or is she simply arrogant? Above the rest of us?”

Thelonious stood with his feet widely spaced, his facial muscles relaxed, and his voice steady. He paused for a few seconds, the effect dramatic, unsettling. Judge Grant frowned, but still Thelonious stood like a statue in front of the jury box. Shaking his head, he blinked and then sniffed loudly. In a hoarse but audible whisper, he said, “But that’s not all, my friends. No, this doctor is guilty of much more. This arrogant woman seated before you is an adulteress.”

With this statement, a hushed murmur passed through the courtroom.

Kate straightened her back and stared at the prosecutor with flashing eyes.

Thelonious moved his head up and down slowly. “Yes,” he said, “she carried on an adulterous affair with the husband of one of her patients, an invalid confined to a wheelchair. When threatened with exposure, Katherine Marlow murdered that patient.”

A silence permeated the courtroom like a heavy fog. Shenandoah glanced at Kate and saw that her eyes were boring a hole in Mr. Flatt. Rebecca, too, stared at the prosecutor. Jake hadn’t moved a muscle.

Another few seconds passed without Thelonious uttering a single word. The prosecutor stood and faced the jury with a hurt expression, as if it pained him to reveal these facts.

“This woman is dangerous, a danger to society in general and to the citizens of Parsons County in particular. The state will methodically prove the charge of murder. At the end of this trial, there will be no doubt in your minds that this woman is guilty. I know that you will make the correct decision.”

He sat down, and Jake Watson arose from his chair as if he was in pain. Facing the jury, he said, “I’m sure that you members of the jury are a little confused by Mr. Flatt’s description of Dr. Katherine Marlow. Certainly he wasn’t describing the Dr. Kate you and I know. Don’t be too hard on him. After all, he hasn’t had the advantage of knowing her as we have. Besides, he’s just doing his duty. The state of Tennessee has appointed him to bring this ridiculous charge against our beloved friend and benefactor.”

Jake walked around the table and, as he approached the jury box, gave a deep sigh. “Friends, it makes me very sad, as I’m sure it does you, to hear these terrible things said about someone we care so much about. Now rest assured that this charge will be answered in due time. I will systematically disprove Mr. Flatt’s mistaken assumption. It’s simply absurd, for instance, to think that Dr. Kate is arrogant. We all know that to be untrue. Who among us would consider her dangerous? My God, how many lives has she saved in this county during the past nine years?”

The jurors listened intently to Jake Watson’s speech, and two or three nodded in agreement at every statement he made. Thelonious sat grim-faced at the prosecutor’s table.

Jake continued, “Now, the charge the state has brought against Dr. Kate is that she willfully murdered her good friend and patient, Lillian Johnson.” Here Jake shook his head and pursed his lips. “Members of the jury, at the end of this trial you will know all the facts in this case. Then I feel quite confident that you will find Dr. Kate not guilty. Thank you.”

He sat down. Thelonious stood and faced the judge. “Your Honor, the state calls Dr. Carl Poole to the stand.”

A tall man with dark brown hair walked down the aisle. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and wore a business suit, a white shirt, and a paisley tie.

The bailiff handed him a King James Bible and said, “Please place your right hand on the Bible.” As the doctor did so, the bailiff continued. “Do you swear to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

The doctor nodded and said, “I do.”

With the doctor sworn in and seated, Thelonious approached the witness box. “State your name and occupation.”

“Carl Poole. I’m a medical doctor practicing family medicine, and I serve as the coroner for Overton County in Livingston, Tennessee.”

“During the course of your duties as coroner, did you have an occasion to examine the body of one Lillian Johnson?”

“I did.”

“Would you be so kind as to explain to the jury your findings and how you reached your conclusions?”

The doctor removed a small notepad from his shirt pocket and asked, “May I refer to my notes?”

“Yes.”

“On March 23, 1952, I was asked to perform an autopsy on the body of Lillian Johnson.”

Interrupting the doctor, Thelonious said, “Please explain to the jury what the term
autopsy
means.”

“When someone dies under questionable circumstances, the law requires that a medical doctor examine the body to determine the cause of death.”

“Tell us what you found when you examined the body of Lillian Johnson.”

Dr. Poole glanced at his notes. Then, looking directly at the jury, he said, “I discovered a puncture wound in her right arm, so I took a blood sample and sent it to Vanderbilt University Medical Center so that they could run a drug screen. They found a lethal dose of a barbiturate in the blood of the deceased.”

“In lay terms, what are barbiturates?”

“Barbiturates are a class of drugs that produce drowsiness and sleep. They’re a sedative. They’re most often used as a sleeping pill.”

“A sleeping pill?”

“Yes.”

“They produce a state of unconsciousness. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“If given in a large enough dose, could this drug cause death?”

“Yes, given a high enough dose, barbiturates will produce a respiratory arrest.”

“Please, Doctor, refrain from using medical terms. What exactly happens to the patient who is given too large a dose of a barbiturate?”

“The person quits breathing and dies from lack of oxygen to the brain. The heart fails.”

“Is this what happened to Lillian Johnson? Was this the cause of her death?”

“Yes.”

“How did the barbiturate drug get into Lillian Johnson’s blood? Did she swallow pills?”

“As I said, I found a puncture wound in a vein in her right arm. I believe that the barbiturate was injected into the vein.”

“With a needle and syringe?”

“Yes.”

“Like a doctor would use?”

“Yes.”

“No further questions.”

Judge Grant said, “It’s eleven. Court will recess until one o’clock.”

Shenandoah left the courtroom and found Austin Davis under the maple tree across from the Esso station. For once, he didn’t have a polishing cloth in his hand. Instead, he sat on the ground with his back against a white sidewall tire, reading a book. He didn’t notice Shenandoah until her shadow fell across the page. Looking up, he asked, “How’s it going?”

“Your boss just laid out the charge against Kate and has started presenting his witnesses. He makes it sound pretty bad.”

“That’s his job.”

“What’re you reading?”

“First-year law book. Just trying to get an idea about what I’ll be up against.”

“Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah, Jazz said we could come to the clinic.”

Shenandoah laughed. “So you’ve connected with Jazz. That didn’t take long.”

Austin grinned. “We can take the Caddy. I couldn’t believe it, but Thelonious said it’d be okay.”

“I’ve always wanted to ride in a Cadillac.”

As Austin opened the driver’s door, Shenandoah saw Jasper Kingman step out of his patrol car. Leaning against the hood, the sheriff said in a loud voice, “Come here, boy!”

Austin gripped the door handle as if it would fly away.

“You have a bee up your ass, Jasper? Leave us alone,” Shenandoah said.

“Watch yourself, Shenandoah. I’m liable to stick you in my jail next to your uncle.”

“This man isn’t doing a damn thing. Leave us alone.”

The sheriff motioned to Austin and said, “I’ll deal with Shenandoah later. I want you over here where I can give you some friendly advice.”

Austin took a deep breath and, turning back toward his tormentor, said in a strained voice, “Yes, sir, boss, be right there.”