“What did you throw overboard?”
“Old bedclothes I’d been meaning to get rid of. Mr. Belasco insists on a tidy ship.”
“Why were you naked?”
“I told you, I was in bed.”
“Where was she?”
“I don’t know. All I know is when I woke up, she wasn’t there.”
“But she had been?”
“She had been.”
“So all that business about hiring her as a cook was pure bull.”
“No. It was true as far as it went.”
“But it didn’t go far enough.”
“No.”
“Tell me how far it went.”
“Look, it’s impossible to explain to a woman like you that sometimes people do things that feel perfectly right and natural at the time but later seem pretty stupid.”
“Do they?” She was wearing a plain gold bracelet that looked like a giant wedding band. It had a clasp which she kept opening and closing. The soft clicking noise it made sounded like a light switch going on and off.
“It all depends on your viewpoint,” Cully said, “and viewpoints change.”
“Mine won’t.”
A note in her voice made him twitch in his chair as if it had suddenly become uncomfortable.
“Do you want to hear my viewpoint, Cully?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m going to tell you anyway because it wouldn’t be fair to either of us if I didn’t. This is a terrible place and a terrible time, but I may not get another chance. And I thought it might help you through the trial if you knew that someone loved you, truly loved you and believed in you.”
For the first time since she’d sat down beside him he turned and stared at her. “Stop fooling with your bracelet.”
“What?”
“The bracelet, don’t keep clasping and unclasping it.”
“My bracelet,” she repeated as if it were a foul word. “You’re talking about a bracelet while I’m trying to tell you of my love. How cruel, how terribly cruel.”
“I don’t want your love or anyone else’s. I’m a sailor; I can’t afford an albatross hanging around my neck.”
“Albatross.” It was another dirty word like bracelet, a dead bird and a piece of junk jewelry. “You can’t be serious.”
“Wise up, woman.”
“I think you’re talking and acting like this to put me off. Maybe you’re trying to protect me from being hurt in case you’re found guilty. Well, it won’t work, Cully. Nothing can stop my love. Minds can be changed, but hearts can’t. I bet” — she let out her breath and took in another deep one — “I bet you feel the same way about me as I do about you.”
“Holy shit,” Cully said.
Harry Arnold returned to the stand at eleven-twenty. He looked more at ease this time as if he were no longer awed by the grandeur of the courtroom, the presence of God in a black robe and the twelve apostles in the jury box. This was now an ordinary courtroom with ordinary people.
Owen asked him when the Bewitched had arrived at Santa Felicia Harbor.
“The following morning.”
“Where did you and Mr. King tie up?”
“End tie, Marina five. Only it wasn’t Cully and me; it was Richie and me.”
“Did you see Mr. King that morning?”
“Yes.”
“Did you exchange words with him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he was going ashore right away because he had to see a dentist about his toothache. I asked him did he want breakfast, and he said no, his tooth was too painful.”
“During this conversation was Mr. King doing anything unusual?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“He was holding a handkerchief, a folded handkerchief, against his left cheek with his left hand.”
“Did you believe his story about the toothache?”
“I did at the time. Cully’s a funny guy. He could have a broken arm and not say a word, but a little thing like a cold or a toothache threw him for a loop.”
“Objection,” Donnelly said. “Witness is offering a character analysis neither requested nor relevant.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Please confine yourself to answering questions, Mr. Arnold.”
“Yes, sir. Okay, sir.”
Owen tried to conceal his irritation. Useless interruptions like this were part of Donnelly’s strategy planned to annoy him. It was the kind of thing one of his sons might do for the same reason and with the same result. He was annoyed.
“After Mr. King went ashore, what did you do, Mr. Arnold?”
“Made breakfast for me and Richie.”
“Did you see Mrs. Pherson?”
“No. I figured she was sleeping late and maybe would show up later.”
“What did you do after breakfast?”
“Cleaned up the galley. Then Richie and me started going over the boat, making sure everything was in its place, like Mr. Belasco wanted.”
“This tidying up of the boat, did it include the captain’s quarters?”
“Yes.”
“In what condition did you find this area?”
“Perfect.”
“Was Mrs. Pherson present?”
“No, sir.”
“Was there any sign that she had been present?”
“None at all.”
“No lipstick on the pillow, no comb or hairbrush?”
“No.”
“Damp towels or toilet articles?”
“No.”
“Did you look in the wastebasket?”
“It’s part of my job to empty wastebaskets,” Harry said. “Only there was nothing to empty.”
“Not even a piece of tissue?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you look in the laundry hamper?”
“Yes, sir. Nothing in there neither. It kind of surprised me, finding no towels or nothing in there and the bed with fresh sheets. It began to seem like the whole thing never happened, that she never came on board at all. But I knew she had. I remember her blue and white striped coat because one of our spinnakers is blue and white like that, and it caught my eye.”
“Did you ever see her again?”
“No, sir. She just vanished into thin air. If it hadn’t been for that blue and white coat that looked like our spinnaker, I might of thought she’d never been there at all.”
“Would you say, Mr. Arnold, that the cabin was deliberately arranged to make it look as though nobody had been there?”
“Objection,” Donnelly said. “Speculation, opinion.”
“Sustained.”
“Let me rephrase the question,” Owen said. “Did the cabin look as though nobody had occupied it?”
“That’s how it looked, yes, sir, exactly.”
“So would you say somebody must have arranged it that way?”
“Yes.”
“Who could that somebody have been?”
“It had to be Cully King. He was the only one there excepting me and Richie.”
Donnelly’s cross-examination took the rest of the week. Under intensive questioning Harry was forced to concede that the screams might have come from a radio.
Considerable doubt was also cast on his testimony about seeing the clothes thrown overboard.
Donnelly said, “By clothes, do you mean wearing apparel?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of wearing apparel?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shirt? Coat? Trousers?”
“I couldn’t see what kind it was.”
“You couldn’t see any particular article of clothing?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know it was clothing?”
“I saw what I saw.”
“If you’re positive it was clothing thrown overboard, why can’t you name a single article?”
Harry stared down at his own clothing for a minute. “A shirt. I saw a shirt.”