The Angel of Darkness - Caleb Carr [275]
“And how often did he visit after that?”
“Oh, at least once a week, and sometimes more often. Mr. Hatch was taking more of an interest in the church’s business by then, you see. A lot of people’ll do that, when they start thinking that they don’t have much time left.” Mrs. Wright hadn’t meant the statement as a joke, and she was surprised when it got a laugh from the galleries. “They will!” she insisted, folding her hands tightly, like she was embarrassed. “I’ve seen it happen.”
“Of course you have,” Mr. Picton answered. “But was Mr. Hatch’s interest in the church the main reason for Reverend Parker’s increased presence at the house?”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Mr. Darrow droned. “The question calls for a speculative answer.”
“I shall rephrase it, then,” Mr. Picton said, before the judge could order him to. “Mrs. Wright, was it Mr. Hatch that the reverend spent the greater portion of time with during his visits?”
“No, sir,” Mrs. Wright answered with a little scoff. “After all, how long does it take to write a check?”
That got more laughs out of the crowd, and the judge responded in his usual manner: with irritated raps of his gavel. Leaning over, he scolded Mrs. Wright gently: “The witness will please try to keep the element of sarcasm out of her responses.”
“I am, sir!” she answered, looking a little offended. “That’s all Mr. Hatch did when the reverend came—write checks, and maybe talk for a few minutes about theology. The rest of the time it was the missus that looked after their—guest.”
“And why was that?” Mr. Picton asked.
“I’m sure I couldn’t say,” Mrs. Wright replied. “I only know what I saw, six or seven times.”
“And what did you see?”
Stiffening her back and narrowing her eyes, Mrs. Wright lifted a pointing finger in the direction of the defense table. “I saw that woman and the Reverend Parker. Out in the birch grove, about a quarter of a mile from the house.”
“And what were they doing?”
“They were not doing the sorts of thing that a reverend generally does with a married woman!” Mrs. Wright answered, as offended as she would’ve been if the incidents had occurred just yesterday.
The judge sighed wearily. “Mrs. Wright, the question is a direct one. Do please try to make your answers follow suit. I’ve got enough wordplay to contend with in this case.”
Mrs. Wright looked up at the bench, a shocked look on her face. “Do you mean—I should just say what I mean?”
The judge tried to smile. “It would be most refreshing.”
Mrs. Wright folded her hands in her lap. “Well, I don’t know as—but if you order me to, Judge, well …” She took a deep breath and went on. “The first time, I went looking for the missus, being as Clara’d been taken sick. I saw her in the birch grove with the reverend. They had their arms around each other. They were—kissing.”
More mumbles in the crowd netted more raps of the gavel from the judge.
“And the other times?” Mr. Picton asked.
“The other times—well—” Mrs. Wright shifted uneasily. “Some of them were the same. But others—well, it was the middle of summer, those times. Warm, like now. The ground’s soft in that grove, with a fine moss bed. And that’s all I’m going to say, judge or no judge, court or no court. I’m a decent woman!”
Mr. Picton nodded. “And we certainly wouldn’t ask you to behave in an indecent manner. But let me put the question to you this way, Mrs. Wright: Would it be accurate to say that you observed the defendant and Reverend Parker in a state of partial or complete undress?”
Now starting to positively squirm, Mrs. Wright nodded. “Yes, sir. It would.”
“And engaged in physical intimacy?”
Her discomfort seeming to turn to anger, Mrs. Wright barked, “Yes, sir—and her with a husband and the sweetest little girl anybody could ever wish for back at the house! Disgraceful, I call it!”
Nodding as he started to pace