A Stranger in the Kingdom (53 page)

“You seem to have had a highly successful military career, Reverend Andrews. What rank did you hold when you resigned?”

“Major.”

“Why did you resign from the Air Force?”

“Well, sir, I was weary of it. I wanted a more stable situation for myself, in part so that my son could rejoin me. He'd been living with his grandmother, in Montreal, since my wife died, fourteen years ago.”

“How would you describe your initial reception here in Kingdom County, Reverend Andrews?”

“I would characterize it as generally very friendly and helpful.”

“You say ‘generally very friendly.' Did anyone in Kingdom County demonstrate any signs of prejudice toward you?”

“Objection, your honor,” Sigurd Moulton said. “Prejudice is not the issue here today. That's been clearly established.”

“Sustained. I personally instructed you, Mr. Kinneson, not to introduce that subject. You may, however, rephrase your question.”

“Did anyone, for any reason, behave in a hostile way toward you during your first weeks in Kingdom County?”

“There were one or two unfriendly incidents involving my son.”

“Could you please describe these incidents?”

“On one occasion a man addressed him with a racial slur. On another, he was taunted in the same vein by a local boy about his age.”

“How old is your son, Reverend Andrews?”

“He's just seventeen.”

“And how did he react to these two situations?”

“Well, he'd encountered similar difficulties before. He's learned to shrug them off. At the same time, Nathan isn't a fighter. That's partly why I came here, in the hope of finding a place where he'd be able to have a more or less normal boyhood, a place where he and I both could be happy. He handled the taunting as well as any youngster could, given the circumstances.”

Charlie nodded. “We'll come back to Nathan later on. Now I'd like to skip ahead a bit. Could you please tell the jury how you first met Claire LaRiviere?”

“Well, sir, I was familiar with her story from my parishioners, particularly your father, Editor Kinneson. I knew that she'd come here as a species of mail-order bride—”

“Hearsay,” Zack honked. “Witness is not answering question as put.”

“Please just answer your attorney's question, Reverend Andrews,” Judge Allen said. “Under what circumstances did you first meet the young woman?”

Sitting erect in his chair, betraying not the slightest impatience, looking as self-assured as though he were in his own pulpit winding up a particularly persuasive sermon, the minister nodded. “I was working in my study, doing some historical research around eleven or eleven-thirty on the night of June twenty-eighth. She appeared at the door and said she was in trouble and needed a place to stay.”

“What did you do?”

“What nearly anybody would have done, I suppose. I asked her in, heard her out, and said I'd try to assist her.”

“Did she say what sort of trouble she was in?”

“She told me that Resolvèd Kinneson, with whom she'd been staying, wanted to marry her. She said she didn't want to marry him. She said he'd threatened her with his gun, and she was afraid he might shoot her.”

Sigurd Moulton stood up. “Objection, your honor. We have no way of ascertaining whether any of this hearsay from the deceased murder victim is accurate. None of that testimony is admissible here.”

“I simply asked Reverend Andrews to describe how he met Claire LaRiviere,” Charlie said. “If the prosecution can prove that any of this information is inaccurate, they're welcome to go ahead. But surely Reverend Andrews has a right to explain how he came to take her in in the first place.”

“Then I'm going to request, Mr Kinneson, that you confine your questions, and Reverend Andrews confine his answers, primarily to what he did and said at the time, rather than what Claire LaRiviere said.”

“Reverend Andrews, how long did Claire LaRiviere stay at the parsonage?”

“Approximately five weeks.”

“How did you feel about her staying there?”

“I did everything under the sun I could think of to try to find an alternative for her. She absolutely refused to go back to Quebec, and with the exception of your family, to which she was unwilling to return because of your cousin Resolvéd's proximity, no one was willing to accommodate her. The fact that she was an outsider seemed to work very much against her. One or two individuals went so far as to suggest that I have the sheriff transport her to the county line and simply leave her there with orders not to come back. Someone else advised me to report her to the immigration authorities. Frankly, I was at my wits' end to know what to do with her.”

“How would you describe her behavior during those five weeks that she stayed at the parsonage?”

The minister shrugged. “Peculiar. Sometimes erratic. To begin with, she seemed to have a compulsion to tell and retell how she'd come to Vermont in the first place. Also, she was obsessed with becoming a movie actress. She was determined to find a situation for herself in Hollywood.

“At the time, I was extremely busy with preparations for the church sesquicentennial celebration. I was concerned for the LaRiviere girl, and she tried to be helpful around the house, but frankly, her presence was never really anything but disruptive. To compound matters, I'd received threats against her safety and mine from Resolvéd Kinneson.”

“We'll get to those threats in a moment, Reverend Andrews. In the meantime could you please tell us what you were doing on the evening of August fifth and in the very early morning hours of August sixth this past summer?”

“Yes. I was working in my study.”

“Were you alone?”

“I was alone for most of the evening, with the exception of a short visit from Sheriff White. But sometime after midnight, I'm not sure exactly when—it could have been one o'clock or even one-thirty or two—I stepped back onto the porch to smoke a last cigarette. Claire LaRiviere came out and asked to talk with me.”

“What did Claire LaRiviere tell you on the parsonage porch on the very early morning of August sixth, Reverend Andrews?”

“Well, sir, she told me that she believed she was pregnant.”

A murmur ran through the courtroom.

“Did you tell her you had a friend who could help her?”

“That's part of what I told her. I went on to explain that my friend worked at a home for young unwed mothers in Burlington—it's the Mary Margaret Simmons Home for Unwed Mothers, sponsored by the Catholic Diocese of Vermont, and well known throughout northern New England. I explained that I would ring up my friend and refer her to the place in the next couple of days.”

“Did she seem willing to go to the home for unwed mothers?”

“She didn't seem unwilling. She was distracted, to some degree, as she often was. But she didn't indicate that she was reluctant to go to the home.”

“Did she give you any idea of who the baby's father might be?”

“No, and I didn't ask. I assumed that the pregnancy probably dated from before she left Quebec for Vermont. I believed, and still do believe, that it might have been a factor in her departure.”

“I see. Did you make the call the following day?”

“Yes.”

“Did you talk to your friend?”

“No, he was on vacation for that week and the next. I talked to a receptionist at the home and explained that I would call back in a week.”

“Your honor,” Charlie said, “I have here Reverend Andrews' August bill from the Kingdom Common Independent Telephone Company, recording a long-distance call on August sixth of this year to the Mary Margaret Simmons Home for Unwed Mothers. I'd like to submit it, along with the page of the Burlington telephone directory listing the number of the Mary Margaret Simmons Home, as Exhibits E and F.”

“No objection,” said Sigurd Moulton.

“Reverend Andrews, you heard Resolvéd Kinneson testify that around eleven o'clock or eleven-thirty on the evening of August fourth, he came onto your porch and looked into your study, where he claims to have seen you and the LaRiviere girl together on the couch. Is that possible?”

“It is not.”

“Why not?”

For the first time since he had taken the stand, Reverend Andrews hesitated for a moment before replying. Then he said quietly, “Because I remained on the common to clean up after the celebration until nearly midnight. I was the last person to leave.”

The courtroom was still. What could this mean? That Resolvéd had fabricated his whole story?

“Could you please tell us what happened after you got home from the common on the night of August fourth?”

In his dispassionate military manner, the minister told the jury how, shortly after he had arrived home, two shotgun blasts had been fired into the parsonage and he had confronted Resolvèd in the street. When he finished, the only sound in the room was the persistent scratching of Sigurd Moulton's fountain pen as he continued to write on his inexhaustible supply of yellow legal paper.

“How did you spend the afternoon of August sixth, Reverend Andrews?”

“Around noon I decided to drive my son to his grandmother's place in Montreal. I didn't think the village was safe for him any longer.”

“Was Claire home when you returned from your trip?”

“No. That noon was the last time I saw her alive.”

“When did you report her missing?”

“That evening, the evening of the sixth. When she hadn't shown up by dark, I called your parents' house and left word that Claire was missing and for your father to call as soon as he got home. About ten I called the sheriff's office and the state police and filed a missing person's report.”

“What time did you arrive home from Montreal?”

“Around nine.”

“You've clarified a number of very important things for us, Reverend. I have only one further question for you at this time. You said earlier in your testimony that you assumed that Kingdom County would be a good place for you and your son to live, a place where you could both be happy. Have you been?”

The minister hesitated. Then he nodded and said, “Until recently, I thought we were.”

“Thank you very much, Reverend Andrews. I have no further questions for you at this time.”

 

Sigurd Moulton glanced briefly at his thick pad of notes. Then he fixed his shrewd gaze on the minister.

“Mr. Andrews, did you visit Kingdom Common for a personal interview before you were hired as minister of the United Church?”

“No, sir. The interview was held over the phone.”

“Isn't that an unusual procedure? To hire a minister without a personal interview?”

“You'd have to ask the church trustees that question, sir. But the job here had been vacant for nearly a year. The three trustees I spoke with on the phone all indicated that they were most eager to find a qualified minister, and as I've testified, I was eager to relocate in a small town.”

“That's all well and good, Mr. Andrews. But during the interview, did you at any point tell the trustees that you were a Negro?”

“Objection, your honor. As the prosecution has pointed out more than once, you've already ruled that race is not an issue here.”

“Strike the question,” Sigurd Moulton said, and looked carefully at the jury.

The Montpelier attorney glanced back down at his notes. “Mr. Andrews, you testified that until recently you were happy in Kingdom County. But earlier you alluded to ‘one or two unfriendly incidents' involving your son.”

“They were straightened out.”

“Indeed? Did you straighten out one of those problems by striking a prominent local businessman with your fist and breaking his jaw?”

Charlie was up like a shot. “Your honor, my client is not on trial for defending his son against town drunks and bullies. The prosecution is trying to prejudice the jury against Reverend Andrews through highly misleading innuendo.”

“Strike the question,” Moulton said again, now that the damage had been done. “Mr. Andrews, you testified that on the night of August fourth or the early morning of August fifth you fired your revolver at Resolvèd Kinneson, though you failed to mention that you shot off part of his right index finger. You seem to be very handy with this revolver. Do you practice with it frequently?”

“Not since taking up residence at the Memphremagog jail.”

Some titters broke out, but I saw Charlie give Reverend Andrews a warning look, as if to say this was no laughing matter.

“Did you carry your revolver with you in the line of your chaplain's duties in the service?”

Now Charlie was roaring mad. “Your honor, the prosecution is insinuating that my client is somehow predisposed to violence because he's a decorated war hero with the courage to protect his home from an armed assailant. Moreover, my client is an ordained Presbyterian minister and I'm going to insist that the prosecution accord him the professional courtesy of addressing him by his title, the Reverend Mister Andrews.”

“Now see here, both of you,” Judge Allen said. “I'll have no more public squabbling and no more public insisting and no more public innuendoes in my courtroom. You, Mr. Moulton, will confine your questions to the case at hand and address the defendant by his title. And you, Charles Kinneson, will indulge yourself in no further tantrums. Is that understood?”

Both attorneys indicated that it was.

“Then you may proceed, Mr. Moulton.”

“Mr.—Reverend Andrews, is it fair to say that even before Claire LaRiviere appeared in Kingdom County, you felt that you and your son had been subjected to certain injustices here?”

“In isolated instances.”

“Were you frustrated by those isolated instances?”

“Yes.”

“Were you angered by them?”

“Yes.”