Sandrine's Case (9780802193520) by Thomas H. Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

that was open.”
    â€œWhere was this book?”
    â€œOn the floor beside the bed. I guess Mrs. Madison had been reading it. But it looked like she’d put it on the floor before she died.”
    â€œDo you remember the subject of that book?”
    â€œIt was about Cleopatra. It showed a picture of her, and the title was in big letters.”
    â€œWhat else did you notice?”
    â€œA piece of yellow paper. Legal size.”
    â€œWhere was this paper?”
    â€œIt was also on the floor beside the bed.”
    â€œNext to the book?”
    â€œRight beside it.”
    â€œIt was lying flat?”
    â€œNo. It was folded in the middle and sort of made to stand up. Like a tent.”
    â€œWas anything written on the outside of the paper?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œDid you read the paper, Officer Hill?”
    â€œNot at that time.”
    Not at that time, because it was then that two EMS workers had arrived, dispatched no doubt by Chanisa Evangela “Evie” Shipman, presumably as a matter of established practice in such cases. They’d come in an ambulance, Orville Todd and Leno Kaneda, and, according to their report, they had found Sandrine “apparently deceased,” a surmise later confirmed by a stethoscope (Leno’s).
    While Officer Hill recounted these activities, I was left to recall them, the flashing light of the ambulance, the way it had rhythmically swept the room, the puzzled look on Orville Todd’s face when he first saw Sandrine, how beautiful she was, perhaps as beautiful in the serenity of death as she had ever been in life, a beauty both EMS workers had obviously noticed. I’d seen the way they looked at her, then glanced knowingly at each other as if to say—guy to guy—Jesus, what a waste.
    â€œAll right,” Mr. Singleton said. He was obviously impatient with the methodical but somewhat lethargic way Officer Hill had just chronicled the arrival, actions, and departure of the EMS workers. As testimony it had been matter-of-fact but to the jury, as he clearly feared, way too slow, a lag in the action that threw off his presentation’s carefully calculated pace.
    â€œAll right,” he repeated. “Now, Officer Hill, did you have occasion at this point, after the EMS workers had left the room, did you have at that point occasion to look at that yellow paper you’d noticed earlier?” He glanced at the jury as if to remind them to be attentive. “The one that was folded and placed upright beside the bed, as I believe you have earlier testified, like a tent.”
    She’d had such occasion, but she hadn’t picked up the paper until she asked me a question.
    â€œI asked Mr. Madison what that was, that paper,” Officer Hill informed the court.
    â€œWhat was his answer?”
    â€œHe said it was probably a suicide note.”
    â€œWas this Professor Madison’s first statement to you with regard to the cause of Sandrine Madison’s death?”
    â€œYes, it was.”
    Mr. Singleton nodded. “Could you tell us if Professor Madison said anything else regarding the paper he referred to as a suicide note?”
    â€œHe said I could take it.”
    Because I’d assumed she would anyway.
    â€œDid he indicate that he’d read it?”
    â€œHe said that he hadn’t.”
    Which was true. I hadn’t read it. Why? Because in order to read it I would have had to pick it up, and so once again my caution had betrayed me. Who would have thought, I asked myself as Officer Hill continued her testimony, that being careful might have such perilous results?
    â€œProfessor Madison had made no attempt to read what he assumed to be his wife’s suicide note?” Mr. Singleton asked to emphasize the point.
    â€œThat’s what he said, yes.”
    â€œAnd he just told you to take it?”
    â€œYes,” Officer Hill answered. “Those were his exact words. He just said,