Read Online Flat Lake in Winter by Joseph T. Klempner - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Joseph T. Klempner
Tags: Fiction/Mystery/General
Ads: Link
to her assistant that in all her years, she had never seen two persons so badly purposefully injured at the hand of another person. A small extract from her autopsy report illustrates the nature of her findings.
The male victim . . . exhibits in excess of 100 stab wounds, concentrated in - but by no means limited to - the face, neck, and upper-chest areas. All of the major veins and arteries in the neck are severed, as is the spinal cord. [Two of] the vertebrae of the upper spine are deeply cut, to the point of being nearly severed. . . .
The female victim . . . is almost identically stabbed, except that in [her] case the second and third vertebrae have been completely severed, leaving the [head] attached to what remains of the upper torso by a layer of derma and muscle approximately 3 cm in thickness.
Toward the end of her report, Dr. Chu attempted to draw certain conclusions from her findings.
Because of the number and severity of the wounds, it is difficult to determine with certainty whether the wounds are the result of a single instrument or multiple instruments. However, it appears that none of the wounds is inconsistent with having been caused by a large-bladed knife, smooth near the point and serrated near the handle. The blade must have been approximately 130 cm in length, and 40 cm in width at its widest point.
To anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of cutlery and a familiarity with metric equivalents, Dr. Chu was almost certainly describing a hunting knife with a five-inch blade.
“ALL RISE!” called Dot Whipple. “The County Court, in and for the county of Ottawa, is now in session, the Honorable Arthur Summerhouse presiding. Please be seated.”
The room came to order as a very short man wearing a very long black robe strode in and took his place behind the bench. Arthur Summerhouse was sixty-four at the time, but fighting every day of it. What was left of his hair had been dyed jet black and combed back-to-front in an obvious attempt to cover up what nature had chosen to reveal. A small mustache, also jet black, adorned his upper lip, perhaps intended as a bit of distraction from the battle being waged on top.
“Good morning,” said Judge Summerhouse.
“Good morning,” echoed those who were accustomed to the drill.
“For arraignment,” announced Dot Whipple, “Docket number Nine-seven-slash-three-three-four. People versus Jonathan Hamilton. Two counts of murder in the first degree.”
Gil Cavanaugh rose from his seat at one end of the long counsel table. Matt Fielder took his cue and stepped up to the middle of the table. As they gave their appearances to the court reporter, two uniformed troopers escorted Jonathan Hamilton in from the side door and stood him, handcuffed behind his back, next to Fielder. They took one step back and remained there, immediately behind Jonathan.
“Your Honor,” Fielder said.
Judge Summerhouse looked up from a folder he’d been examining. “Yes?” he said.
“May I respectfully request that the handcuffs be removed from Mr. Hamilton while he’s before the court?”
“Who are you?” the judge asked.
“My name is Matthew Fielder. I’ve been called in by the Capital Defender’s Office to represent Mr. Hamilton.”
“Would you like an opportunity to speak with him?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Fielder said. “I’ve already done so.”
Judge Summerhouse rose out of his seat, though the act failed to add much in the way of elevation. “Who authorized you to do that?” he demanded.
Fielder immediately recomputed his batting average at .667. He briefly considered mentioning Dot Whipple’s acceptance of his Notice of Appearance, or the accommodating trooper’s providing him access to the pen area, but thought better of it. From what he saw of the judge, he knew he was going to need all the friends he could find. He wasn’t about to give up anyone who’d been nice enough to have helped him.
“Nobody,” he said. “I thought I
The male victim . . . exhibits in excess of 100 stab wounds, concentrated in - but by no means limited to - the face, neck, and upper-chest areas. All of the major veins and arteries in the neck are severed, as is the spinal cord. [Two of] the vertebrae of the upper spine are deeply cut, to the point of being nearly severed. . . .
The female victim . . . is almost identically stabbed, except that in [her] case the second and third vertebrae have been completely severed, leaving the [head] attached to what remains of the upper torso by a layer of derma and muscle approximately 3 cm in thickness.
Toward the end of her report, Dr. Chu attempted to draw certain conclusions from her findings.
Because of the number and severity of the wounds, it is difficult to determine with certainty whether the wounds are the result of a single instrument or multiple instruments. However, it appears that none of the wounds is inconsistent with having been caused by a large-bladed knife, smooth near the point and serrated near the handle. The blade must have been approximately 130 cm in length, and 40 cm in width at its widest point.
To anyone with even a rudimentary knowledge of cutlery and a familiarity with metric equivalents, Dr. Chu was almost certainly describing a hunting knife with a five-inch blade.
“ALL RISE!” called Dot Whipple. “The County Court, in and for the county of Ottawa, is now in session, the Honorable Arthur Summerhouse presiding. Please be seated.”
The room came to order as a very short man wearing a very long black robe strode in and took his place behind the bench. Arthur Summerhouse was sixty-four at the time, but fighting every day of it. What was left of his hair had been dyed jet black and combed back-to-front in an obvious attempt to cover up what nature had chosen to reveal. A small mustache, also jet black, adorned his upper lip, perhaps intended as a bit of distraction from the battle being waged on top.
“Good morning,” said Judge Summerhouse.
“Good morning,” echoed those who were accustomed to the drill.
“For arraignment,” announced Dot Whipple, “Docket number Nine-seven-slash-three-three-four. People versus Jonathan Hamilton. Two counts of murder in the first degree.”
Gil Cavanaugh rose from his seat at one end of the long counsel table. Matt Fielder took his cue and stepped up to the middle of the table. As they gave their appearances to the court reporter, two uniformed troopers escorted Jonathan Hamilton in from the side door and stood him, handcuffed behind his back, next to Fielder. They took one step back and remained there, immediately behind Jonathan.
“Your Honor,” Fielder said.
Judge Summerhouse looked up from a folder he’d been examining. “Yes?” he said.
“May I respectfully request that the handcuffs be removed from Mr. Hamilton while he’s before the court?”
“Who are you?” the judge asked.
“My name is Matthew Fielder. I’ve been called in by the Capital Defender’s Office to represent Mr. Hamilton.”
“Would you like an opportunity to speak with him?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Fielder said. “I’ve already done so.”
Judge Summerhouse rose out of his seat, though the act failed to add much in the way of elevation. “Who authorized you to do that?” he demanded.
Fielder immediately recomputed his batting average at .667. He briefly considered mentioning Dot Whipple’s acceptance of his Notice of Appearance, or the accommodating trooper’s providing him access to the pen area, but thought better of it. From what he saw of the judge, he knew he was going to need all the friends he could find. He wasn’t about to give up anyone who’d been nice enough to have helped him.
“Nobody,” he said. “I thought I
Similar Books
