Read Online Parlor Games by Maryka Biaggio - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Maryka Biaggio
Ads: Link
Baroness and her family, even living in their home, she contends she was hoodwinked.”
Powers paused and swept his gaze over the jurors. “My client will fight these patently ridiculous charges. They have no basis in reality. They are designed solely to coerce the Baroness into paying out a large sum of money by harassing and distressing her with this lawsuit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Frank shift in her chair. As I turned to look at her, she pursed her lips and shot me one of her you’ll-pay-for-this looks. Apparently, she was disappointed I hadn’t acceded to the request in her letter.
Powers pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his pin-striped suit. “Miss Shaver would have you believe that her friendship with the Baroness was a one-way street, that she showered the Baroness with loans, gifts, and living expenses and got little in return. The reality is quite different. In preparing for this trial, the Baroness took great pains to recall the cost of some of the many gifts she gave Miss Shaver over the years—gifts for which she never expected compensation.”
The insinuation in Mr. Powers’s last statement seemed to hit home. Frank’s jaw dropped and she swiveled her head about, looking at me, her attorney, and the jurors as if to declare this suggestion of pettiness on her part completely absurd.
“To wit,” continued Mr. Powers, reading from the list, “a brooch costing $1,500; a mesh bag valued at $450; a gold ring for $150; a fine evening coat of sealskin valued at $500; a diamond set for $3,000; a bedroom set costing $550; linen for $350; a tea service for $300; a historic prayer book, which Miss Shaver hinted she would like for a gift, purchased for $150; a mantel clock—Miss Shaver has a fancy for historic and artistic objects—valued at $1,700; and a fine marble statue for $2,000.”
Mr. Powers folded up his paper, returned it to his suit pocket, and faced the jurors straight on. “Furthermore, while Miss Shaver resided at the Menominee residence owned by the Baroness and her brothers, the Baroness expended $17,500 on the remodel and upkeep of this residence, even though she herself visited Menominee infrequently.
“I ask you, gentlemen of the jury,” said Powers, chopping the air with his stiffened hand, “is this the behavior of a person intent on fleecing another?
“Yes, it is true that Miss Shaver gave gifts and money to the Baroness. But the Baroness did the same. Was Miss Shaver only ingratiating herself to the Baroness, a woman of wealth and means, all this time?”
Powers gripped the railing of the jury box and pitched forward. “Is Miss Shaver now trying to take advantage of the Baroness’s station because she has spent herself into penury?”
A collective gasp escaped from the onlookers, followed by whispered commotion.
Alvah Sawyer bolted upright. “Objection, Your Honor, these are insinuations with no basis in fact.”
Judge Flanagan brought down his gavel. “Order, order.”
The courtroom, populated mostly by women, hushed, and the judge directed his attention to Mr. Sawyer. “It’s an opening statement, Counsel. You had yours.” Looking back and forth between Sawyer and Powers, he added, “I trust both of you will adhere to the rules of evidence when examination of witnesses begins.”
Mr. Powers efficiently outlined additional points to shore up our strategy that this suit was a nuisance without basis and thanked the jurors for their time. I breathed a sigh of relief. His argument cut to the core of the matter. He had challenged the very foundation of Frank’s claims. I believe he even bested Sawyer’s opening statement.
The judge leaned back in his seat. “Mr. Sawyer, you may call your first witness.”
Sawyer stood. “Your Honor, I call Miss Frank Shaver to the stand.”
A DELICATE JUNCTURE
CHICAGO—OCTOBER–NOVEMBER 1887
I hadn’t bargained on Robby’s tracking me down in Chicago, especially at this delicate
Powers paused and swept his gaze over the jurors. “My client will fight these patently ridiculous charges. They have no basis in reality. They are designed solely to coerce the Baroness into paying out a large sum of money by harassing and distressing her with this lawsuit.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Frank shift in her chair. As I turned to look at her, she pursed her lips and shot me one of her you’ll-pay-for-this looks. Apparently, she was disappointed I hadn’t acceded to the request in her letter.
Powers pulled a sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his pin-striped suit. “Miss Shaver would have you believe that her friendship with the Baroness was a one-way street, that she showered the Baroness with loans, gifts, and living expenses and got little in return. The reality is quite different. In preparing for this trial, the Baroness took great pains to recall the cost of some of the many gifts she gave Miss Shaver over the years—gifts for which she never expected compensation.”
The insinuation in Mr. Powers’s last statement seemed to hit home. Frank’s jaw dropped and she swiveled her head about, looking at me, her attorney, and the jurors as if to declare this suggestion of pettiness on her part completely absurd.
“To wit,” continued Mr. Powers, reading from the list, “a brooch costing $1,500; a mesh bag valued at $450; a gold ring for $150; a fine evening coat of sealskin valued at $500; a diamond set for $3,000; a bedroom set costing $550; linen for $350; a tea service for $300; a historic prayer book, which Miss Shaver hinted she would like for a gift, purchased for $150; a mantel clock—Miss Shaver has a fancy for historic and artistic objects—valued at $1,700; and a fine marble statue for $2,000.”
Mr. Powers folded up his paper, returned it to his suit pocket, and faced the jurors straight on. “Furthermore, while Miss Shaver resided at the Menominee residence owned by the Baroness and her brothers, the Baroness expended $17,500 on the remodel and upkeep of this residence, even though she herself visited Menominee infrequently.
“I ask you, gentlemen of the jury,” said Powers, chopping the air with his stiffened hand, “is this the behavior of a person intent on fleecing another?
“Yes, it is true that Miss Shaver gave gifts and money to the Baroness. But the Baroness did the same. Was Miss Shaver only ingratiating herself to the Baroness, a woman of wealth and means, all this time?”
Powers gripped the railing of the jury box and pitched forward. “Is Miss Shaver now trying to take advantage of the Baroness’s station because she has spent herself into penury?”
A collective gasp escaped from the onlookers, followed by whispered commotion.
Alvah Sawyer bolted upright. “Objection, Your Honor, these are insinuations with no basis in fact.”
Judge Flanagan brought down his gavel. “Order, order.”
The courtroom, populated mostly by women, hushed, and the judge directed his attention to Mr. Sawyer. “It’s an opening statement, Counsel. You had yours.” Looking back and forth between Sawyer and Powers, he added, “I trust both of you will adhere to the rules of evidence when examination of witnesses begins.”
Mr. Powers efficiently outlined additional points to shore up our strategy that this suit was a nuisance without basis and thanked the jurors for their time. I breathed a sigh of relief. His argument cut to the core of the matter. He had challenged the very foundation of Frank’s claims. I believe he even bested Sawyer’s opening statement.
The judge leaned back in his seat. “Mr. Sawyer, you may call your first witness.”
Sawyer stood. “Your Honor, I call Miss Frank Shaver to the stand.”
A DELICATE JUNCTURE
CHICAGO—OCTOBER–NOVEMBER 1887
I hadn’t bargained on Robby’s tracking me down in Chicago, especially at this delicate
Similar Books
