“Don’t know.”
“All right. Were their deaths reported anywhere?”
She shrugged as if she had no way of knowing. “Can’t say.”
“What caused their deaths?”
“A bacteria got in their skin.”
The cardinal rule of trial procedure is: Never ask a question if you don’t know the answer. Monty had learned this in law school and had adhered to it strictly for almost thirty years. But, at that moment, he simply couldn’t stop.
“And this bacteria was caused by the curse?”
“That’s right.”
8.
Gifford Knox sat in the back row and reveled in Lovely’s performance. Next to him was Thalia Chan, a reporter for The New York Times, a woman he had known for a decade. Her favorite topic was environmental problems caused by big companies, and she had written several long pieces on Gifford and his exploits. She had seen him arrested twice, hauled into court, fined, and threatened. She had seen him testify in a coal ash case. Over the course of their friendship, Gifford had fed her many stories and plenty of inside dirt that was off the record. He was her favorite “unnamed source,” and he had never leaked something that wasn’t accurate.
Gifford had told her about Dark Isle months earlier. He had outlined the key players and repeated things he’d heard over dinner and drinks. He had not told her or anyone else about his fake accident and bogus lawsuit. Even for a bigmouth like Gifford, there were some things that should be kept quiet.
A big story in the Times was coming, and no one but Gifford knew about it. He couldn’t wait.
9.
After a day and a half on the witness stand, Lovely was excused and allowed to sit at the table between Steven and Diane. Her performance could not have been better.
Steven’s next witness was Dr. Sargent, the archaeologist from Howard University. They went through the usual back-and-forth establishing his expertise—education, training, writings, experience, and so on. Of particular interest was his work with various African burial projects, beginning in Manhattan decades earlier and continuing to the present. On a large screen mounted in front of the jury box, Dr. Sargent started with a less-than-detailed map of Dark Isle, with most of the details given by Lovely. They included the approximate area of the settlement, the rows of houses, and the cemetery. He showed color photos taken during their recent expedition. Photos of the damage and debris caused by Hurricane Leo; photos of their team clearing the brush and foliage from the burial sites; photos of the actual dig. He said they found remnants of about eighty graves, some with wooden caskets, some without. He had photos of the badly deteriorated caskets. The cemetery was about twenty feet above sea level at its highest point. Leo’s storm surge on Dark Isle had never been determined, but the National Weather Service had decided that on the north end of Camino Island it had risen to twenty-seven feet. The eye then passed directly over Dark Isle, so it was reasonable to assume that the entire island had been under water. Even the most recent graves showed signs of severe water damage. Dr. Sargent said that, in his opinion, the graves and caskets were soaked with seawater for several hours, thus seriously degrading the samples needed for DNA testing.
None of the bones and teeth matched Lovely’s sample.
Dr. Sargent estimated that there were probably about two hundred graves in the one site they found. According to Lovely’s history, there were other burial sites scattered around the island.
After two hours on the stand, Dr. Sargent had said enough. Judge Burch needed some coffee.
10.
Diane had chatted several times by phone with Loyd Landry, Herschel’s son. She had visited them months earlier in New Bern, North Carolina. She had left the visit certain that Herschel, at ninety-three, had lost too much of his memory to be involved in litigation. She had also emailed Loyd a number of times, just to keep him apprised of the case. He knew the trial date, and the previous Sunday he had called with the startling news that his father wanted to return to Camino Island.
According to Loyd, after meeting Diane at his nursing home, Herschel began quizzing his son about her and her visit. He remembered Lovely and Dark Isle, and the more they talked the more he recalled. On the good days. On the bad days, he didn’t know where he was.
On Monday morning, an hour before the trial started, Loyd texted Diane that they were in the car, their road trip had begun, the old guy was thrilled to be out of the nursing home, and they would get there as soon as they could. They were about ten hours away but several pit stops were likely.
And pray for a good day.
At three-thirty Tuesday afternoon, Judge Burch tapped his gavel and said court was in session. Mr. Mahon, please call your next witness. The main door opened, and Herschel came rolling down the aisle with Loyd pushing his wheelchair. For some reason he held a cane across his lap. When they approached the witness stand, Steven explained to the court that Mr. Landry could not sit anywhere but in his wheelchair and that he would need a portable mike. Loyd would be allowed to hold it and sit next to him. Without much of a struggle, the court reporter administered the oath and the direct examination began.
Herschel looked around the courtroom and couldn’t see much. However, when his eyes met Lovely’s, he smiled and nodded and mumbled something. Steven asked him his name, age, address, and a few other basics, and he gave the right answers in a slow, soft, hoarse voice, but with the mike at his lips every word was clear enough.
“Many years ago, did you know Lovely Jackson, the lady sitting over there?”
Another smile. “Yes I did. I liked her. She liked me.”
Lovely kept smiling at him. She didn’t care what he said about their relationship sixty years ago. All she wanted was the truth.
“And you were a fisherman on Camino Island and had a boat?”
Monty Martin stood and said, “Your Honor, I realize these are unusual circumstances, but how much can Mr. Mahon be allowed to lead the witness?”