Why didn’t they go to the police when they found one vial empty? Bera asked. And Davina, looking magnificent, snapped back that if the police doubted the existence of the parcel, what might they have thought of a used ampoule when, a day later, Emily Tunbull was dead? So they had decided not to throw the things away, but not to declare them either. They were guilty of concealing this malign attempt to involve them in a chain of murders, yes! But if in truth Uda had poisoned Emily, they would never have kept a thing.
Then Anthony Bera called Chester Malcuzinski, who didn’t answer. This man, said the hotshot lawyer, was Emily Tunbull’s blood brother, and, he skillfully implied, a bad lot, wanted for questioning in New York for fraud and extortion. A subpoena had gone to him in Florida, but he had vanished, despite the fact that Uda Savovich would go on trial for the murder of his sister. His testimony would help her case, but why wasn’t he to be found? What had he to do with those ampoules that Dr. Millicent Hunter had not made? He could have sent the parcel.
Even two thousand years ago in the time of the first of the hotshot lawyers, Cicero, it was keenly felt as a great advantage if, in summing up, the Defense spoke after the Prosecution; in Holloman, Connecticut, in March of 1969, it was no different.
Horrie Pinnerton argued competently and reasonably for a guilty verdict, based on bad feeling between the Savovich twins and the Deceased, opportunity to put the poison in the water carafe, and the presence of two ampoules, one full, one empty, concealed in paint tubes in Uda Savovich’s work room.
Anthony Bera admitted freely that the circumstances could be interpreted as guilt on Uda Savovich’s part, but that the Prosecution had not satisfactorily proved it, even remotely. It all hung on two ampoules that at some stage had been manufactured by hands other than Dr. Millicent Hunter’s — were they Uda Savovich’s hands? He led the tiny woman past the jury enclosure so that they could inspect her hands at close quarters: tiny, crabbed fingers that shook with a fine tremor. This was also an ideal ploy to have the twelve good people see into her little black currant eyes, discover how small her size, and how pathetic her condition. Uda didn’t make the mistake of trying to appear mentally retarded; she seemed bewildered, not sure what was happening, and very, very afraid.
He painted the story of their lives, the trek across the alps that started when they were twelve and ended in Trieste at fourteen, and the Davina who used her sister as a servant was also seen as a sister who had never, never forgotten her duty to her handicapped twin. He was frank about the role of Chez Derzinsky/Malcuzinski in forcing the model Davina to work as his bait by imprisoning and torturing Uda when she didn’t obey, and he asked the jury why, having achieved respectability and a haven, either sister would dream of upsetting their status quo by indulging in murder? The motives Horrie Pinnerton had tried to make urgent and compelling were seen as no more and no less than the usual frictions that appeared between women in any extended family situation. The alternative was to see Emily as her brother’s cat’s-paw threatening to expose their activities in New York City, but why would Emily imperil a shady, shifty brother?
The Savovich sisters were seen as refugees from Communism, a strong point in Uda’s favor, and Uda herself as a poor little woman without malignity or power.
The jury believed the Defense. It returned with a verdict of “Not Guilty” in less than an hour.
Carmine and his detectives were mightily relieved at the verdict. The wrong sister had been tried; the right sister never would be now. Every last one of them had come to the same conclusion, that between them Davina and Uda had forced the police hand and the D.A. had fallen for the ploy, even though he had been warned. The consolation was that the sisters would commit no more murders.
Abe for one didn’t believe the motive lay in events in New York City years ago. “Emily had some evidence of some other deed,” he said to Carmine, “and we haven’t a hope in hell of learning what it was, especially now Chez Malcuzinski is in the wind. I find that a mystery in itself, by the way.”
“I’m betting he’ll turn up in San Diego or Phoenix in a year or so doing the same kind of thing he did in Orlando,” Carmine said. “He doesn’t matter, he’s out of our loop beause you’re right, Abe, Emily was murdered for reasons having nothing to do with Chez. Ask any detective involved in the case, and the answer will be that she knew something about the baby, Alexis.”
“That Jim Hunter is the father? Yeah.”
“Is he? I’m not so sure. It’s all in the eyes, nothing else. Before his plastic surgery, Jim Hunter’s looks were far different — he genuinely did resemble a gorilla. People of African origins vary in physical type even more than Caucasians do, and Alexis’s African blood seems — I don’t know, thinner, very dissimilar. I’m not ruling Hunter paternity out as a motive, but I have a feeling the motive is something more personal between Davina and Emily. Emily’s obsession was her son, Ivan. With her history, I doubt she had enough influence over Max to estrange him from Davina, even by alleging that he isn’t Alexis’s father. Frankly, I don’t think Max cares who Alexis’s father is. He’s a very happy man in his domestic arrangements — a son and heir he adores, a wife he knows is strong and smart enough to carry on the business if anything should happen to him, a brother and nephew who are loyal to him and the business as well as on good terms with Davina — he’s never been a suspect, but I don’t think he’s ever been a patsy either. He looked and acted a bit rocky for a few days around the time that Chez left for parts unknown, but recovered quickly. No, Emily never got at him, I’m sure. Davina and Uda were her targets.”