Parlor Games A Novel

A LETTER FROM FRANK



MENOMINEE—JANUARY 23, 1917



Upon joining the breakfast table before day two of the trial, I found Frank had delivered a letter to the house.


Dear May,

My attorney advises me not to speak to you, and I know I shouldn’t even write. If he knew, he’d ask me what in tarnation I’m doing.

But damn it, May, you and I both know this trial isn’t only about money. I still can’t believe it’s come to this. Don’t all the years we’ve known each other, the visits with each other’s families, and all those highball-charged train rides and transatlantic crossings mean anything to you?

I know what you’re thinking: You started it. Why’d you have to get up a lawsuit against me?

Do you think I wanted to resort to this? That I enjoy sitting across the aisle from you in a courtroom? I detest seeing you under the gun, my own damn attorney smirking every time he calls you Baroness. You think I like old man Sawyer digging through our private affairs and scrounging for dirty linen?

But you’ve backed me into a corner. When you discovered the well was dry, you threw me down it. Oh, no, my dear Baroness, I’m not going to let you get away with it. You and I were in this together until you decided you were only in it for yourself.

You know there’s a way to stop this confounded trial. My lawyer claims it’d be foolish to negotiate with you at this point. But you and I never played by the rules. Why should we start now?

All you have to do is turn over the stocks and the money you owe me. I’d even settle for a promissory note. And then we could get back to enjoying life together. How about celebrating big? We could take the train to Los Angeles and escape this wretched cold weather.

Consider my offer, May. You can allow Sawyer to ruin your reputation one day at a time and pretend I never meant anything to you. Or you can open your arms to your Frank again.

Here’s to good times,





Your devoted friend,

Frank


Perhaps Frank believed the first day of the trial had given her an advantage over me, but she had miscalculated. In the spirit of fair play, I didn’t even surrender the letter to my attorney. Nor did I respond to it. After all, my attorney hadn’t yet delivered our opening statement.





THE TRIAL

MY LAWYER’S STATEMENT



MENOMINEE—JANUARY 23, 1917



Finally, after Alvah Sawyer had taken up hour upon hour with his litany of claims, my counsel took the floor. I must say I very much like my attorney, George Powers from Iron River. He’s hardworking and willing to dig for just the right evidence to construct a compelling argument. George is a dapper, fortyish man with high cheeks and a narrow-lipped mouth. And can that mouth talk.

“If it pleases the jury,” said Mr. Powers, flaring a palm in my direction, “I invite you to consider my client, the Baroness May de Vries. She is of humble beginnings. You know her family: her dearly departed, widowed mother and her two upstanding brothers. She grew up among you and went on to become a well-educated and well-traveled lady. In 1892, at the young age of twenty-three, she married a wealthy Dutch nobleman, Baron Rudolph de Vries. Although the Baron is now deceased, the Baroness is still welcomed in the courts of Europe. She is, to put it simply, accustomed to the world of wealth and royalty.

“Frank Shaver has had a long association with the Baroness, dating back to 1901. On occasion, Miss Shaver chose to travel with the Baroness, and traveling the world is an expensive undertaking. She spent her money during these trips. From time to time she bought gifts for the Baroness. And now, fifteen years after she met the Baroness, she claims she was cheated. After all these years of knowingly spending her own funds, she says she doesn’t know what happened to her money. After keeping close company with the 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.”