The Pink Pony Page 6

  This guy is really dinged up.

  “Mr. Brandstatter.”

  “Chief Brandstatter.”

  Karpinen ignored him. “You were the first person on the crime scene, is that correct?”

  Burr now stood. “Objection, Your Honor. The prosecution hasn’t established that a crime was committed.”

  Judge Maki sighed. “Mr. Lafayette, isn’t it a little early in the day for this?”

  “Your Honor, it hasn’t been established that a crime was committed,” Burr said again.

  The judge looked up at the ceiling, then at the prosecutor. “Sustained. Please rephrase the question.”

  “Chief Brandstatter, please tell us when you arrived at The Pink Pony and what you found.”

  Brandstatter cleared his throat. “I got there about noon on July 18th. The bar was locked, which it shouldn’t be at that time of day. Not in July. So I go in the hotel and I have the desk clerk let me in through the lobby door. At first, I can’t see anything ’cause it’s bright sunlight outside and dark there inside the bar. And it smells, you know, how a bar smells. Like beer and cigarettes. I don’t see anything, not at first. ’Cause it’s dark.”

  Karpinen rolled his eyes without moving his head. “Please get to the point.”

  Brandstatter glared at Karpinen. “I am trying to describe the crime scene.”

  “Objection,” Burr said.

  “Overruled. Get on with it, Art,” the judge said.

  More throat clearing from the Mackinac Island Chief of Police. “At first I don’t see anything ‘’cause it’s dark. Then my eyes get used to it. And I still don’t see anything. The bar’s empty. Nothing. Well, nothing except a sawed-off Christmas tree tipped over the bar with Christmas lights and women’s underwear. So, I’m thinking this is some kind of a prank, which wouldn’t be that unusual. It being race week and all. And, of course, the pink pony is missing again, the one that hangs outside the bar.”

  Karpinen nodded.

  He can’t turn his head, but he can nod.

  “Happens every year. Some drunken sailor steals the hobby horse. But it always gets returned. Not this year, though. Not so far.” Brandstatter glared at Burr. Burr grinned back.

  “Please, chief,” Judge Maki said.

  “As I was saying, I decide I’ll go have another look-see. So I go back over to the bar. Still nothing. Except that tree full of underwear.” The chief paused. “But then I see something behind the bar. I see him.”

  “Finally,” Judge Maki said under his breath.

  “What’s that?” Brandstatter said.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. Please continue.”

  “There he is. Sitting in a chair behind the bar, right underneath the Labatt’s tap. Dead as a doornail. That’s not the half of it. He’s sitting there with Christmas lights wound all around his neck. Like a necklace.”

  “Really,” Karpinen said.

  “Yes, sir. He’s lit up like a Christmas tree. He’s got a whole string of Christmas lights wrapped tight around his neck. Like a noose except this noose is lit up. C-9’s they were. The big, old-fashioned ones. The kind that don’t blink. He’s bent over at the neck, with them lights wrapped tight around his neck. The cord’s wrapped tight around the tap, and it’s plugged in. He’s got the defendant’s name tag on his shirt, and I found Mr. Halverson’s glasses right underneath the body,” Brandstatter said, pleased with himself.

  Nothing about me so far.

  “How did you know he was dead?” Karpinen said.

  “His eyes are all bulged out and he’s white as a ghost.”

  “We have a body. At last. Anything further, Mr. Karpinen?” the judge said.

  “No, Your Honor.” The prosecutor limped back to his table.

  “Your witness,” Judge Maki said.

  Burr walked up to the portly policeman. He pulled down the cuffs of his baby blue, button-down, pinpoint oxford shirt, which did not need pulling down. He straightened his red foulard tie with blue diamonds, which did not need straightening. He unbuttoned the jacket of his thousand-dollar charcoal suit, slightly threadbare. “Chief Brandstatter, were you the first person at the scene of the death?”

  “You mean the murder?”

  “It hasn’t been determined that there has been a murder.”

  “Well, if you ask me…”

  “I didn’t ask you,” Burr said.

  The chief bit his lip.

  “Let’s start over,” Burr said. “Were you the first person to find Mr. Lyons’ body?”

  “Not exactly,” Brandstatter said.

  “Either you were the first person to find to find Mr. Lyons’ body or you weren’t,” Burr said. “Which is it?”

  “I was the first law enforcement officer to find the body.”

  “Who was the first person to find the body?”

  “That would be Carole Hennessey,” Brandstatter said.

  “And who is Carole Hennessey?”

  “Head bartender at The Pink Pony.”

  “Did she tell you that she found the body?”

  “No,” the chief said, smiling again. “I found it on my own.”

  Burr had him now, but Brandstatter didn’t know it. “Chief, where was she when you found the body?”

  “She was looking for me,” Brandstatter said.

  “If she was looking for you, then there was a period of time after she found the body, but before you found the body, when no one was there?”

  “I suppose so.” The chief’s smile faded slightly.

  “So, there was a period of time when someone could have tampered with the evidence.”

  “No,” the chief said, confident again.

  “Why not?”

  “Because the bar was locked. That’s what got me going in the first place.”

  “Then how did you get in?”

  “I got a key from the desk clerk.”

  “So, Chief Brandstatter, someone else had a key to the bar?”

  “Of course they did. How else would I get in?”

  “Chief, if you got in, couldn’t someone else have gotten in?” Burr paused. “Before you?”

  “No,” Chief Brandstatter said.

  “Did you check to see how many sets of keys there were and who had them?”

  “No,” Chief Brandstatter said.

  “Chief, for all you know, someone may well have been in The Pink Pony after Mr. Lyons died and before Ms. Hennessey found the body and started looking for you.”

  “Impossible,” Chief Brandstatter said, finally understanding where Burr had taken him.

  “After not determining who may have had access to The Pink Pony and when they might have had access, you then searched the bar and examined the body. Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you wear gloves?”

  “Gloves?”

  “Yes, gloves. Things that you put on your hands.” Burr held his hands out in front of him and spread his fingers.

  “No.” Brandstatter wiggled in his chair.

  “You corrupted the scene by moving and possibly removing evidence, and you contaminated it with your own fingerprints?”

  “Objection, Your Honor!” Karpinen jumped up as best he could. “High sticking. Counsel is attacking the witness.”

  I get it. He’s a hockey player. That’s why he’s so dinged up

  “Your Honor, I am merely trying to determine the caliber of the investigation of the first responder.”

  “Overruled.” Judge Maki waved his gavel at him. “But you may not attack the witness, counselor.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Burr pressed the attack. “Chief Brandstatter, how many so-called murders have you investigated?”

  “One,” Brandstatter said.

  “Meaning this one?”
/>
  “I suppose.”

  “So, this is your first one.”

  “People don’t die on Mackinac Island like this.”

  “Your Honor.” Burr pointed at Brandstatter. “I submit that the crime scene was contaminated, and the investigation was botched ab initio.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Judge Maki said.

  “From the outset,” Burr said.

  “I know what it means, Mr. Lafayette. And for the record, if you continue with your attitude, I will cite you for contempt, ex cathedra.”

  Touché.

  Brandstatter leaned over the railing and hissed at Burr. “I know damn well you’re the one who stole the pink pony, and as soon as I have a little more proof, I’m going to arrest you for grand larceny.”

  Burr leaned toward Brandstatter and hissed back at him. “In Michigan, grand larceny starts at a thousand dollars. If that hobby horse is worth fifty dollars, I’ll eat it.”

  “You want me to tell him you were there with me drinking beer and tomato juice?”

  “I don’t care. It just makes you look even more inept.”

  Judge Maki leaned toward the other two leaners. “What’s that?”

  “We’re exchanging pleasantries,” Burr said.

  Brandstatter erupted. “This drunk stole the pink pony.”

  “What did you say?” the judge said.

  “I move the witness’ outburst be stricken from the record,” Burr said.

  “Objection,” Karpinen said.

  “Stop it. All of you,” Judge Maki said. “Strike the last exchange from the record.” Judge Maki wagged his gavel and pointed it at Burr and Brandstatter. “If the two of you have other business to attend to, do it outside of my courtroom.” He pointed his gavel at Karpinen. “That goes for you, too.”

  “Yes, Your Honor,” all three of them said, more or less in unison.

  “Anything further, Mr. Lafayette?”

  “No, Your Honor.”

  “You are excused, Chief Brandstatter.” The chief climbed down and started waddling back to the gallery. Burr turned his back to the judge just as Brandstatter passed him. He held his hands as if he were holding the reins of a horse and whinnied softly at the chief.

  “Call your next witness, Mr. Karpinen?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. The prosecution calls Dr. Winifred Burgdorfer.”

  A tall, rail-thin relic of a woman collapsed into the witness stand. She had her snow-white hair pulled back in a bun so severe it stretched out the wrinkles in her face. She had a long, narrow face and paper-thin lips.

  She looks like Willard’s older sister.

  After the swearing in, Karpinen began. “Dr. Burgdorfer, you are the medical examiner for Mackinac County. Is that correct?”

  “It is,” Dr. Burgdorfer said in a husky alto.

  “Would you please tell us your credentials.”

  Judge Maki waved his gavel. “Get on with it, Gus. We all know Winnie.”

  Karpinen nodded. “Dr. Burgdorfer, did you perform an autopsy on the deceased?”

  Judge Maki looked down his nose at Karpinen.

  “On Mr. Lyons,” Karpinen said.

  “I did.”

  “And what was the cause of death?”

  “Asphyxiation.”

  “Asphyxiation?”

  “His airway was cut off and he couldn’t breathe.” She put her hands around her neck. “He was strangled.”

  “How did this occur?”

  “When I examined him, he had a string of Christmas tree lights wrapped around his neck.”

  “What exactly killed Mr. Lyons?” Karpinen said.

  Dr. Burgdorfer leaned forward. Burr realized that she wasn’t wearing glasses.

  Extraordinary.

  “The string of lights, of course.”

  “Nothing further,” Karpinen said.

  “Now we have a cause of death,” Judge Maki said

  It was Burr’s turn. “Dr. Burgdorfer, when you performed the autopsy, did you do the customary blood tests?”

  “I did.” She smiled a not very nice smile at Burr.

  Burr smiled a nice smile back. “And did you measure the alcohol content in Mr. Lyon’s blood?”

  “I did.”

  “And what did you find?”

  “It was .21.”

  “.21. That’s high, isn’t it?”

  “Objection,” Karpinen said. “Calls for an opinion.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Maki said.

  “Dr. Burgdorfer, what is deemed to be legally drunk in this state?” Burr said.

  “Legally drunk is .08.”

  “So, Mr. Lyons was drunk.” Burr smiled.

  “Quite.” She smiled back at him.

  “Objection. Counsel is flirting with the witness.”

  “Come on, Gus,” Judge Maki said. “It’s refreshing that they get along so nicely.

  Not for long.

  Burr continued smiling. “Is it possible that Mr. Lyons was so drunk that he literally drank himself to death?”

  “No.”

  “Is it possible that Mr. Lyons could have committed suicide?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Why not?”

  Dr. Burgdorfer stopped smiling. “Because he would have had to wrap the lights around his neck, plug them in, and then hang himself. Which he did not do.”

  “Isn’t it possible that he accidentally killed himself?”

  “I hardly think so,” she said, no trace of a smile.

  “Isn’t it possible that Mr. Lyons wrapped the Christmas lights around his own neck?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “A moment ago, you said he could have,” Burr said.

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “Come on, Dr. Burgdorfer,” Burr said, not smiling. “Were you there that night?”

  The good doctor sat up, ramrod straight. “Of course not.”

  “You don’t know how the lights got wrapped around Mr. Lyons’ neck. Do you?”

  “Objection,” Karpinen said. “Counsel is badgering the witness.”

  “Mr. Lafayette, there is no jury here. Just me. Stop with the theatrics.” He pointed his gavel at him. “Do I make myself clear?”

  “Your Honor, I merely asked a question.”

  “Then merely ask it politely.”

  Burr turned away. He knew he had the old woman, but he knew it didn’t matter. So far, Karpinen had a dead man and a cause of death. “I have no further questions, Your Honor.’”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “The state calls Karen Vander Voort,” Karpinen said.

  A sandy-haired young woman with a ponytail glided to the witness stand. She had a nutty-brown tan, a long face and orthodontist’s dream teeth, white as the ice that surrounded Mackinac Island from January to April.

  She must be Dutch.

  Burr had a vague recollection of her from the now infamous night.

  Henry Crow swore her in and then Karpinen started in. “Miss Vander Voort, please tell us where you were and what you were doing the night of July 17th and during the early morning hours of July 18th, the morning Mr. Lyons was murdered.”

  Burr started to stand.

  “…died,” Karpinen said.

  “Bartending at The Pink Pony. I was the closer.”

  Karpinen limped back to the prosecutor’s table and picked up a photograph, which he showed to Karen Vander Voort. “Was this man at The Pink Pony the night of July 17th?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Your Honor, the prosecution introduces this photograph of Mr. James Lyons as People’s Exhibit One.”

  Burr stood. “May I examine the photograph?”

  “If you must,” Judge Maki said.

  Karpinen hand
ed Burr the photograph. A handsome devil, Burr thought. Jimmy certainly looked better alive than dead. “No objection.”

  “Remarkable,” Judge Maki said. “Proceed, Mr. Karpinen.”

  “Let the record show that Ms. Vander Voort has identified Mr. James P. Lyons as being at The Pink Pony on the night of July 17th,” Karpinen said.

  “For Pete’s sake, Gus, get on with it,” Judge Maki said.

  “Was Mr. Lyons one of your customers that night?” Karpinen said.

  “I made the drinks for his table, and when he came up to the bar, I poured a round of shots for everyone.”

  “Who was he with?”

  “He was sitting with him,” she said, pointing at Murdo. “And her,” she said, pointing at Anne.

  “Your Honor, please let the record show that Miss Vander Voort is pointing at the defendant, Murdoch Halverson, and his wife, Anne Halverson.”

  Judge Maki nodded at Karpinen.

  “Was there anyone else at the table?” Karpinen said.

  “Yes, there was another woman. Mr. Lyons’ wife.”

  “Objection, Your Honor. Speculation,” Burr said.

  “Sustained.”

  “Was there another woman at the table?”

  “Yes.”

  Karpinen turned to the gallery, his neck and trunk together, then back to the witness. “Ms. Vander Voort, do you see her here in the courtroom?”

  “No.”

  Burr turned to Murdo. “Was it Jimmy’s wife?” he said, sotto voce.

  Murdo nodded.

  “Was she the one with the black…”

  Murdo nodded again.

  Judge Maki banged his gavel. “Mr. Lafayette, the proceedings are up here,” he said, not so sotto voce.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Why isn’t she here?

  “When was the first time you remember seeing Mr. Lyons?”

  “He came up to the bar and bought shots for everyone. It cost him a fortune. Then he stole a fifth of whiskey from behind the bar.”

  Karpinen clicked his bridge.

  Burr cringed.

  “Miss Vander Voort, please tell us about the Christmas tree.”

  “The Christmas tree,” she said.

  “Yes, the Christmas tree.”