The Adventure of the Greenbriar Ghost by Jonathan Maberry

Author:Jonathan Maberry [Maberry, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Ghost, Thriller, Paranormal, Crime, Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Adventure, supernatural adventure, sherlock, legal thriller, sherlockholmes, caper, supernatural, greenbriar ghost, short story, doctor watson, paranormal acivity, paranormal activity, law, dr watson, paranormal activities, supernatural adventures, supernatural thriller
Publisher: Jonathan Maberry
Published: 2012-01-15T23:38:42+00:00

Chapter 7

“…the discovery was made that the neck was broken and the windpipe mashed,” said the coroner from the witness box in the courtroom. “On the throat were the marks of fingers indicating that she had been choked. The neck was dislocated between the first and second vertebrae. The ligaments were torn and ruptured. The windpipe had been crushed at a point in front of the neck.”

From the spectators’ gallery I watched as the findings struck home to each of the twelve jurors, and I saw several pairs of eyes flick toward Trout Shue, who sat behind the defense table, his face a study in cold contempt.

In was hot in the courtroom as a June sun beat down upon Lewisburg. Following the arrest of Trout Shue Holmes and I had returned to England, but a summons from Mr. Preston had entreated us to return and so we had. Despite the autopsy findings it was by no means a certain victory for the prosecution. Shue at no time recanted his claim of innocence and the burden of proof in American law is entirely on the prosecution to establish without reasonable doubt that the accused was the murderer. The evidence as it currently stood was largely circumstantial. Overwhelming, it seemed to me, but in the eyes of the law things stood upon a knife-edge.

During a break in the trial Mrs. Heaster accosted Mr. Preston. “You must let me testify,” she implored.

“To what end, madam? You were not a witness to the crime.”

“But my daughter—.”

Preston cut her off with some irritation, for in truth this was an argument they had revisited many times. “You claim your daughter came to you in a dream. A dream, madam.”

“It was her ghost, sir. Her spirit cries out for justice.”

Holmes gently interjected, “Mrs. Heaster, at very best this is hearsay and the laws of this country do not allow it as testimony. You cannot prove what you claim.”

She wheeled on Holmes while pointing a finger at Preston. “Are you defending him? Are you saying that I should just be quiet and let my daughter’s murderer glide through this trial like the oiled snake that he is?”

“Indeed not. In fact I have provided some evidence to Mr. Preston that he may find useful.”

“What evidence,” Mrs. Heaster and I said as one.

“Watson, do you remember that I sent a number of telegrams when we first arrived in Lewisburg?”

“Of course.”

“I cabled various postmasters in this region in a search for forwarding addresses for anyone of the name Erasmus Stribbling Trout Shue, or any variation thereof, and I struck gold! It turns out our Trout Shue has quite a checkered past. He has already served time in jail on a previous occasion, being convicted of stealing a horse.”

“That hardly bears on—.”

Holmes brushed past my interruption. “Zona Heaster was not his first wife, Watson. Not even his second! Shue has been married twice before, and in both cases there were reports…”

“…unofficial reports,” Preston interjected.

“Reports nevertheless,” snapped Holmes, “that each of his previous wives suffered from the effects of his violent temper.

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