D
DrWatson
Guest
Stormy Night, Chapter 4
IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT
Chapter 4: Sasha
“Do you see, Watson,” queried Sherlock Holmes, “why it is important to settle the question of who knew about the revolver? Consider, Miss Kwan ships an unloaded Colt 45, supposing that we believe that part of her story. The killer, between then and the fatal moment, must obtain ammunition -- an unusual calibre -- and load the pistol before firing. Indeed, one of the four suspects must have brought the ammunition with her. This rules out accident and makes a case for pre-meditated murder.”
“Unless,” I countered. I had to confess that by now all of my theories were running at sixes and sevens.
“Unless,” I pursued, “the victim obtained the ammunition and loaded it himself. Clearly he had found the gun earlier. Miss Slutskaya testified that she saw it lying in plain site on the desk. He decides, since Miss Kwan was so thoughtful as to send him a six-shooter in his bonsai tree...” I trailed off, aware of the absurdity of what I was saying. Then it struck me:
“Holmes!” I exclaimed, “could it have been suicide? Mr. Button’s fingerprints were found on the gun, along with those of Miss Kwan, Miss Slutskaya and Miss Hughes. Maybe Button was already dead when the girls arrived. And one of them -- or two of them acting in concert! -- tried to make it look like murder.”
“For the purpose,” Holmes chimed in, “of embroiling themselves in a capital crime. Logic, my dear Watson, I beg you, master yourself, organize your thoughts before you speak.”
“Well, Holmes,” said I, more than a little annoyed with his patronizing attitude, “if it's logic you want, here is logic irrefutable. The culprit is Sasha Cohen. Her account -- who ran into whom -- flatly contradicts that of Miss Kwan. They cannot both be telling the truth. That’s simple logic, if logic you must have!”
“Watson, Watson, my poor Watson,” sighed Holmes. “Granted, Miss Kwan and Miss Cohen cannot both be telling the whole truth. But they might both be lying, or each lying in part. And a person may be a liar without being a murderer. Shall we at least hear what Miss Cohen has to say for herself before we haul her off to the gallows?”
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SASHA'S STATEMENT
Alexander Rostropovich, Chief of Police: “Thank you for helping us with this investigation Ms. Cohen. This interview is being recorded. You have not been charged with any crime, but what you say here will become part of the permanent record of the case.”
Ms. Sasha Cohen: “My teachers always warned my about that Permanent Record. I always thought it was like the Bogyman.”
AR: “This is not the time for jokes, Ms. Cohen. We are investigating a serious crime. A capital crime, even. Do you know what that means?”
S.C. “Off with his head!”
A.R. “I see. Everybody’s a comedian. Ms. Cohen, I don’t think that you appreciate the gravity of your own situation here. At the very least there is the matter of criminal trespass.”
S.C. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t trespass. Mr. Button invited me.”
A.R. “And when did this invitation take place?”
S.C. “It’s kind of a standing invitation, whenever we played in the area. Mr. Button wanted to work with me on my spins.”
A.R. “Your spins?”
S.C. “Yeah, there’s this one spin I do, Mr. Button doesn’t -- didn’t -- like it. Because my back wasn’t straight, you know? It’s like this. I put this leg way up here, then I grab my ankle, and stretch it up even farther, like this. See? It’s my Revolving Beaver Cleaver.”
A.R. “You named it ’Cleaver?’”
S.C. “The spin, silly.”
A.R. “You can actually spin in that position?”
S.C. “Sure. It’s my big climax. The audience loves it, especially the photographers."
A.R. "I bet they do, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "But it would be better if I could keep my back straight, or even arch it a little. See how my shoulders are rounded, Mr. Rostropovich? Are you looking at my shoulders? Up here. Now just standing here I can arch my back good, see? But not when I spin."
A.R. "Well, you may put your leg down, Ms. Cohen. So...where were we...oh yes. So you just showed up at Mr. Button's door on the basis of the 'standing invitation?'"
S.C. "I called first. From my cell phone. I thought he would come to the show, but he didn’t. I called him after I skated and asked if it would be a good time. He said, sure, come on.”
A.R. “Did Mr. Button say that he had any other plans for the evening?”
S.C. "He just said, come on, the more the merrier."
A.R. "I see. And the second call from your cell phone, when you called the police about one o'clock? Did you call from Mr. Button's home?"
S.C. "What phone call? No. I never called the police. I never really got there. Well, I got there. But..."
A.R. "Do you deny placing a call from your cell phone at 1:15 AM on the night in question, Ms. Cohen? We can subpoena the record of the telephone service provider if need be."
S.C. "You can? I don't think they keep track of all those cell phone calls. Do they?"
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, in this age of computers, everything you do leaves an electronic record. Now, did you, or did you not place a call to the police on the night of the murder?"
S.C. "I -- I -- I don't remember. I don't think so."
A.R. "And three days before, on the afternoon of April 25, did you or did you not place a call to Ms. Sarah Hughes, representing yourself as Mr. Button's secretary and inviting Ms. Hughes to a surprise party at Mr. Button's house after the Boston show -- supposedly a surprise birthday celebration for her coach, Ms. Robin Wagner?"
S.C. "I -- I -- I -- I don't think so. I -- Michelle did it! Michelle called Sarah like that. Yeah, that's just like her these days. Michelle is always clowning it up, ever since Brian left the tour. I -- I think I lost my cell phone. I think somebody stole it. I want to report a stolen cell phone. I think Michelle stole my phone three days ago.”
A.R. “Ms. Cohen, were you aware of the dare between Sarah Hughes and Michelle Kwan to smuggle a gun across the country? Did you know that Ms. Kwan had actually carried out this dare by sending a Colt 45 to Mr. Button in a potted plant.”
S.C. “It wasn’t a plant so much as a miniature tree. I didn’t know anything about it. You are trying to put words in my mouth. I am going to call my friend Mr. George Bush. He’ll make you stop picking on me.”
A.R. “Ms. Cohen, as perhaps the fourth-ranked ladies figure skater in the world, you certainly have a bright future. I would like to know your opinion as to which of your rivals you regard as the biggest threat. Who would you like to see out of the way?”
S.C. “Well, you put me ahead of Fumie, so that’s good. Nobody is a threat to me, Mr. Rostropovich. Michelle and Irina are over the hill. Jenny? Anne(sic)-Patrice? Gimme a break."
A.R. “And Sarah Hughes?”
S.C. “Salt Lake was a fluke. What about the U.S. Nationals, which I won, but they gave it to Michelle? Since Sarah’s so smart, why don’t you ask her if she can spell 'underrotated fLutz'?”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The interview went on for two more pages, but at this point Holmes waived his hand for me to stop.
“I think we’ve heard enough, Watson,” said he, “to get the gist of Miss Cohen’s version of events.”
“Indeed,” I said hotly, “quite enough to see through her innocent facade, with her Lookie Nookie, and her Watchie Crotchie and her convenient memory losses.”
“I believe that would be her Beaver Cleaver,” Holmes corrected me. “Though as for that, all of the figure skating ladies have spins and spirals designed to put their...flexibility...on display. Your Miss Kwan is known for a lovely move called the 'See Everything I've Got' Charlotte, if I'm not mistaken.
“And quite refined and lady-like it is,” I countered. “Further, there is the matter of dress. I have noticed that in Miss Kwan’s costumes the panty is always...adequate to the task. By no means the general case among female figure skaters.”
“You’ve noticed that, have you,” Holmes rejoined. “Well. I’m sure that Miss Kwan’s costumers are greatly to be congratulated for the adequacy with which their creations cover Miss Kwan’s refined and lady-like bottom. But in the meantime, we have a mystery to solve.”
I jerked myself out of my reverie.
“Shall I continue with Miss Cohen’ statement, then,” I asked.
“Unnecessary, Watson,” said Holmes. “In summary, Miss Cohen asserts that she arrived at the victim’s house about 1:15, parked in the back, and was just coming up the back steps when Miss Kwan rushed out the back door and bowled her over. Miss Cohen denies entering the house, hearing a gunshot, or seeing Miss Hughes, Miss Slutskaya, or for that matter, Mr. Button.
“But wait,” Holmes continued. “Just read this part about the gloves.”
I saw the paragraph to which Holmes alluded, and I read as follows.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, for the record will you affirm that after the collision on the porch, you and Ms. Kwan were apprehended by the police -- in fact, by me -- and placed in a locked police car while we finished our investigation of the house. I then drove you and Ms. Kwan to the police station, with Ms. Slutskaya and Ms. Hughes following in the second squad car. Is this your recollection of these events, Ms. Cohen?"
S.C. "I don't know about 'apprehended,' but, yeah, about the police car. Yeah."
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, do you see this pair of gloves?”
S.C. "Where did you get those? I never saw them before."
A.R. "These gloves were discovered the next morning in the back seat of my patrol car, wedged down between the cushions of the seat. I would like you to try them on. Now, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "They look too small. I think they're too small, don't you?"
A.R. "That is what we are about to discover, Ms. Cohen. Just try them on now, if you please......They seem to be a perfect fit, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "I bet they fit Michelle, too. Try them on Michelle. I...I think I saw Michelle with some gloves on. Coming out of the house."
A.R. "Well, Ms. Cohen, it is only fair to tell you, since you have waived your right to an attorney and since this evidence may be presented in court, that Ms. Kwan was able to squeeze her hands into the gloves. But the fit was not as good as yours. Her fingers are somewhat longer."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Somewhat longer," I interposed, "and gracefully tapering, like the wing of a long-feathered bird. I'm sure that you have noticed, Holmes, how exquisitely Miss Kwan positions her hands when she performs, with each finger on different level so that from whatever angle the hand is viewed, one sees five distinct digits."
"To be sure," was Holmes' retort, "each on an ever higher plane of existence, as it were.”
Holmes must have his joke at my expense.
But not even the celebrated Sherlock Holmes could gainsay that cornerstone of American jurisprudence:
"If the glove don't fit, you must acquit!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it's looking bad for Sasha. Or is it?
Sarah?
Irina?
Michelle?
Sasha?
Other?
IT WAS A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT
Chapter 4: Sasha
“Do you see, Watson,” queried Sherlock Holmes, “why it is important to settle the question of who knew about the revolver? Consider, Miss Kwan ships an unloaded Colt 45, supposing that we believe that part of her story. The killer, between then and the fatal moment, must obtain ammunition -- an unusual calibre -- and load the pistol before firing. Indeed, one of the four suspects must have brought the ammunition with her. This rules out accident and makes a case for pre-meditated murder.”
“Unless,” I countered. I had to confess that by now all of my theories were running at sixes and sevens.
“Unless,” I pursued, “the victim obtained the ammunition and loaded it himself. Clearly he had found the gun earlier. Miss Slutskaya testified that she saw it lying in plain site on the desk. He decides, since Miss Kwan was so thoughtful as to send him a six-shooter in his bonsai tree...” I trailed off, aware of the absurdity of what I was saying. Then it struck me:
“Holmes!” I exclaimed, “could it have been suicide? Mr. Button’s fingerprints were found on the gun, along with those of Miss Kwan, Miss Slutskaya and Miss Hughes. Maybe Button was already dead when the girls arrived. And one of them -- or two of them acting in concert! -- tried to make it look like murder.”
“For the purpose,” Holmes chimed in, “of embroiling themselves in a capital crime. Logic, my dear Watson, I beg you, master yourself, organize your thoughts before you speak.”
“Well, Holmes,” said I, more than a little annoyed with his patronizing attitude, “if it's logic you want, here is logic irrefutable. The culprit is Sasha Cohen. Her account -- who ran into whom -- flatly contradicts that of Miss Kwan. They cannot both be telling the truth. That’s simple logic, if logic you must have!”
“Watson, Watson, my poor Watson,” sighed Holmes. “Granted, Miss Kwan and Miss Cohen cannot both be telling the whole truth. But they might both be lying, or each lying in part. And a person may be a liar without being a murderer. Shall we at least hear what Miss Cohen has to say for herself before we haul her off to the gallows?”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
SASHA'S STATEMENT
Alexander Rostropovich, Chief of Police: “Thank you for helping us with this investigation Ms. Cohen. This interview is being recorded. You have not been charged with any crime, but what you say here will become part of the permanent record of the case.”
Ms. Sasha Cohen: “My teachers always warned my about that Permanent Record. I always thought it was like the Bogyman.”
AR: “This is not the time for jokes, Ms. Cohen. We are investigating a serious crime. A capital crime, even. Do you know what that means?”
S.C. “Off with his head!”
A.R. “I see. Everybody’s a comedian. Ms. Cohen, I don’t think that you appreciate the gravity of your own situation here. At the very least there is the matter of criminal trespass.”
S.C. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t trespass. Mr. Button invited me.”
A.R. “And when did this invitation take place?”
S.C. “It’s kind of a standing invitation, whenever we played in the area. Mr. Button wanted to work with me on my spins.”
A.R. “Your spins?”
S.C. “Yeah, there’s this one spin I do, Mr. Button doesn’t -- didn’t -- like it. Because my back wasn’t straight, you know? It’s like this. I put this leg way up here, then I grab my ankle, and stretch it up even farther, like this. See? It’s my Revolving Beaver Cleaver.”
A.R. “You named it ’Cleaver?’”
S.C. “The spin, silly.”
A.R. “You can actually spin in that position?”
S.C. “Sure. It’s my big climax. The audience loves it, especially the photographers."
A.R. "I bet they do, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "But it would be better if I could keep my back straight, or even arch it a little. See how my shoulders are rounded, Mr. Rostropovich? Are you looking at my shoulders? Up here. Now just standing here I can arch my back good, see? But not when I spin."
A.R. "Well, you may put your leg down, Ms. Cohen. So...where were we...oh yes. So you just showed up at Mr. Button's door on the basis of the 'standing invitation?'"
S.C. "I called first. From my cell phone. I thought he would come to the show, but he didn’t. I called him after I skated and asked if it would be a good time. He said, sure, come on.”
A.R. “Did Mr. Button say that he had any other plans for the evening?”
S.C. "He just said, come on, the more the merrier."
A.R. "I see. And the second call from your cell phone, when you called the police about one o'clock? Did you call from Mr. Button's home?"
S.C. "What phone call? No. I never called the police. I never really got there. Well, I got there. But..."
A.R. "Do you deny placing a call from your cell phone at 1:15 AM on the night in question, Ms. Cohen? We can subpoena the record of the telephone service provider if need be."
S.C. "You can? I don't think they keep track of all those cell phone calls. Do they?"
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, in this age of computers, everything you do leaves an electronic record. Now, did you, or did you not place a call to the police on the night of the murder?"
S.C. "I -- I -- I don't remember. I don't think so."
A.R. "And three days before, on the afternoon of April 25, did you or did you not place a call to Ms. Sarah Hughes, representing yourself as Mr. Button's secretary and inviting Ms. Hughes to a surprise party at Mr. Button's house after the Boston show -- supposedly a surprise birthday celebration for her coach, Ms. Robin Wagner?"
S.C. "I -- I -- I -- I don't think so. I -- Michelle did it! Michelle called Sarah like that. Yeah, that's just like her these days. Michelle is always clowning it up, ever since Brian left the tour. I -- I think I lost my cell phone. I think somebody stole it. I want to report a stolen cell phone. I think Michelle stole my phone three days ago.”
A.R. “Ms. Cohen, were you aware of the dare between Sarah Hughes and Michelle Kwan to smuggle a gun across the country? Did you know that Ms. Kwan had actually carried out this dare by sending a Colt 45 to Mr. Button in a potted plant.”
S.C. “It wasn’t a plant so much as a miniature tree. I didn’t know anything about it. You are trying to put words in my mouth. I am going to call my friend Mr. George Bush. He’ll make you stop picking on me.”
A.R. “Ms. Cohen, as perhaps the fourth-ranked ladies figure skater in the world, you certainly have a bright future. I would like to know your opinion as to which of your rivals you regard as the biggest threat. Who would you like to see out of the way?”
S.C. “Well, you put me ahead of Fumie, so that’s good. Nobody is a threat to me, Mr. Rostropovich. Michelle and Irina are over the hill. Jenny? Anne(sic)-Patrice? Gimme a break."
A.R. “And Sarah Hughes?”
S.C. “Salt Lake was a fluke. What about the U.S. Nationals, which I won, but they gave it to Michelle? Since Sarah’s so smart, why don’t you ask her if she can spell 'underrotated fLutz'?”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The interview went on for two more pages, but at this point Holmes waived his hand for me to stop.
“I think we’ve heard enough, Watson,” said he, “to get the gist of Miss Cohen’s version of events.”
“Indeed,” I said hotly, “quite enough to see through her innocent facade, with her Lookie Nookie, and her Watchie Crotchie and her convenient memory losses.”
“I believe that would be her Beaver Cleaver,” Holmes corrected me. “Though as for that, all of the figure skating ladies have spins and spirals designed to put their...flexibility...on display. Your Miss Kwan is known for a lovely move called the 'See Everything I've Got' Charlotte, if I'm not mistaken.
“And quite refined and lady-like it is,” I countered. “Further, there is the matter of dress. I have noticed that in Miss Kwan’s costumes the panty is always...adequate to the task. By no means the general case among female figure skaters.”
“You’ve noticed that, have you,” Holmes rejoined. “Well. I’m sure that Miss Kwan’s costumers are greatly to be congratulated for the adequacy with which their creations cover Miss Kwan’s refined and lady-like bottom. But in the meantime, we have a mystery to solve.”
I jerked myself out of my reverie.
“Shall I continue with Miss Cohen’ statement, then,” I asked.
“Unnecessary, Watson,” said Holmes. “In summary, Miss Cohen asserts that she arrived at the victim’s house about 1:15, parked in the back, and was just coming up the back steps when Miss Kwan rushed out the back door and bowled her over. Miss Cohen denies entering the house, hearing a gunshot, or seeing Miss Hughes, Miss Slutskaya, or for that matter, Mr. Button.
“But wait,” Holmes continued. “Just read this part about the gloves.”
I saw the paragraph to which Holmes alluded, and I read as follows.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, for the record will you affirm that after the collision on the porch, you and Ms. Kwan were apprehended by the police -- in fact, by me -- and placed in a locked police car while we finished our investigation of the house. I then drove you and Ms. Kwan to the police station, with Ms. Slutskaya and Ms. Hughes following in the second squad car. Is this your recollection of these events, Ms. Cohen?"
S.C. "I don't know about 'apprehended,' but, yeah, about the police car. Yeah."
A.R. "Ms. Cohen, do you see this pair of gloves?”
S.C. "Where did you get those? I never saw them before."
A.R. "These gloves were discovered the next morning in the back seat of my patrol car, wedged down between the cushions of the seat. I would like you to try them on. Now, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "They look too small. I think they're too small, don't you?"
A.R. "That is what we are about to discover, Ms. Cohen. Just try them on now, if you please......They seem to be a perfect fit, Ms. Cohen."
S.C. "I bet they fit Michelle, too. Try them on Michelle. I...I think I saw Michelle with some gloves on. Coming out of the house."
A.R. "Well, Ms. Cohen, it is only fair to tell you, since you have waived your right to an attorney and since this evidence may be presented in court, that Ms. Kwan was able to squeeze her hands into the gloves. But the fit was not as good as yours. Her fingers are somewhat longer."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Somewhat longer," I interposed, "and gracefully tapering, like the wing of a long-feathered bird. I'm sure that you have noticed, Holmes, how exquisitely Miss Kwan positions her hands when she performs, with each finger on different level so that from whatever angle the hand is viewed, one sees five distinct digits."
"To be sure," was Holmes' retort, "each on an ever higher plane of existence, as it were.”
Holmes must have his joke at my expense.
But not even the celebrated Sherlock Holmes could gainsay that cornerstone of American jurisprudence:
"If the glove don't fit, you must acquit!"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well, it's looking bad for Sasha. Or is it?
Sarah?
Irina?
Michelle?
Sasha?
Other?
