“Yes,” Sheriff Bradley said. “And those are her stockings. The deputy wrapped them up after she took ’em off and locked them in the safe.”
David held up the black net stockings.
Tessa looked down at the table in front of her. She blushed at having her clothing displayed so openly.
David dropped the stockings on the table, then turned to the sheriff. “Did Miss Roarke have any other clothing?”
“No, sir. Except her…uh…you know…” The sheriff’s weathered face turned a dark shade of red.
“Her underclothes. She kept those on.”
“Sheriff Bradley, what was the weather like the night Miss Roarke was arrested?”
The sheriff smiled. “Just like it is today. Real cold.”
“So your deputy brought Miss Roarke out of the Satin Slipper just as he found her?”
“Yeah. She didn’t have shoes or a coat or a blanket or anything, until you brought them.”
“No jewelry? Rings, bracelet, necklace, anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.” David walked over to the defendant’s table, pulled his tablet out of his satchel and pretended to consult his notes. “Now, Sheriff, let’s talk about Arnie Mason. Did you know him?”
“I knew who he was,” Sheriff Bradley answered.
“Will you tell us how Mr. Mason was dressed when your deputies found him?” David paused. “Miss Brennan, the owner of the saloon, implied that he and Miss Roarke were lovers…”
The courtroom buzzed at the phrase.
David ignored it, continuing his line of questioning. “That Miss Roarke had invited Mr. Mason to her room. Was Mr. Mason found in a state of undress?”
“No, sir,” the sheriff replied. “He was completely dressed. Down to his boots, spurs, and gun.”
“Did your deputy find any personal belongings on Mr. Mason?”
“Yes, sir. They found a pocket watch, two cigars, a few matches, a train ticket stub from Chicago, some change, around forty dollars in cash in his wallet, and two pieces of paper folded up,” the sheriff recited from memory. “Oh, and a piece of gold chain.”
“Gold chain?”
“Yes, sir. The undertaker found it tangled around a button on Arnie’s right cuff when he was preparing the body. It’s all there on the table.” He pointed to the evidence table.
A woman in the crowded courtroom gasped aloud. David looked around, searching. He found the woman he sought. Her face was pale, but she was composed otherwise. He lifted a finger to his lips and kissed it in salute.
“Getting back to the folded pieces of paper,” David said, turning his attention back to the sheriff. “Was there anything written on the papers?”
“There was a Chicago address on one.”
Walking to the evidence table, David picked up a piece of paper and read it aloud. “Twenty-seven Lennox Street, Apartment four-B, Chicago.’ “
Tessa came halfway out of her chair.
The judge pounded once with his gavel. “Be seated, Miss Roarke.”
“Yes, sir.” Tessa sat back down. Arnie Mason had known her address in Chicago. How?
David glanced at Tessa. He met her questioning gaze and nodded in silent confirmation. He returned the piece of paper to the table, then picked up the other and took it to the sheriff. “Will you read this aloud, please?”