Page 77 of The Frozen River

“This special session of the court has convened on two matters and will not take other issues into consideration,” Obadiah Wood declares. “If you are awaiting judgment on a pending case, your last issued court date remains in effect.”

Neither Judge Parker nor Judge Hubbard look pleased to be in the Hook, I think, and the latter keeps glancing at the windows and the storm clouds barreling closer. No doubt they will have to secure rooms at the tavern tonight. They cannot ride back to Vassalboro in this weather.

“The two issues before the court today are the accusation of rape against Colonel North, and an inquiry into the death of Joshua Burgess—also an accused in the first matter. As these issues are connected, we have chosen to deal with them together.”

I can see Isaac Foster stiffen in my peripheral vision, and Ephraim squeezes my hand.

“I would like to request an extension,” North says, stepping forward, “as I did not have time to secure an appropriate legal representative.”

Judge James Parker, an older man with speckled brown hair and hooded eyes, leans across the table. “Denied. You have had a month. But no matter. This is only a hearing, not a trial. No guilt or innocence will be determined today. We are here on the advice of the lower court”—he glares at Judge Wood—“to determine whether charges will be filed.”

John Hubbard clears his throat. Adjusts his collar. He looks like an owl in an ivy bush, wig frizzled and slightly off-center. “Now, to the first matter, that of Joshua Burgess,” he says. “It came to our attention some weeks past that the body of the deceased is stored in this town as it is impossible to bury him until the thaw. We examined the body upon our arrival but would like to question those who first inspected the corpse, one Martha Ballard, midwife, and one Dr. Benjamin Page. Please come forward.”

I do as asked, my chin lifted, hands folded at my waist, but I don’t look at Dr. Page when he comes to stand beside me.

“Who examined the body first?” Hubbard asks.

I lift my hand. “I did, Your Honor.”

He peers at his notes. “And you declared the cause of death to be murder by hanging?”

“I did.”

“And how did you reach that conclusion?”

I am careful to present facts, not feelings. “All of the injuries to Captain Burgess’s neck were consistent with hanging. A clean break and substantial rope burns. But the injuries to the rest of his body were those of a man who has been beaten. Numerous cuts and bruises and broken bones.”

“And have you ever seen a hanging before?” he asks, and I dislike the tone of condescension I hear.

“Yes.” A single word, no explanation, but I hope the certainty in that one syllable makes it clear that I do know of what I speak.

“I see. And did you find a rope on his person?”

“I did not.”

“And did you not think it odd?”

“No. It only reinforced my belief that he had been murdered. If Burgess had hung himself, he would have been found dangling from a tree—rope intact—and not lodged in the river.”

Hubbard scratches notes in his ledger. “Thank you, Mistress Ballard.” He looks up. “Dr. Page?”

“Yes?”

“Please explain your original assessment.”

“In my studies at Harvard Medical School I performed dissections on more than one man found dead in the harbor. Water can do tremendous damage to the human body. And given that there was no rope present on the deceased, it seemed likely that the injuries could have been made in a postmortem state.”

“And were you able to determine how long the body had been dead before entering the river?”

“I postulated death by drowning, sir.”

“Was there water in his lungs?”

“I did not perform a dissection on this man so—”

“It is possible that he was deceased when he entered the river?”

“I did not think so at the time.”