“Well now, isn’t that interesting,” Mason said dryly.
Sylvia said, “I know what you must think of me, Mr. Mason. Probably you think I’m the worst little scatter-brained idiot in the world, but—well, we’re into it now, and we’re going to have to hang together on this thing.”
She opened her purse, took out her checkbook. She said, “I gave you one check for five hundred dollars as a retainer. I’m going to give you fifteen hundred dollars more, Mr. Mason. I want you to—to represent Hattie.”
Mason watched her filling out the check.
“And please, Mr. Mason,” she went on, “please do what I told you. Remember what I said—I don’t want to do anything that would be a black spot on Dad’s memory, but, after all, Fritch was a blackmailer and he deserved to die. UnderDad’s moral code he would have been perfectly entitled to kill him.
“If this thing had happened years ago in Texas, Dad wouldn’t have thought anything about pulling a gun and killing J.J. on sight and no jury would have done anything to him.”
“This didn’t happen years ago and it isn’t in Texas,” Mason said. “And the ideas you had about your father’s killing Fritch have all turned out to be demonstrable fallacies.”
“I know, but—well, Dad’s gone now. They can’t do anything to punish him, and it’s better to have a black spot on his memory than to have one of us girls, I mean, Hattie, in a pack of trouble.
“I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Mason, that since I’ve already said what I did about Dad—well, no one knows all the details.
“Jarrett has, of course, messed things up. But if someone would fake a wire to him telling him of a new archaeological discovery in the jungle, Jarrett would go rushing off without waiting for anything. The funeral wouldn’t stop him. He’s seen so much of dead civilizations, he looks on individual death as just a—”
“Now look,” Mason interrupted, “you’ve messed things up enough. Don’t go sending Jarrett any fake wires.”
“Why, Mr. Mason! I wouldn’t do that. I want you to handle things now.”
Mason said, “Just what do you want me to do? What’s this check for?”
“I want you to defend Hattie.”
Mason said to Della Street, “Endorse on the back of that check that it is for the purpose of defending Hattie Bain, and that I have a free hand to handle the case in my own way, and if I have an opportunity I am at liberty to expose the murderer, whoever that murderer may be. Underscore ‘whoever that murderer may be.’”
Mason looked up at Sylvia Atwood. “Is that satisfactory?” he asked.
Her green eyes met his steadily. “Why, of course, Mr. Mason,” she said. “Why shouldn’t it be?”
Mason held her eyes. “We’re all in a mess now,” he said. “Some of it is due to your desire to be, to quote your brother, little Miss Fix-It. Now try not to send any fake wire or do anything else that will complicate the situation.”
“But, Mr. Mason, I think you’re terribly conservative. If Jarrett weren’t here to testify about seeing Dad they couldn’t prove it wasn’t Dad who went to that apartment. I can swear in all honesty and in all good faith I was trailing Dad.”
Mason grinned. “Well, thank you for the compliment.”
“What compliment?”
“Thinking I’m too conservative. Tell that to the police some time, will you?”
“You’re making fun of me now.”
“It’s not fun. You’re dangerous. I want one thing out of you. Keep your mouth shut and keep your fingers out of the pie.”
“I think you’re horrid. You’ve been listening to Jarrett. Before this case is over you’ll have reason to thank me for thinking ahead and doing the things your stuffy sense of professional ethics keeps you from even thinking of, much less doing!”
And she walked from the office, head high, shoulders squared.
“Heaven deliver us if she tries anything else!” Mason said.
“Want to bet?” Della asked.
“Good Lord, no!” Mason groaned.
Chapter 13
Perry Mason sat in the visitors’ room in the jail, looking across at Hattie Bain.
Between them was a heavy partition of plate glass. A microphone and a miniature loud-speaker on each side enabled voices to be heard through the glass screen. Aside from that the parties were as much separated as though they had been in different countries.
Hattie Bain’s face showed the devastating effects of the grief at her father’s death, the nervous strain to which she had been subjected, and the shock of her imprisonment.
“How are you feeling?” Mason asked.
“Pretty bad. How do I look?”
“Not bad.”
“My pictures in the papers were terrible.”
“You were full of drugs.”
“They didn’t give me the breaks at all.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“Why, of course, I answered their questions,” she said simply.
“Well, suppose you tell me what happened. Did you go to see J. J. Fritch the night of the murder?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After everything had quieted down at the house. I waited until Dad was asleep and Sylvia had gone to bed.”
“Why did you go, Hattie?”
“I thought I could make some deal with him.”
“Could you?”
“No.”
“Where did you see him, in Brogan’s apartment?”
“No, in his apartment. He was nasty to me, insulting to Dad. He was a thoroughly despicable man.”
“You told the police all this?”
“Certainly.”
“All right, tell me just what happened.”
“I drove up to that apartment house. I went up to the apartment that was rented in the name of Frank Reedy, the one that was really Fritch’s apartment.”
“You knew Fritch?”
“Oh yes, I’d known him years ago when he and Dad were in business together.”
“Go on,” Mason said.
She said, “I rang the doorbell. I had to ring several times before-”
“That was the Reedy apartment?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“Now how about the apartment across the hall, the one occupied by George Brogan?”
“J.J. took me in there. He wanted to get me out of his apartment. I think he wasn’t alone, that someone was in his apartment. He hustled me right across the hall to that other apartment.”
“I want you to think carefully about this,” Mason said. “Did you notice any note on the door of that apartment? Anything pinned to the door?”
She thought for a moment, then said, “I can’t be certain, Mr. Mason. I was thinking about—yes, I guess perhaps there was.”
“But you can’t be certain?”
“No, I can’t be certain.”
“All right, what did you do after you reached Brogan’s apartment?”
She said, “I told J.J. that I was going to put the cards right on the table, that you were in a position to prove he was a blackmailer, that you were terribly clever, that he had a tape recording and that you were going to be able to prove it was a forgery.
“I told him that what he was doing was killing Dad without doing himself any good, and I asked him to be a man and not be a sniveling, sneaking blackmailer.”
“What happened?”
“He became insulting.”
“Then what?”
“He virtually threw me out. He said if we didn’t get rid of you we’d all be sorry.”
“And then?”
“Then I went home and went to bed.”
“Were you wearing your father’s coat?”
“Yes, I was. I started out and realized I’d forgotten to bring a wrap, so I opened the closet and grabbed the first thing handy.”
“And you told the police all this?”
“Certainly. It’s their business to investigate. They have to ask questions. It
’s the duty of a good citizen to cooperate.”
Mason remained thoughtfully silent. Hattie Bain raised dark, steady eyes to his.
“That’s the truth,” she said.
“And you told it all to the police?”
She nodded.
Mason sighed. “Well, we may be able to keep the admission out of evidence on the ground that you were filled up with drugs.”
“I don’t want it kept out of evidence,” she said. “I want the truth told just the way it is.”
“And what time was this?” Mason asked.
“Between midnight and—I was back about half-past one or two in the morning. I didn’t look at my watch.”
“What time did you leave Fritch?”
“I can’t tell about the exact time.”
Mason said, “Now look, I don’t want you to make any more statements to anyone. I’m going to try to get you an immediate hearing in court. I’m going to try to at least get the facts straightened out so we know where we stand. Now you aren’t lying to protect your father, are you?”
She shook her head.
“Well, we’ll do the best we can.”
She said, “I haven’t any money to pay you, Mr. Mason, unless of course, you could wait for Dad’s estate.”
Mason said, “Your sister Sylvia retained me to represent you.”
For a moment there was some peculiar expression in her eyes. “You’re going to do what Sylvia instructs you to do? You’re going to let her direct my defense?”
Mason said, “I’m going to handle your defense to the best of my ability. I’m going to be working for you and for you alone. Look at me, Miss Bain. Look me in the eyes. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
“Do you understand that I mean it? That I mean every word of it?”
“Yes.”
“All right,” Mason said. “Remember it. You’re my client and I’m your lawyer. I’m not representing anybody else. Just you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mason.”
Chapter 14
The courtroom was packed with spectators who appreciated the importance of the legal battle that was about to take place.
Judge Kaylor emerged from his chambers to take his place on the bench. The bailiff rapped the court to order.
“The case of People versus Harriet Bain,” Judge Kaylor said.
“Ready for the prosecution,” Delbert Moon, a deputy district attorney answered.
“And for the defense,” Mason announced.
“This is the preliminary hearing on a charge of first-degree murder,” Judge Kaylor said.
Delbert Moon, suave, quick-witted, adroit, one of the newer and more skillful trial deputies in a reorganized district attorney’s office, was on his feet.
“If the Court please,” he said, “I’ll call Mr. George Brogan as my first witness.”
George Brogan came forward and was sworn.
He gave his name and address to the clerk, and his occupation as that of a private investigator.
“You were acquainted with an individual known to you as J. J. Fritch in his lifetime?” Moon asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is he?”
“He is dead.”
“How do you know he is dead?”
“I saw his dead body.”
“That’s all.”
Brogan started to leave the stand.
“Just a moment,” Mason said. “I have some cross-examination.”
“Now, if the Court please,” Moon said, “I have deliberately framed my questions so that this witness, who will be recalled later as a material witness for the prosecution, has at the present time testified only to one phase of the corpus delicti. I insist that Counsel confine his cross-examination to that part of the case.”
Mason said, “I don’t think Counsel needs to advise me how to conduct my cross-examination. I suggest that the orderly procedure is for him to listen to my questions and object to any question that he feels is not proper cross-examination.”
“Proceed,” Judge Kaylor said, smiling slightly.
“You say that you saw the body of J. J. Fritch?” Mason asked.
“That is right.”
“When did you see it?”
“I saw it at the morgue.”
“Who was present?”
“Sergeant Holcomb of Homicide, and Dr. Hanover, the autopsy surgeon.”
“You had known J. J. Fritch in his lifetime?”
“Yes, sir.”
“For approximately how long?”
“For a good many years.”
“Can you estimate the period of time?”
“No, sir, I cannot.”
“Why?”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Five years?”
“Yes.”
“Ten years?”
“Perhaps.”
“Fifteen years?”
“I don’t know.”
“More than ten years?”
“I couldn’t say.”
“Can’t you tell when you first met Mr. Fritch?”
“No, sir, I cannot remember.”
“Now you state that you saw the body of Mr. Fritch in the morgue?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was that the first time you had seen the dead body of Mr. Fritch?”
“Now, Your Honor,” Moon said, “I object. The witness has been called solely for the purpose of establishing the fact that J. J. Fritch was known by him in his lifetime, and that J. J. Fritch is dead. Our next witness will be Dr. Hanover, the autopsy surgeon, who will prove Mr. Fritch met his death by violence at the hands of some third person. We will then be in a position to proceed in an orderly way to connect up the defendant with the death of J. J. Fritch. Therefore, this question is not proper cross-examination at this time. Later on, when the witness has appeared and given his testimony in detail concerning other phases of the case, the question may well be proper.”
“The question is quite proper at this time,” Mason said. “You asked the witness if he saw the body of J. J. Fritch. I am asking him when he saw the body, and I am asking him when he first saw the body.”
“The objection is overruled,” Judge Kaylor said.
“When did you first see the body?” Mason asked.
Brogan shifted his position slightly, took a deep breath, glanced over Mason’s head at the back of the courtroom, then down at the floor.
“Can’t you answer that question?” Mason asked.
“I was trying to get the thing fixed in my mind, trying to get it clear in my mind.”
“Well, take your time,” Mason said. “Take just as long as you want.”
Brogan hesitated for a moment, looked at the deputy district attorney, then glanced away, then said, “As nearly as I can remember it, it was approximately five minutes past nine on the morning of the seventh of this month.”
“Where was that body?”
“It was lying on the floor of my apartment in front of the door leading to a closet where I stored liquor.”
“What was the condition of the body?”
“Now then, if the Court please,” Moon said, “I am again going to object. This is all matter which can be brought out when Mr. Brogan is called as a witness on the other phase of our case. It is not proper at the present time.”
Mason said, “The witness has been asked on direct examination as to whether he knew J. J. Fritch and whether he saw the body. I am asking him now to describe the body. I certainly have that right.”
“I think so,” Judge Kaylor said. “The objection is overruled. Answer the question.”
“Go ahead,” Mason said, “answer the question.”
“The upper part of the body was stiff. It was slightly doubled, that is, the elbows were doubled and pressed into the sides. The body was clad in underwear and that’s all.”
“Anything else you can think of about the body?”
“There were several small puncture wounds.”
“You noticed them at that time?”
“No, sir, I did not, but I noticed little stains of dry blood on the undershirt.”
“What kind of an undershirt?”
“A ribbed, sleeveless, athletic undershirt.”
“What can you say about the color of the body?”
“Why, nothing. It was sort of a grayish color, the color of a corpse.”
“What about the back? Did you notice any color on the back?”
“There was—now that you mention it, I think there was a bruise on the back—below the neck—between the shoulders.”
“Visible under the undershirt?”
“Yes, sir. The head was twisted a little. The body was on its back.”
“Now that’s relating to the time you first saw the body?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now let’s go to the next time you saw the body, where was that?”
“That was when it was in the morgue.”
“What was the condition of the body at that time?”
“It had been stretched out.”
“You could recognize the features?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was that before the autopsy or afterward?”
“Immediately before the autopsy.”
“Now, Mr. Brogan,” Mason said, “when I asked you when you had first seen the body you hesitated perceptibly. Do you remember that?”
“Oh, if the Court please,” Moon said, “I think that is not proper cross-examination, and furthermore I don’t think the witness hesitated.”
Mason said, “The witness did hesitate, and furthermore he stated when I asked him why he was hesitating that he was trying to get the thing fixed in his mind, trying to get it clear in his mind.”
“I believe that is correct,” Judge Kaylor ruled.
“Why did you hesitate?” Mason asked.
“I was trying to collect my thoughts on the subject.”
“Were your thoughts scattered?”
“The expression was figurative.”
“Why did you have to stop and study in order to remember what time it was when you first saw the body?”
“I wanted to be certain I wasn’t mistaken.”
“Thank you,” Mason said. “Now I want to ask you a few questions about your acquaintanceship with J. J. Fritch. You can’t remember the time you first met him?”
The Case of the Green-Eyed Sister Page 15
