“Paul, they must have gone somewhere.”
“Sure, they went somewhere,” Drake said. “I can tell you where they didn’t go.”
“All right. Where didn’t they go?”
“They didn’t take any plane that left at about that time of day.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked it by the excess baggage. The taxi driver says the suitcases were heavy. They must have weighed forty pounds each. I checked the departures on the planes.”
“You checked them by name, of course?”
Drake’s look was withering. “Don’t be silly, Perry. That was the first thing. That was simple. Then I checked with the ticket sellers to see if there was a record of tickets sold at that time of day with that amount of excess baggage. There wasn’t. Then I checked with the gate men to see if they remembered some woman going through the gate who would need help in getting a man aboard the plane. There was none. I also checked on wheel chairs. No dice. So then I concluded she’d gone to the airport, unloaded, paid off the cab, and had picked up another cab at the airport to come back.”
“And you couldn’t find that cab?”
“My men are still working on it. But that’s like going to some babe wearing a skirt reaching to her knees, a tight sweater, and asking her if she remembered anybody whistling at her yesterday as she walked down the street.”
After a moment Mason grinned. “All right, Paul. We’re drawing a blank. Now why the devil would the district attorney have Mae Jordan picked up?”
“Because he wanted to question her.”
“Then why wouldn’t he have let her go after he questioned her?”
“Because he hasn’t finished questioning her.”
Mason shook his head. “You overlook what happened. She went up to her room, packed—got two suitcases. The district attorney is keeping her in what amounts to custody.”
“Why?”
Mason grinned. “Now wait a minute, Paul. That’s the question that I asked you. Of course, the only answer is that he wants her as a material witness. But if he does that, it means she must have told a story that has pulled the wool completely over his eyes, and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”
“You don’t think she’s a material witness?” Drake asked.
Mason thought the situation over for a minute, then a slow smile spread over his features. “She would be, if she told the truth. I don’t think there’s any better news that I could have had.”
“Why?”
“Because if the district attorney doesn’t put her on the stand as a witness, I’ll claim that he sabotaged my case by spiriting away my witnesses. If he does put her on the stand, I’ll make him the sickest district attorney west of Chicago.”
“You’re going to play into his hands by going to an immediate trial?” Drake asked.
Mason grinned. “Paul, did you ever see a good tug of war?”
Drake thought for a moment, then said, “They used to put them on in the country towns on the Fourth of July.”
“And did you ever see the firemen having a tug of war with the police department?”
“I may have. I can’t remember. Why?”
“And,” Mason went on, “about the time the fire department was all dug in and huffing and puffing, there would be a secret signal from the police department and everybody would give the firemen a lot of slack and they’d go over backwards, and then the police department would give a big yo-heave-ho and pull the whole aggregation right over the dividing line on the seat of their pants.”
Drake ginned. “Seems to me I remember something like that, now that you speak of it.”
“Well,” Mason said, “that is what is known as playing into the hands of the district attorney, Paul. We’re going to give him lots of slack. Now, answering your question more specifically—yes, I’m going to an immediate trial. I’m going to go to trial while the D.A. is hypnotized by Mae Jordan’s story and before he finds out I know some of the things I know and that he doesn’t know.”
Chapter 14
The selection of the jury was completed at ten-thirty on the second day of the trial. Judge Hartley settled back on the bench, anticipating a long, bitterly contested trial.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “the jury has been selected and sworn. The prosecution will proceed with its opening statement.”
At that moment, Hamilton Burger, the district attorney, who had left the selection of the jury to subordinates, dramatically strode into the courtroom to take charge of the trial personally.
The district attorney bowed to the judge and, almost without pausing, passed the counsel table to stand facing the jury.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said. “I am the district attorney of this county. We expect to show you that the defendant in this case is an employee of the South African Gem Importing and Exploration Company; that through his employment he had reason to know that man named Munroe Baxter had in his possession a large number of diamonds valued at more than three hundred thousand dollars on the retail market; that the defendant knew Munroe Baxter intended to smuggle those diamonds into this country, and that the defendant murdered Munroe Baxter and took possession of those diamonds. We will introduce witnesses to show premeditation, deliberation and the cunning execution of a diabolical scheme of murder. We will show that a goodly proportion of the diamonds smuggled into the country by Munroe Baxter were found in the possession of the defendant. On the strength of that evidence we shall ask for a verdict of first-degree murder.”
And Hamilton Burger, bowing to the jury, turned and stalked back to the counsel table.
Court attachés looked at each other in surprise. It was the shortest opening statement Hamilton Burger had ever made, and no one missed its significance. Hamilton Burger had carefully refrained from disclosing his hand or giving the defense the faintest inkling of how he intended to prove his case.
“My first witness,” Hamilton Burger said, “will be Yvonne Manco.”
“Come forward, Yvonne Manco,” the bailiff called.
Yvonne Manco had evidently been carefully instructed. She came forward, trying her best to look demure. Her neckline was high and her skirt was fully as long as the current styles dictated, but the attempt to make her look at all conservative was as unsuccessful as would have been an attempt to disguise a racing sports car as a family sedan.
Yvonne gave her name and address to the court reporter, then looked innocently at the district attorney—after having flashed a sidelong glance of appraisal at the men of the jury.
Under questioning of the district attorney, Yvonne told the story of her relationship with Munroe Baxter, of the carefully laid plot to smuggle the gems, of the tour aboard the cruise ship, the spurious “whirlwind courtship.”
She told of the plot to arrange the fake suicide, her deliberate flirtation with the assistant purser, the scene on the ship, and then finally that early morning plunge into the waters of the bay. She disclosed that she had carried a small compressed air tank in her baggage and that when Baxter went overboard, he was prepared to swim for a long distance underwater.
Hamilton Burger brought out a series of maps and photographs of the cruise ship. He had the witness indentify the approximate place where the leap had taken place, both from the deck of the streamer and from its location in the bay.
“You may cross-examine,” he said to Perry Mason.
Mason smiled at the witness, who promptly returned his smile, shifted her position slightly and crossed her legs, so that two of the masculine members of the jury hitched forward in their chairs for a better look, while the chins of two of the less attractive women on the jury were conspicuously elevated.
“You go by the name of Yvonne Manco?” Mason asked. “Yes.”
“You have another name?”
“No.”
“You were really married to Munroe Baxter, were you not?”
“Yes, but now that I am a widow I choose to keep my maiden name of Yvonne Manc
o.”
“I see,” Mason said. “You don’t want to bear the name of your husband?”
“It is not that,” she said. “Yvonne Manco is my professional name.”
“What profession?” Mason asked.
There was a moment’s silence, then Hamilton Burger was on his feet. “Your Honor, I object. I object to the manner in which the question is asked. I object to the question. Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”
Judge Hartley stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Well,” he said, “under the circumstances I’m going to sustain the objection. However, in view of the answer of the witness—However, the objection is sustained.”
“You were, however, married to Munroe Baxter?”
“Yes.”
“On shipboard?”
“Yes.”
“Before that?”
“No.”
“There had been no previous ceremony?”
“No.”
“Are you familiar with what is referred to as a common law marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Had you ever gone by the name of Mrs. Baxter?”
“Yes.”
“Prior to this cruise?”
“Yes.”
“As a part of this plot which you and Munroe Baxter hatched up, he was to pretend to be dead. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“With whom did the idea originate? You or Munroe Baxter?”
“With him.”
“He was to pretend to jump overboard and be dead, so he could smuggle in some diamonds?”
“Yes. I have told you this.”
“In other words,” Mason said, “if at any time it should be to his advantage, he was quite willing to pretend to be dead.”
“Objected to as calling for the conclusion of the witness as already asked and answered,” Hamilton Burger said.
“Sustained,” Judge Hartley said.
Mason, having made his point, smiled at the jury. “You knew that you were engaging in a smuggling transaction?” he asked the witness.
“But of course. I am not stupid.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “And after this investigation started, you had some contact with the district attorney?”
“Naturally.”
“And was it not through the offices of the district attorney that arrangements were made so you could testify in this case, yet to be held harmless and not be prosecuted for smuggling?”
“Well, of course—”
“Just a minute, just a minute,” Hamilton Burger interrupted. “I want to interpose an objection to that question, Your Honor.”
“Go ahead,” Judge Hartley ruled.
“It is incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial. It is not proper cross-examination.”
“Overruled,” Judge Hartley said. “Answer the question.”
“Well, of course there was no definite agreement. That would have been … unwise.”
“Who told you it would be unwise?”
“It was agreed by all that it would be unwise.”
“By all, whom do you mean? Whom do you include?”
“Well, the customs people, the district attorney, the detectives, the police, my own lawyer.”
“I see,” Mason said. “They told you that it would be unwise to have a definite agreement to this effect, but nevertheless they gave you every assurance that if you testified as they wished, you would not be prosecuted on a smuggling charge?”
“Your Honor, I object to the words ‘as they wished,’” Hamilton Burger said. “That calls for a conclusion of the witness.”
Judge Hartley looked down at the witness.
Mason said, “I’ll put it this way, was there any conversation as to what you were to testify to?”
“The truth.”
“Who told you that?”
“Mr. Burger, the district attorney.”
“And was there some assurance given you that if you so testified, you would be given immunity from the smuggling?”
“If I testified to the truth? Yes.”
“Before this assurance was given you, you had told these people what the truth was?”
“Yes.”
“And that was the same story you have told on the witness stand here?”
“Certainly.”
“So that when the district attorney told you to tell the truth, you understood that he meant the same story you have just told here?”
“Yes.”
“So then, the assurance that was given you was that if you would tell the story you have now told on the witness stand, you would be given immunity from smuggling.”
“That was my understanding.”
“So,” Mason said, “simply by telling this story you are given immunity from smuggling?”
“Well, not—It was not that … not that crude,” she said.
The courtroom broke into laughter.
“That,” Mason said, “is all.”
Hamilton Burger was plainly irritated as the witness left the stand. “My next witness will be Jack Gilly,” he said.
Jack Gilly was a slender, shifty-eyed man with high cheekbones, a long, sharp nose, a high forehead, and a pointed chin. He moved with a silence that was almost furtive as he glided up to the witness stand, held up his hand, was sworn, gave his name and address to the court reporter, seated himself, and looked expectantly at the district attorney.
“What’s your occupation?” Hamilton Burger asked.
“At the moment?” he asked.
“Well, do you have the same occupation now you had six months ago?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I rent fishing boats.”
“Where?”
“At the harbor here.”
“Were you acquainted with Munroe Baxter during his lifetime?”
“Just a moment before you answer that question,” Mason said to the witness. He turned to Judge Hartley. “I object, Your Honor, on the ground that the question assumes a fact not in evidence. As far as the evidence before this court at the present time is concerned, Munroe Baxter is still alive.”
“May I be heard on that, Your Honor?” Hamilton Bruger asked.
“Well,” Judge Hartley said, hesitating, “it would certainly seem that the logical way to present this case would be first to—However, I’ll hear you, Mr. District Attorney.”
“If the Court please,” Hamilton Burger said, “Munroe Baxter jumped overboard in deep water. He was never seen alive afterward. I have witnesses from the passengers and the crew who will testify that Munroe Baxter ran to the rear of the ship, jumped overboard and vanished in the water. The ship called for a launch to come alongside, the waters were searched and searched carefully. Munroe Baxter never came up.”
“Well,” Judge Hartley said, “you can’t expect this Court to rule on evidence predicated upon an assumption as to what you intend to prove by other witnesses. Moreover, your own witness has testified that this is all part of a scheme on the part of Munroe Baxter to—”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Hamilton Burger interrupted. “But schemes can go astray. Many unforeseen things can enter into the picture. Jumping from the deck of a ship is a perilous procedure.”
Judge Hartley said, “Counsel will kindly refrain from interrupting the Court. I was about to say, Mr. District Attorney, that the testimony of your own witness indicates this was all part of a planned scheme by which Munroe Baxter intended to appear to commit suicide. In view of the fact that there is a presumption that a man remains alive until he is shown to be dead, the Court feels the objection is well taken.”
“Very well, Your Honor, I will reframe the question,” Hamilton Burger said. “Mr. Gilly, did you know Munroe Baxter?”
“Yes.”
“How well did you know him?”
“I had met him several times.”
“Were you acquainted with Yvonne Manco, who has just testified?”
“Yes.”
“Directing your atte
ntion to the sixth day of June of this year, what was your occupation at that time?”
“I was renting boats.”
“And to the fifth day of June, what was your occupation?”
“I was renting boats.”
“Did you rent a boat on the fifth of June at an hour nearing seven o’clock in the evening?”
“Yes, sir.”
“To whom did you rent that boat?”
“Frankly, I don’t know.”
“It was to some man you had never seen before?”
“Yes.”
“Did the man tell you what he wanted?”
“He said that he had been directed to me because I was—”
“Just a moment,” Mason interrupted. “I object to any conversation which did not take place in the presence of the defendant and which is not connected up with the defendant.”
“I propose to connect this up with the defendant,” Hamilton Burger said.
“Then the connection should be shown before the conversation,” Mason said.
Judge Hartley nodded. “The objection is sustained.”
“Very well. You rented a boat to this man who was a stranger to you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“From what this man said, however, you had reason to rent him the boat?”
“Yes.”
“Was money paid you for the boat?”
“Yes.”
“And when did the man start out in the boat, that is, when did he take delivery of it?”
“At about five o’clock the next morning.”
“What were the circumstances surrounding the delivery of the boat?”
“He stood on the dock with me. I had a pair of powerful night glasses. When I saw the cruise ship coming in the harbor, I said to this man that I could see the cruise ship, and he jumped in the boat and took off.”
“Did he start the motor?”
“The motor had been started an hour previously so it would be warm and so everything would be in readiness.”
“And what did the man do?”
“He guided the boat away from my dock and out into the channel.”
“Just a moment,” Mason said. “Your Honor, I move to strike all of this evidence out on the ground that it has not been connected with the defendant in any way.”
“I am going to connect it up,” Hamilton Burger said, “within the next few questions.”
The Case of the Terrified Typist Page 10
