The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “What?”

  “I’d been looking for the right kind of a job. My wife was in Portland, Oregon. That’s where I’d been before I came to Southern California, and I made up my mind that if I could get the kind of a job …”

  “Now just a moment,” Covington interrupted with fatherly benevolence, “don’t tell us what you thought, don’t tell us anything about your own business problems, Mr. Scanlon, just try and answer the question. Is there anything that fixes the night of the twenty-first day of September in your mind?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now just what is it? Just tell us what fixes the date in your mind.”

  “Well, I tried to telephone my wife to get her to come down here.”

  “I see. Now, where was your wife?”

  “In Portland, Oregon.”

  “And you were trying to place a telephone call to her?”

  “Yes.”

  “At what time?”

  “Well, I’d been calling her all dining the evening, but she hadn’t been home. She was out with friends at a movie and …”

  “Now just don’t testify to anything that you don’t know. Nothing that your wife may have told you later, Mr. Scanlon, just what you did. Now you have stated that the date is fixed in your mind because you were trying to telephone your wife.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you talk with your wife?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What time?”

  “That was at about ten minutes past ten when my call came through.”

  “Now did you notice the time?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now while you were waiting for that call to come through, immediately prior to ten-ten, where were you?”

  “I was in the telephone booth.”

  “Where?”

  “At this hotel, the Vista de la Mesa, in Tijuana.”

  “There’s more than one booth there?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “Now, how long did you wait before your party came on the line?”

  “About five minutes, I think.”

  “And during the time you were waiting there, did someone have occasion to enter the other telephone booth?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “There in the hotel in Tijuana.”

  “At what time?”

  “Just before ten-ten. I’d guess about ten-five, something like that.”

  “You know that it was before ten-ten?”

  “Yes, sir, because my call came through at ten-ten.”

  “And how long was it before your call came through that someone entered the other booth?”

  “Not over five minutes.”

  “Now did you see this person?”

  “Not then. I did later.”

  “How much later?”

  “About two or three minutes later when he left the booth.”

  “You did see him then?”

  “When he was leaving the booth, yes, sir.”

  “Who was he, if you know?”

  The witness raised a pointing forefinger. “That man sitting there.”

  “You are pointing at Edward Charles Garvin, the defendant in this action?”

  “Yes, sir, that man sitting right beside Mr. Mason, the lawyer.”

  “And you saw this man Garvin emerging from the adjoining booth?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did he do while he was in there, if you know?”

  “He put through a long-distance call.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I could hear him.”

  “You could hear his voice coming through the partition from the other booth?”

  “That’s right. I was sitting there right next to the partition and …”

  “And what did he say?”

  “I heard him say that he wanted to place a long-distance call. I remember he said he wanted to talk with Ethel Garvin at the Monolith Apartments in Los Angeles, and then a moment later I heard him put in money, and then start talking, and he said: ‘Ethel, this is Edward. There’s no use our throwing a lot of money away on lawyers. I’m down in Tijuana now and you can’t touch me here. I’m going to drive up to Oceanside. Suppose you jump in your car and drive down there and meet me. We’ll talk things over, and work out something that’ll be satisfactory.’ And then he was silent for a while and then he said: ‘Now don’t be like that. I’m not a fool. I wouldn’t be calling you unless I had plenty on you. Remember that man you were playing around with in Nevada? Well I know all about him. I know where he is right this minute.’ And then he went on to tell her where this man was and how to get to his ranch. I’ve forgotten just what the directions were, but it was some place out of Oceanside.”

  “Did he mention the name of this man?”

  “No, sir, I don’t think he did. If he did, I don’t remember that. Just the man she had been playing around with in Nevada.”

  “And then what did he say, if anything?”

  “He said: ‘You better come to Oceanside. I’ll meet you on the lot we used to own there, the place where we were going to build our house. I’ll drive up there and meet you. I’ll be there with my car, and I’ll leave the lights on so you’ll know it’s me.’”

  “And then what else did he say?”

  “Nothing. He just said he was glad she was being sensible and hung up.”

  “And then what?” Covington asked.

  “And then the man walked out of the booth.”

  “Cross-examine,” Covington snapped at Perry Mason.

  Mason looked at the clock. It was eleven-thirty-two, too early to ask the court to take a noon adjournment. Too late to suggest that the court might give him a few minutes by way of recess.

  Mason managed a smile which masked his feelings, said casually, and in a voice which was so low as to be hardly audible, “Rather keen of hearing, Mr. Scanlon?”

  “Yes, sir, I am,” Scanlon said, “I always have been. I could hear things pretty well.”

  “Now when you repeated what this man said,” Mason said, “you quoted his exact words.”

  “Well, I can’t say they’re his exact words, but that’s about what he said.”

  “You’ve talked with Mr. Covington, the district attorney, before you came to court?”

  “Yes, sir, I have.”

  “And did you discuss your testimony with Mr. Covington?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Several times?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was that the way you repeated the conversation when you first talked with him—the way you’re telling it now?”

  “Well, he told me I had to say what the man said. He said I couldn’t just say the general effect of what he said, that I had to use the man’s exact words as nearly as I could remember what they were. So that’s what I tried to do.”

  Mason said, “You were spending the night at the Vista de la Mesa Hotel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long had you been there?”

  “Two days.”

  “In other words this conversation took place on the second night that you stayed there? … Or was it the third?”

  “It was the second.”

  “Now you had been trying to get your wife earlier in the evening?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Was there any particular reason why you hadn’t called her earlier during the day?”

  “Yes, sir, there was. I had work in San Ysidro but I couldn’t find a place to live. I simply couldn’t find a house either to buy or rent. Then I found out that I might be able to live across the border in Tijuana and commute back and forth.

  “I went across the border and stayed at this hotel while I was looking around for a place that I could rent. I had to get permission from the Mexican authorities and I finally had things all fixed up, so I wanted to telephone my wife and tell her to bring our things down. Naturally I wanted her to get started just as soon as possible, becaus
e I couldn’t maintain two homes and I wanted to be reunited with my family.”

  “I see,” Mason said. “So you went in there to the booth to telephone her?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Now, did you hear the clock chime?”

  “Yes, sir, there was a clock that chimed.”

  “Did you hear the clock chime at ten o’clock?”

  “I did, yes, sir.”

  “Where were you at that time?”

  “I was just coming down the hall to the telephone booth. I’d called my wife earlier in the evening—oh, three or four times, and no one had answered. I felt certain she would be back by ten o’clock, so as it approached the hour of ten I decided to go telephone once more.”

  “Now the lights were burning brightly in the lobby at that time?” Mason asked conversationally.

  “No, sir, they were not.”

  “They weren’t?” Mason asked, apparently surprised.

  “No, sir, those lights were turned off sometime shortly before ten o’clock when the woman who runs the hotel rented the last room.”

  Mason said with a smile, “Just what you know, please. Don’t testify to what she subsequently told you. You don’t know of your own knowledge why the lights were turned off.”

  “Yes, sir, as it happens I do. I was in the lobby when the last room was rented. A young woman traveling by herself rented the room and I heard the conversation at the time when the Mexican woman who runs the place told her that this was the last room in the house, and she was going to close up the place and turn off the lights. I actually saw her turn out the lights.”

  “What time was that?”

  “It was just—well, I don’t know. It was a few minutes before ten o’clock. Oh, perhaps ten or fifteen minutes, something like that. I can’t be certain of the time. I was sort of killing time waiting for ten o’clock to come. I made up my mind that I’d try to put through my call again at ten o’clock.”

  “Well,” Mason said, as though Scanlon’s testimony had ruined his last chance of cross-examination, “apparently you had every occasion to remember everything about the events of that evening.”

  “I did, yes, sir.”

  “So the lights were turned out sometime before ten?”

  “That’s right.”

  “No lights at all in the lobby?”

  “Oh, yes, there was a night light. It was rather dim.”

  “I see,” Mason said casually. “Then you saw this man who had put in the telephone call from the booth next to you as he left the booth. Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You remained in the telephone booth?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Opened the door and looked out?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

  “Didn’t open it all the way?”

  “No, sir, just a crack.”

  “Now, do you mean just a crack or do you mean several inches?”

  “Just a crack.”

  Mason smiled and said, “You’re certain of that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now if the door was only opened a crack,” Mason said, “it would have been possible for you to have seen through that crack with only one eye, whereas if it had been opened several inches you could have seen with two eyes. Now think very carefully. Was it merely a crack, or was the door open several inches?”

  “Just a crack.”

  “Then you only saw this figure leaving the telephone booth with one eye. Is that right?”

  “Well, I guess so, yes. I hadn’t stopped to consider it before, but I remember I had the door opened just a crack. I guess I only did see him with one eye.”

  “And this man left the booth and then went down the corridor toward the rooms?”

  “No, sir, he didn’t. He went out of the front door.”

  “What door?”

  “The exit door, out to where the cars were parked, and drove away.”

  “How do you know he drove away?” Mason asked.

  “Well, I … I guess I don’t actually know that he drove away but I saw him walk out, and just a few seconds after that I heard a car being started out there in the driveway. Then headlights came on and shone in the lobby for a second or two and furnished a bright illumination. Then the car swung around and the beam of light from the headlights swept across the lobby and disappeared.”

  “And you didn’t see that man again until you entered the courtroom today to testify?”

  “Yes, sir, I did.”

  “Where did you see him?”

  “The officers arranged to put him in a place where I could see him.”

  “After he was arrested?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anyone else with him?” Mason asked. “Did the officers use a line-up so that there were several men in your line of vision and then ask you to pick out the man you had seen?”

  “No, sir, they didn’t. There was just this one man there, but they contrived to have him walk around so I could see the way he walked, his gait, and his general build, and things of that sort.”

  “By the way,” Mason said casually, “do you know what color clothes the man had on when you saw him leaving the booth? Was it a brown suit?”

  “Sort of a brown, I think, yes, sir.”

  “What color shoes?”

  “Dark, I think.”

  “And his necktie?”

  “His necktie was … let me see. No, I never saw his necktie.”

  “You don’t know whether he had a necktie on or not?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I never had a front view of this man.”

  “You didn’t see his features then?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Was he wearing a hat?”

  “I … I can’t remember.”

  “You don’t remember whether this man was wearing a hat?” Mason asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “You know what color socks he had on?”

  “No, sir,” Scanlon said, smiling.

  “Or the color of his shirt?”

  “It was—I think it was … No, sir, I don’t know.”

  “So,” Mason said, “you are identifying a man whom you saw with one eye through a crack in the door in a dark lobby, a man whose face you had never seen in your life until the police pointed him out to you in the jail and …”

  “No, sir, that’s not right. I pointed him out to the police.”

  “In the jail?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You were with the police at the time?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How many other prisoners were in sight?”

  “Just this one. There were no others in the place where I saw this man.”

  “And yet you say the police didn’t point him out to you?” Mason asked sarcastically. “They did tell you they were going to show you a man they wanted you to identify, didn’t they?”

  “Well, they said they’d like to have me look at this man and see if I could identify him.”

  “And then this one man was brought in to the yard or shadow box or whatever place it was where you were given an opportunity to look at him?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And do you mean to tell me that one of the police officers didn’t say to you at that time in effect, ‘There he is. Take a good look at him. Look at the way he walks. Look at him when his back’s turned’?”

  “Well, yes, they did say something like that.”

  “And you identified this man before the officer said that?”

  “No, sir,” Scanlon said. “It was afterwards.”

  “How long afterwards?”

  “After he’d walked around for a little while.”

  “I see. Just as soon as the officer told you that he wanted you to identify this man you pointed your finger and said, ‘That’s the man,’ didn’t you?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t. I looked him over a good long while before I i
dentified him.”

  “A long while,” Mason said scornfully, “ten or fifteen or twenty seconds, I presume.”

  “No, sir,” Scanlon insisted, “it was a minute or two.”

  “As much as two minutes?” Mason asked.

  “Yes, I’m certain it was.”

  “Could it have been longer than that?”

  “It could have been.”

  “As much as three minutes?”

  “I’ll say it could have been. I think perhaps it was. I wanted to be sure.”

  “In other words,” Mason said, “it took you three minutes of careful study of this defendant under conditions of good visibility to make up your mind that he was the man.”

  “Well, it could have been three minutes.”

  “Now, when you saw this man whom you observed in Tijuana that night,” Mason said, “you saw him after he had left the telephone booth and while he was walking across the lobby?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How fast was he walking? Was he moving rather rapidly?”

  “Well, he was walking right along.”

  “And you didn’t see him until after he had passed a few feet from the telephone booth?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  “Ten feet?” Mason asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And you couldn’t see him after he had passed through the outer door and gone out into the yard where the cars were parked?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Now, how many feet is it across that lobby?”

  “Oh, I’d say it was perhaps twenty-five feet.”

  “So you only saw this man while he was walking rather rapidly for a distance of fifteen feet?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you observed him with one eye?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “In semi-darkness.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “With his back turned toward you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And that’s why it was so difficult for you to be absolutely certain when you made your subsequent identification, wasn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Mason said, “That’s why you studied the matter for some three minutes before you were able subsequently to identify this man and say to the officers, ‘Yes, that’s the man.’”

  “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

  “Now, how long do you suppose it took that man to walk the fifteen feet?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know. I hadn’t figured it. A little while.”