The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  Garvin leaned over to whisper in Mason’s ear. “Mason, for God’s sake let me talk to you.”

  Mason smiled up at him and said, “Sit down, Garvin. I’ll talk with you in a minute. Now, whatever happens, don’t make any move to talk to me. Just sit there.”

  Mason watched Garvin sit down, pinched out his cigarette, dropped it in the large brass cuspidor, stretched, yawned, and watched the courtroom clock tick away the precious seconds.

  Then, as though just happening to think of something, he turned with a smile, leaned toward Garvin, and said, “Just answer questions. Keep a smile on your face. Did you telephone Ethel Garvin?”

  Garvin tried to smile but couldn’t. “Mason, listen to me. I did telephone her. I did walk out and take my car up there. The man is telling the truth. But Lorraine is willing to stay with her alibi. She woke up and found me gone. She said what she did because …”

  Mason interrupted to say, “Don’t talk so fast. Don’t talk so much. Now, settle back as though you hadn’t a care in the world. I’ll talk with you again in a minute.”

  Mason straightened up in his chair, looked around the court-room casually, as though looking for Della Street, then glanced once more at the clock, yawned again, then turned toward Garvin and said, “All right. Let’s have the rest of it.”

  Garvin said, “I went up there to meet her, Mason, but she didn’t show up. I waited around for a while and then went to Hackley’s road. I parked my car and reconnoitered through the field. After a while, a damn dog heard me and started barking. After he quieted down I worked my way to the house again. Ethel’s car came out of the driveway. I recognized the car. I couldn’t see whether she was alone or not.

  “I ran back to get my car and I found I’d got myself good and lost. It took me almost a quarter of an hour to get my car. I drove down to the place where I was to meet her. Her car was there. She was in it, dead. I was smart enough not to go near the machine, not to touch anything, and not to leave any tracks. I drove back to Tijuana.”

  “What time did you get there?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t look at my watch, but I told Lorraine I was in a jam. I woke her up and told her what had happened. I told her she was going to have to give me an alibi. That’s the whole truth, Mason. I’m sorry I lied to you. I …”

  There was a sudden rustle of motion as the spectators stood up. Judge Minden emerged from his chambers, took his place on the bench. Sounds of motion and scraping chairs caused momentary confusion as the spectators regained their seats.

  Garvin said, “I’ll pay anything, Mason. I’ll add ten thousand dollars or twenty thousand dollars or …”

  “You haven’t half enough money to pay for what you’ve done,” Mason whispered angrily. “You’ve double-crossed me, but I won’t double-cross you. Now sit back, damn you, and shut up.”

  “Who’s your next witness?” Judge Minden asked Covington.

  “Call Mortimer C. Irving,” Covington said.

  Irving came forward and took the stand. He avoided Covington’s eyes, caught Mason’s eyes for a moment, grinned somewhat sheepishly, then settled himself in the witness chair.

  He gave the statistical information concerning his name and address to the court reporter, then looked up as Hamlin Covington arose from his chair and strode impressively forward.

  “Early in the morning of September twenty-second of this year, did you have occasion to travel along the road between La Jolla and Oceanside, and at a point some two miles south of Oceanside?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What time?”

  “At about twelve-fifty A.M.”

  “I will call your attention to the map which has been introduced as People’s Exhibit A,” Covington said. “Can you orient yourself on that map, that is, can you look at it and understand what it is, what it shows?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you familiar with the territory of which that map is a scaled reproduction?”

  “I am. Yes, sir.”

  “On that map can you point to anything unusual which you saw at the time you were so traveling along the highway between La Jolla and Oceanside?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Please do so.”

  Irving walked over to the map, placed a finger on it, and said, “I saw an automobile parked at just about this spot.”

  “Anything unusual about that automobile?” Covington asked.

  “Yes, sir. It was parked there with the lights on and as nearly as I could see no one was in the car.”

  “Now, what time was this, as nearly as you can recall?”

  “About twelve-fifty.”

  “Did you do anything with reference to making an examination of that car?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What?”

  “I stopped my car. I turned my car’s spotlight on that automobile and looked it over rather carefully. I thought that perhaps …”

  “Never mind what you thought. Just tell us what you did.”

  “Yes, sir. I turned the spotlight on the car and looked it over rather carefully to see whether there was anyone in the car.”

  “Did you notice the license number of the automobile?”

  “I didn’t at that time. No, sir.”

  “Now can you describe that car to us?”

  “Yes, sir. It was a convertible automobile of a light color. It was a large automobile. The top was up and the headlights were on. It had, as I remember it, white-walled tires.”

  “Were any of the doors open?”

  “No, sir, the doors were all closed.”

  “Mr. Irving, I am going to ask you if since that time you have had occasion to see the automobile of Edward Charles Garvin, the defendant in this case?”

  “Yes, sir, I have.”

  “Can you tell us whether or not that was the automobile you saw parked there at that time?”

  “It was an automobile very similar to that.”

  “Thank you. That’s all. You may cross-examine, Mr. Mason.”

  Covington strode back to his chair and sat down.

  Mason said, “Two days later, and while this matter was fresh in your mind, Mr. Irving, you talked with me about what you had seen, did you not?”

  “If that’s an impeaching question,” Covington said, “I object on the ground that …”

  “It’s not an impeaching question. I’m simply asking him whether he had such a conversation. The question can be answered yes or no.”

  “Did you have a conversation with Mr. Mason?” Judge Minden asked. “Just answer yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  “And, following that conversation, did you ride with me down the road shown in this map?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And at that time there was an automobile with License Number 9Y6370 parked at about this position, wasn’t there?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And did you at that time identify that automobile with the California State License Number 9Y6370 as the automobile which you had seen at twelve-fifty in the morning of September twenty-second of this year?”

  “Well, I didn’t identify it. I said that it looked something like the automobile I’d seen.”

  “This automobile that I am referring to now is a light-colored convertible?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you looked it over rather carefully?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And didn’t you at that time and place identify that automobile as being the one you had seen?”

  “Well, I said I thought it was the one I had seen.”

  “You thought so then?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you don’t think so now?”

  The witness ran his fingers through his hair. “Well, to tell you the truth,” he said, “I …”

  “That’s what you’re here for,” Mason said as the witness stopped, “to tell the truth.”

  “Well, of course I couldn’t make a positive identifi
cation of the car I saw there that night. I can only tell what it looked like and the general kind of a car that it was. I …”

  “You’re not answering my question,” Mason said. “You thought at the time you were with me that this car I have referred to was the same car you had seen there, didn’t you?”

  “Well, of course, I can’t identify an automobile absolutely when I just see it at night on …”

  “Just answer the question,” Mason said. “Did you or did you not at the time you were with me think that was the car you had seen?”

  “Yes, sir, I did,” the witness blurted.

  “And now,” Mason said, “at this time, when the occasion is not as fresh in your mind as it was then, do you want this jury to feel that you have changed your mind?”

  “Well, I realize now that I couldn’t identify any car positively and absolutely.”

  “Specifically,” Mason said, “what has occurred between the occasion when you identified that car with me, two days after the time you had seen it, and the present time to make you change your mind?”

  “I didn’t say I’d changed my mind.”

  “You have changed it, haven’t you?” Mason snapped.

  “Well, I don’t know that I have.”

  “In other words,” Mason said, “you still think that the car you saw two days later with License Number 9Y6370 was the car you saw there at twelve-fifty in the morning of September twenty-second, don’t you, Mr. Irving?”

  “Well,” Irving admitted, “I’ve been led to realize how impossible it would have been to have made an identification at the time I first saw the car parked there.”

  “Who led you to realize the impossibility of making such an identification?”

  “I just kept thinking the matter over and …”

  Mason said, “You specifically stated, Mr. Irving, that you had been led to appreciate the impossibility of making such an identification. Now who led you?”

  “Well, I don’t know. It could have been just the way I thought things over.”

  “Someone led you,” Mason said. “Who was it?”

  “I didn’t say that anyone led me.”

  “You said you had been led. Who led you?”

  “I … well, I had several talks with Mr. Covington, the district attorney.”

  “In other words, Mr. Covington led you to believe that you couldn’t make a positive identification of the car you saw there that night. Is that right?”

  “Well, I don’t know that I’d express it that way.”

  “I’m expressing it that way,” Mason said. “Answer the question. Did or did not Mr. Covington lead you to the belief that you couldn’t identify that car under those circumstances?”

  “Oh, Your Honor, I object. After all, this cross-examination is …”

  “Overruled!” Judge Minden snapped.

  Irving hesitated.

  “Answer the question,” Mason said.

  “Well, I guess he did.”

  “That’s all,” Mason said smiling.

  “Call Harold Otis,” Covington said.

  Otis, a young, well-knit individual, took the witness stand, gave his name and address to the court reporter, and in response to questions by Covington, testified that he was employed in a service station in Oceanside, that he had worked on the twenty-first of September from the hour of four o’clock in the afternoon until midnight; that sometime before midnight, as nearly as he could place it, at about half an hour before he had left work, he had seen the defendant, Edward Garvin; that the defendant had driven up to his service station in a convertible automobile; that the witness had taken the license number of the automobile; that he had noticed it particularly; that he had filled the automobile tank with gasoline at the request of Mr. Garvin and had washed the windshield; that while he was serving the car Garvin had been exceedingly nervous and restless; that he had gone over to stand by the curb where he could watch the automobiles which were traveling south on the highway.

  Covington produced a photograph of Edward Garvin’s car and the witness identified it as being the car Garvin had driven on the night in question. He identified the license number; identified the make, model and year of the car.

  “Cross-examine!” Covington said triumphantly to Perry Mason, and strode back to his seat beside Samuel Jarvis at the prosecution’s counsel table.

  “After you serviced the car, what did the driver do?” Mason asked.

  “He drove away.”

  “In which direction?”

  “North.”

  “Toward Los Angeles?”

  “Yes.”

  Mason smiled enigmatically as though this information was destined to wreck Covington’s case. “And you didn’t see him drive back, did you?”

  “There are hundreds of cars an hour pass that service station. I don’t try to check up on all the cars that are using the road.”

  “Certainly not,” Mason said. “But you didn’t see his automobile come back down that road, did you?”

  “No, sir, I didn’t, but …”

  “Never mind the reasons,” Mason said. “I’m simply asking you whether you did or did not see that automobile returning?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And,” Mason announced triumphantly, arising and pointing a finger at the witness, “you went off duty at midnight that night, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So that in the event that car had returned after midnight, considerably after midnight, perhaps as late as three o’clock in the morning, you wouldn’t have been there to see it, would you?”

  “Certainly not, but I wouldn’t have seen it anyway. I wouldn’t have noticed cars going along the highway. That’s not my business.”

  “Do you mean to say,” Mason said, “that you never notice automobiles going along the highway?”

  “Well, I don’t look at them particularly.”

  “Exactly,” Mason said, “but you do notice automobiles from time to time going along the highway, don’t you?”

  “Well, I guess so, yes.”

  “Now, then,” Mason said, “your attention had been attracted to this automobile because you thought the driver was unduly nervous and restless. Is that right?”

  “Well, he looked as though he was looking for …”

  “Never mind drawing any conclusions,” Mason said. “Simply answer the question. Your attention was attracted to this particular automobile because the driver was nervous and restless. Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So you looked the automobile over pretty carefully?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And so you could remember the license number?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Therefore, having remembered what this car looked like, if you had seen it again you would have noticed it, wouldn’t you?”

  “Well, perhaps I would.”

  “And if that car had been driven from your service station into Los Angeles, and hadn’t returned until three o’clock in the morning, so that the defendant couldn’t possibly have been anywhere near the scene of this murder at the time the crime was perpetrated, you wouldn’t have known it, would you?”

  “Well …”

  “Yes or no!” Mason thundered at the witness.

  “Well, no.”

  “That,” Mason announced triumphantly, “is all.”

  Covington regarded Mason with a puzzled frown, then he slowly got to his feet. He was trying in vain to conceal the fact that Mason’s hint of a Los Angeles alibi for Garvin had him worried. “Your Honor,” he said, “I had intended to wind up my case very shortly with the records of the telephone company on that long distance call to Ethel Garvin from Tijuana, but I would like to have an opportunity to perhaps call one more witness who is not at the moment immediately available. If it would be possible for me to have an adjournment until tomorrow morning …”

  Judge Minden shook his head. “I feel that would be an unreasonable request, unless, o
f course, the defendant should consent to it.”

  Mason said. “No, Your Honor, we want this case to proceed as rapidly as possible.”

  “But Your Honor,” Covington persisted, “there is at stake a matter of some considerable importance which I am not now at liberty to explain.”

  Mason, on his feet, said with sudden graciousness, “All right, we’ll consent to a continuance. Go ahead. If you think you can find any evidence proving that this defendant was in the immediate vicinity of the crime at the time it was committed, we’re willing to help you. We’ll consent to an adjournment.”

  And Mason sat down.

  “I’ve proved it already!” Covington shouted. “What more do you want? I’ve proved he was …”

  “Gentlemen, that will do!” Judge Minden said, pounding his gavel. “In view of the fact that counsel for the defense has consented to a continuance, Court will at this time take a recess until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, during which time the jury will remember the admonition of the Court. They will not converse about the case; they will not read the newspapers; they will not form or express any opinion, nor will they permit any person to discuss the case in their presence. Court is adjourned.”

  Mason arose, stretched, walked over to where Paul Drake and Della Street were standing, and whispered, “Gosh, was that a break! I certainly wanted that adjournment, but I was afraid to admit it. The district attorney threw it right in my lap.”

  “Better watch that boy,” Drake said. “He’s dangerous. He’s looking for something.”

  “He’s worried,” Mason said, and then added, “but he isn’t half as worried as I am. However,” he added, “there’s one thing we’re going to do, right now.”

  “What?” Drake asked.

  “That witness, Irving,” Mason said. “I tricked him into making an identification of my car.”

  “That sure was a smart trick,” Drake said.

  “It may have been just a little too smart.”

  “What do you mean, Perry?”

  Mason said, “Let’s go look over my car. That man Irving is an honest witness.”

  Mason led the way down to where his car was parked, opened the door and started looking it over carefully.

  “Take a look at the rubber footmat in front here, Paul,” he said.