The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

by Erle Stanley Gardner

  “What the devil are you getting at?” Drake asked. “Do you mean that …”

  Mason suddenly gave an exclamation, bent over the car, then started tugging at the rubber mat.

  “What is it?” Drake asked.

  Mason pointed to a brownish stain.

  “Paul,” he said excitedly, “we’re rushing this to the best crime laboratory available. We’re going to find out if that’s human blood.”

  “Human blood!” Della Street exclaimed.

  “Exactly,” Mason said.

  “What the devil are you getting at?” Drake asked.

  Mason said, excitedly, “I’m getting at the facts of the case. Mortimer Irving was telling the truth. My car was the one he saw parked there.”

  “Your car?”

  “Sure,” Mason said. “Remember that Garvin got in his car and drove away. My car was parked there right beside his. The keys to the ignition were in the drawer in the office of the hotel.”

  Drake gave a low whistle.

  Della Street said, “Then you mean …”

  “I mean,” Mason said, “that there was absolutely nothing on earth to have prevented Lorraine Garvin from getting up, dressing, borrowing my automobile, driving up the coast road, killing Ethel Garvin, and then driving my car back to Tijuana. In other words, that gun really was in the glove compartment all the time. When Lorraine opened the glove compartment to look for Garvin’s sunglasses she found the gun. She didn’t say a word. She handed Garvin the sunglasses, and at the first available opportunity took that gun out and put it in her purse.”

  Drake looked at Mason in open-mouthed amazement. “I’ll be damned!” he said.

  “And now,” Mason told him, “the only thing we’re going to have to do is find some way of proving all of that and doing it within the next few hours. Come on, Paul, you’re going to get busy.”

  Chapter 19

  Up in Perry Mason’s suite in the U. S. Grant Hotel in San Diego, Lorraine Garvin looked across the table at Perry Mason. Her eyes were desperate, angry, and defiant.

  In the chair at Mason’s right sat Paul Drake, watching her with shrewd eyes while Della Street was taking down in her shorthand notebook every word that was said.

  “I tell you I didn’t leave that hotel,” Lorraine said desperately.

  Mason’s eyes were cold and hard. “You had to leave that hotel,” he said. “Of all the people who were there, there were just two persons who were interested in Ethel Garvin. You and your husband.

  “Now then, thanks to the testimony which has been dug up by the district attorney we can prove that your husband got up, took his car and drove away. It would not have been possible for him to have changed automobiles. He was seen in his own car at Oceanside. He was seen there at a time that indicates unmistakably he must have been driving his own car from the time he was seen to leave the Vista de la Mesa Hotel in Tijuana. Now then, here’s what happened. You knew what he was going to do. He’d been discussing it with you. When he left you knew that he was going up to see his ex-wife. You knew that you were in the position of being a bigamous wife until you could get her out of the way and have a legal ceremony.”

  Her lips clamped in a firm line. “I’m not going to sit here and talk with you any longer,” she said. “I’m going to see my attorney.”

  “I think you’d better,” Mason said. “You know what happened. You got up, dressed hurriedly, went out to the office, got the keys to my car, jumped in, crossed the border, and drove like a bat out of hell. You passed your husband before he had gone halfway to Oceanside. You made contact with Ethel, murdered her …”

  “I tell you I didn’t!”

  “And I say you must have. You didn’t care too much whether you merely got her out of the way so your husband would be free to remarry you, or whether you caused him to be suspected of the murder and had him disposed of via the gas chamber, which is what you are trying to do now with your fake alibi.”

  She pushed back her chair, got to her feet, and said, “No one can force me to stay here and listen to these insults. My husband asked me to lie to give him an alibi. I did. Now I’m going to consult an attorney who will represent me.”

  In silence they watched her sweep across the room and go out and slam the door behind her.

  Mason said, “Well at last we know what happened, but we have no way of proving it. That blood could have been placed there at any time. All the district attorney needs to do is adopt the position that we planted the bloodstain by cutting a finger and getting a few drops of human blood on the rubber mat.”

  “Then what would happen?” Della Street asked.

  “Then,” Mason said, “our whole case against Lorraine Garvin would blow up and we’d be licked.”

  Mason got to his feet, started pacing the floor, frowning.

  The others watched in silence.

  Then suddenly, Mason paused, whirled, looked at Paul Drake.

  “What’s the matter?” Drake asked.

  Mason said, “There’s another possibility we haven’t explored, Paul.”

  “What is it?”

  Mason said, “This thing has developed so darned fast, Paul, that we haven’t had time to think it out to a logical conclusion, but when you come right down to it, how did Lorraine Garvin make contact with Ethel?”

  “Well, it’s a cinch she did it somehow,” Drake said.

  Grabbing his hat, Mason said, “Come on. We’re going to drive to Tijuana. Bring a shorthand notebook, Della.”

  The others followed Mason down to the garage where Mason jumped in his car and made time to Tijuana. They found Señora Inocente Miguerinio surrounded by newspapers, ensconced behind the desk in the hotel, her face beaming with pleasure over the realization that the trail of the millionaire miner had given her hotel a great deal of free advertising.

  Mason said, “Good afternoon, Señora.”

  “Buenas tardes, Señores, and you, too, Señorita,” she said smiling, “and how goes eet weeth the case? You’ave got your client acquitted, no?”

  “No,” Mason said, “and I want to ask you a couple of questions. What about the last room you rented the night of the murder? Who rented it?”

  “Eet was a señorita, a nice, sweet girl, with so beautiful curvas,” and Señora Miguerinio swept her two hands in a series of curves indicating the contours of a feminine body.

  “What color hair?” Mason asked.

  “A beautiful blonde. The blonde that ees like platinum, no?”

  Mason said, “Did she register? What name did she give?”

  “I weel look up the register,” Señora Miguerinio said, and turning the pages of the register, said, “She was the Señorita Carlotta Delano, from Los Angeles.”

  “When did she come in?”

  “I do not know the time, Señor. After all, here in Mexico we do not make so much importance of the time as do you yanquis. Eet was just before I turn out the lights and go to bed.”

  Mason turned to regard Paul Drake with frowning concentration.

  “What the devil,” Drake asked, “are you getting at?”

  Mason said, “Let’s consider the time element, Paul. I left my room and went down to Edward Garvin’s room. During the time I was in his room, Señora Miguerinio must have rented the last room to this blonde señorita. She then turned out the lights and went to bed. By the time I retraced my steps back to my room, the lights were out—but some girl was in the adjoining telephone booth putting through a phone call. As I remember it now, there was something significant about that phone call. Now it’s reasonable to suppose that this woman who was putting through the phone call was the woman to whom Señora Miguerinio had rented the last room.”

  “Si, si, Señor, that ees eet! She asked about the telephone and how she could make a call to Los Angeles.”

  “Now then,” Mason said to Drake, “just suppose that this woman was actually our mysterious friend with the gun, the beautiful legs, and the habit of prowling the fire escape. Suppose this
was Virginia Bynum telephoning to Los Angeles for instructions. Come on, Paul, we’re going to find out about that telephone call.”

  Forty minutes later they had their answer. The call had been placed at nine fifty-five. A woman who gave her name as Miss Virginia Colfax had placed a call to Frank C. Livesey in Los Angeles.

  Drake, regarding the sheet which contained the information, gave a low whistle.

  Mason said, grimly, “Okay, Paul. Now I’m beginning to see daylight. I think I know who borrowed my automobile.”

  Chapter 20

  Garvin, brought to the crowded courtroom by the deputy sheriff who had him in charge, whispered angrily to Mason, “What the hell is all this about you trying to frame my wife?”

  “Shut up,” Mason whispered peremptorily.

  “I won’t stand for it,” Garvin said. “I’ll ask permission of the Court to have another attorney substituted. Damn it, Mason, you can’t …”

  Judge Minden entered, rapped court to order and gazed out over the crowded courtroom in which every available seat was occupied, every inch of standing room taken.

  “People versus Garvin,” he called. “Are you ready to proceed, gentlemen? And is it stipulated that the defendant is in court, and the jurors are all present?”

  “So stipulated,” Mason said.

  “So stipulated,” Covington agreed.

  Judge Minden looked at Covington, who started to get to his feet, but before he could address the Court, Mason said, hurriedly, “If the Court please, there are one or two questions I would like to ask of Frank C. Livesey. May I be permitted to have him recalled for additional cross-examination?”

  “What do you want to cross-examine him about?” Covington said sneeringly. “He was only called in a routine way in connection with the handling of the gun.”

  Mason smiled, “Then there certainly should be no objection on the part of the district attorney to having him recalled.”

  “There isn’t,” Covington said.

  “Mr. Livesey, take the stand again for additional cross-examination,” Judge Minden said.

  Livesey arose from the back of the courtroom, walked to the witness stand, his face twisted in a grin.

  Mason waited until Livesey had seated himself, then said, suddenly, “Mr. Livesey, do you know Virginia Bynum?”

  Livesey frowned, “I’ve told you before, Mr. Mason, that I know so many people that I …”

  “Yes or no?” Mason asked. “Do you or do you not know her?”

  Livesey looked into the lawyer’s eyes, squirmed uncomfortably, said, “Yes, I know her.”

  “Now then,” Mason said, “answer this question yes or no. Did you or did you not have a telephone conversation with Virginia Bynum shortly before ten o’clock on the night of September twenty-first of this year?”

  Covington was suddenly on his feet, his expression puzzled, but his instinct as a trial attorney making him realize that some dramatic development was impending, a development which might bode no good for his side of the case. “Why, Your Honor,” he said, “this is not a routine cross-examination. This is going far afield. This is taking up matters which were not covered in the direct examination.”

  “It is for the purpose of showing the interest of the witness,” Mason said.

  “Well,” Judge Minden said, dubiously, “it seems to the Court the inquiry is certainly far afield, but counsel should have the widest latitude in a case of this kind, when it comes to showing personal interest or bias. I will overrule the objection and permit that question, but I warn counsel that I don’t intend to permit any fishing expeditions.”

  “I’m not fishing,” Mason said.

  “Very well, answer the question, Mr. Livesey.”

  Livesey twisted his position in the witness chair, glanced appealingly at Covington, ran his hand over his bald head.

  “Yes or no,” Mason said crisply. “Did you or did you not have such a conversation?”

  Livesey cleared his throat, started to say something, then paused thoughtfully.

  “Did you or didn’t you?” Mason thundered.

  “Yes,” Livesey said, after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Yes,” Mason said. “And at the time of that conversation Virginia Bynum was in Tijuana, wasn’t she?”

  “Oh, I object, Your Honor,” Covington said. “That plainly calls for a conclusion of the witness. He couldn’t know where a party was telephoning from. All he could possibly know is what the other party said, and that would be hearsay.”

  “Sustained,” Judge Minden said, but he was leaning forward now, looking over the edge of the bench, regarding Livesey with a thoughtful frown.

  “And did you, over the telephone at that time, give Virginia Bynum substantially the following instructions? Did you tell her to take my automobile, which was parked at the Vista de la Mesa Hotel, and drive it to Oceanside?”

  “Oh, Your Honor,” Covington said, “this is completely far afield. If Mr. Mason wants to make Mr. Livesey his own witness that’s one matter, but I only called Mr. Livesey in connection with a routine matter and …”

  “Nevertheless, this might show his bias, his personal interest in the outcome of this trial,” Judge Minden said. “I may say that the Court is very much interested in hearing the answer to that question. Answer it, Mr. Livesey.”

  Livesey’s hand was stroking his bald head now with rhythmic regularity.

  “Yes or no,” Mason said. “Did you give her substantially those instructions?”

  Livesey sat on the witness chair, his hand keeping an even tempo as it moved slowly and rhythmically across his forehead, back up over his head, down to the back of his neck, then back to his forehead again.

  The silence in the courtroom was ominous and tense.

  “Did you or didn’t you?” Mason asked.

  There was no answer.

  “Answer the question,” Judge Minden snapped.

  Suddenly Livesey turned to the judge. “I refuse to answer that question,” he said, “on the ground that the answer would incriminate me.”

  It took Judge Minden more than a minute to silence the courtroom. When he had restored order, he said, “The Court will take a fifteen-minute recess. At the end of that recess the spectators who return will be restricted to the number of spectators for whom there are chairs available. And the first sign of disorder will result in the courtroom being cleared of all spectators. The jury will heed the previous admonitions of the Court. Court is now adjourned for fifteen minutes.”

  Mason grinned at Paul Drake. “Things are beginning to look up, Paul.”

  “Darned if they aren’t,” Drake said.

  Chapter 21

  When court reconvened and Livesey was back on the stand, he amplified the previous statement he had made by reading from a piece of paper which he held in his hand. “I wish to state that I have now consulted counsel. I have been advised not to answer any questions concerning any of my relations with Virginia Bynum and I refuse to answer any further questions on the ground that the answers may incriminate me.”

  Covington, on his feet, protested vehemently, “Your Honor, this has all the earmarks of a cheap frame-up. By having a man refuse to answer questions, an attempt is made to lead the jury to believe this man may be mixed up in the murder of Ethel Garvin. I charge that it’s a cheap piece of trickery.”

  “You made the charge,” Mason said. “Now go ahead and prove it.”

  “I can’t prove it. You know that. This matter has taken me by surprise.”

  Judge Minden banged his gavel. “Counsel will refrain from personalities,” he said. “The Court is met with a most peculiar situation.”

  “I’ll say it’s most peculiar,” Covington said irritably. “It’s too peculiar. I personally happen to have reason to believe this is simply a matter of trickery. Virginia Bynum was out on the fire escape watching the offices of the Garvin Mining, Exploration and Development Company at the time counsel is now charging, at least by inference, that she was in Ti
juana. However, by making these statements in front of the jury in the form of highly significant and leading questions, and then having a really friendly witness refuse to answer the questions on the ground that the answers might incriminate him, counsel has drawn a very neat red herring across the path of the prosecution.

  “The jury are apt to attach undue significance to what the witness is saying. I claim it’s a deliberate frame-up. Remember this man holds his office at the pleasure of the defendant. By the time the smoke all blows away, it will probably appear that this whole thing has been carefully rehearsed; that the only crime Livesey could possibly have committed is that of speeding in an automobile, or some relatively minor crime which, while technically a crime, is one which has no relation to the case we are here investigating.

  “This cheap trickery is entirely on a par with …”

  “Just a moment,” Mason interrupted. “You keep on making those charges and I’m going to hold you personally responsible. You …”

  “Gentlemen,” Judge Minden said, “we will have no more personalities, and we will have no more speculation as to the reason for the statement made by this witness. Mr. Livesey, do I understand that you’re going to refuse to answer any more questions concerning your relations with Virginia Bynum?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How about what happened on the night of September twenty-first and the morning of September twenty-second? Will you answer questions …”

  “I refuse to answer any questions concerning what happened on the night of September twenty-first or the early morning of September twenty-second on the ground that such answers might incriminate me.”

  “I want a four-day adjournment,” Covington said angrily, his face flushed. “I’ll have the grand jury in session and we’ll get to the bottom of this. We …”

  “In the meantime,” Mason said, “I would like to recall George L. Denby to the witness stand for a brief question or two and then I will have no objection to the Court granting the request of the prosecution for continuance.”

  “Very well, take the stand, Mr. Denby,” Judge Minden said.