“I understand. There was no suggestion of blackmail?”
“Blackmail? Well—no. Only the smirking, insinuating way he approached me.”
“Was it threatening?”
“Not threat so much as unctuous assurance.”
“And what are you going to do, now that the cat’s out of the bag?”
“Going to do?” Clovis exclaimed. “I’m going to see Orville Reedley and tell him that he can’t ruin Helen’s life by arbitrarily refusing her a divorce. She doesn’t need his consent, really. It might not be pleasant—it might be . . . To hell with it! I’ll fight. I’m not going to be pushed around.”
“Are you absolutely certain that Hines didn’t cash a check?”
“When?”
“When he called at the bank.”
“Hines cash a check? Absolutely not! Not at my window. He couldn’t have cashed it there anyhow, because I don’t have any H clients. But from the way he talked I don’t think he had any money in the bank. I didn’t check to find out, but I don’t think he has a dime with us.”
“You’re sure you didn’t give him five hundred dollars, and then tell the police that the five hundred had been delivered to Orville Reedley on a check he had cashed?”
“Mr. Mason—please! What on earth gave you any such idea as that?”
“I don’t know,” Mason said, and added somewhat wryly, “And I wish I did. Does Mrs. Reedley know you plan to talk with her husband?”
“I told her I was going to.”
“What did she say?”
“She pleaded with me not to. She said that would spill the beans; that her husband would never consent to a divorce and that we would have played right into his hand.”
“Look here,” Mason said. “Did you ever, under any circumstances or for any length of time, have a key to Helen Reedley’s apartment?”
“Hang it, Mason, that’s a slanderous insinuation! You can’t—”
“Keep your shirt on. Answer my question. Did you at any time have a key to Helen Reedley’s apartment?”
“No.”
“Not for any period of time, no matter how brief? Not just to go and get something for her?”
“No!”
Mason said, “Hines had a key.”
“He was working for her. He had to go in and out.”
“And you never had a key, not even for a brief period? She never sent you up there to get something for her?”
“Absolutely not! If Helen had wanted anything in her apartment, she’d have got it herself. She would never have thought of sending me up there with a key.”
“I’m trying to get certain points cleared up. There doesn’t seem to be any pattern yet, and I’m trying to get the real facts. I was hoping you could help me.”
“I can tell you this much: Orville Reedley is intensely jealous and possessive—absolutely impossible! He refused to give his wife a divorce and swore that he’d contest any divorce she’d apply for. She had placed herself in his power by telling him that she cared for someone else.”
“Any witnesses to that conversation?”
“No—there were just the two of them. But that’s one thing about Helen Reedley, she wouldn’t lie for anybody; she wouldn’t even shade the truth. If her husband ever got on the witness stand and repeated that conversation, Helen wouldn’t deny it—she isn’t built that way. You can bank on that: Helen won’t lie!”
Mason was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You were on duty at the bank when Hines showed up and talked with you?”
Clovis nodded.
“That was the day of the murder?”
“That’s right.”
“You saw Helen Reedley that same day?”
“Yes, she was in the cafeteria where I usually eat lunch.”
“What time?”
“Twelve-thirty.”
“You knew she’d be there?”
“Well, I . . .”
“You’ve seen her there before?”
“Yes.”
“Sat at the same table with her?”
“Well, naturally.”
“You told her about Hines?”
“Yes.”
“And then what happened?”
“Why, we ate lunch—that’s all.”
“Did she say anything to lead you to believe she was at all concerned over the conversation you’d had with Hines?”
“Not exactly. She said she knew him slightly.”
“And what time did you leave her?”
“Well, it was about—oh, I’d say a little after one-thirty.”
“A little after one-thirty?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you said you had lunch at twelve-thirty?”
“I did.”
“Do you have more than an hour for lunch?”
“Well, I . . . I wasn’t feeling well that afternoon and took the rest of the day off. I had one of my headaches—eyestrain.”
“Now then,” Mason said, “tell me the truth, because I can verify it by checking up on your record at the bank. How many days have you missed work in the last six months because of those headaches?”
Clovis hesitated.
“Come on,” Mason said, “let’s be frank. How many days?”
“The afternoon of the third—and today.”
“You’ve had a hundred-percent record at the bank up until the day Hines was murdered?”
“Why keep referring to it as the day the man was murdered? It was the third of this month!”
“All right, we’ll call it the third. Where did Helen Reedley go when she left the cafeteria on the third?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you try to follow her?”
“Mr. Mason, I’ve been patient with you and answered a lot of questions about matters that are really none of your business, if I may say so. Now I am going to ask you and your companion to leave. Really—I’m too nervous to answer any further questions.”
“Then I am to assume that you did try to follow her?”
“Mr. Mason, will you please leave this apartment?”
Mason nodded to Paul Drake. “I guess that’s as good as we want,” he said. The two men walked across to the door. Just before Mason stepped out into the corridor, he turned and shot a rapid-fire question at Arthur Clovis. “Did you follow her all the way to the Siglet Manor Apartments?”
In dignified silence, Clovis walked over and closed the door behind him.
“Well,” Mason said out in the corridor, “that’s that!”
“What do you make of it, Perry?”
“Darned if I know,” Mason said. “He’s trying to cover for her, for something. He knows something that has him worried sick—Lord knows what it is. He’s no weak sister, but he’s certainly a nonbelligerent! A high-voltage girl like Helen Reedley would fall for the big, dynamic type, and then on the rebound—as her mother instinct came to the fore—she’d fall for some clean-cut young chap who is sensitive, shy, and retiring, but has a nice clean mind and a healthy imagination.”
“Meaning Arthur Clovis?”
“Arthur Clovis comes pretty close to answering that description.”
“So what do we do?” Drake asked.
“We go back and wait for something to break. We’ve stretched several wires almost to the breaking point. What I want right now is to have something crack that will give Gulling a jolt. He’s going to get me before the Grand Jury. I want to have this preliminary hearing slap him in the face with a surprise before he gets me there.”
17
IN THOSE tense few moments before the arrival of the judge on the bench, the whispered comments of the spectators sounded like a continual hissing. What came as considerable surprise to the initiate was the fact that Harry Gulling was present personally at this preliminary hearing, representing the district attorney’s office and thus advertising to those who knew their way around the courthouse that this was indeed the “grudge fight” it had been called in the papers.
Perry Mason looked up as a deputy sheriff brought in Adelle Winters and Eva Martell. The lawyer rose, shook hands with the two defendants, and saw that they were seated beside him.
“I’m so sorry about that taxicab,” Eva Martell whispered. “I thought I would drive by the apartment that Cora and I shared, and if the police weren’t watching it . . . It was foolish—I don’t know why I did it.”
“That’s all right,” Mason said. “That’s all water under the bridge now.”
“They’ve been trying to get a statement out of me. Not so much about the crime itself as about where I stayed that night. Whether you had anything to do with getting me . . .”
“I know,” Mason whispered. “Let’s not bother about it. Excuse me for a moment—there’s Paul Drake. I have to see him.” He got up and beckoned to Drake, who had just entered the courtroom.
As the detective joined him, Mason said, “Paul, stand close to me. I’m going to slip you something. I don’t want anyone to see it.”
“What?”
Mason didn’t answer him directly, but said, “This is something I’ve been hoping for but hardly dared believe might happen: Harry Gulling is going to handle the case for the prosecution himself!”
“Isn’t that rather unusual?”
“Damn near unique!” Mason replied. “As you know, he’s the shrewd legal mind that guides the policy of the district attorney’s office, but I never thought he’d be much good before a jury—his mind is too mathematical and detached, and he hasn’t enough understanding of human nature. Now, listen, Paul: I want to have witnesses to the contents of this wallet. It’s my own, and I want an inventory of it made. In it are some money, some letters, my driving license, and a few other papers. I want Gulling to find it in the men’s room.”
“Going to be rather difficult,” Drake said.
“No, it isn’t. You can have a man in there ready to plant it. Then have another man out in the corridor who can give a signal when Gulling heads that way. I want it left where it will be readily seen, but where it isn’t too conspicuous.”
“Okay,” Drake said. “I’ll give it a whirl.”
Mason moved closer and slipped the wallet into Drake’s hand. “Make sure Gulling gets it, and—”
They were interrupted by the banging of a gavel and a clerk ordering everyone to stand.
Judge Homer C. Lindale entered the courtroom, took his place at the bench, and nodded the spectators to their chairs. A moment later he called the case of The People vs. Adelle Winters and Eva Martell.
“Ready for the prosecution,” Gulling said.
“Ready for the defense,” Mason announced.
“Proceed,” Judge Lindale said to Gulling.
“Your Honor is familiar with the crime charged?”
“I have read the complaint. It is a case of first-degree murder, I believe.”
“Yes, Your Honor. The defendants are charged jointly and are both represented by Mr. Mason.”
“I so understand. Proceed.”
“Your Honor, my first witness will be Samuel Dixon.”
Dixon, duly sworn, took the witness stand, stated that he was a radio-car officer and had been such on the third of the month when he received a call to go to Siglet Manor Apartments and investigate at Apartment 326. On arriving there he had found both defendants in the apartment. The younger, Eva Martell, was excited and somewhat hysterical, but the older one, Adelle Winters, was quite calm and collected. They had shown him a body which they said was that of a man named Robert Hines.
“Where was this body?”
“Seated in a chair in the bedroom, rather slumped forward, the head inclined over toward the right shoulder. There was a hole almost in the center of the forehead. There were powder marks visible around the hole, indicating that it was a bullet hole. There had been some hemorrhage. The man was in his shirt sleeves. His coat had been removed and hung over the back of the chair in which the body was slumped.”
“Did the defendants make any statements to you in regard to the identity of the dead man or how they happened to discover him?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What were those statements?”
“Signed statements?” Mason interrupted.
“The statements I am referring to at this time were not signed,” Gulling said.
Mason said, “I understand, Your Honor, that the defendant signed certain statements. If that is so, the statements themselves are the best evidence.”
“The statements I am now asking for are merely oral statements which were made to this witness,” Gulling said.
“Objection overruled.”
“May I ask if these statements are considered by the prosecution to be in the nature of admissions? Or are they confessions?”
“I fail to see that that makes any difference.”
“If they aren’t either one, I shall object to them as incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”
“They are statements.”
“Very well. Then I shall object to them on the ground that no proper foundation has been laid.”
“They are not confessions, if that is what you mean. They are statements—admissions.”
“Objection overruled,” Judge Lindale said.
“Yes,” the witness went on, “both defendants made statements. They said that they’d been employed by Mr. Hines to live in this apartment. The defendant Eva Martell said she had been instructed to take the name of Helen Reedley.”
“If the Court please,” Mason said, “I would like to be heard upon my objection. After all, there is no proof of the corpus delicti as yet. We have merely the body of a dead man. It seems that the orderly way would be to show the identity of this man and some medical testimony indicating that death was the result of violence. For all that has appeared so far, the man may have died of heart trouble.”
“With a bullet in his forehead?” Gulling asked sarcastically.
“Oh,” Mason said, “so there was a bullet in his forehead! That changes the situation.”
“Yes, there was a bullet.”
“I would like to cross-examine the witness about that bullet for the purpose of proving the corpus delicti before these other questions are asked.”
“This witness didn’t see the bullet,” Gulling said.
“Then how did he know there was a bullet?”
“The autopsy surgeon told him so!” Gulling shouted—and then flushed before Judge Lindale’s smile. He went on more calmly. “Very well,” he said, “I will prove the corpus delicti. If you will step down, Mr. Dixon, I’ll ask to have Helen Reedley sworn.”
With obvious reluctance Helen Reedley took the witness stand.
“Were you acquainted during his lifetime with Robert Dover Hines?” Gulling asked.
“I was.”
“Did you see him on the third of this month?”
“I did not actually see him on that date, but I talked with him.”
“On the telephone?”
“Yes.”
“You had, however, seen him prior to that time?”
“Many times, yes.”
“You were familiar with him? You know who he was?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You rented an apartment at the Siglet Manor Apartments, number 326?”
“I did, yes.”
“You had given Mr. Hines permission to occupy your apartment?”
“Temporarily, yes.”
“And did you on the fourth day of this month, at the request of the police, go to the morgue?”
“I did.”
“And there you saw the body of a man?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that man?”
“Yes.”
“Who was it?”
“Mr. Hines.”
“Robert Dover Hines?”
“Yes.”
“The same person to whom you had given permission to occupy your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Cross-examine,”
Gulling said.
“When you gave Mr. Hines permission to occupy your apartment, you gave him a key to the apartment?” Mason asked.
“Yes.”
“And what was your object in giving him this key and permission to occupy the apartment?”
“Just a moment, Your Honor,” Gulling said. “That is objected to as incompetent, irrelevant, immaterial, and not proper cross-examination. This witness is called purely for the purpose of establishing the identity of the deceased, and that is all.”
“Then why ask her if she had given the deceased permission to occupy her apartment?” Mason asked.
“It shows why he was there.”
“Exactly,” Mason said. “That is what I’m trying to show—why he was there.”
“I didn’t mean it that way, Your Honor,” Gulling said.
Mason said, “I did, Your Honor.”
“If the Court please,” Gulling exclaimed angrily, “I don’t want to have all these extraneous matters dragged into this case. If Mr. Mason has any defense he wishes to produce, he is at perfect liberty to do so. But, so far as my case is concerned, I merely want to show the identity of the dead man, the manner in which he met his death, and the fact that there is more than a probability that these defendants brought about that death in a deliberate, cold-blooded manner and for the purpose of perpetrating a theft.”
“Then by all means,” Mason said, “the Court should know the reason why the defendants were in the apartment, and the reason why Hines was in the apartment.”
“As a part of your case, if you want—not as a part of mine,” Gulling snorted.
“Perhaps,” Mason said, “I can clear up the situation by pointing out to the Court that the witness has been asked about the permission she gave Hines to occupy her apartment. If that permission was in writing, then the writing itself is the best evidence and should be introduced. If the permission was oral, then—under a well-established rule of law—when the prosecution introduces a part of a conversation I have a right to introduce it all.”
Gulling was unmistakably angry now. “We’ll be here all winter, Your Honor, if all these minor matters are going to be dragged into the case.”
“I don’t think it’s exactly a minor matter,” Judge Lindale ruled. “I would have said that it was part of the defendants’ case, were it not that the witness has been asked about something that obviously was a conversation. I will rule that if this was a part of the conversation, Counsel has a right to show all of the conversation on cross-examination. I would suggest you reframe your question, Mr. Mason.”
The Case of the Borrowed Brunette Page 16
