Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Sleepwalker's Niece

Mason waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. “That’s all,” he said. Hamilton Burger exchanged glances with young Blaine, then they plunged once more into whispered consultation.

“Any redirect examination?” Judge Markham asked.

“If we may have the indulgence of the Court for just a moment,” Burger said, “this whole case has taken rather a peculiar turn.” Blaine engaged in vehement whisperings but Burger slowly shook his head. Burger said, after a moment, “Very well, I’ll ask Miss Hammer a few questions on redirect examination. Did I understand you to say that you had been walking in your sleep, Miss Hammer?”

“Yes.”

“When did you first know that you were a sleepwalker?”

“About six weeks or two months ago. Perhaps a little longer.”

“How did you find out you had been walking in your sleep?”

“I had been worrying about some rather important papers of Uncle Pete’s. He’d left them in the writing desk in the living room. I told him I didn’t think it was a safe place and he said it was all right, that no one would bother them. I went to sleep worrying about them and in the morning, when I got up, the papers were in my bedroom under my pillow.”

Burger turned to Blaine. His manner was that of saying, “I told you so.” Blaine squirmed uncomfortably, made more whispered suggestions to Burger. Burger whirled back to face her. “Why didn’t you tell us this?” he asked.

“No one asked me.”

“And you got this book on sleepwalking at that time?”

“I sent away for it, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to study up on it and see if I could cure myself, and I wanted to see if it was hereditary. In other words, I wanted to see if it might be a family trait.”

“And did you do any more sleepwalking?”

“Yes.”

Burger turned savagely to Blaine. Mason, looking across the gap between the counsel tables, grinned at the two lawyers who were carrying on a spirited argument in whispers, the hissing sibilants not sufficiently audible to allow spectators to hear what was being said, but loud enough to convey Burger’s general tone of exasperation. “That’s all,” Burger snapped, overruling Blaine’s whispered suggestions.

“Any recrossexamination?” Judge Markham inquired of Perry Mason.

Mason shook his head. “No, Your Honor, I’m quite satisfied with the testimony of this witness as it is.”

“That’s all, Miss Hammer,” Judge Markham said. “Call your next witness, Mr. Burger.”

“Call Gerald Harris.” Harris glanced solicitously at Edna Hammer as he came to the witness stand. She gave him a wan smile. When Harris had been sworn, Burger brushed aside a whispered suggestion from Blaine and began to question the witness. “Your name is Gerald Harris?”

“Yes.”

“You are acquainted with Peter Kent, the defendant?”

“I am.”

“You were in his house on the evening of the thirteenth?”

“I was.”

“I show you a knife, Mr. Harris, which has been introduced in evidence as People’s Exhibit Number Two, and ask you whether you have ever seen that knife before.”

“I have, on several occasions.”

“Where?”

“When I was a guest at Mr. Kent’s house. That was the carving knife which Kent used to carve turkey and roasts. There was, I believe, a smaller carving set used for steaks.”

“Do you know where this knife was kept?”

“I do.”

“Where?”

“In the sideboard in the dining room.”

“Do you know precisely where in the sideboard that knife was kept?”

“Yes, sir, in the top drawer. There was a plushlined section built to accommodate that carving knife.”

“Did you have occasion to go to that drawer in the sideboard on the evening of the thirteenth of this month?”

“I did.”

“At what time?”

“At approximately nineforty.”

“What were you doing?”

“Getting some accessories with which to make some drinks.”

“Was the carving knife there at that time?”

“It was not.”

“You’re positive of that?”

“I am.”

“Was there a lock on the drawer of that sideboard?”

“There was.”

“Was that sideboard drawer locked or unlocked at the time you have mentioned?”

“Unlocked.”

“Where were you at the time the crime was committed?”

“In Santa Barbara.”

“Who sent you there?”

“Peter Kent.”

“At whose suggestion?”

“At the suggestion of Perry Mason.”

“Do you know whether Mr. Coulter, the butler, went to the sideboard drawer that evening?”

“I know of one occasion on which he went there, yes.”

“Was that before or after the occasion on which you noticed the carving knife was not in the drawer?”

Harris fidgeted and said, “I would prefer not to answer that question.”

“Never mind your preferences. You’re here as a witness and under oath. Answer the question.”

Harris said in a muffled undertone, “Before.”

“Speak up,” Burger said, “so the jury can hear you. What did you say?”

“I said that it was before.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw Mr. Coulter at the sideboard.”

“What was he doing?”

“He had the sideboard drawer open. I don’t know whether he had been taking something out or putting something in. He closed the drawer and walked away.”

“How long was that before you opened the drawer in the sideboard?”

“About five minutes, I would say.”

Burger nodded triumphantly to Perry Mason. “You,” he said, “may crossexamine.”

Mason inquired, almost casually, “By the way, you’re secretly married to Edna Hammer, the witness who was just on the stand, aren’t you?”

The courtroom, which had been tensely silent for some minutes, rustled with motion as the spectators leaned forward to catch Harris’s answer. Harris hesitated a moment, then said, “Yes, I am.”

“When were you married to her?”

“On the tenth of last month.”

“Where?”

“In Yuma, Arizona.”

“That marriage was kept a secret?”

“Yes.”

“Following that marriage Edna Hammer placed a spring lock on her bedroom door, did she not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You,” Mason asked, “had a key to that door?”

Harris showed his embarrassment. Burger jumped to his feet and said, “That, Your Honor, is objected to. It’s improper crossexamination.”

“I’ll withdraw the question,” Mason said, “subject to my right to ask it later, after I have laid a proper foundation.” Burger once more slowly sat down, his manner that of being ready to leap instantly to his feet. Mason sprawled out in his chair with his long legs crossed in front of him, seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. “So you went to Santa Barbara on the night of the murder?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And that was at my suggestion?”

“It was.”

“Who went with you?”

“Miss Warrington, Mr. Kent’s secretary.”

“Anyone else?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re positive of that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You went, I believe, to the residence of Mrs. Doris Sully Kent.”

Burger said, “Just a moment, Your Honor, I think that question is plainly incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial and not proper crossexamination. It makes no difference where he went or what he did while he was in Santa Barbara.”

Mason smiled and said, “Counsel, himself, has opened the door, Your Honor. In endeavoring to show the jury that I was in charge of things at the house and had sent this witness to Santa Barbara, he asked him where he was at the time of the murder. I, therefore, have the right to inquire most painstakingly and in the greatest detail in order to explore this phase of his testimony.”