Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Curious Bride

The courtroom buzzed with activity. Newspaper men sprinted for telephones. People milled into curious throngs, every one talking at once. Perry Mason said to the deputy who had Rhoda Montaine in custody, "I want to take my client into the jury room for consultation. You can sit in the door if you wish." He took Rhoda Montaine's arm, piloted her into the jury room, held a chair for her, sat across a table from her and smiled reassuringly.

"What does it all mean?" she asked.

"It means," said Perry Mason, "that Judge Munroe has held your marriage to Carl Montaine absolutely valid and binding."

"Then what?" she asked.

"Then," said Perry Mason, pulling the complaint from his pocket, "you are going to sue him for divorce on the grounds of extreme cruelty, in that he has falsely accused you of murder, in that he has betrayed the confidence you have made to him, in that he has, on numerous times and occasions, treated you in a cruel and inhuman manner. I have listed some of those times and occasions in this complaint. All you have to do is to sign it."

Tears came to her eyes. "But," she said, "I don't want to divorce him. Don't you understand, I make allowances for his character. I tell you, I love him."

Perry Mason leaned close to her, so that his eyes were staring steadily into hers. "Rhoda," he said in a low voice, "you've told your story. You've given the district attorney a signed statement. You can't deviate from that story now. You've got to stand or fall by it. So far, the district attorney hasn't been able to uncover the person who actually did stand on the doorstep and ring the doorbell of Moxley's apartment while Moxley was being murdered, but I have uncovered him. I have uncovered two of them. One of them may be lying. On the other hand, both may be telling the truth. The testimony of either one will get you the death penalty."

She stared at him with consternation in her eyes.

"One of them," Perry Mason went on, "is Oscar Pender, a man from Centerville who was trying to get money from Moxley. This money Pender was to get for his sister. Moxley had swindled Pender's sister out of her savings."

"I don't know anything about him," Rhoda Montaine said. "Who's the other one?"

Mason's eyes bored into hers. He said slowly, "The other one is Doctor Claude Millsap. He couldn't sleep. He knew of your appointment. He got up and drove to Moxley's house. You were there. The lights were out. He rang the bell. Your car was parked around the corner on a side street."

Rhoda Montaine was white to the lips. "Claude Millsap!" she said, in a whisper.

"You got yourself in this mess," Mason told her, "by not doing what I told you. Now you're going to follow instructions. We've won that annulment case. Your husband can't testify against you. The district attorney, however, has given the newspapers signed statements covering your husband's testimony. He's held your husband as a material witness, where I couldn't talk with him; but he's let every newspaper man in town talk with him. Now then, we've got to combat that propaganda. We're going to file this divorce. I've drawn it on the theory that your husband was guilty of cruelty in telling a bunch of lies to the district attorney, lies that linked you with a murder of which you are innocent."

"Then what?" she asked.

"Then," he said, "it's going to make some nice copy for the newspapers, but the main thing is that I'm going to slap a subpoena on Carl Montaine, forcing him to attend at the taking of a deposition. Before the district attorney's office realizes what has happened, they'll find that I've got Carl sewed up. If he doesn't change his story, you may get big alimony. If he does, it's going to look like hell for the D.A.'s office."

There was fear in her eyes as she asked, "Can they use this deposition against me in the murder case?"

"No."

"But," she said, "I don't want a divorce from him. I know he has weaknesses. I love him in spite of those weaknesses. I want to make a man out of him. He's had too much coddling. He's been taught to lean on his father and his ancestors. You can't change a man over night. You can't kick the props out from under him and expect him to stand on his own feet all at once. You can't…"

"Listen," he told her, "I don't care how you feel about Carl. Right at present, you're accused of murder. The district attorney is going to try and get the death penalty and back of the district attorney is a man who has a great deal of intelligence, a great deal of poise, and who is utterly ruthless. He's willing to spend any amount of money that is necessary to get you convicted and get you a death penalty."

"Who do you mean?" she asked.

"C. Phillip Montaine," he told her.

"Why," she said, "he doesn't approve of me, but he wouldn't…"

The officer in the doorway coughed suggestively. "Time's up," he said.

Perry Mason shoved the divorce complaint in front of her, held out his fountain pen. "Sign on that line," he said.

Her eyes stared appealingly into his. "Why," she said, "he's Carl's father! He wouldn't…"

"Sign," Mason said. The officer moved forward. Rhoda Montaine took the fountain pen. The fingers of her hand, brushing against the back of Mason's hand, were cold. She dashed off her signature, raised tearmoistened eyes to the officer. "I am ready," she said.

Perry Mason's fingers drummed on the edge of his desk. His eyes, steady in their cold concentration, rested on Paul Drake's face. "Your man picked them up at the railroad depot, Paul?"

"Yes. He found them about ten minutes before train time. He took the same train they did, wired me from a suburban stop. I got busy on the telephone and had operatives board the train at different points to give him reinforcements. We've kept the pair in sight ever since they started."

"I want them kept on the run," Mason said.

"That's what Della Street told me. I wasn't certain I got the message straight. I wanted to find out just what it was you wanted."

Mason said slowly, "I want them hounded, I want them frightened, I want them kept on the move. Every time they go to a place and register under assumed names, I want those names. I want photographic copies of the hotel register."

"You want them to know that detectives are on their trail?"

"Yes, but I want it done cleverly. I don't want them to think detectives are too close on their trail. I want them to think detectives are just blundering around, covering the various hotels with descriptions and that sort of stuff."

The detective smoked silently for several seconds, then blurted out, "I think you're crazy, Perry!"

"Why?"

"It's none of my business," Drake said slowly, "but this man, Pender, must have been on the scene at the time of the murder. He telephoned his sister and admitted that he rang the doorbell of Moxley's apartment at around quarter past two in the morning. He had a motive for killing Moxley. He had undoubtedly been threatening Moxley. Now, if, instead of getting this man on the run, you should have him arrested and turn the newspaper boys on him, he'd make a lot of favorable publicity for Rhoda Montaine."

"Then what?" Mason asked.

"Then the district attorney would be in a spot. You could demand that Pender be arrested. You could demand that the district attorney call him as a witness."

"Then what?"

"Why then," Drake said, "you'd have him before the jury and you could rip him to pieces. You could show that he came here to get money out of Moxley; that he did it by making threats. You could make him either admit that he was on the scene of the murder at about the time it happened, or else you could impeach him by showing the conversation he had with his sister. You could show the way he treated my operative."

Mason smiled. "Yes," he said, "I could do all those things. For a while I'd be sitting pretty. Then we'd go to trial. The D.A. would put Pender on the witness stand, let Pender admit that he called up Moxley and tried to get money out of Moxley, let him admit, if necessary, that he made threats to Moxley. Then he would have Pender testify that he went to Moxley's apartment sometime after two o'clock in the morning, that Moxley had told him he was going to meet Rhoda Montaine at two o'clock and that she would have money for him. Pender went to collect the money. That's only natural. And Pender would testify that he stood in front of the street door which opened on Moxley's stairway and rang the bell repeatedly and didn't get any answer.