Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Sulky Girl

"It wouldn't do any good if I did," Perry Mason said. "The notes of that statement have been destroyed, and Graves would swear, either that he never made such a statement, or that Frances Celane asked him to give her a break, and he tried to leave her out of it."

"Baloney," said Nevers.

Perry Mason slid open a drawer in his desk and took out a flask of whisky.

"I'll tell you this much, Harry," he said. "If you'll play ball with me, you won't be sorry."

"Meaning by that?" asked Nevers.

"Meaning by that you can stick around on this test that's made and save a big slice of the front page for a blowoff."

Harry Nevers pushed back the glass which Mason had handed him with the bottle, and tilted the bottle to his lips. He took half a dozen swallows, then handed the bottle back to the attorney.

"When's this blowoff going to come?" he asked. "Right after the test?"

"I don't think so," said Perry Mason. "I think I'll have to do a little manipulation."

The reporter spoke as though he might have been thinking out loud.

"We can force the D.A. into making that test," he said. "It's a test that is bound to come out all right. But you've got something up your sleeve. You're trying this murder case with no more apparent fight about you than as though you were covering a coroner's inquest. You're going through it with a hop, skip and jump, and letting the prosecution get in all the damaging evidence they want. Everybody in town is talking about what a poor defense you're putting up."

"Yes?" asked Mason, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh forget it!" said Nevers, with a trace of feeling in his voice. "You know damned well they are. A kid out of law school would have tried this case better than you're trying it. Everybody is commenting on it. The town is divided into two camps—those that think you're shrewd as the devil, and have something up your sleeve, and those that think you've just been lucky on your other cases, and haven't got anything on the ball. Naturally, it's an important case. A woman who's got as many millions as Frances Celane at stake; a secret marriage; a sex angle, and all that sort of stuff makes front page news. It's the opportunity of your life to drag this case along, fighting every inch of the way, keeping your name on the front page of the newspaper for two or three weeks. In place of that you're acting like a dub. For a murder case, this thing is streaking through the court like a greased pig going between a farmer's legs."

Perry Mason corked the whisky bottle, and slid it back in the drawer of his desk.

Nevers looked at him searchingly.

"Going to say anything?" he asked.

"No," said Perry Mason.

Nevers grinned and wiped the back of his hand across his lips.

"Okay," said Nevers. "I've done my duty. I'll tell the city editor I tried my damnedest to get something out of you. Maybe I'll fake some piece of inside information that the readers can pick out between the lines."

Perry Mason took the reporter's arm and escorted him to the door of the outer office.

"Listen, Harry," he said, "if you fake anything, be sure you fake it right."

Perry Mason paused in the doorway, suddenly turned and faced the reporter.

"All right," he said, "I'll give you a bit of inside information. Rob Gleason is intending to make a complete confession and take the blame for the crime, exonerating Frances Celane."

Nevers stared at him.

"You can't give me that for publication," he said.

"Why not?" asked Perry Mason.

"It would be violating every professional confidence."

"That's all right," said Mason easily, "you're not using my name, that's all. Simply put it down as coming from a source that is close to the inside."

"My God!" said Nevers. "That would be the worst kind of libel if we couldn't back it up!"

"You can back it up," said Mason. "If anybody calls you on it, you can disclose the source of your information."

"Meaning that it came from you?"

"Meaning that it came from me," Mason told him.

Nevers took a deep breath.

"Listen, Perry," he said, "I've seen 'em come, and I've seen 'em go. I've been in on all kinds of cases, interviewed all kinds of people. I've seen those that were foxy, and those that just thought they were foxy. I've seen those that were dumb, and didn't know it, and those that were dumb, and thought they were smart, but you've got the whole world cheated. This is the damnedest interview with a lawyer I ever had!"

Mason placed his right hand between the reporter's shoulder blades and gently pushed him into the outer office.

"All right," he said, "I've given you a break. Give me one."

Frank Everly was standing in the outer office, his manner filled with impatience.

"Did you want to see me?" asked Perry Mason.

Everly nodded.

"Come in," Mason told him.

Everly walked into the inner office. Perry Mason stood in the door until Harry Nevers had gone out through the outer door, then Mason closed the door of the inner office, and turned to face Everly.

Everly coughed and averted his eyes.

"Didn't the case move rather expeditiously, Mr. Mason?" he asked.

Mason smiled at him with patient, tired eyes.

"In other words," he said, "you've been hearing some comments that I've stubbed my toe on the defense, and the prosecution is walking all over me, is that it?"

Everly turned red and said in a choked voice: "I didn't say anything like that, Mr. Mason."

"Did you ever hear the story," asked Perry Mason, in a kindly tone of voice, "of the man who brought suit against his neighbor, claiming to have been bitten by the neighbor's dog? The neighbor filed an answer in which he denied that his dog was vicious, denied that the dog had bitten the man, and denied that he ever had a dog."

"Yes," said Frank Everly, "I've heard that yarn. It's a classic around law school."

"All right," said Perry Mason. "The defense in that case became humorous because it took in too much territory. Now, when you've got a doubtful case, it's all right to try and have two strings to your bow. But remember that when you have two strings on a bow, while increasing the factor of safety, you lose the efficiency of the weapon. A bow that has two strings won't break a string, but it won't shoot an arrow one quarter of the distance that it would if it only had one string to it."

"You mean you're sacrificing everything in this case to concentrate on some one point?" asked the law clerk.

"Yes," said Perry Mason, "the innocence of Frances Celane and Rob Gleason is virtually shown by the evidence as it exists at the present time. The guilt of the defendants simply cannot be proved beyond a reasonable doubt. But I want to do more than raise a reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors. I want to make a complete solution of the case."

Frank Everly stared at Perry Mason with wide, incredulous eyes.

"My heavens!" he said. "I thought that everything that went in today clinched the guilt of Frances Celane and Rob Gleason. I thought that unless we could break down the stories of some of those witnesses, we could just as well figure on a verdict of first degree murder."

Mason shook his head wearily.

"No," he said, "the big point I wanted in the case has already gone in. What I'm trying to do now is to crash that point home to the jury in such a dramatic manner they'll never forget it. And remember this—I've got Claude Drumm so badly rattled the way that case is going that he's on the verge of panic right now. He figures I must have an ace up my sleeve somewhere, or I wouldn't be giving him all the breaks."

"The jury," suggested Frank Everly, "looked rather unsympathetic."

"Of course they looked unsympathetic," said Perry Mason. "And they'll probably look more unsympathetic. You notice what Claude Drumm is doing. He's putting in the corpus delicti with just a smattering of testimony. Just before he gets ready to rest his case, he'll start introducing photographs of the dead body slumped over the desk, of the bloody blotter, of the insurance policy, spattered with the life blood of the dead man, and all of that stuff. Then, he'll throw the case into our laps, and leave us to face a jury that's hardened its heart to bring in a death penalty verdict."