Erle Gardner - The Case of the Runaway

Vandling nodded.

“If that had been a witness whose story had been of value to the prosecution,” Mason said, “I don’t think he’d have slipped through the fingers of the police.”

Vandling said, “Well, there are certain implications in what you say and in the way you say it that I don’t like.”

“There are certain implications in what has happened that I don’t like.”

Vandling’s infectious smile came back. “Are you going to be hard to get along with?” he asked.

Mason’s lips smiled at the man, but his eyes remained cold and hard. “Yes,” he said.

“I was afraid of that,” Vandling told him. “Of course, Mason, let’s be fair about this. If the man had been a witness for the prosecution his statement would have indicated that a murder had been committed. Right?”

“I suppose so.”

“So the officers would have known that they were working on a murder, that they’d be dragged over the coals if the witness slipped through their fingers and they’d naturally have taken steps to check his identity and make sure they had the means of locating him as a witness.

“But as it was, this man’s story indicated that no crime had been committed. Therefore the officers were more careless than would have otherwise been the case—at least I hope they were. It was an investigative blunder and I don’t like it. I don’t feel easy about it at all.”

“That was an important witness,” Mason said. “The police should have seen that he was available.”

“I agree with you.”

“So where does that leave us now?” Mason asked.

“I’m afraid,“Vandling said, “it leaves you and me in a position where we have a conflict of interests. The way things look now I’m going to have to put a murder charge against Myrna Davenport. I’m going to have to prosecute that charge. Naturally I don’t want to do it if Ed Davenport actually did climb out of the window of that motor court.

“However, even if we found that witness, about all he could testily to was that he saw a figure, which he presumes was a masculine figure, clad in pajamas, getting out of the window, that he noticed the man was barefoot, that he got in an automobile and drove away. The figure matches the general description of Ed Davenport.”

“You’ve found the body?” Mason asked.

“We’ve found the body.”

“Any question but what it’s Ed Davenport’s body?”

“None whatever.”

“How was the body dressed?” Mason asked.

“In pajamas. It was barefoot and it had been buried in a grave that had been dug two or three days in advance.”

“You mean it was buried in a hole in the ground that had been there for some time?”

“Well, that’s your way of presenting it,” Vandling said. “As far as I’m concerned it was a grave that had been dug several days in advance and dug for the specific purpose of receiving Davenport’s body.”

“And how did he die?” Mason asked.

“We don’t know that for sure,” Vandling said, “but our best guess is that it was poison.”

“Arsenic?”

“Potassium cyanide. We haven’t had the autopsy yet.”

“Then death would have been almost instantaneous.” Vandling nodded.

“The candy?” Mason asked.

“The candy in his bag was loaded with arsenic and potassium cyanide. Most of the pieces had arsenic. Some of them had potassium cyanide. It was a neat job of poisoning. Part of the liquid had been drained out, evidently with a suction needle, and liquid containing poison had been introduced.”

“Why the devil would anyone have used two types of poison?” Mason asked.

Vandling said, “I’d like to have the answer to that, too.”

“Particularly.” Mason said. “A slow-acting poison and one that would have taken effect almost immediately.”

“It’s a question,” Vandling admitted. “In fact, there are questions in this case that I can’t answer. I don’t like to prosecute a case unless I know that I have a case. If I ask a jury to return the death penalty against this woman, I want to be certain that she is guilty of cold-blooded, premeditated, first degree murder.”

Mason nodded.

“I’ve read a lot about you,” Vandling went on. “You’re a tough, resourceful fighter. You believe in the dramatic. I’m not too keen to go up against you in a case where I can’t be sure it’s dead open-and-shut.”

“And so?” Mason asked.

Vandling’s friendly smile was once more in evidence. “And so,” he said. “That’s all I can say to you at the present time .”

“What is?”

“I’ll repeat. I don’t like to ask for the death penalty in a case unless I’m sure it’s cold-blooded, deliberate, premeditated murder; that there are some things in this case I can’t explain at the present time. I don’t seem to have the answers. There’s a defense witness who has slipped through the fingers of the police.

“I have a reputation to maintain as a prosecutor. You’re dynamite. You’re deadly dangerous. If there are any facts in a case that the prosecution can’t explain, you’re going to dramatize those facts in some way so that they seem to be the most important facts in the entire case.”

“And so?” Mason asked.

“That’s all I can say at the present time .”

“Well, let’s look ahead a little.”

“I’m not a fortune teller or a prophet.”

“Let’s explore some of the possibilities that might happen.”

Vandling said. “If you put it on that basis, a prosecutor nearly always finds that when he has enough evidence to prove a person is guilty there are some elements in the case that he still can’t account for. When that happens he sometimes goes ahead and gets a conviction anyway. Sometimes he offers to make a deal.”

“What sort of a deal?”

“Oh, it runs into all kinds of things. Sometimes he agrees not to ask for the death penalty if the defendant pleads guilty. Sometimes he lets the defendant plead guilty to second degree murder. Sometimes, in extreme cases, if the defendant can make a good showing, he’s willing to accept a manslaughter plea.”

“But in this particular case?” Mason asked.

“In this particular case,“Vandling said, “I am not in a position to say anything further at the present time .”

“Well, I guess we understand each other,” Mason told him.

“And you want to see the defendant, I take it.”

Mason nodded.

Vandling said, “I came down here personally because I wanted to meet you and because I wanted to assure you that you aren’t going to have the slightest trouble seeing the defendant. Up in this county we don’t go in for a lot of third degree stuff. We don’t try to keep a defendant away from counsel. You’ll find Mrs. Davenport waiting for you in a conference room, and I’ll give you my personal assurance that there aren’t any bugs in that room. It isn’t wired. Whatever you say to each other is going to be private and confidential. If Mrs. Davenport wants to talk to me I’ll ask her questions from time to time. If she doesn’t want to answer them that’s her privilege. You’re her attorney and you’re going to have every professional courtesy extended to you in this county and we’re going to safeguard the rights of the defendant just as jealously as you are.”

“Thanks,” Mason said.

“And,” Vandling went on, “if the evidence indicates that she deliberately poisoned her husband I’m going to ask for the death penalty.”

Mason nodded.

“And if she gets acquitted up here,” Vandling said, “The district attorney in Los Angeles wants her, to charge her with the poison murder of Miss Hortense Paxton.”

Again Mason nodded.