Erle Gardner - The Case of the Runaway

“Think someone got away with them?”

“I don’t know. There’s some evidence Davenport was rolled while he was staying in Fresno. If that happened who ever did the job must have taken the suitcases. They may have had valuable ore samples.”

“How valuable?”

“That’s the point. Even rich ore would hardly be worth all that trouble.”

“Unless it was a job of salting a claim somewhere.”

“Could be,” Mason said. “The district attorney at Fresno, for your information, Paul, is a deadly, two-fisted fighter who isn’t going to be easy.

“I think he’s a square-shooter. I don’t think he’d want to prosecute Myrna Davenport if he didn’t think she was guilty. Her preliminary hearing is set for tomorrow.”

“Think he’ll show his hand?” Drake asked.

“He’ll show only enough of it to get her bound over,” Mason said. “He’s working hand in glove with the district attorney here and the idea is they’ll get Mrs. Davenport convicted of the murder of her husband up there. They may or may not get the death penalty. As soon as that case is finished they’ll take her down here and make a try for the death penalty in the case of Hortense Paxton. That’s going to be a cinch, particularly if they’re able to get a conviction of anything from manslaughter on up in the Fresno court.”

“You mean they’ll drag in both cases?”

“They may have some difficulty connecting up the two cases,” Mason said, “even under the liberal rules that are allowed these days for showing a general scheme. The D.A. in Fresno might drag in the Hortense Paxton poisoning under the theory that he was showing motivation for the death of Davenport. The Los Angeles authorities would have a hell of a time dragging the Davenport murder in as part of the Paxton case.

“That’s probably why they decided to try her first in Fresno on the murder of her husband. But let her get a conviction in either case and the minute she takes the stand in the other they can impeach her by showing she’s been convicted of a felony and letting the jury know what that felony was.”

“I get you.” Drake said.

“Therefore,” Mason said, “it becomes vitally important for us to get the facts and all the facts, and if possible to get them first.”

“That’s quite an order,” Drake told him. “The authorities up there have the inside track. They have all kinds of manpower. They have the authority. They know the ropes.”

“I know,” Mason said, “but they may not know the importance of getting all the information on Stanton and getting it correlated fast.

“Now here are certain things that are very definitely established. Ed Davenport had something on which he was working, something which was important. His wife probably didn’t know anything about it.

“Here’s the low-down on that San Bernardino job. While Della and I were up in Paradise the twelfth the telephone rang. It was a pay station from Bakersfield. Della Street answered the phone. A man came on the line and immediately said, ‘Pacific Palisades Motor Court at San Bernardino, unit thirteen and hung up.”

“That was absolutely all of the conversation?” Drake asked.

“Every word of it,” Mason said.

“Well,” Drake said. “It all ties in with the idea that that motel was to have been used for something rather important. Now why would Davenport have paid the rent on it and then kept it under surveillance? Particularly if he intended to occupy it himself.”

“His wife is quite certain that he didn’t intend to occupy it himself, that he was leaving Fresno and intended to drive straight home.”

“You can’t depend on what his wife tells you,” Drake said. “She’s an interested party—and she may be a guilty party.”

“There was one thing significant about the call to Paradise,” Mason said. “It didn’t occur to me at the time. I knew there was something strange about it but the significance didn’t dawn on me until later.”

“What’s that?”

“The man talking from Bakersfield didn’t ask if he was talking with Mabel Norge. As soon as Della Street said hello he gave the message.

“Now if it had been Ed Davenport who was calling he would have known that Della Street wasn’t Mabel Norge. He would either have detected a difference in the voices or he would have talked enough to have made certain. And, of course, we know now that Ed Davenport was dead when that call was made.

“Moreover,” Mason went on. “If it had been anyone delivering a message in accordance with instructions you would have thought that he would have taken some steps to have ascertained the identity of the party to whom he was talking.”

“But he didn’t?”

“That’s right, he didn’t.”

“Why?”

“There’s only one solution,” Mason said. “He didn’t know anything about the setup at Paradise. He didn’t know who Mabel Norge was. Her voice meant nothing to him, and her identity meant nothing to him. He simply called up, left a message, and hung up fast.”

Drake thought the matter over, then slowly nodded.

“And there’s one more thing,” Mason said, “we’re going to look up Sara Ansel all the way along the line.”

“Now you’re talking,” Drake agreed.

“Remember,” Mason told him, “that as it turned out Sara Ansel received some substantial benefit from the death of Hortense Paxton.”

“Rather indirect,” Drake said. “She couldn’t have been certain at all that Delano was going to change his will and cut her in.”

“She couldn’t have been certain according to any information we have at the present time,” Mason said, “but when we get more information we may find she had reason to know what would happen.”

“If she knows you’re investigating her she’s going to be a handful,” Drake warned.

“She’ll be a handful anyway,” Mason told him. “Get what information you can, Paul. Start men working in Fresno and keep them working. We’re going to trial tomorrow morning on the preliminary examination.”

“Aren’t you letting them rush things a bit?”

“I’m doing the rushing,” Mason said. “I want to ask some questions before the D.A. knows the answers.”

“Let’s hope the answers don’t crucify your client,” Drake said.

“That,” Mason told him, “is why I want you to get busy and keep busy. I don’t want to ask the questions that are going to elicit that type of answer.”

Chapter 11

It was quite apparent that whatever mistakes Talbert Vandling, the district attorney of Fresno County, might be about to make, the mistake of underestimating Perry Mason as an adversary was not one of them.

Vandling, cool, courteous, wary and watchful, started putting on his case with that careful thoroughness which characterized a trial before a jury rather than a preliminary hearing before a magistrate.

“My first witness,” he said, “will be George Medford.”

George Medford turned out to be a nine-year-old boy, freckle-faced, rather embarrassed, with prominent eyes and ears, but who gave the impression of telling the truth.

“Where do you live?” Vandling asked.

“In Crampton.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Three years.”

“You are living with your father and mother?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s your father’s name?”

“Martin Medford.”

“What does he do?”

“He runs a service station.”

“In Crampton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, George, I’m going to ask you if you went out with your father on the thirteenth to a place about three miles out of Crampton?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Were you familiar with that place?”

“Yes, sir.”