Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Crimson Kiss

She smiled and said, “Not very long. I put in three weeks apartment hunting and finally secured a sublease on apartment seven-oh-one on the afternoon of the eighth. I moved in on the ninth, which explains why I was tired almost to the point of having hysterics.”

“You had difficulty sleeping?”

“Yes.”

“And on the morning of the tenth did you have any experiences which annoyed you — that is, experiences in connection with the ringing of the buzzer in the apartment next door?”

“I most certainly did, yes, sir.”

“Tell us exactly what happened.”

“I had been taking sleeping medicine from time to time, but for some reason or other this night I was so nervous the sleeping medicine didn’t do me any good. I had been moving and unpacking, and my nerves were all keyed up. I was physically and mentally exhausted. I tried to sleep, but I was too tired. I guess perhaps you know how it is, Your Honor,” she said, turning to the judge with a winsome smile.

The judge regarded the attractive young woman, smiled in a fatherly way, nodded, and said, “We all get overtired at times. Go on with your testimony, Miss Tanner.”

“Well, I think I had just gotten to sleep when I was awakened by a continual sounding of the buzzer over there in the apartment across the hall. It was a low, persistent noise which became exceedingly irritating to a person in my nervous state, who was trying to sleep.”

“Go on,” Linn said. “What did you do?”

“I finally got up and put on a robe and went to the door and flung it open. I was terribly angry at the very idea of people making so much noise at that hour of the morning. You see, those apartments aren’t too soundproof and there is a ventilating system over the doors of the apartments. The one over the door of seven-oh-two was apparently open, and I had left mine open for nighttime ventilation. And then I was angry at myself for getting so upset over the noise. I knew my allowing myself to get so angry would prevent me from sleeping at all, which is why I lay still for what seemed an interminable time before I opened the door.”

Linn smiled. “So you became angry at the people in the hallway and then became angry at yourself for being angry?”

Her laugh was musical. “That’s about the way it happened.”

“And you say you flung open the door?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What did you find?”

“Two people across the hall.”

“Did you recognize them?”

“I didn’t know them at the time, but I know them now.”

“Who were they?”

She pointed a dramatic finger at Perry Mason.

“Mr. Perry Mason, the lawyer for the defendant, and the young woman, I believe his secretary, who is sitting there beside him — not the defendant, but the woman on the other side.”

“Miss Della Street,” Mason said with a bow.

“Thank you,” she said.

“And,” Linn went on, “what did you see those people do?” She said, “I saw them enter the apartment.”

“Did you see how they entered the apartment... I mean, how did they get the door open?”

“They must have used a key. Mr. Mason was just pushing the door open and I—”

“No surmises, please,” Linn broke in. “Did you actually see Mr. Mason using a key?”

“Well, I heard him.”

“What do you mean?”

“As I was opening my door I heard metal rasping against metal, the way a key does when it scrapes against a lock. And then when I had my door all the way open, I saw Mr. Mason pushing his way into seven-oh-two.”

“But you only know he must have had a key because you heard the sound of metal rubbing against metal?”

“Well, it stands to reason...”

“But you only heard the sound of metal against metal?”

“Yes, and the click of the lock.”

“Did you say anything to Mr. Mason and Miss Street?”

“I most certainly did, and then I slammed the door and went back to bed. But I was so mad by that time I simply couldn’t close my eyes and keep them closed. I couldn’t understand why, if a person had a key, he would go through all that agony of ringing a doorbell and waking me up. Why didn’t they simply go in there in the first place and—”

“Now, never mind that,” Linn interrupted impatiently, holding up his hand palm outward and moving it back and forth as though patting the words back into her mouth. “Never mind your conclusions, never mind your reasons. Just tell the Court what you saw.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened after that?”

“After that, when I was trying to sleep — I would say just a few seconds after that — I heard that buzzer again. And this time I was good and mad.”

“And what did you do?”

“I swung open the door and started to give these people a piece of my mind.”

“People?” Linn prompted.

“There were four people standing there. The Mr. Ralston who has just testified, two other men, and a woman. They were standing there at the doorway, jabbing away at the button, and I told them this was a sweet time to be calling on someone and making a racket and that anyway the gentleman already had company, so if he didn’t answer his door, it was because he didn’t want to.”

“Did you at that time see Mr. Mason and Miss Street walking down the corridor?”

“No, I did not. I had my door open only far enough to show me the door of apartment seven-oh-two across the way. You see, my door opens toward the end of the corridor away from the elevator. My apartment is a corner apartment and seven-oh-two is a corner apartment. So, when my door is open, I can only see just that blind end of the corridor unless I open it all the way.”

“Thank you,” Linn said. “Now you distinctly saw Mr. Mason and Miss Street enter that apartment?”

“Yes.”

“And close the door behind them?”

“Yes.”

“Cross-examine!” Linn said triumphantly.

Mason, taking a notebook from his pocket, walked up to stand beside Shirley Tanner, but his voice was good-natured. “Miss Tanner,” he said, “are you certain that you heard me rub metal against the keyhole of that door?”

“Certain,” she said.

“My back was toward you?”

“It was when I first opened my door, yes. I saw your face, however, just after you went in the door. You turned around and looked at me over your shoulder.”

“Oh, we’ll stipulate,” Linn said with an exaggerated note of weariness in his voice, “that the witness couldn’t see through Mr. Mason’s back. Perhaps learned counsel was carrying the key in his teeth.”

“Thank you,” Mason said, turning toward Linn. Then suddenly stepping forward, he clapped his notebook against Shirley Tanner’s face.

The witness screamed and jumped back.

Linn was on his feet. “What are you trying to do,” he shouted, “intimidate the witness?”

Judge Jordan pounded with his gavel. “Mr. Mason!” he reprimanded. “That is contempt of court!”

Mason said, “Please let me explain, Your Honor. The Prosecution took the lip prints of my client. I feel that I am entitled to take the lip prints of this witness. I will cheerfully admit to being in contempt of court, in the event I am wrong, but I would like to extend this imprint of Shirley Tanner’s lips to Mr. Benjamin Harlan, the identification expert, and ask him whether or not the print made by these lips is not the same as that of the lipstick kiss which was found on the forehead of the deceased, Carver I.. Clements.”

There was a tense, dramatic silence in the courtroom.

Mason stepped forward and handed the notebook to Benjamin Harlan.

From the witness stand came a shrill scream of terror. Shirley Tanner tried to get to her feet, her eyes fastened on Mason, wide, round, and terrified, her face the color of putty beneath the makeup which suddenly showed as dabbed-on bits of orange.