Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

“I have a question on redirect,” Ormsby said. “You did sell these defendants a knife on the fifteenth day of March of this year which is absolutely identical in every way with this knife which I show you and which had the same figures on the blade. Is that right or not?”

“Objected to,” Mason said, “on the ground that Counsel is trying to cross-examine his own witness; on the ground that the question is leading and suggestive.”

“It is leading,” Judge Fisk said.

“I was simply trying to summarize his testimony,” Ormsby said.

“I suggest that if Counsel is going to summarize the testimony of this witness he wait until he argues the case to the jury,” Mason said.

Judge Fisk smiled. “I think that is right. Please reframe your question. Counselor.”

“Oh, I have no further questions of this witness,” Ormsby said irritably. “That’s all.”

“That’s all. You may leave the stand,” Judge Fisk said.

Ormsby said, “I want to call Lorraine Henley.”

The woman who marched forward to the stand was in her early forties; a pinched-faced, rather slender woman with lips that were a thin line of determination.

When she had been sworn Ormsby asked, “Where do you live?”

“At the Larchmore Apartments.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Something over a year.”

“Are you acquainted with the defendant Vivian Carson?”

“I am.”

“Did she live near you?”

“She lived in the Larchmore Apartments Apartment 4B. That is directly across the car area from where I live.”

“Can you explain what you mean when you refer to the car area?”

“Yes. The apartments are arranged in the form of a big L on slightly sloping ground. The apartments have a street entrance fronting on two streets. There is an alley on each side of the apartment houses, and this cement car area is accessible from either of the alleys. It is a lower area than the streets on which the apartments face.

“Now, I have to explain that. The corner where the streets intersect is the highest part of the ground. The main street keeps a rather uniform level, but the side street falls off rather abruptly. However, the apartments all have garages underneath them, with the exception of the four apartments on the corner. They have separate garages.”

“Was there a garage under the apartment rented by the defendant Vivian Carson?”

“There was, a double garage.”

“On the fifteenth day of March did you notice the defendant Vivian Carson?”

“I did indeed.”

“At what hour of the day?”

“About eleven-fifteen or eleven-thirty in the morning”

“What was she doing?”

“She was opening the door other garage — that is, one of her garages.”

“And then what happened?”

“I saw a man drive a car into the garage.”

“Did you observe the man?”

“Very carefully.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“I did.”

“Do you see him now?”

“I do. He is Morley Eden, one of the defendants in this case. The man sitting at that table right there.”

“The one who is seated beside Vivian Carson?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you observe with reference to the car?”

“Well, the man drove the car into the garage after Mrs. Carson opened the door. Then the man came out, she closed and locked the door and then the two of them walked rapidly away together.”

“They didn’t go into Mrs. Carson’s apartment?”

“No, that is I didn’t see them go in. There is a back entrance to the apartment house, but they walked down the car parking area to the alley and then turned out of sight.”

“You may inquire,” Ormsby said.

Mason’s voice was almost gentle in its quiet courtesy. “What were you doing when the defendants were parking this car?”

“Watching them,” she snapped.

There was a slight titter in the courtroom.

“And what had you been doing just before that?”

“Sitting by the window.”

“Keeping an eye on the apartment rented by Vivian Carson?”

“Well, I saw it.”

“Were you sitting there watching it?”

“I was sitting there at the time, yes.”

“And how long had you been sitting there?”

“For some time. I don’t know how long.”

“All the morning?”

“A good part of the morning.”

“And had you been watching the apartment the night before?”

“Well, I’d kept an eye on things.”

“Why?” Mason asked.

“Because I just wondered what was going on. I guess a body is entitled to a little human curiosity. Vivian Carson had left her apartment a few days before, carrying some suitcases, and she hadn’t been back. I just wondered where she had gone and what she had been doing.”

“So you kept an eye on her apartment so you could find out.”

“Yes.”

“Now,” Mason said, “you can’t tell the make of the car that these people parked in the garage, can you? That is, the make and model.”

“No, I can’t. It was a green car. That’s all I know.”

“You don’t know very much about the different makes of cars?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you drive a car?”

“No.”

“You don’t own a car?”

“No.”

“Have you ever owned a car?”

“I haven’t owned a car for some time. I use the bus to do my shopping.”

“And you didn’t by any chance jot down the license number on this car?”

“No.”

“Did you notice whether it was an out-of-state license?”

“I wasn’t looking at the car, I was looking at the woman and the man.”

“You had taken it on yourself to become a self-appointed censor of Vivian Carson’s comings and goings?”

“Well, I’m a decent woman. That’s a decent neighborhood and I want to keep it that way. I’d certainly read enough about her in the papers to want to keep my eyes open and see what was happening.”

“Did you know whether what you had read in the papers was true or false?”

“I didn’t say whether it was true or false. I’d read about her in the papers. You wanted to know why I was keeping an eye on her and I’ve told you.”

“Thank you,” Mason said. “I think that covers the situation very nicely, Mrs. Henley — or is it Miss Henley?”

“It’s Miss Henley!” she snapped. “I said ‘Miss’ when I gave my name to the court officer.”

Mason smiled courteously but significantly and glanced at the jurors.

“Thank you very much, Miss Henley,” he said. “I have no further questions.”

“That’s all,” Judge Fisk said. “Call your next witness, Mr. Prosecutor.”

With the manner of a man announcing a dramatic surprise which is destined to have far-reaching repercussions, Ormsby said, “At this time, Your Honor, I wish to call Nadine Palmer to the stand.”

Nadine Palmer came forward and was sworn. She was wearing a teak-brown suit, a modish hat, and carried a brown leather purse. Her long legs, beautifully tan under gossamer nylons, were accented by highly polished brown shoes.

Her alert eyes were watchful as she settled herself in the witness box and looked quickly from Ormsby to Mason and back to Ormsby, then over at the jury, then once more back to the prosecutor.

“Your name is Nadine Palmer, you reside at 1721 Crockley Avenue?”

“That is right.”

“Are you acquainted with either of the defendants?”

“I am not personally acquainted with either of them, no.”

“Did you know Loring Carson in his lifetime?”

“I had seen him. I don’t remember having talked with him, and when I say I am not personally acquainted with Mrs. Carson I do not mean to imply that I do not know her by sight. I have attended several meetings where she has been present and I know her when I see her.”