Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Fenced-In Woman

“Yes.”

“Who was he?”

“You.”

“And did you have some conversation with me?”

“Just a moment,” Ormsby said. “I object to this as incompetent, irrelevant and immaterial and not proper cross-examination. It has not been inquired into on direct examination.”

“But there’s no question about the conversation, is there, Mr. Prosecutor?” Judge Fisk asked impatiently.

“I don’t know. There may be. I can’t tell.”

“The conversation,” Mason said, “is for the purpose of showing that the witness, even at that time, was concealing certain matters and dissembling as to others.”

“She was under no obligation to tell you what she had seen,” Ormsby said.

Judge Fisk looked up at the clock. “Well, we’ll come back to it after a brief noon adjournment,” he said. “It is now slightly after twelve. Court will adjourn, until one-fifteen this afternoon. During that time the jurors are admonished not to form or express any opinion as to the merits of this case, or as to the guilt or innocence of the defendants. Nor are they to discuss the case among themselves, nor suffer anyone to discuss it in their presence. Court will take a recess until one-fifteen P.M.”

As the spectators filed from the courtroom Mason swung around in his swivel chair to face his clients. He motioned the officers out of earshot, signifying that he wanted a moment’s private conference.

“Look here,” Mason said in a low voice, “you’re going to have to tell me what happened.”

Morley Eden doggedly shook his head.

Vivian Carson blinked back tears.

“Let’s take things up specifically,” Mason said. “Did you or did you not park Loring Carson’s car in your garage? Is that woman mistaken on her identification? If she isn’t telling the truth the possibilities that are opened up are enormous. If she is telling the truth I don’t want to waste time and money trying to find the people who actually were parking the car.”

After a moment Eden said, “I’ll tell you this much, Mr. Mason. She’s telling the truth. We parked the car.”

“Why in heaven’s name did you do that?” Mason asked angrily.

“If you knew all the facts,” Eden said, “you’d realize there was nothing else we could do, but if you knew all the facts you wouldn’t — well, you wouldn’t give us a whisper of a chance.”

“You don’t stand much more than that now,” Mason observed thoughtfully.

“We can’t help it. We’re going to have to fight it out along these lines.”

“Why did you park the car in the garage?” Mason asked.

“Because,” Eden said, “it had been parked at the curb in front of Vivian’s apartment, it had been parked in front of a fireplug and had been tagged. We only had a minute in which to act and we didn’t know what else to do. We wanted to get it off the street.”

“That car had been tagged for parking by a fireplug in front of Vivian’s apartment?” Mason asked incredulously.

“That’s right.”

“And you knew, of course, that it was Loring Carson’s car,” Mason said.

“Certainly. And the worst of it is, it had been tagged for parking there at three o’clock in the morning. You know what that means — everyone would have felt certain Loring and I had resumed marital relations.”

“I don’t get it,” Mason said. “But it’s better to have people think you had resumed marital relations than to buy yourself a one-way ticket to the gas chamber.”

“Of course,” she said impatiently, “we know that now . But you have to think of the way we saw things on March fifteenth.”

“Why did he park his car there?” Mason asked.

“I don’t know, but I’m satisfied it was part of some diabolical scheme that Loring had been hatching up. He took his car and left it parked at the curb in front of the fireplug where he knew it would be tagged.”

“What were you doing in town together?” Mason asked.

Morley Eden looked questioningly at Vivian. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” Eden said. “We’ve answered all the questions we’re going to answer, Mason. You’ve just got to carry on as a lawyer. Just assume that we are guilty. Let’s assume that we committed a cold-blooded murder and you’re the attorney representing us. As an attorney you’d look for every possible loophole in the evidence. You’d try everything you could. Now you just go ahead and try the case that way. Do the best you can. It’s all we can expect.”

“Damn it!” Mason said. “Are you trying to force your way into the death cell?”

“We’re not trying anything of the sort,” Eden said impatiently, “but if we are convicted, that’s all there is to it. If we aren’t convicted we’ve got to hold our heads up in society and live normal lives as well as we can. I’ll tell you this much: We didn’t kill him, and that’s all we’re going to tell you.”

Mason said, “What time did you get to your house out there — that is, if you were in town together?”

Eden shook his head. “We’ve told you all we’re going to tell you.”

The deputies standing impatiently waiting for their prisoners moved in a little closer.

Mason shrugged his shoulders. “All right,” he said, “take them.”

Mason, Della Street and Paul Drake had lunch near the Hall of Justice at a small Italian restaurant where the proprietor had reserved a private dining room for them.

“I thought you said it was all circumstantial evidence, Perry,” Drake said.

“I thought it was,” Mason told him. “There’s something about this case that simply doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, we’ve done all we can,” Drake said.

Della Street said reassuringly, “You’re doing a wonderful job, Chief. After all, if they expect you to go it blind you’ve got to just play it by ear. You’ve taken the sting out of a good deal of their evidence.”

“But how am I going to take the sting out of Nadine Palmer’s evidence?” Mason asked.

“Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t know.”

“Suppose you knew your clients were guilty. What would you do?” Drake asked. “You’d try to discredit Nadine Palmer, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s my duty to try and discredit her anyway,” Mason said. “After all, she’s given damaging testimony and it’s up to me to use a searching cross-examination in probing for some weak point in her story.

“There’s one thing I wish you’d do, Paul.”

“What?”

“Get Della Street’s fingerprints.”

“Get what?” Della asked.

“Get Della Street’s fingerprints,” Mason said, his eyes on Paul.

“Well, that’s easy,” Drake said, grinning. “Provided Della doesn’t raise any objection.”

“What in the world do you want my fingerprints for?” Della asked.

Mason grinned. “I just thought I’d use them in cross-examination.”

“Why?”

“Well, it might have a dramatic effect on the jury.”

“When do you want them?”

“Right after lunch,” Mason said. “Drake had better take you up to his office where no one will see him. Get her fingerprints, Paul, and mark the sheet of paper on which the fingerprints are made — use one of the standard sheets of fingerprint paper — and come to think of it, Paul, don’t use all of Della’s fingerprints. Take your secretary’s and alternate fingerprints; one of Della’s, one of your secretary’s. Start with Della’s little finger, take your secretary’s ring finger. Get Della’s middle finger, then your secretary’s index finger; then Della Street’s thumb.”

“What in the world are you planning?” Drake asked.