Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Stepdaughter’s Secret

“Your Honour!” Hastings shouted, getting to his feet, “this is ridiculous. This is making a travesty of a judicial investigation. The defendant sits tight and makes no statement whatever on the advice of counsel. Then after the prosecution has rested its case, the defendant announces that she will, in effect, give her testimony to the public press.”

Judge Hobart said thoughtfully, “I know of no law which prevents the defendant from making a statement to the press at any time the defendant desires, and I certainly know that under the law the defendant does not have to make a statement to investigating officers.

“Under the circumstances, Court will take a recess until tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, at which time this hearing will be renewed. In the meantime the defendant is, of course, remanded to the custody of the sheriff. However, if the defendant desires to make a statement to the press at this time, I see no reason why the sheriff cannot arrange for such an audience here in the courthouse.”

Judge Hobart arose and left the bench.

District Attorney Hastings came barging over to Mason’s counsel table. “Look here, Mason,” he said, “you can’t pull a stunt like this!”

“Why can’t I?” Mason asked. “You heard what the judge said. It’s legal.”

“Well, if you’re going to have a press conference, I’ll be there and I’ll ask some questions,” Hastings said. “What you’re trying to do is to enable the defendant to tell her story without being cross-examined by the prosecution.”

“Are you representing a newspaper?” Mason asked.

“You’re damned right I am — that is, I will be. I’ll have credentials from a newspaper in five minutes.”

“Get them,” Mason said coldly, “and you’ll be entitled to attend the conference.”

“And I’ll ask some questions that the defendant can’t answer — or won’t answer.”

“If,” Mason said, “you are a member of the press, you will be welcome.”

The courtroom was seething with excitement. Newspaper photographers, crowding close to Mason’s table, took photographs of the irate district attorney and the smiling defence counsel.

Hastings turned to the reporters. “I never heard of anything like this in my life,” he said. “It’s fantastic! It’s ridiculous! It’s also suicidal, but it does have the effect of building up public sympathy for the defendant. If she was willing to tell her story, why didn’t she tell it when the officers were investigating?”

“Because,” Mason said, “the officers made a slipshod investigation.”

“What do you mean?”

“They didn’t send a diver overboard and investigate the bottom of the bay where the boat had come to anchor.”

“How do you know what’s on the bottom of that bay? You may find evidence that would completely exonerate the defendant. You may find the murder weapon.

“Any reasonably expert investigating technique would call for divers to go overboard at that point, at least to look for the murder weapon. The natural assumption is that the murderer, whoever he was, threw the weapon overboard.

“But what have you done?” Mason went on. “You and the sheriff investigated the case and didn’t even mark the spot where the boat was anchored. Now you have forever lost what may be evidence vital to the defendant in the case. Therefore the defendant exercised her right to choose the time when she would tell her story.

“We have always said we would tell the defendant’s story at the proper time and in the proper place.”

“You just wait,” Hastings sputtered. “I’m going to get to a telephone and get the proper press credentials, and if you’re so firmly convinced there’s evidence around the bottom of the bay where that boat was anchored, why don’t you get a diver and go look for it?”

“We don’t know where the place is,” Mason said. “The boat was towed away under the direction of the sheriff.”

Hastings started to say something but was too angry for words. His mouth quivered in a nervous spasm. His face was dead white. His hands were clenched.

Abruptly he turned and strode away in the direction of the telephones.

Mason said to the sheriff, “If you would be so kind, Sheriff, as to arrange for a conference in the law library within say, five minutes, we will have duly accredited members of the press present.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Sheriff Jewett said, “you’re accusing me of incompetence.”

“I’m not accusing you of incompetence,” Mason said “I have made the statement that your methods of investigation were slipshod.”

“Well, it amounts to the same thing.”

“All right,” Mason said, “if you want it that way, then I’m accusing you of incompetence.”

“I don’t know whether I care to co-operate with you in connection with a press conference or not,” the sheriff said.

“Hey, wait a minute,” one of the newspaper reporters said, “What are you trying to do, squelch the biggest story of the year? What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m running my office,” the sheriff said.

One of the other newspaper reporters said, “Sure, you’re running your office, Sheriff, but don’t forget your friends. We took off our coats and went to work for you at election time and we intend to keep in your corner, but we sure as hell don’t want to lose out on a story of this magnitude.

“Do you realize what it means? Here’s a wealthy woman accused of murder, with overtones of blackmail in the case. The wire services will eat it up. The metropolitan papers will be screaming for news. It means a big personal income to every reporter here in the courtroom. You can’t throttle a story of that sort — moreover, you can’t keep the defendant from talking if she wants to talk. All you can do is throw a monkey wrench in the machinery so it will handicap the local reporters who have been in your corner all along, and who will be sidetracked by reporters from the big metropolitan dailies who will come thronging down here by airplane the minute word gets out that Perry Mason is going to let his client talk.”

The sheriff thought things over for a moment, then said, “All right. In ten minutes we’ll let her make her statement to the press in the law library.”

“And we’ll see to it that only accredited press representatives are there,” Mason said. “Otherwise, my client won’t talk.”

“The sheriff and his deputies will be there,” the sheriff said.

“Of course,” Mason smiled. “We want you there.”

“Very well, ten minutes from now in the law library,” the sheriff said.

Perry Mason said, “Now, Mrs Bancroft, if you’ll just sit down here behind this table facing the representatives of the press, I’m going to ask you to tell your story.”

Bancroft tugged at Mason’s sleeve. “Mason,” he said in a whisper, “do you think this is wise? To me it seems suicidal.”

“I think it’s wise,” Mason said. “It may be suicidal, but it’s a calculated risk.”

The lawyer turned to Mrs Bancroft. “Now, go right ahead, Mrs Bancroft. I’m going to ask you a few preliminary questions first... You were being blackmailed by Gilly?”

“Yes. I had paid him the sum of one thousand dollars.”

“When?”

“About the eighth, I think it was.”

“I’m going to ask you to avoid telling what the blackmail was about, but I am going to ask you this. Was it because of anything you had done?”

“No.”

“It was because of some information which he threatened to release, which you felt would affect the happiness of other people?”

“That’s right.”

“Now then, after you had paid Gilly this money, when did you next see him?”