Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Dubious Bridegroom

Judge Minden looked at the clock. I’ve said, “It appears to be approximately the hour for the noon adjournment. We’ll take our usual adjournment until two o’clock this afternoon. The jury will remember the admonition of the Court and refrain from discussing the case or permitting it to be discussed in their presence, nor will they form or express any opinion concerning the guilt or innocence of the defendant until the case is finally submitted.

“Court will take a recess until two o’clock.”

Edward Garvin reached out and caught Mason’s arm. His fingers pressed into the flesh of the lawyer’s arm. “Mason,” he said, “for God’s sake I...”

Mason turned to smile reassuringly at his client, but the smile was only on the lawyer’s lips. His eyes were cold and hard.

“Smile,” Mason said.

“I...”

“Smile, damn it,” Mason said in a low half-whisper, “smile.”

A travesty of a grin twisted Garvin’s features.

“Do better than that,” Mason said, “smile and keep that smile on your face until the jury have filed out.”

Mason watched expression struggling on Garvin’s face, laughed good-naturedly, patted Garvin on the shoulder, said, “Well, let’s get some eats,” and turned casually away.

“Mason, I’ve got to see you,” Garvin whispered.

Mason said over his shoulder in a low voice, “Try to see me now and with the jury looking at you, and with that expression on your face, and you’ll be buying a one-way ticket to the death cell in San Quentin.”

And with that the lawyer walked casually out of the courtroom, his brief case tucked under his arm, an expression of smiling unconcern on his countenance.

Della Street joined Perry Mason in the corridor. “Good lord, chief,” she said in a whisper, “could he be telling the truth?”

“I don’t know,” Mason said. “I’m going to find out later, but I don’t dare to let the spectators or the jurors see me holding any hurried conference with my client at this moment.”

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“Get Paul Drake and eat,” Mason said. “It’s all we can do.”

Drake came pushing his way out of the crowd milling around the door of the courtroom, a crowd that looked curiously at Mason.

Drake grabbed Mason’s arm and squeezed it. “Boy,” he said, “you did a great job of cross-examination there, Perry. You made the guy admit that it took him three minutes to identify a man under good light and yet he only saw him three seconds when he was looking at his back in the dark.”

“Just the same,” Mason said, “there’s something about that witness that bothers me. He’s prejudiced, he’s testifying to a composite of what he thinks he saw, what he thinks he remembered, and what he thinks must have happened, and he’s now testifying positively; but somehow there’s a certain underlying sincerity, a rugged sense of fairness the guy has that bothers me.”

“You don’t suppose your client did go out and do any nocturnal wandering around, do you?”

“How the devil would I know?” Mason said. “Every so often a client lies to you. But in this case we have an ace up our sleeve.”

“You mean his wife’s testimony?”

“That’s right. Of course the jury will probably figure she’d back her husband regardless, but they’re not going to send a newlywed to San Quentin and leave a beautiful bride languishing for her lover if they can avoid it. I’m hoping that Mrs. Garvin’s alibi will overcome Scanlon’s testimony.”

“She’s certain of the time?” Drake asked.

“Sure she is,” Mason said. “That’s the advantage of having a clock that chimes.”

“Loud chimes?”

“Sure, I heard it. I heard it chime ten o’clock that night when I went to bed. I...”

He broke off as he saw Señora Miguerinio emerge from an elevator and come rolling down the corridor with an enormous clock under her arm. She flashed a good-natured smile at Perry Mason, and said, “How do you theenk, Meester Mason? Does the husband come back to his wife and again make the honeymoon in my little hacienda, no?”

“Oh sure,” Mason said, with an air of great confidence. “What are you doing with the clock, Señora?”

“The deestrict attorney he wants those clock.”

“Why?” Mason asked.

“Because he ees to show heem to the jury.”

“What clock is it?” Mason asked, keeping his manner exceedingly casual.

“Thees ees the clock from my hotel, the clock that I have to tell the time.”

“The one that strikes the chimes?” Mason asked.

“Sure, strikes the chimes,” she said, and then added, “during the day it strike the chimes.”

“During the day?” Mason inquired.

She nodded. “Sure, during day, yes. During the night, no. He wake the guests up. People like to hear the chime of the clock in Mexico during the daytime but at night and the chimes go off, no?”

“And what happens to the chimes during the night?” Mason asked.

“Thees ees electric clock,” she said, “weeth chimes. Here ees a sweech on the side of the clock. When you don’t want the chimes you pool thees sweech like thees and the chimes go off, no?”

“You mean when you pull this switch the chimes don’t sound any more?”

“That’s right. You pool the sweech and the chimes he don’t go until you pool the sweech back up. Every night when I go to bed, just before I go into my bed, I pool the sweech down and the chimes he don’t sound no more. Then in the morning when ees time for people to get up and ees nice and sunny and warm, why then I pool the sweech up and the chimes start once more.”

“So the district attorney wants to see the clock?”

“Sure, the clock ees to be sold to the government. He shows heem to the jury and then have to put heem in court and the law ees going to buy me a new clock to take the place of thees one. I tell them I am a poor widow woman and I cannot afford to buy a new clock, I cannot bring thees clock in unless I have one for my hotel. You cannot run a hotel without a clock. No?”

“Certainly not,” Mason said.

“Well,” she said, “I have to go see the deestrict attorney. He tole me to come just as soon as court ees out because he wants to talk weeth me about my testimony. I have to go back on the weetness stand weeth the clock.”

“Well,” Mason said, “we’ll go on to lunch.”

“You enjoy your lunch, señor,” she said.

“Oh sure,” Mason told her, “we will. Thank you.”

They turned and resumed their walk down the corridor.

Drake muttered an exclamation under his breath.

“Good heavens, chief,” Della said in a hushed whisper.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Mason repeated sarcastically.

Mason, Paul Drake, and Della Street settled back on the cushions of the booth in the restaurant.

“I don’t think I can eat a thing,” Della Street said. “It’s ghastly.”

Mason, a confident smile on his face, said, “Don’t do that, Della. People are sitting all around us, watching us, wondering what we’re talking about, how we’re feeling. Keep smiling, keep confident, keep happy, make an occasional joke, and discuss what’s happening in low tones.”

“Exactly what is happening, Perry?” Paul Drake asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” Mason told him. “I’m afraid that the testimony of this man, Scanlon, is going to stampede that jury. I personally think Scanlon...”

“You surely don’t think Garvin actually did place that call, then get in his car and drive to Oceanside?”

Mason said, “I think Garvin was fool enough to get in his car and go somewhere. When you’ve cross-examined a lot of people on the stand over a period of years, you form an impression as to whether a man is telling the truth or lying just by the way he answers questions. Now, I’ll admit that while I managed to put Scanlon in a somewhat disadvantageous position, and while the police didn’t play fair in not having a line-up, the fact remains Scanlon is trying to tell the truth, and he gives me that impression.