Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Duplicate Daughter

Judge Alvord left the bench.

Mason arose, nodded to the officer, said, “Could you bring Mr. Gilman back here about twenty minutes past one, Officer? I want to have a talk with him before court convenes.”

“I’ll have him here,” the officer said.

“All right,” Mason said to Gilman, “think it over. You’re going to have to tell me the truth now.”

Mason picked up his brief case, nodded to Della Street and they were joined by Paul Drake as they left the courtroom.

“Lunch?” Drake asked.

“A light lunch,” Mason said. “Just a few groceries to keep us going.”

“That key business puts the noose right around your client’s neck,” Paul Drake said lugubriously.

Mason said nothing.

“The fact they brought that out at a preliminary examination shows they’re afraid of you, however. Ordinarily they’d have saved that for the main trial.”

“Except that by putting it in the record now,” Mason said, “they can use it later on in case this key man can’t be found.”

Drake said, “Well, this is once they have you lashed to the mast, Perry. It’s a wonder Hamilton Burger hasn’t moved in for the kill.”

“Probably because it’s too open and shut,” Mason said. “The district attorney wouldn’t come into court personally on a case that’s as open and shut as this.”

“I’ll bet you even money he’s there this afternoon to conduct the examination himself,” Paul Drake said. “He’s in need of a personal triumph to satisfy his ego.”

Mason said, “The guy doesn’t look like a murderer, and yet...”

“For my money, he did the job,” Drake said. “He did it to protect someone he loved, but he did it.”

They went to their favorite restaurant near the Hall of Justice where there was a small private dining room which a friendly proprietor kept in reserve for Perry Mason on court days.

Midway through the light lunch the waiter appeared with a telephone. “A call for Mr. Drake,” he said.

He plugged the phone in, Drake picked up the instrument, said, “Okay, this is Paul Drake... Who?... Okay, put her on.”

Drake said, “Hello,” listened for a few moments, then said, “Okay. I guess there’s nothing we can do. Just keep on the job. I’m glad we picked up the information.”

Drake pushed back the instrument, said, “I hate to bring you more bad news, Perry.”

“Can it get any worse?” Mason asked.

“The police have picked up Hartley Elliott. They’re holding him as a material witness. They’ve had him for more than six hours but have kept him under cover. They’re planning to put him on this afternoon as a surprise witness. They want to catch you flat-footed and figured that your cross-examination isn’t going to help the situation any if they take you by surprise.

“Then they’ll give Elliott every opportunity to skip out before the trial if he wants to and they’ll read the testimony of Elliott at the preliminary hearing into the record. That will make it even more deadly.

“They’ve been planning that carefully as prosecution strategy. They had Elliott spotted where he was living under an assumed name in a motel and have had him under surveillance for a couple of days. They picked him up early this morning in a surprise move and are planning to steal a march on you.

“You know what that means. Hamilton Burger himself will be in the courtroom this afternoon, ready to jerk the rug out from under you, and while they’ve got you floundering they’ll make Elliott admit that he saw Glamis running from the workshop. The theory is that Gilman, sitting at the breakfast table, also saw her running and went out to find out what it was all about, either encountered Vera Martel and strangled her or found that Glamis had done the job and is covering up for Glamis.

“Then they’ll call the grand jury in session, indict Glamis, try her jointly with Carter Gilman and have you where you can’t squirm out.”

Mason said, “Glamis insists she was in bed until she heard Muriell moving around upstairs.”

“Uh-huh,” Drake said, “that’s what she insists, but by the time your client tells you the real truth you’ll find you have a bear by the tail.”

Mason pushed back his chair from the table. “Well,” he said, “let’s go up to the scene of the massacre and watch Hamilton Burger move in for the kill.”

Promptly at one twenty the officer brought Carter Gilman into court.

Mason glanced over his shoulder at the spectators who were already filling up the benches in the courtroom, put his arm along the back of the chair in which Gilman was sitting, kept his manner casual and said in a low voice, “All right, tell me the story, the true story.”

Mason turned as though about to pick up a paper, then again leaned toward Gilman. “All right, let me have it.”

Gilman said, “I’m not going to betray the person I’m trying to protect.”

Mason said, “I can’t protect anyone unless I know the facts — all of them.”

“Then you’d betray me.”

“Not you. You’re my client.”

“Then you’d betray the person I’m trying to protect, in order to save my life.”

Mason studied the man. “I might do just that.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. I’ll never tell any living soul what I saw.”

“All right,” Mason said. “You’re going to get a jolt within a few minutes.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the police have Hartley Elliott in custody. He was in the bedroom over the dining room. He saw Glamis when she ran out of the workshop.”

Had Mason hit Gilman in the stomach the man couldn’t have shown greater surprise and dismay. “He... he saw her.”

“That’s right.”

“How do you know?”

“He told me.”

Gilman heaved a deep sigh. “Of all the luck! He would have had to be looking out that window.”

“Was it Glamis?” Mason asked.

“Yes. First Vera Martel walked up the driveway and entered the darkroom. I saw her. I made an excuse to get Muriell out in the kitchen so I could go out and investigate. Then in the few minutes that necessarily elapsed... well, I don’t know what happened. I looked out of the window and Glamis came running out of the workshop.

“It seemed Muriell never would quit popping in and out of that kitchen door. I had to wait until I was certain she was engaged in the cooking before I—”

The bailiff banged his gavel. “Everybody rise!”

The occupants of the courtroom got to their feet as Judge Alvord came in and took his place on the bench.

A side door opened and Hamilton Burger came into the courtroom to seat himself beside Edwardo Deering.

Judge Alvord seemed mildly surprised. “Am I to understand the district attorney is appearing in this case personally?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Hamilton Burger said, and, turning, nodded coolly to Perry Mason.

“Very well,” Judge Alvord said. “Call your next witness.”

Deering said, “I call Hartley Grove Elliott.”

Burger arose to address the Court. “May the Court please,” he said, “Hartley Elliott is not only a hostile witness, I may state to the Court that we have been forced to bring him to court as a material witness who has been picked up and held in custody. Mr. Elliott not only endeavored to avoid a subpoena but was living in a motel under an assumed name and endeavoring to conceal his whereabouts from the authorities.”

“The Court will permit leading questions,” Judge Alvord ruled, “if the hostility of the witness becomes apparent. However, you can examine him in the regular manner until it becomes apparent that leading questions are required.”

The door from the witness room opened and a uniformed officer escorted Hartley Elliott into the courtroom.