Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Crooked Candle

“Did you see Burbank any more after that?”

“Yes. I saw him come back in his dinghy about half or three-quarters of an hour after Milfield left. He tied it up to the mooring, went over to his car, and drove away.”

“Did you see him again later?”

“Well, I didn’t see him. It was when I was answering the phone; someone started an outboard motor. I beard the putt-putt as the boat went past, but I was busy talking, and I didn’t look out. After I finished my telephone conversation, I looked out and the Burbank dinghy was gone. It was getting dark when it came back, and so I never did see who was in it.”

“Then what happened to this dinghy?”

“Well, as near as I can tell, it remained tied up all night. I didn’t hear anyone start the outboard motor. If anyone had, I think I’d have waked up. I didn’t. I slept right through after I got to bed. That was around midnight. The dinghy was there when I went to bed, and it was there when I got up in the morning, around six o‘clock.”

“When did you next see Milfield?”

“That was after this sheepherder came rushing in...”

“Never mind the hearsay,” Linton interrupted. “I just want to know when you next saw Mr. Milfield.”

“Saturday morning.”

“That was the day following the occurrences of which you have just testified?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And where was Mr. Milfield?”

“His body was lying aboard Roger Burbank’s yacht.”

“Were you alone at the time you saw him?”

“No, sir. Lieutenant Tragg was with me, and a couple of other gentlemen whose names I have forgotten.”

“Police officers?”

“I believe so, yes.”

“Was Mr. Milfield alive or dead?”

“He was dead.”

“You may cross-examine,” Linton announced to Perry Mason.

“Did you actually see Roger Burbank return to the club in that dinghy?” Mason asked.

“Yes, sure.”

“Talk with him?”

“No.”

“See him get in his car and drive away?”

“Yes.”

“Saw him clearly?”

“As clearly as you could see a man at that distance.”

“How far was it?”

“Oh, perhaps a hundred and fifty feet.”

“You were wearing your glasses at the time?”

“Yes, sure.”

“Know it was Burbank in that dinghy as soon as you saw him?”

“Well, to tell the truth — I sort of took it for granted when I first saw the man that it was someone else.”

“Milfield?”

“Yes.”

“Now how far away was this?”

“Like I told you, it was right around a hundred and fifty feet, or two hundred feet.”

“ Where were you?”

“In my little cabin, down there.”

“What were you doing?”

“Cooking dinner.”

“Have your glasses on?”

“Yes.”

“Looked out through a window?”

“Yes.”

“And saw this man?”

“Yes.”

“There may have been some steam on your glasses — from the cooking?”

“Well there may have been. It’s a chance.”

“And,” Mason said, pointing his finger to give added emphasis to his words, “at the time, you thought this man was Fred Milfield, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.”

“When did you first realize that it wasn’t Fred Milfield?”

“When I saw Milfield dead there in Roger Burbank’s yacht.”

Mason said, “And you first told the officers that Milfield came back in the yacht’s dinghy. It was when the officers pointed out to you that it was an impossibility for Milfield to have done so, because Milfield was lying dead on Roger Burbank’s yacht, that you decided the man whom you had seen in the dinghy was Roger Burbank. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir. I guess when you come right down to it, that’s right.”

Mason said, “It was Roger Burbank’s habit to take his yacht out Friday at noon?”

“Yes, sir. He used his yacht just to get away from people.”

“Did Fred Milfield join him on occasion?”

“Well, yes, Mr. Milfield did, and perhaps once or twice during the year Mr. Beltin would come out, but only when there was something terribly important. Mr. Burbank didn’t like it.”

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“He told me so. He told me he’d got that yacht so that he could get away from everything. He said that now he couldn’t get gasoline, he had this sailboat, and he’d sail out just a mile or so up the estuary and anchor on the mud flats. He said the minute he got out of sight of the yacht club, he felt like a new man. He felt as though he was off all by himself.”

“You say he anchored on the mud flats?”

“Yes. He liked to spear sharks.”

“Would he keep the boat anchored on the mud flats?”

“No, sir. He’d just anchor it there a couple of hours before high tide, and keep it there for maybe a couple of hours after high tide.”

“Why?”

“Well, out on those mud flats the water gets pretty shallow around low tide, and a boat would go on the ground if you left it there during low tide.”

“That wouldn’t necessarily hurt anything, however?”

“No, sir. Not unless a wind came up. If a wind came up a boat could get a nasty pounding there.”

“Even in such shallow water?” Mason asked.

The witness smiled and said, “Shallow water would give it the worst pounding. You see, the waves would build up enough so the crests would pick it up off the mud, and then when the troughs of the waves came along, the boat would slam down on the mud. A boat that’s slap aground in no water at all is all right. A boat that’s floating is all right. But you take a boat that’s aground in shallow water where waves can build up, and that boat’s going to take a terrific beating.”

“Well then, where would Mr. Burbank go during periods of low tide?”

“He’d anchor out in the channel just fifty or a hundred yards away from the place where he usually speared his sharks.”

“Now on this Friday night, do you know when the tide was low?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When?”

“Well now, I can’t give you the exact hour and minute, but it was high tide right around five-forty, somewhere around there. It might have been five-forty-one or perhaps five-forty-five, but that wouldn’t miss it a minute or so. Make it five-forty, and you won’t miss it two minutes either way.”

“That was high tide?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when,” Mason asked, “was low tide?”

“Low tide was at three minutes past midnight on Saturday.”

“Then,” Mason said, “if anyone had been going to move the yacht away from those mud flats, the yacht would necessarily have been moved within two hours of high tide? And that would mean by seven-forty in the evening?”

“Well, not necessarily. I’d say you could have got off — well, say up until eight o’clock. That would be the limit.”

“And if you didn’t get off by eight o’clock you wouldn’t get off?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. Not until a couple of hours before the next high tide.”

“And when was the next high tide?”

“Six-twenty-six a. m. Saturday morning.”

“And when was the next low tide after that?”

“Twelve-forty-five Saturday. That’s how the body came to be discovered.”

“You might tell me a little more about that,” Mason said.

“Well, it was along about ten o‘clock in the morning. I guess it was. And the boat had begun to settle a little on the mud bank. Maybe around ten-thirty.”

“Now by the boat, you mean the yacht?” Mason asked.

“That’s right. Roger Burbank’s yacht.”

“All right,” Mason said. “Go ahead. The yacht had begun to settle on the mud, and what happened?”