Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Crooked Candle

“Tilted way over. You could hardly stand on the thing.”

“And that tilting had perhaps disarranged some of the evidence?” Mason asked.

“Well, I don’t know about that. I’m not making any statement about the condition of the evidence.”

“How far was the boat heeled over?”

“It was heeled way over.”

“About how far from the perpendicular?”

“It must have been somewhere around twenty-five to thirty degrees.”

“And it was hard to keep your footing under those circumstances?”

“I’ll say it was.”

“The body was lying on the floor?”

“Yes.”

“In the position shown in this photograph?”

“That’s right, yes, sir.”

“Now then,” Mason said, “if the murder took place along in the evening there must have been one other intervening dead low tide. That is, the low tide which occurred at three minutes past twelve on Saturday morning, is that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And one intervening high tide?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What time would that have been?”

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

“You remember the tides?”

“That’s my business — part of it. I remember them.”

“Now in this photograph,” Mason said, “the position in which the body is shown is over on the side of the cabin, with the head lying down against the low corner as shown in the photograph.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And isn’t it quite possible that the body could have rolled from a position at the other end of the cabin?”

“It is, yes, sir.”

“During the period of dead low tide which occurred at three minutes past midnight the night before?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So that the fact that the position of the body as shown in the photograph might be exactly the same as the position in which it was when the body was discovered, would not preclude the possibility that the body had rolled during the night, during the low tide which occurred three minutes after midnight.”

“I’d say that that body was pretty apt to have rolled,” the witness said.

“He’s not an expert on bodies,” Linton objected.

“He’s an expert on boats,” the judge snapped.

“You take a list like that,” the witness explained to the judge, “and you’re going to find things at the low side of the cabin. Now on this particular boat, the way she was listed, the starboard side was the low side. The body could have been clean over on the other side of the cabin when the murder was committed, but that dead low tide at twelve-o-three would have rolled her over.”

Mason took from his pocket a protractor, walked up to the judge’s bench and said, “The Court might care to do a little armchair detective work.”

“Thank you,” the judge said, smiling. “I was just thinking of that.”

“I don’t understand this interchange between Court and Counsel,” Linton objected.

Judge Newark placed the protractor on the photograph and said, “I think it‘s — ‘It’s elementary, my dear Watson.’ ” he added with a smile.

The courtroom broke into audible merriment which the judge made no effort to control.

The discomfited deputy district attorney said, “I think, if the Court please, I’m entitled to an explanation.”

“The Court,” Judge Newark said, “is doing a little amateur detective work along the lines indicated by Mr. Mason’s testimony. You will notice that this candle shown in the photograph is placed on an incline.”

“Well, what of it?” Linton asked.

“The protractor shows that the angle of that candle is approximately seventeen degrees from perpendicular.”

“All right, what if it is?” Linton said. “Whenever a murderer hastily puts a candle into position, he doesn’t use a plumb bob, or a square to make certain that he’s got it lined exactly straight up and down.”

“What I think you overlooked,” Judge Newark said, “and the point which I’m quite certain is in Mr. Mason’s mind, is that the wax which has run down from this candle seems to be quite evenly distributed on each side of the candle.”

“Well, what’s that got to do with it?” Linton demanded. “The wax would run down on both sides equally, wouldn’t it?”

“Not if the candle were on a slant,” Judge Newark said with a smile. “The candle itself is mute testimony of the fact that when it was burning the candle was in a perpendicular position.”

“But how could that be?” Linton said. “You can look at that photograph and it shows the candle well out of the perpendicular.”

“Exactly,” Judge Newark said. “And I think Mr. Mason’s point is, that because the candle is out of perpendicular, it is very good evidence as to the time when the candle was lit. That is your point, Mr. Mason?”

“Exactly,” Mason said. “That’s why the evidence in connection with these tides is so important.”

Judge Newark studied the photograph for a few moments, then said, “It’s approaching the hour of five o‘clock, and the Court is going to take its evening adjournment. Court will reconvene at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. And in the meantime, the Court suggests that the officers check their theory of the case with the evidence of this tilted candle and the evidence Mr. Mason has brought out concerning the time of the tides. It is a very important clue.

“Court is adjourned.”

Back in Mason’s office, Paul Drake, speaking with his characteristic drawl, said, “I have to hand it to you, Perry. You certainly do pull rabbits out of the hat. You’ve got the D.A. running around in circles, and the newspapers will give your clients all the best of it when they report this afternoon’s session of Court.”

“I haven’t gotten any rabbits out of any hats yet,” Mason said, starting to pace the floor, his thumbs hooked in the armholes of his vest, his head slightly tilted forward so that his eyes seemed to be staring holes in the carpet. “Hang it, Paul. I’m almost in the clear, but I’m afraid I can’t go the rest of the way. — I’m glad Judge Newark got the point about the candle and the tides.”

“Strange that candle business had never occurred to me,” Drake said.

“The explanation’s simple,” Mason pointed out. “Nearly all murder cases are committed on land. Police detectives get accustomed to thinking in terms of cases on land, and they simply overlook the elemental factors that would automatically enter into the calculations of a yachtsman. Ask a yachtsman about any problem in connection with the ocean, or with navigation, and almost his first thought is about the tide. On the other hand, Lieutenant Tragg and the boys from Homicide probably never think about the tide — unless they happen to be fishermen.”

“But,” Della Street said, “I can’t understand how this candle can tie in with...”

“With what?” Mason asked.

“With that bloody footprint on the stair tread, or I guess they call it a companionway, using yachting terms, don’t they?”

“A companionway is right,” Mason said. “And that bloody footprint is the thing that bothers me.”

“Carol Burbank made it?”

“She must have. She says she did, and the blood was found on her shoe.”

“And there’s something wrong with it?” Drake asked.

“The thing that’s wrong with it,” Mason said, “is that if her story is correct she must have left that bloody footprint before the man was murdered.”

“But she couldn’t have done that, Perry.”

“Did you notice the position of that bloody footprint?”

Drake slid around in the big, overstuffed leather chair, said, “Let me take a look at that photograph again, Perry.”