Эрл Гарднер - The Case of the Crooked Candle

Tragg puffed at his cigar. “You’re a tough customer, Mason.”

“I’m not naturally tough. I’ve learned to be tough through rubbing elbows with the police. I don’t know why I should give you anything, Tragg. You’re always trying to hit back at me, and this time you tried to hit back through Della.”

“Because you led with Delta,” Tragg replied. “You and I are on opposite sides of the fence, Mason. Your methods are brilliant enough, but they aren’t regular. As long as you play the game the way you do, I’m going to crack down on you every chance I get. Only this time, I’m holding out an olive branch. You give me your ideas and we’ll forget about Della Street and those bloodstained shoes.”

Mason gave the proposition thoughtful consideration “I’ll go this far with you, Tragg, but only this far. I’ll give you the key clue to the whole business.”

“What’s the key clue?”

“A person climbing a tilted companionway would leave a bloody footprint on the low side — not in the center.”

Tragg’s forehead creased into a frown. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“I’m giving you the key clue, the most significant fact in the entire case.”

Tragg chewed on his cigar. “Hang it, Mason, you may be getting Roger Burbank out of the frying pan by getting Carol Burbank into the fire.”

Mason said, “I’m just giving you the key clue; you can figure it out. Take a stepladder, tilt it over at an angle and experiment. A person climbing a companionway would only put a foot in the middle of the tread when the yacht was on an even keel. If the yacht were tilted, the print would be way over on the low side of the tread. Try it with a stepladder. We did.”

Tragg smoked silently. Abruptly he said, “I guess you’ve talked too damn much. Mason. I’m taking back my olive branch.”

Mason yawned, ground out the end of his cigarette. “The reason I’m not going all the way with you, Tragg, is because you tried to pick on Della. I didn’t like that.”

“I don’t give a damn whether you like it or not. You use her to pull chestnuts out of the fire for you, my lad, and well bum her fingers for her... And don’t be too certain you’re in the clear on blowing up that boat to conceal the evidence, wise guy.”

“What evidence?” Mason asked.

“The exact time it would tilt over far enough so a body would roll down to the low side of the cabin.”

“I’ve told you what I found out,” Mason said.

“Yes, so you have — the uncorroborated word of the lawyer who is representing the owner of the bloodstained shoe.”

“Don’t you believe me?”

“I don’t know. A jury sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Mason smiled. “I think they would, Lieutenant. Come on, Della. Let’s go.”

A surprised Medford watched them emerge from the room, gazed after them with silent hostility as Mason piloted Della Street down the corridor.

“ Good morning, officer,” Mason said. “I rather think Tragg wants to talk with you.”

Judge Newark, taking his place on the bench, glanced inquiringly down at the vacant counsel seat beside Jackson. “Mr. Mason is not here?” he asked.

“Mr. Mason has asked me to carry on for the defense,” Jackson announced with dignity.

“If the Court please,” Maurice Linton began, “the prosecution wishes to...”

“Just a moment,” Judge Newark interposed. “The Court wishes to make an announcement before anything further is said by counsel on either side. The Court will take judicial cognizance of the tide tables, but it is possible that there is some difference in the time of tides at the particular spot where the yacht was anchored. I am inclined to believe the extent of the estuary — the body of water which is behind a certain given point and which, I believe, has a certain inertia, constitutes a local variation. The Court would like to receive evidence of the exact time lag between the published time schedules and the point where the yacht was anchored at the time of the murder. Is it possible to introduce such evidence at this time without seriously disrupting your plan of presentation, Mr. District Attorney?”

Hamilton Burger arose with slow and ponderous dignity. “I am afraid, if the Court please, that is hardly possible. The overnight developments in this case have been such that the prosecution wishes to ask for a continuance. I feel that I am not out of order in disclosing to the Court that the yacht was destroyed last night by what appears to have been a time bomb.”

Judge Newark cleared his throat. “Did the prosecution make any experiments prior to the destruction of this yacht?”

“I am sorry to say we did not, Your Honor. I understand experiments were conducted by Mr. Mason.”

“And Mr. Mason is not here?”

“No, Your Honor.”

Judge Newark picked up a pencil. “The Court has taken a deep interest in this matter of the tides. The entire case may hinge upon them. What is your attitude in regard to a continuance, Mr. Jackson?”

“I have been instructed to oppose it,” Jackson said.

“I believe,” Judge Newark observed, “there is a code provision limiting continuances to no more than two days at a time, or more than six days in all, and motions for continuance must be made upon affidavit. Do you have an affidavit, Mr. Burger?”

“No, Your Honor. I really feel that it would not be at all to the detriment of these defendants to consent to a continuance.”

“Counsel for the defendants seem to feel otherwise.”

“If the matter could be postponed until this afternoon,” Hamilton Burger pleaded desperately, “I think that I could get in touch with Mr. Mason personally and...”

“What’s your attitude in regard to a continuance until this afternoon?” Judge Newark asked Jackson.

“I’ve been instructed to oppose all continuances, Your Honor.”

“Very well, the prosecution will proceed with its case.”

Hamilton Burger announced with dignity, “Under those circumstances, Your Honor, the prosecution asks that the case be dismissed.”

Judge Newark’s face darkened. “Of course Counsel has it in his power to thwart the wishes of the Court. Inasmuch as jeopardy does not attach until...”

Judge Newark hesitated as though wondering just how strong to carry his rebuke.

Jackson interpolated, “I have been instructed not to oppose a dismissal, Your Honor.”

Judge Newark reached his decision. “Very well, the case is dismissed. The defendants are discharged from custody. I deem it only fair, however, to state that in the event the defendants are arrested again, the Court will take into consideration what has happened in this matter. Court is adjourned.”

Judge Newark arose from the bench, started for his chambers, then turned and said, “May I ask Counsel for both sides to appear in Chambers?”

Jackson hurried to a phone booth in the corridor, dialed Mason’s office and said imploringly, “Gertie, is the boss around?”

“He hasn’t come in yet.”

“There’s a mess down here. The judge has asked Counsel to meet with him in Chambers. I don’t like it. He’s become all worked up over some theory of tides. I think Mr. Mason should be here.”

“What did they do with the case?”

“Dismissed it.”

“Okay. I’ll try and get the boss. You stall things along. I’ll have Mr. Mason telephone if he comes in. That may mollify the old bird.”

“It is hardly seeming to refer to Judge Newark in such a manner,” Jackson reproached with supercilious dignity.

“He’s an old bird as far as I’m concerned,” Gertie said cheerfully, and hung up.

Jackson crossed the courtroom and opened the door of Judge Newark’s chambers.