Erle Gardner - The Case of the Drowning Duck

“Did the duck drown?”

“Mr. Adams took him out before the duck had completely drowned.”

The district attorney turned triumphantly to Perry Mason. “And now you may cross-examine,” he said.

“Thank you very much,” Mason said with exaggerated politeness.

For a long moment, Mason sat perfectly still, then he asked quietly, “You formerly lived in Winterburg City, Mrs. Burr?”

“Yes.”

“You first met your husband there?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

She hesitated, then said, “Thirty-nine.”

“Did you ever know a Corine Hassen in Winterburg City?”

“No.”

“Did you ever hear your husband speak of a Miss Corine Hassen?”

She avoided Mason’s eyes.

“What is the object of all this?” the district attorney interrupted. “Why don’t you cross-examine her about the duck?”

Mason ignored the interpolation. “Did you ever hear your husband speak of a Miss Corine Hassen?” he asked again.

“Why — yes — it was years ago.”

Mason settled back in his chair, was silent for several seconds.

“Any more questions?” Judge Meehan asked of Mason.

“None, Your Honor.”

District Attorney Copeland said with a sarcastic smile, “I was hoping you’d ask some questions which would throw a little more light on that drowning duck.”

“I thought you were,” Mason said, smiling. “The drowning duck now becomes your problem, Mr. District Attorney. I have no further questions of this witness.”

The district attorney said, “Very well, I’m going to call Marvin Adams as my next witness. I will state, Your Honor, that I hadn’t expected to do this, but the Court will understand I’m simply trying to get at the true facts of this case. In view of what this witness has said, I think that it’s...”

“The district attorney needs make no statement,” Judge Meehan said. “Simply call your witness.”

“Marvin Adams, come forward,” the district attorney said.

Marvin Adams, obviously reluctant, came slowly forward to the witness stand, was sworn, and sat down facing the hostile eyes of the district attorney.

“You have heard what this last witness said about a duck drowning?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did you perform such an experiment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now then,” the district attorney said, getting to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Marvin Adams, “did you or did you not perform that experiment in the apartment of Leslie Milter on the night of his murder?”

“No, sir.”

“Did you know Leslie L. Milter?”

“No, sir.”

“Never met him?”

“No, sir.”

“Were you ever at his apartment?”

“No, sir.”

“But you did perform the experiment of making a duck drown, and explained that experiment to the guests assembled in Mr. Witherspoon’s home?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And,” the district attorney said triumphantly, “the persons present included Mr. John L. Witherspoon, did they not?”

“No, sir. Mr. Witherspoon wasn’t there.”

For a moment, the district attorney was nonplused.

“Just what did you do?” he asked, trying to cover his discomfiture. “Just how did you make a duck sink?”

“By the use of a detergent.”

“What is a detergent?”

“It’s a relatively new discovery by means of which the natural antipathy between water and oil can be eliminated.”

“How is that done?”

As Marvin Adams explained the complex action of detergents, the spectators were staring open-mouthed. Judge Meehan leaned forward to look down at the young man, his face showing his interest.

“And do you mean to say that, by the aid of this detergent, you can cause a duck to sink?” the district attorney asked.

“Yes. A few thousandths of one per cent of a powerful detergent in water would cause a duck to submerge.”

The district attorney thought that over for a few moments, then said, “Now, you aren’t as yet related in any way to the defendant in this action, are you?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“What?”

“I am his son-in-law.”

“You mean... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Marvin Adams said, “that I am married to Lois Witherspoon. She is my wife.”

“When did this marriage take place?”

“In Yuma, Arizona, about one o’clock this morning.”

The district attorney took time to think that one over too. Spectators whispered among themselves.

District Attorney Copeland resumed his questioning. Now he was asking his questions in the cautious manner of a hunter stalking his prey. “It is, of course, quite possible that one of the persons who saw this experiment performed could have told the defendant about it. Isn’t that correct?”

“Objected to,” Mason said easily, “as being argumentative and calling for a conclusion of the witness.”

“Sustained,” Judge Meehan snapped.

“Have you ever discussed this experiment of the sinking duck with the defendant?”

“No, sir.”

“With his daughter?”

“Objected to,” Mason said. “Incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial.”

“Sustained.”

Copeland scratched his head, looking down at some papers, looked up at the clock hanging on the wall of the courtroom, said suddenly to Marvin Adams, “When you left the ranch of the defendant the night of the murder, you took with you a small duck, did you not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“One that belonged to the defendant?”

“Yes, sir. His daughter told me I might have it.”

“Exactly. And you took this duck for a certain purpose, didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“To perform an experiment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now, are you positive that you didn’t go to the apartment of Leslie L. Milter shortly after leaving Witherspoon’s ranch?”

“I have never been to Mr. Milter’s apartment.”

“Are you willing to swear positively that the duck which Officer Haggerty found in Milter’s apartment was not the same duck which you took from Mr. Witherspoon’s ranch?”

Before Adams could answer the question, Lois Witherspoon said in a clear, firm voice, “He can’t answer that question. I am the only one who can do that.”

Judge Meehan rapped for order, but stared curiously at Lois Witherspoon.

Mason, on his feet, said suavely, “I was about to object to the question, anyway, Your Honor, on the ground that it calls for a conclusion of the witness, that it is argumentative. This Court is not concerned with what a witness is willing to swear to. That doesn’t help solve the issues before the Court. The statements of a fact which a witness makes under his oath are the only pertinent ones. To ask a witness what he ‘is willing to swear to’ is argumentative.”

“That is, of course, merely a loose way of framing the question,” Judge Meehan said. “Perhaps, technically, your objection is correct upon that point.”

“And, even if the questions were reframed,” Mason said, “it calls for a conclusion of the witness. The witness can testify whether he placed any duck in the fish bowl in Milter’s apartment. He can testify whether he was ever in Milter’s apartment. He can testify whether he kept the duck in his possession or what he did with it. But to ask him whether a certain duck is one that he had seen or had in his possession earlier, calls for a conclusion of the witness — unless, of course, it is shown there is some distinguishing mark upon that one particular duck which differentiates it from every other duck.”

“Of course,” Judge Meehan said, “if the witness doesn’t know that, he may state simply that he doesn’t know.”