Erle Gardner - The Case of the Borrowed Brunette

“If you want to put it bluntly, she is. She believes in avoiding trouble by detouring facts.”

“And you were sure she was lying about not having a gun?”

“I’d always felt she had a gun — yes.”

“And suppose she’s lying about what happened there in the apartment?”

“No, that wouldn’t be like Aunt Adelle at all. Can’t we go talk with her?”

“I’m afraid the police are waiting at her apartment.”

“We might drive there and find out.”

“It’s a waste of gasoline, but we’ve got to try it. You show me the way. The main thing, as I see it, is to get you in the clear.”

“How do you mean?”

“You told the police you had been with Adelle Winters ‘all the time.’ Now if her gun killed Robert Hines, you must have been with her when the shot was fired — and that has put you in quite a mess. The police are waiting out at your apartment. You’ll be charged as an accessory. I want to get you in the clear. Later we’ll see what can be done for Aunt Adelle.”

“But we’ll first make certain that she isn’t at her apartment?”

“Exactly,” Mason said.

“How?”

“We’ll drive out there, then Cora can scout out the situation.”

“All right,” Eva said. “You drive straight down this street.”

Mason and the two girls drove to the place where Adelle Winters had her apartment, an unpretentious three-story brick building, a good thirty-five minutes by streetcar from the center of the city.

A knot of curious spectators milling around told the story even before Cora had slipped out to mingle unobtrusively with them and pick up the news. She was back within five minutes.

“They nabbed her?” Mason asked.

Cora nodded. “They picked her up just as she was entering the apartment. They shot a lot of questions at her and Adelle got confused. They showed her a gun and asked her if it was hers. She admitted it was. That’s all anybody knows. They put her in an automobile and drove away.”

Mason said, “Okay.” He turned to Eva. “I’m going to lead with my chin, Eva. I’m going to put you some place where the police can’t find you tonight, and then make a bargain with the D.A.’s office tomorrow.”

Eva Martell asked, “Why can’t I tell my story to the police right now?”

Mason shook his head. “I’ve got to get you a promise of immunity, and I won’t be in a good bargaining position unless I have something to bargain with.”

Harry Gulling, who was considered the wheel-horse of the district attorney’s office, was rarely seen in court; only occasionally did his name appear in the public press. But those who were on the inside knew that Hamilton Berger, the district attorney, relied on Gulling to make important decisions. Those who knew the ropes would never think of trying to make a deal with Hamilton Berger until they had first seen Harry Gulling and obtained a clearance through him.

It was nine-forty-five in the morning when Mason was ushered into Gulling’s office. Mason shook hands, sat down opposite Gulling — he was a tall, thin man who had a trick of holding people with an unwinking stare from cold blue eyes — and said, “I’m representing Eva Martell. She was living in Helen Reedley’s apartment with a woman named Adelle Winters. I believe you’re holding the Winters woman on suspicion of murder.”

Harry Gulling remained motionless, his glacial blue eyes framing pinpoint pupils as he listened. Now he said nothing, but just waited for Mason to go on.

“I think my client can be of some help to you,” Mason said.

“How?”

“Well, perhaps — and mind you I’m only saying perhaps — her testimony might be of some assistance.”

“What?”

“Suppose that after thinking back over the events of yesterday she remembered that she had not been with Adelle Winters all the time. I assume you’re familiar with the case?”

“I’ve just finished questioning Mrs. Winters,” Gulling said, “and here on my desk are the police reports.”

“Very well. Then we’re in a position to talk turkey. Eva Martell is a young woman who is trying to get by — playing parts here and there, sometimes as an extra, and by serving as a model. She’s never had any experience before with this sort of thing. Adelle Winters, who’s an old friend of Eva’s family, is apparently something of a character. Whether or not she’s guilty of murder is a matter for you to determine. But you have the murder weapon, and I understand you have identified it as belonging to Adelle Winters. In view of the statement given you yesterday by Eva Martell, you could hardly expect to get a conviction, because you simply can’t show that Adelle Winters had any chance to commit the murder.

“Now I’m frank to admit that my client ought to have searched her recollection a little more thoroughly. Perhaps she was trying to protect Adelle Winters. Perhaps she was confused. But let’s say that in the excitement of the day’s events she neglected to tell you of a time when Adelle Winters was not with her. Then what?”

Gulling kept his eyes on Mason’s face. “Where is your client now?”

“She can be produced in a very short time if necessary.”

“The police want her.”

“She’ll be only too glad to render what assistance she can to the police.”

“And exactly what do you want?”

“What’s the use of beating around the bush?” Mason asked. “I understand Eva Martell signed a statement and swore to it. In case that statement contains an incorrect recital of fact, I want to be sure that nothing is going to be done about it.”

“So that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“And that’s the reason you’re jockeying for position around here instead of bringing your client in and having her say, ‘Look, I made a mistake.’ ”

“Of course it is,” Mason said angrily. “What the hell did you think? That I was going to lead with my chin?”

“You have led with it.”

“Bosh!” exclaimed Mason.

“Adelle Winters is guilty of cold-blooded murder. We can prove it. Your client is an accessory after the fact — and probably before the fact.”

“Hang it, Gulling, if my client doesn’t come out in the open and admit she’s mistaken, but simply sits tight, what the hell are you going to do about it?”

“You’ve asked a question,” Gulling said. “Now I’ll tell you the answer. Adelle Winters had a .32-caliber gun and it was loaded with a very distinctive type of obsolete bullet. That gun was in her possession up until two-twenty yesterday afternoon, when she dropped it into a garbage pail. At approximately two o’clock Robert Hines was killed with a bullet fired from that gun — a bullet exactly matching the shells that were left in the gun, and also matching a bullet that the ballistics experts fired from that gun.

“Eva Martell swears she was with Adelle Winters every minute of the time. That being the case, we’re going to convict both of them of murder. And I’ll tell you how we’re going to do it, Mr. Mason. When police took Adelle Winters into custody last night, the matron went through her clothes and took her personal possessions. And what do you think she found?”

Mason tried to keep a poker face. “I don’t see that anything she could have found would make any difference.”

“Don’t you indeed, Mr. Mason!” Gulling said with cold irony. “Well, perhaps you’ll change your mind when I tell you that she found Robert Dover Hines’s wallet with his identification cards, his driving license, and three-thousand-odd dollars in currency of large denominations. There’s your motive for the murder. And when your sweet, innocent little actress friend gets on the witness stand and swears that she was with Adelle Winters every minute of the time, she’s going to be convicted of first-degree murder. And if she changes her story, she’s going to be convicted of perjury. I’m tired of having people give this office the run-around.